meditation

The Holy City

In the early morning, there is a pocket of time, just as the sun rises, before the crowds descend onto the ghats, before the heat sets in, when the eternal river seems deserted – there is a moment of clarity.

Bodies lie sleeping in the morning cool, a barefoot family undress dutifully and walk in silent admiration to the water’s edge, a few men bathe quietly, drifting with the cleansing current, another prays, eyes closed and cross-legged. It is now, in this moment, a moment that passes in seconds that I can fully feel the holiness of this city, the reverence in the devotees and the sacredness of the flowing river.

A sacred feeling, although it is ever-present, in this moment, it is untainted by crowds, pollution, stray animals, heat or hassle. It is these few seconds that I will remember when I recall the holy city of Varanasi.

1256

 

 

 

 

The 33rd Kalachakra

We came as individuals, as men, as women.  We came in small groups, as family, as friends.  We came as part of a population , as Indians, Tibetans, Foreigners.  We came and joined together in collective prayer and meditation – as one.

 

1245