India Chronicles Jan 25 2008

jan 25

the question of suffering

yesterday afternoon was very difficult for me. pune is a pretty small city in india compared to mumbai, dehli or calcutta. but every time you get into the city, there is the noise, the traffic and the most extreme poverty. the most extreme poverty. it breaks my heart, but i am here for a reason and if i take it all in i will drown and not get anything done. women come up to me in the dusty streets, covered in dirt with their babies slung to their hips. they do a silent pantomime of holding out their hand to me and then bringing to their mouths to show they need my money to buy food. and their eyes, their eyes are big haunting black discs that convey so much sorrow. are they really so sad? are they really so hungry? i don't know, but coming from america it is a terrible thing to see a mother and child asking for money and food like this and to say no. there are so many of them that even if i emptied my wallet, i wouldn't even begin to make a change. and then i would be left with nothing, and wouldn't be able to do the work i came here to do. it seems to me that people who need help usually need more help than you can comfortably give. so i will work on myself, i will let the change in myself grow until it can't help but bring change for others. this is how i usually think of things, people need help, i want to help, but how do i want to help? how can i use my special talents creatively in a way that will bring me the most happiness and contentment? i have made it a rule for myself not to hand money to people on the street. the first time i came to india, a little boy came begging when i was sitting in a rickshaw stopped in traffic. rickshaws are basically motorcylces with metal shells on top. they are much cheaper than taxi cars, but they also leave you open to the streets. in a real car, your windows would be rolled up and you would have some distance between yourself and the rest of the world. i gave the boy a rupee note, and then 5-6 more boys came running up, climbing on and into the rickshaw, grabbing me. traffic began to move and they were almost getting run over, holding on and running along with the rickshaw. the driver began beating them off with a bat. i sat in the back terrified and sickened, i have learned that things escalate quickly here.

i said no so many times yesterday. to an older woman with a small child who dragged the child through traffic to follow me. to a teenage boy with a stump for a leg. to an old man with a cane. to a young mother with the most beautiful face and a baby on her hip, standing at the side of my rickshaw. i remember all of them, i remember their faces even though i put out my hand and say no. even though i have to pretend i don't see them, looking straight ahead as if they don't exist. even though i yell at them, "amma, no, no", begging for them to stop begging from me. they don't just go away when you say no, they stand and stare or grab at you, until you have to be very clear, very insistent on not giving them anything. you have to do it to cross the street, you have to do it to go anywhere, to do anything. i remember all their faces and i am sorry. sorry that i am not able to help each of them. i came back to my hotel last night to have some tea before bed, and there were a group of dogs begging for food. most of them looked pretty healthy, but one puppy had a lame leg and you could see it's whole skeleton wrapped under it's skin. she was a pathetic sight. one of the tables was throwing naan bread to the dogs, and every time the little one ran for some, the other dogs would snarl and scare her away until she limped off, nursing her leg. so i took her in my lap and caught some of the naan bread and fed it to her from my hand. she gobbled it up with her tiny, sharp teeth, almost swallowing it whole. after awhile she must have gotten full, because she stopped eating the naan and curled her tiny head on my lap. all bones, i could see her spine as she curled herself up, like a seashell on my lap. she tucked her head inside my elbow like a little bird. when she looked up at me, she was so small and pitiful, but also beautiful. she is a little blond dog with big black eyes that look like they are rimmed in kajol, the black indian eyeliner. i sat and held her in my lap, wrapped in my shawl for warmth, trying to give her a little comfort and a resting place. i could feel her little belly breathing against mine, a little bony belly, so fragile. after awhile i had to put her down, i wanted to take her to my room, but i could see the fleas all over her. i put her down and walked away quickly, i looked back and saw her limping behind me, so i walked faster so she could not follow me. i got to my room and started to cry. so much suffering i am confronted with here. human suffering, animal suffering, nature is suffering also. it was difficult to breathe. what to do about all this suffering? you do the work that is in front of you. you do the work that wants to be done. you do the work that has begun itself and just asks for you to go with it's flow. i know this. i know that everything is suffering, but also everything is bliss, i know this. i know that the people and the little puppy have been born and will die, and that i am attached to the idea of time, of when. and how and where. and i believe that we all are involved in choosing our births, our families, our lives circumstances so we can learn as individuals and inform the whole. i know these things, and i know how silly i am, every day there are hungry dogs and people, and yet i still live my life. but put one little dog right in front of me and i am brought to my knees. i am drowning in my feeling of the suffering of the whole world. i am not looking for answers or philosophy. i just know that when i have to turn someone away, i armor my heart and it hurts me. so i cried and that released my heart, and then i fell asleep.
today i will do the work that is in front of me, i will take the little dog to the animal hospital. i will do what i can here and now. and tomorrow i will leave for another city, i will leave the little dog behind. and maybe i will have made a difference, and maybe not. but i will have stayed present to the circumstances and genuine to myself. that is all i can ask, to move lightly with love, and to help because it gives me pleasure, not because i am trying to save the world. to do the work that is in front of me, the work that is asking to be done.

jan 25

someone gave me the name of a vet who came to the hotel to look at the puppy, i have decided to call her lola. of course she does not belong to me and i cannot take responsibility for her, but her belly is full of chicken tonight, and she is sleeping soundly wrapped in a warm shawl in my room. the vet was wonderful, he even does yoga! he helped the puppy and then i helped him with his back pain by prescribing some squats, fierce chair pose and uddiyana bandha. he gave the dog an injection for her leg, and said we are best leaving her to find the balance in nature. he said that her little body is strong and most likely she will find the strength to recover herself. the drive for life is so strong in all of us. his words reminded me that it does not all ride on my shoulders, i am not that important. i surrender the dog to god, grace, nature and her own innate intelligence. earlier today i fed her and when she was full she ambled away to lay on a sunny patch of grass. her little face was so content and serene, the warmth of the sun was comforting her. there are so many variables that it is a great mystery what will heal her. i caused myself a great deal of suffering last night by putting the weight of the world on my shoulders and not surrendering to that mystery. i am grateful for the encounter, it showed me my attachments, my fear, my limitations and my compassion. inshallah. tomorrow i fly to the ashram.