How can the scent of jasmine in November
be described – even with a thousand images?
Or the warmth of the sun on our faces, after the long heavy rain?
How can this living silence which fills us
be expressed – even with a thousand words?
How can the gratitude in our hearts
be shown – even with a thousand songs?
How can anything describe you, Beloved?
What you are to us can only emerge
from the spaces between words,
from the emptiness between images
and felt
by a heart so fortunate
to beat in tune.
In India, among many beautiful things they call the Master, one is the gardener. You have to come to the right gardener, to the right garden. So he can teach you. First you have to get rid of all the weeds. That is the homework. That is the spiritual discipline. You have to trust, listen, to learn. It is not done in a weekend, or in two retreats. It is your whole life that is at stake.
When all the weeds are gone, you can plant the most beautiful flowers. Then the master will show you. Flowers of love, compassion, playfulness, friendliness, silence, ecstasy.
Vasant Swaha
