Sunday, January 25, 2015

"Work is Love Made Visible" - Khalil Gibran

It has always been so "nice" to hear this above quote (and others) of Khalil Gibran.  However I realised that I now wanted tangibility.  How is work love made visible? This had become especially important because I had seen how much of a struggle working has been for me.  Why have I not been able to work at all? I had always seemed to be bogged down by "externals", "logistics", what I think of as my incapacities - all of this had seemed to stop me from working, from being able to work. 

How is work love made visible? Love for what? I really wanted to work, but it had not been happening.  By work I mean any or all kinds of work, domestic, social, the work that I had chosen for myself as part of my career. Some one or more parts would be frozen over at any given point in time.  Much more than anything else, the official work had been stagnating. Because a home means dependents, the household had to be run; there is no question of stopping there, however that could also become mechanical in a not-vibrant state of being.  
So my thoughts of incapacities and fear of failure held me frozen.  How can I work like I wanted, knowing I may fail, knowing that I don't know enough to work? There had been a layer of excuses and reasons on the surface which had to be peeled off before reaching this question.  The top layer was made up of issues around the externals like operational problems, issues with coworkers, ups and downs of balancing multiple roles of life and so on.  It took a while before getting to the hidden fear of failure and thoughts of inadequacy.  This was a layer of truth that again had to be peeled off to reveal deeper truths. 

Between that first question, "How is work love made visible?" and the other questions centered around oneself, "How can I work knowing I may fail?" etc, lies the favourite theme of writer-philosopher Chaturvedi Badrinath.  A theme that recurs in much of his expression, and now I see why.  There is a struggle between those 2 questions.  Because each question is in a different language altogether.  One is that of history, and the other, that of transcendence.  The voice that tells me I have all these limitations is the language of my history and experience - the voice of my thought-belief-perception self.  The other voice and language is that of transcendence.  Of that inner being, inner self that is watching all the drama of life.  That inner self which is love, which is oneness of all creation. 

Which voice am I aligning myself with at any given moment?  This seems to be a quintessential human struggle.  Each has its gifts and consequences.  I had always said, "Of course, I really want to work". I want to align myself with this deeper, inner self of which I have glimpses and flashes when there is clarity, when the inner space seems to be lighted. That was intention.  But what of action?  Why had it never flowed through and manifested in action?  The question here for me was, why do I want to align myself with that inner voice, and why do I want to work? Because I want to be productive, I want to be efficient, I want to be able to write the truth, every single day, I want, I want... And with this want, my mind has quietly aligned itself with the voice of the limited self.  This is self-love.  And I don't mean this in a judgmental way.  It is self-love in that I am in love with my own perceptions; taken with my perceptions of the end results of a love being made visible through work, for example. Some toys and sweets and savouries that I will be able to get from the Mela at the end of the walk.  If I am actually present there with that end in my head, it pulls me deeper into self-love.  I am struck by fear, what if I don't get those toys there in the Mela? Maybe I should see what route others are taking, then I will go to the correct Mela.  This then leads to mental paralysis, and of course paralysis of action.  In being stuck in this self-love, there is no Yoga.  There is no flowing of that inner being, love.  With that sudden sight into the struggle, the message of the Bhagavad Gita, which we have made into a platitude - "dont think of the fruits, only put in your best work" takes on such meaning and significance. 

In Yoga, that inner self flows.  And I, the actor in the drama of life, completely align myself with that flow, and allow it to make of me what it does; allow it to season me.  This feels suspiciously like surrender to me.  Funnily enough, I felt that I have been reflecting on self-effort.  What is this paradox? It perhaps is both at the same time? And life goes on.  The stage is set.  The actor is out there and in here at the same time.  And I realise that the question, which voice am I aligning myself with at any given moment?, is not an either-or question that has a one-time solution.  It then becomes a constant and on-going conversation that I engage with at every step, and that is Yoga. And this ongoing dialogue also gives one spaces and possibilities to travel back and forth between those two languages, to straddle both and, their paradoxical nature notwithstanding, take even concrete steps with seemingly abstract ideas - faith, taking responsibility, action despite / with fear and any number of ways as there are beings.  Then what begins to happen is work manifesting as a consequence of the greater self, greater love.  

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