A long time ago there was a Yogi. Now this Yogi was a bit of a
zealot. On one hand,this was okay, as it drove him to become better in
technique and advanced as a spiritual being. On the other hand, it
wasn't so great, as it drove him to do things that were, shall we say...
a little wacky?
One afternoon he was sitting in a cave meditating. The cave was bare, nothing but a few cavemen on the side wall sticking spears in a beast that was no longer around. And, of course, his prayer rug.
His original rug that he had bought a couple of hundred years before, when he was but a child of 70 or 80. Actually, it was the last, expensive purchase he had ever made.
To cover his loins he depended upon the courtesy of passing persons to toss him a rag, or be offended by his omnipotent but dangling personage.
So he sat in the bare cave, his bottom immune to feeling by virtue of two hundred years of resting them on his prayer rug, conversing with whatever spirits happened to stumble upon his cave.
And, not to make too much this situation, but his cave was hidden deep in a jungle that had overgrown the attempt of any machete anywhere.
So he was sitting there, meditating, and an idea suddenly came upon him.
What if he opened his eyes, actually ceased his current meditations (only twenty years along, day and night, no holidays, no time off for good behavior) and opened his eyes, and stared hard enough to make holes into the cave wall.
After all, he hadn't been outside for a decade or so, had depended upon a trickle of drops of water that dampened the cave wall opposite the cavemen, and the fall of berries from a bush standing sentry just outside the mouth of his cave, and... why not?
Call it a window, call it a telescope to the eternal (or microscope, or something), he would actually be able to see the outside world without moving, and thus become even less dependent on that outer world. Now that was a great concept if ever there was one!
So our overly zealotrous Yogi opened his eyes and fixed his gaze upon the wall on the other side of the cave.
In the darkness of the earth, he focused his gaze. His inner light went out, and the rocks began to tremble under the weight of his eyes.
Weeks passed, became whole months. He grew ever more fanatic in the emitting of his eternal light, and the rocks shook and shimmied ever more.
Years passed, and one day, a single bit of stone, not much more than a grain, cracked under the pressure of his eternal attention. It... disappeared into nothingness, was transmogrified into the eternal, ceased to be as hard universe, and came to be the soft nothingness of the infinite spirit that permeates and is charged with the construction of this universe.
More years passed, and more grains of rock shivered... and then ceased to exist as if from their very beginning.
Berries rolled across the floor occasionally, and our Yogi zealot lessened his staring meditation only long enough to place the errant berries into his mouth. To drink, he sucked the very moisture out of the air.
More years, more hard staring, more eternal light, and, finally, after many decades, the last bit of stone disappeared into non-existence, and light slammed into the cave from the two holes he had bored.
After so many years of meditating, after so many years in the darkness, the touch of light was a physical assault upon his very soul.
The harsh light of the sun burned through our Yogi's eyeballs, scorched the back wall of them, blasted back up the nerves,nuked the brain, and... the Yogi was burned from this plane of existence.
Scorched into nowhereness.
Dried up.
Nothing.
The spirit, freed from the clutch of shrinking but still clinging flesh, bounced around the cave for a year or so, then drifted into rock, was caught in mountain for a few hundred years, and, finally, burst onto the surface of planet earth, found a baby body, and was born.
If you are ever in an overgrown jungle, somewhere on the spiritual side of the planet, hidden from the sturdy temples that stand for a few thousand years and then degrade unto dust, or are simply subleased into shopping malls. If you happen upon a berry bush that is seems fragile, its berries no longer being used for human sustenance and that berry bush no longer having reason for existence. If you look behind that berry bush you will see a cave entrance... not much more than a rabbit hole... and if you crawl into that hole and wriggle your way down a couple of yards, around a turn and down a few more yards, over the corpses of berries that have collected there over the years, you will come to a cave.
If you are in that circumstance, look around, for on a wall you will see, about three feet above the surface of the cave, the exact height the eyes of a meditating yogi would be, two holes.
Look into these holes, look for sunlight, and hope that the mountain hasn't shifted and covered this one yogi's testament to the endurance of the universe.
One afternoon he was sitting in a cave meditating. The cave was bare, nothing but a few cavemen on the side wall sticking spears in a beast that was no longer around. And, of course, his prayer rug.
His original rug that he had bought a couple of hundred years before, when he was but a child of 70 or 80. Actually, it was the last, expensive purchase he had ever made.
To cover his loins he depended upon the courtesy of passing persons to toss him a rag, or be offended by his omnipotent but dangling personage.
So he sat in the bare cave, his bottom immune to feeling by virtue of two hundred years of resting them on his prayer rug, conversing with whatever spirits happened to stumble upon his cave.
And, not to make too much this situation, but his cave was hidden deep in a jungle that had overgrown the attempt of any machete anywhere.
So he was sitting there, meditating, and an idea suddenly came upon him.
What if he opened his eyes, actually ceased his current meditations (only twenty years along, day and night, no holidays, no time off for good behavior) and opened his eyes, and stared hard enough to make holes into the cave wall.
After all, he hadn't been outside for a decade or so, had depended upon a trickle of drops of water that dampened the cave wall opposite the cavemen, and the fall of berries from a bush standing sentry just outside the mouth of his cave, and... why not?
Call it a window, call it a telescope to the eternal (or microscope, or something), he would actually be able to see the outside world without moving, and thus become even less dependent on that outer world. Now that was a great concept if ever there was one!
So our overly zealotrous Yogi opened his eyes and fixed his gaze upon the wall on the other side of the cave.
In the darkness of the earth, he focused his gaze. His inner light went out, and the rocks began to tremble under the weight of his eyes.
Weeks passed, became whole months. He grew ever more fanatic in the emitting of his eternal light, and the rocks shook and shimmied ever more.
Years passed, and one day, a single bit of stone, not much more than a grain, cracked under the pressure of his eternal attention. It... disappeared into nothingness, was transmogrified into the eternal, ceased to be as hard universe, and came to be the soft nothingness of the infinite spirit that permeates and is charged with the construction of this universe.
More years passed, and more grains of rock shivered... and then ceased to exist as if from their very beginning.
Berries rolled across the floor occasionally, and our Yogi zealot lessened his staring meditation only long enough to place the errant berries into his mouth. To drink, he sucked the very moisture out of the air.
More years, more hard staring, more eternal light, and, finally, after many decades, the last bit of stone disappeared into non-existence, and light slammed into the cave from the two holes he had bored.
After so many years of meditating, after so many years in the darkness, the touch of light was a physical assault upon his very soul.
The harsh light of the sun burned through our Yogi's eyeballs, scorched the back wall of them, blasted back up the nerves,nuked the brain, and... the Yogi was burned from this plane of existence.
Scorched into nowhereness.
Dried up.
Nothing.
The spirit, freed from the clutch of shrinking but still clinging flesh, bounced around the cave for a year or so, then drifted into rock, was caught in mountain for a few hundred years, and, finally, burst onto the surface of planet earth, found a baby body, and was born.
If you are ever in an overgrown jungle, somewhere on the spiritual side of the planet, hidden from the sturdy temples that stand for a few thousand years and then degrade unto dust, or are simply subleased into shopping malls. If you happen upon a berry bush that is seems fragile, its berries no longer being used for human sustenance and that berry bush no longer having reason for existence. If you look behind that berry bush you will see a cave entrance... not much more than a rabbit hole... and if you crawl into that hole and wriggle your way down a couple of yards, around a turn and down a few more yards, over the corpses of berries that have collected there over the years, you will come to a cave.
If you are in that circumstance, look around, for on a wall you will see, about three feet above the surface of the cave, the exact height the eyes of a meditating yogi would be, two holes.
Look into these holes, look for sunlight, and hope that the mountain hasn't shifted and covered this one yogi's testament to the endurance of the universe.
Would you like to find out about a new method for teaching the ancient discipline. Go to yogata.org/yoga-resources/black-belt-yoga/
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