Bal Ashram, Varanasi, India: Every morning I join the teenage boys at 6 am for yoga. They have been meditating already but I need those few extra minutes to get my spot in the shared shower and to wake up. I join them just as the start to chant 3 aums.
I've chanted in america before, ah, but on the 2nd floor of an ashram in Varanasi staring at the blessed ganges with the oranged sun climbing through the pollution haze is not a scene I've played in anywhere before, not even close.
One boy was late and missed the chanting. At the end of the yoga he sat quietly as everyone left. After a long deep breath he sang aum - and the world stopped.
Those remaining in the room either left quietly or sat and waited for him to complete his practice. I had never heard such an aum by one person. At first I thought it was a trick of acoustics, an echo. Then I thought it was some special training like those multi-noted Tibetan voice-gargling monk chants.
No.
It was just a young boy immersed in the god-idea of aum, and from him came this note that had other sounds in it. It was high and low at the same time. Buzzing and resonating smoothly at once and it filled all time and space and packed the room with holiness, and the world stopped.
And when the aum stopped the world stayed stopped. There was none of that "oh you sing so well" or "I just love how you aum" or "your aum really touched me.". Just agreement and silence. And though a part of the world stayed stopped the activities and sounds of its life blood went on and on and crept in over the walls, into the windows, over the floors. Life. Loud, fast, busy, hard, big.
Like last night's consciousness testing hours: A wedding reception next door. Hindi disco till 3 am. Boof, boof, boof, bass drums amplified till forever. And on the other side a temple doing its evening service which includes this practice in which bells are clanged and drums bashed and gongs slammed in all manner of loud and hasty clashes. I don't know why. I can't keep asking why, how and what all the time! Just take it in.
So I sit between two worlds colliding. Assaulted by a strange flavor of disco from the west and from the east a jangle of metal so loud and irregular it cannot be shut out like some insignificant ambient noise at a party can. So loud it all is that the guru must shout at dinner "my ear has finally opened." He had been suffering from an infection.
We laugh with the relief at the ironic timing for his congested ear to have its opening. And then we go on as usual to sit with him and hear the petitions and problems of people who come to see this holy man and receive his blessing, advice and instruction.
The thing is this: they do exactly as he says. Their unfailing faith in his love works it way through their actions into confidence in the world, instilling hope and a sense of place in the universe that is beautiful to watch.
Boof, boof, boof, clang, clang, clang, shanti, shanti, shanti.
Aum.
edblogword.blogspot.com edblogword.blogspot.com
Edward Viljoen is co-author (with Chris Michaels) of Spirit is Calling, an interactive daily journal and Practice the Presence (available in October 2009). He is co-author (with Joyce Duffala) of Seeing Good At Work available at steppingstonesbookstore.org steppingstonesbookstore.org
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