A couple of days ago, as I changed into my yoga clothes in my still-dark room early morning, I caught sight of a stream of sunlight streaming in through the window blinds. Sharp and straight it shot, all the way to a little sun on the wall near the floor. Enraptured, I called my partner inside quickly to witness the sight — a dark room with this sword of bright light, with hundreds of little dust particles lit up in its path.
I could draw dozens of spiritual parallels with just that one vision.
Last Sunday, my elder daughter and I sat reading in the drawing room. The entire house was silent, as my younger one was at a friend’s house, my partner was at work and the housekeeper was (for a change) going about her business quietly. Engrossed as I was in my book, it seemed like the most luxurious weekend ever — total peace, no rush, no deadline to meet, no fighting kids, no utensil banging, no talking even. My daughter and I exchanged glances once in a while, taking a break from the books, and I told her, “This feels like the greatest luxury in the world — to be able to read in silence, without distractions.”
Then today, again a holiday, after finishing up my morning obligations — yoga, breakfast, newspaper, housework — I went into my bedroom where the younger one was still asleep (she never gets up before noon on a holiday). Somehow the cool, dark room and unmade bed beckoned me. I crept into bed next to her, and lay snug and cosy there for a while. I couldn’t sleep of course, but it was a glorious feeling nonetheless. The gurus say one shouldn’t waste time as time is the most precious commodity of all. But wasting a bit of time felt gloriously divine in those few moments, stretched out on the bed, mid-morning.
Besides, as I lay there, I kept repeating, “Aahh, Krishna, this is for you.” Pleasure, or life’s little luxuries, in His name can never be a waste of time. I suspect the universe throws these little moments precisely for us to savour them anyway.
100 Paths 