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ART & LITERATURE
bhoomi pooja -worship of the land, ahimsíc krishi - non-violent agriculture, live and let live and so on...
between the stellar emptinesses, iron-rich rocks, hydrogen hysterias that make a star in fiery night blasting billions of years in all directions by matter and anti-matter, cosmologies strange and perilous
neither beginning nor ending, neither proposing nor resulting, but by this wondrous accident or purpose, impromptu side-glance, ultimate deliverance, entangled atoms,
restless reconciliation of elements and molecules,
or simply, by some miracle, a stone's throw, granted all we take to be biology a second chance.
Today, years later, looking back, forgiving conduct
overwhelms my ignorance then and now; the kindness I would want bestowed upon myself. is all there, this resonant salutation, basic
to the way of a Jain, that reads: khamemi sabbajive, sabbe fiva khamantu me, metti me sabbabhuyesu, veram majiha na kenavi -
I forgive all beings, may all beings forgive me, I have friendship toward all, malice toward none.
Other words resound from those times, ahimsa -violence not, the root of all restraints samavika, equanimity whose practice stabilises the world, mulagunas, eight basic restraints in whose defence a pastoral confederacy amongst all humans takes shape, breathes in, gives thanks, makes peace; anekantavada, a doctrine given to multiple aspects, tolerance by any other name, which must inevitably lead to kshanti, forbearance, irya-samiti, care in walking, anukampa, compassion, dana, charity, dharma, the law and endless other kind injunctions, white picket fences 'round the self to keep attention, focus, loving heart on all things - thoughts, deeds, intentions - this myriad of Jain approaches to the world impressed the wandering child, the roving adolescent, the quietly roaming old man in me; inspired like no other mirror a sense that we together could go on in spite of such adversities -a world engulfed in war, one September 11th after another, the terrible replay of twin towers toppling to the earth, infused with thousands of human souls - burned beyond recognition but never forgotten a mother manifesting every wound, insult, darkness, as mankind smothered her, pierced her heart, exhumed her seedlings, butchered her children, and slaughtered themselves with deft relentless incoherence,
2600 years ago a man driven by unusual compulsions,
known as Vardhamana to his childhood friends, who would come to be called Mahavir, 24th Tirthankara path-finder, or Jina, sage - but he was a man, remember that,
laid the course, ventured endlessly, barefoot, bereft, completely at one with mother India he gathered all the crimes against nature in his embrace,
sat down in the dust, quieted his heart,
from village to village, and made sense, psychoanalysed, discussed, discoursed, offered advice,
sought fellowship from those distressed, equally bereft: from captains of industry and mothers of ne'er-do-wells; chiefs and thieves, butchers and gatherers,
from kings and infants and all between,
to establish once and for all a viable way that each of us might treasure for generations to come
and by our keen observance, engender harmonies shall last forever and ever, as during one particular gathering,
a sermon delivered to the trees and honey bees,
the local citizens and other delegates with hooves, feathers, scales, horns, talons and the like - the samovasaran, linguistically attuned to marvellous
childhood in each of us, imaginative thinking, outside the box -
And in whose shadow 1 see Mahavir himself, walking carefully, sifting through the ash, knowing well that it has happened before, yet also believing that children might as easily grow up free of these disasters.
1 saw him there, a naked man, with my own eyes, how the Jain community, and others, adhered with uncanny love in spite of so much pain, to the traditions, whether in Mother India or Mother Canada, from the UK, to Kenya, from 'America to Singapore - the same thing: love and non-violence, vegetarianism, compassion for all living beings and many non-living, as well. Among the Jains, it was as clear as the cry that now ricocheted around the world: The Cry for Peace. Thousands of years ago, Mahavir cried out as well. The echo remains; it left me startled, challenged, and not alone in a world where cynicism had nearly conquered all and people feared to open their mail, faltering over the image of anthrax-laden words, and bombs pummelled
Today they call it spiritual ecology, and other such fancy thingssustainability, diets for a new world, vegetarian ethics,
conservation, small is beautiful, less is more, stone age economics,
biodiversity preservation, saving the world, hope for the future, catalysts for peace, Ithaca
hours, intentional communities, low cholesterol politics, the "richness of simple living".
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Jain Spirit . March - May 2002
Jain Education international 2010_03
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