Buffalo
Wisdom
“I
would like you to relate with people, to love, to move in millions of
relationships—because they enrich—and yet remain capable of
closing your doors and sometimes having a holiday from all
relationship—so that you can relate with your own being also.”
Bhagwan
Shree Rajineesh
In
America, this is the season of constant commotion—of holiday
parties with conversations shouted over loud music and throngs of
people, of battling snarled traffic in bad weather, and standing in
long check-out lines. We human beings have created a season for
ourselves that looks nothing like it is supposed to look—the season
of expectant silence.
Winter,
according to every culture on this planet, is intended to be a season
of quiet contemplation; we are to use these days of low
light and long darkness to reflect upon our lives. In the American
Indian tradition, winter is north on the medicine wheel, the animal
is buffalo, the color is white, and it represents old age in the life
span. Winter is when we acquire wisdom, and that wisdom comes from
solitude, stillness and listening within. How does that stack up with
your own rendition of winter?
In
the coming weeks of hub-bub and frantic shopping and spending, let us
remember to build into our busy days ten minutes of solitude. Just a
few minutes each day—turn off the music, or the computer, or the television, put down
your keys and your coupons and your lists—and sit down. Close your
eyes, allow your body to relax, your mind to quiet. Imagine the solid stillness of the buffalo standing in snow. Be still and silent for ten minutes. Breathe. It
will make all the difference in your body/mind.
It
was George Bernard Shaw who said, “A perpetual holiday is a good
working definition of hell.” I'm inclined to agree, but it is we
who make it so. We can change our notion of what a holiday is if we
choose. Simply by allowing our body to do what it is intended to do
in winter, we can slow the madness and quiet the shrill siren of the
shopping monster. We can rest, and allow the wisdom of the buffalo to
seep into our consciousness.
In
the spirit,
Jane
No comments:
Post a Comment