18 February 2021
Dearest friends,
I keep thinking I’m through writing these letters and then the coronavirus mutates, cases spike, and I feel the need to stay in contact. I think of you and wonder if you are okay. I hope you are all healthy and happy. We’ve spent the last couple of months in Haynes Park which is always a pleasure. But it is so different now than it was before. In the past the quietest weekend seva day was 500 to 800 sevadars; now it is 20. They’re doing the necessary routine seva to keep the place from deteriorating. As expected they all wear masks, social distance, and wash their hands as often as possible.
It still surprises me when I see a queue for lunch and everyone is distanced by two metres and wearing a mask. But does the camaraderie shine through behind the masks? Yes, it certainly does. That spirit which shines from sevadars all over the world is my bread and butter. It keeps me anchored, inspired, and engaged.
Though it is almost automatic to grab a mask before leaving my house, it is still a conscious decision and one that I long to not have to make anymore. I’m starting to get Covid fatigue. I look forward to the time when we can all meet again, when seva can return to normal. But I’ve finally admitted to myself that Covid will be with us for the indefinite future. It is the new flu. We’ll get inoculations once a year and hope that it is a mild year.
I find I have to be more disciplined than before. If not, I drift through the day in a mild stupor. It’s an inertia that comes from isolation and a lack of interaction. I need to motivate myself to stay engaged and to do my seva. But what’s reassuring is that I don’t feel a sense of doom and gloom. As we see friends and family getting ill and some dying from the virus, it would be so easy to become depressed, to even ask ourselves why we bother to do our best.
I just heard from a friend in Italy that today he tested positive for Coronavirus. I said I was a little worried and that I hope he won’t get too discouraged. He replied, “Stop worrying, I’m a strong person and believe this is also the Lord’s plan.” Immediately I felt a weight lifted from my shoulders. As always, I’m inspired and humbled by Baba Ji’s sevadars. It takes attention to keep the teachings vivid and uplifting. It is so easy for them to become just words without real hope behind the words. When that happens the beauty of the path is diminished, the light dimmer. Then my friend says he is strong in his beliefs and immediately the light is bright. I’m learning that vigilance and simran are essential to keep the flame burning. And that there is no lockdown on hope.
Friends, if any of you find me feeling low or sorry for myself then I encourage you, actually I demand, that you turn me around and give me a good kick in the backside. We are so lucky and sometimes I forget that simple, extraordinary fact. Baba Ji, if you’re listening, your sangat is a wonder!
So, seeing the worst, I still feel life is a bowl of cherries. There is always humour, always lightness. Speaking of lightness, Ann has stopped baking as she was getting a little chubby. She always says to friends in any discussion about health that she rarely eats sugar. The last year has certainly been the opposite of that! One of the side effects of the pandemic was an extra few kilos. Now she is on a purifying diet. She’s doing great but I’m deprived of freshly baked biscuits and bread. Even her beloved sourdough starter is wilting from loneliness. It gets no attention anymore. I’m sure it longs for her drishti.
What’s worse is that I’m often eating my own cooking. She makes steamed vegetables and I’ll eat them but I do it so that I can feel righteous and that I’m a mature adult who is looking after his health. Along with the vegetables I add a one-pot mess with oil and spices. I enjoy it (is that true or am I just saying it? Not sure really), but I certainly wouldn’t serve what I make to any of you. Oh, I long for a good Italian pizza or kharri pakori from Sunday langar in Italy.
Today I’m going into town as I have an errand to do. First I’ll spray my glasses with magic spray that stops them from steaming up. Otherwise I’ll pick up the wrong things off the shelf or worse lift up my mask so that I can see and someone in the store will have a meltdown because I’ve removed my mask. Then when I get home Ann will give me a going-over with disinfectant spray so that I don’t contaminate the house. It’s a scene from a science fiction film. I’m exaggerating, of course, but fear of the virus is seeping into our consciousness. Isn’t the pandemic his will? Yes it is. So it’s time, isn’t it, to stop worrying, do our best, and leave the rest to him. I grow contented writing those words.
My problem is that I start adjusting to life, get into a groove, and then everything changes. The Guru keeps moving the goal posts. I’ve realized I like routine and order, and as soon as everything is moving forward, seva is going smoothly, he changes the rules of the game. I guess complacency is a detriment to a satsangi, so when we are up to bat he throws us a wicked curve ball, Coronavirus, so we are challenged into alertness. (For those who are more familiar with cricket, substitute “curve ball” with a “googly.”) Does this make any sense? Am I talking rubbish? The world has to go on, and until it is time for it to dissolve back into the ocean of Shabd he’s going to mess around with our lives. Who’s ever heard of a Guru that likes his disciples to be confused?
A few years ago the British government was considering adding a new ministerial post. The Minister for Loneliness. Studies found that approximately 9 percent of the population was lonely. Yesterday I saw a survey taken in four European countries – UK, France, Italy, and Germany. People were asked to describe their current mental state. In three of the countries the most-used words to describe themselves, over 40 percent of those questioned, were weary, gloomy, and lonely. What a change from only a few years ago! I don’t feel that we are immune to these emotions.
In my pride of being a satsangi I think that I am so absorbed in the teachings that all this happens to others and not to me. But what I’m experiencing now is that all of us are influenced by the mess of the world. We are as vulnerable to fear and doubt as everyone else. But at least we have Baba Ji as an anchor. Can you imagine life without a master?
I found for a while that I became obsessed by the news. It passed the time but what a waste of time! Just a bunch of yelling and screaming. In the 1960’s I went to a political rally. Six of us went. There were thousands of people there ready for confrontations with the police. We were near the front and I watched as one of my friends had a screaming argument with a policeman. I looked at their faces and realized they were the same person – both angry men. Their opinion didn’t matter, but what did matter was the emotion behind the opinion. When I saw them I walked away from the march and went home. That was the end of my interest in saving the world. But during this last year I again found myself with opinions and a sense that I knew what politicians should do to change reality, to save us from the pandemic. Then I woke up and told myself to get a grip and stop getting agitated over the ways of the world.
I was reminded of that story from my past when, the other day, Ann asked if I was reading the news about the Mars landing. I said that what interests me in the news is if Arsenal are getting any better (fat chance) and the TV listings. The rest is much ado about nothing. I read the headlines and move on. They are all about lust, anger, greed, etc. Enough is enough!
By the way, we had our first vaccinations two weeks ago. For twenty-four hours afterwards we were exhausted but our reaction wasn’t too bad. Now we wait for our second jabs. Ann was scheduled for her vaccine but I wasn’t. I went with her as her care-giver. When it was Ann’s turn to get vaccinated we asked the nurse if I could get mine as well. The answer was a strong no – without a letter from your General Practitioner (GP), you can’t get it. Ann immediately said, “I have this disease, this disease, and this one also. If he gets Covid then I’m going to die.” Well, the nurse had met her match. She immediately went to her supervisor and, of course, I got my vaccination. That’s my girl!
A few days later….I walked into the house for lunch today to be met by kitchen chaos. Purifying diet is over. Does this call for a hallelujah chorus? It was probably grace that I was eating less but the aromas of baklava and asparagus tarts was really lovely. Secretly I’m a tiny bit of a sadhu, a tiny bit, and miss the more restricted diet and wish Ann were still purifying. So the analogy is: do we all secretly like lockdown and its restrictions? For us lockdown is a gift, an opportunity, isn’t it? Just as I really prefer a healthy diet, do I really prefer the extreme quiet life we’re all living now? I don’t want the quiet life to end and then say I wish I had taken better advantage of the pandemic gift.
Baba Ji keeps stressing the need for balance. But I’m not sure what balance really is. We live quiet lives and don’t go out clubbing – is that enough, is that balance? Or is balance a lack of self-consciousness? An ease in doing our everyday activities? A contented heart? All I know is I want to please him.
Enough of my musings and gloominess, though. We’re both okay. We’re watching Netflix too much but so be it. We both feel positive, contented, and a little lazy. No matter the circumstances, life is a bowl of cherries. Hallelujah. Maybe hallelujah is a little over the top but we are so damn lucky.
Please take care of yourselves, my dear friends.
Yours affectionately,
Bill