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Rude Awakenings - Forest Sangha Publications

Rude Awakenings - Forest Sangha Publications

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^0 P I L G R I M S 06By the time he concluded his remarks, we had left the Cyclops’ cave.The night was taking over. We let down our sleeping platforms and Iclambered onto the top one. The man in the suit opened a bag and tookout an old whisky bottle filled with water and slugged it back vigorously;then he replaced the bottle in his bag, lay down on the berth opposite,and took out a chain and lock. With this he fastened his bag to his wrist,slid the bag under the berth and floated off into sleep.Attempting to follow suit, I put my bag under my head and lay back:back to the posture where the chaos of dreams is the norm, and wakefulnessand functioning thought are considered a nuisance. Lying down,we enter another reality; not to enter it would be torment. Yet most ofus accept only the waking reality, which grants us a semblance of control:until we delve inward, sleep—or drugs and alcohol—are the onlythings we trust to take us back to the mystery. But India makes you awareof the pain of trying to walk clenched in your private and inert space.Here you have to let go. No matter how much the patterns of thoughtmight recoil or fume, here the natural law of unpredictable change pertains.For me that was the attraction of the place.In a matter of minutes, night’s mystery waved a wand over the manin the suit. After the free fall, he had landed, to take on the form of agiant wild pig. His snoring assumed a vigour and confidence far beyondany of his waking acts—it was heroic snoring, lusty, unabashed as warriorsfeasting after a battle. The belly had broken free at last: it shook andresounded. The throat rasped, the nose snorted; the lips, not to be leftout, added their flapping. Surely an epic was being enacted in his otherworld. Reassessing how much sleep I would get this night, I felt myselflet go and slip a little farther into India—and then feel tenderly disposedtoward our travelling companion, strangely glad for his escape from hissuit and chained bag.Clackety clack! Clackety clack! Grunt, snoorrrrrre!2 1

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