Gazing into the Fire
I'm currently reading, Eat, Love, Pray by Elizabeth Gilbert, a memoir about a woman who after going through a devastating divorce, goes on a pilgrimage of sorts, spending 4 months in Italy, learning Italian, 4 months in India, learning meditation at an Ashram, and 4 months in Bali, Indonesia, learning all she can from a medicine man. While in India, she meets a dairy farmer from Ireland who also comes to learn meditation.
This passage reminded me of gazing into the fire on a starry evening in a little cottage in Ireland last summer....
"...And now I will mention my friend the dairy farmer from Ireland--on the surface a most unlikely character to meet in an Indian Ashram. But Sean is one of those people like me who were born with the itch, the mad and relentless urge to understand the workings of existence. His little parish in County Cork didn't seem to have any of the answers, so he left the farm in the 1980s to go traveling through India, looking for inner peace through Yoga. A few years later, he returned home to the dairy farm in Ireland. He was sitting in the kitchen of the old stone house with his father--a lifelong farmer and man of few words--and Sean was telling him all about his spiritual discoveries in the exotic East. Sean's father listened with mild interest, watching the fire in the hearth, smoking his pipe. He didn't speak at all until Sean said, "Da--this meditation stuff, it's crucial for teaching serenity. It can really save your life. It teaches you how to quiet your mind."
His father turned to him and said kindly, "I have a quiet mind already, son," and then resumed his gaze on the fire."
This really resonated with me. Ah, for more quiet evenings in front of the fire with kindred spirits who don't mind the silence. It truly is good for the soul.
This passage reminded me of gazing into the fire on a starry evening in a little cottage in Ireland last summer....
"...And now I will mention my friend the dairy farmer from Ireland--on the surface a most unlikely character to meet in an Indian Ashram. But Sean is one of those people like me who were born with the itch, the mad and relentless urge to understand the workings of existence. His little parish in County Cork didn't seem to have any of the answers, so he left the farm in the 1980s to go traveling through India, looking for inner peace through Yoga. A few years later, he returned home to the dairy farm in Ireland. He was sitting in the kitchen of the old stone house with his father--a lifelong farmer and man of few words--and Sean was telling him all about his spiritual discoveries in the exotic East. Sean's father listened with mild interest, watching the fire in the hearth, smoking his pipe. He didn't speak at all until Sean said, "Da--this meditation stuff, it's crucial for teaching serenity. It can really save your life. It teaches you how to quiet your mind."
His father turned to him and said kindly, "I have a quiet mind already, son," and then resumed his gaze on the fire."
This really resonated with me. Ah, for more quiet evenings in front of the fire with kindred spirits who don't mind the silence. It truly is good for the soul.
Labels: adventures, faith, ireland
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10:15 AM
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