Wild Horses

Suddenly, Kiki and I are the only two students at the ashram; I become too visible and my ego balks. Mataji's (Mother of the Universe) warm smile guides me back to center. She is so ordinary and yet so amazing, always checking to make sure that I have eaten something, handing me two mangoes instead of one.

I know she has watched me struggle. She has seen my mind dragging me around the ashram, wilting in the heat yet remaining defiant.

When I tried to isolate myself she arrived at my door with bananas. When I tried to skip the afternoon course she cajoled me with lemon water, switched the fan to on and told me I could lie down if I wanted to. Oh, my whiny ego and its resistance. Thankfully she has had more patience with me than I have had with myself.

The horses in my mind (they go by Poncho and Herb) have been running unattended for months now and I have sat back happily in my seat watching the reigns drag on the ground with a smirk, knowing full well they would run, run, run and have their way.

Through the trotting and the periods of sprinting, something else was also present, an internal force full of the same patience that Mataji possesses kindly waiting for India with a knowing smile.

In the walls of an ashram there is nowhere for horses to run. It is here where they are tamed and driven to the service of the greater good; selfless service, right speech, right action, right thought and loving kindness. This does not mean however, that horses don't try to jump over the walls, and so they did.

Herb, Poncho and I got stuck, teetering on the edge between the pull of the external world in the form of lively Rishikesh and the stillness of the inner world of ashram life. I sat paralyzed on the wall, foot entangled in the reigns I had dropped, screaming, "Fucking shit! Poncho! Herb! Do Something!" We stayed there together for some time, sweating and suffering, giving surrender the bird as I begged and pleaded with them to make a decision. I humbly realized that by dropping the reigns of my life, I had given them too much control (I still blame Poncho for the whimsical purchase of the 74' VW van).

I thought back to the flight here, Herb and Poncho and their bulky horse bodies in the seats behind me, Poncho smacking me upside the head with his hoof intermittently while neighing and laughing in that way only horses can do; much to Herb's chagrin.

The mind is like that, with no checks and balances in place it will do as it wishes, do as it has always done. And it was there on the fence with Poncho and Herb that I decided I wasn't going out like that, something my higher Self and Mataji already knew, my ego was just a little slow on the uptake.

And so Mataji, the Western woman who came to the Ganga over 40 years ago to tame her own horses walked me through the process with this advice, "The world is what you THINK. Whatyou put into your stomach and your mind, you must also digest. You are the master of your life, pick up the reigns. Make a friend out of that which disturbs your inner peace, everything in this world is love."

I look over at Poncho and tears are streaming out of his brown eyes. He catches my glance and with a deep sigh places the reigns back into my hands; Herb smiles with relief. Mataji then place a mala around my neck and gives my back a resounding slap, perhaps to knock some more of the Maya (illusion) out of me. She smiles and finishes by giving me detailed instructions on how to apply the natural horse sedative; meditation with a mala.

I smile and tell her that I am tired of fighting with my mind. She laughs and nods, one lone dread lock that has escaped the pile atop her head swaying in agreement. I know there is nothing more to be said, her faith and love automatically do the teaching.