A little piece of MEat R.I.P. finger tip into the trash you go.

This morning I was given a gift in the form of having something taken from me in a very decisive manner or would it be an incisive manner? Non the less (ooh I can't really say that, in this case)
 I cut off the tip of my finger...a fair portion of the tip of the index finger of my left hand
Along with the profuse blood flowed many realizations. many thoughts connected in the same moment as the flesh disconnected....

Perhaps you would like to hear a little of the story of what happened before being satisfied with all the philosophy that follows.

I was, admittedly, hastily preparing a meal to take to work for me and my crew, my father then asked if I am leaving aside some for his wife, my mind swells with resentment.

She in my view has not been very helpful around the house and her needs have often been a source of distraction for my father since day one. I had thought that if she wanted something to eat than it would be nice that she contribute to the process. Today is dvadasi, in the morning we break fast with grains, having not eaten them the day before. Could she not have made some provision the night before, instead of brooding and scowling during our just before midnight dinner, be cause my father had a very rough day at work an hadn't share with her the detail, so he gets punishment again, now by her is this fair? Do I not do more than my share? I work from 9:00am till 9:00pm not having breakfast unless I make it for myself and every one else often not eating lunch until most people eat supper and rarely coming home to find that some one thoughtfully anticipated our arrival and had something ready. No that is not often the case at all and like last night and the night before I at at midnight and thus slept in silencing my 5:30am wake alarm. I didn't even want to eat knowing this would be the outcome but did so on my fathers request to help keep the peace.

CHOP-CHOP-CHOP I dice up the cilantro to place as a flavorful Kitchri ( a rice and mung bean stew a typical working mans meal in India) As I make my decisive concluding though that "No I will not go out of my way to leave some for her, even though a lactating mother...CHOP.... with a dramatic motion to punctuate the thought...I then realized that I cut to much...

As I wrapped the cloth to stop the bleeding I got the distinct sense something was missing, indeed , as I combed trough the chopped cilantro with my pinky finger I discovered a little pale chunk of what I had previously identified as me but not resembles less of me and more of meat.

I get the sharp feeling that my mood and mentality was off, it was not wholesome.

I pick up the little chunk of already cold flesh and realize it is no longer me, yet it carries my finger print which in unique to me alone. It has some weight, a presence in my palm though still small, after taking a photo I throw it into the trash along with bother bits of things that no longer serve a vital purpose in my life.

As the image is still fresh in my mind ,seeing the lifeless chunk  it in the palm of the hand it was once attached but now seperated part and parcel of me I remember the words of my spiritual master.....

using this same analogy.... That we are parts and parcel of God if we try to sever this relationship, thinking that we are separate or independent then the separated has no vale or enjoyment, just as, if you separated the hand from the body no one will want to keep it neither will the hand be able to enjoy separately from the body of which it is a mere part.

I realized that I was relating to my fathers wife as something other than a part and parcel of God, i was seeing serving her and indirectly her baby as something separate from my service to God. In juxtaposition of my finger I could see that my mentality was causing violence to God and myself. That by relating to others as separate from God and there by expendable or unworthy of service that it like cutting of a bit of my finger. This is not to say that every one is God but we are all his part and parcel and there by worthy of respect and care.

My Spiritual Master would conclude each of his letters  " Your ever well wisher" as his so called servant who am I not the well wisher of? is the business of the servant separate  from that of his master? No no let us not speak any more of separating thing the pain is near unbearable,

By the time I got all bandaged up the preparation was finished and I ceremoniously offered it to God feeling repentant for my previous outlook and oddly grateful to have has such sharp instruction that didn't take off more. With great love and respect tI portioned of a heartly helping of the dish for My Fathers wife and packed up the rest for taking to work.
A peacefulness set in and I knew this is the correct way to regard othere(or else!)

the shock has worn off and now the pain has set in.

I am further reminded of a Sanskrit prayer in which it is stated that one should chant the holy names of the lord in a humble state of mind , thinking oneself lower than the straw in the street more tolerant than a tree, devoid of a sense of false prestige and a willing to offer all respect on to others , in such a state of mind one can chant the name of the Lord constantly. I am reminded of this because as I write this I am having to tolerate an extraordinary amount of pain, who am I to complain to and what good would it do the pain will remain just as a tree is cut even after giving so many fruits but does not complain or with hold, or go away,, the combined constant steadying of mind actively tolerating throbbing pain has given my an even gaze, like that of a very detached mystic in the Himalayas( it could be the vicadine) and I have to keep my finger pointed up ward which gives me a scholarly and preceptor air about me. As if always poised to give good instruction and to indicate a constant command.... Upward!
 Certainly it serves as an excellent reminder for me

the moral of the story being you have nothing to loose willingly being of service to others, where as by resisting this fact even loosing a little can be very painful.

Everyone is very dear to God no one is to be left out,m

I also have come to consider that trying to enjoy others as separate from God , for instance to relate to a woman as her body and not recognizing that with in the body is spirit the true self which gives life to the body, that make the body desirable, and not just rubbish like the discarded bit of flesh from my finger, that that similarly is an act of violence, every one deserve to be related to as there highest expression....is it not? so who am I to confine one to the limitations of being admired for their body. This point recently made by a friend who after complimenting in excess, her beauty, replied " You are going to have to get over that, its not becoming of you...I not my body you know....for me to say truth spoke "from the mouths of babes"
would be accurate on may levels. Cutting of the tip of my finger some how triggered a flow of thoughts that enable that I can actually identify with the pain of being regarded as only the body on nothing more.

now the vicadin is starting to kick in so I think I am going to bring this to a close.