Yet Untitled 033 - On Prayers Being Answered

Now What?

Howdy dear Yet Untitler!

I’ll dive right in.

A certain god-king slayed a ten headed demon who had abducted his queen. Upon his return - after a painstaking 14 years - there was a massive celebration. Once all the revelry died down, what did he do? He became paranoid about his his wife’s purity, kicked up a big fuss; and ended up losing her all over again.

A certain hero made his way home after fighting abroad for ten years. It took him another ten years to get home, only to find a hundred unruly suitors who would rather see him dead than reclaim his waiting wife. It all ended in a bloodbath.

Lord Ram and Odysseus didn’t know what lay on the other side of their prayers. Had they known, would their superhuman efforts to answer their prayers have been any different?

Stories end but life continues. As a teller of stories (remember YU #30 “Stories I Tell”?), this week I’m thinking about where my own story’s at, and why - having a big prayer answered - I’m suddenly nervous! I feel my nervousness is trying to tell me something. What?

Let’s find out together.

Dussera Grounds, Panipat, c. 2009

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A cryptic, extended metaphor:

Only because I can’t share details at present. But that shouldn’t deter the present investigation.

Here’s what’s going on:

I approach the end of a tunnel. I’ve been moving towards the light for a long time. Now it looms bright, and suddenly I realise that I’ve become used to the shelter of the tunnel! It kept my out of the rain, for one, and the light at the other end seems pretty harsh. How will it feel when it lands fully on me, lighting me up? I have a wild fear that I might emerge naked before a crowd. I imagine myself standing before them, thinking only about the cool, quiet darkness of my friend - the tunnel.

Corfu, Greece, c. 2005

As this happens - here are my top thoughts:

1. “I’ve been here before, many times”

Just see this photo of me on the last day of my first film shoot:

Colombo, c. 2003

After two months of hard backbreaking work, it rained, and the shoot ended. Oh, I had been waiting - praying - for it to end. Had I known that just a few months down the line, I’d be one confused 23-year-old wondering how to get the next film job, perhaps my grin wouldn’t have been so wide!

But finishing that shoot and transitioning though the confusion that followed was part of growth.

2. “Growth Exposes”

Shoots burst through the ground.

Babies exit the womb.

Shoots and babies know exactly how I feel!

Ananya and Aahana on their birthday, c. 2014

Yet Untitled 028 was about Hiding and Showing. Perhaps this post is an extension of that investigation, or of my thoughts about Stage Fright covered in Yet Untitled 020. The answering of my prayers is pulling me out of hiding, plonking me on a stage in the circle of a spotlight.

Perhaps my discomfort comes from thinking about growth in terms of stages and spotlights. I’m going to try a different way to think about it below:

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Here’s a story about a car and a cat

A long time ago, I was reluctant to drive in a foreign country. But drive - I had to - it was for work. Still, it felt like a terrifying prospect. All kinds of catastrophic thoughts kept running through my head, including getting confused by the left-hand-drive scheme of things and driving off a cliff.

But in the end I sucked it all up and decided to give it a go. Needless to say, I drove very slowly!

That car took me on a reconnaissance of a summer city whose streets were deserted because it was winter. The setting was so beautiful, that it felt unfair that only I was there to see it. I walked through it as if I was the last man on earth. It was a lonely place without its people.

And then came a cat, walking up to me as if to have a conversation. Suddenly, the experience shifted.

For the next few hours, this cat kept me company, following me around this ghost town I was in. Rather than feeling lonely and cold, I felt as if the cat and I were part of something significant. This became apparent when the sun started setting and evrything became bathed in some essential extract of roses.

The cat and I enjoyed this spectacle together. It was as if she was saying - “welcome to where I live, stranger. Aren’t you glad you were brave enough to drive that car? If you hadn’t been, we would have never met.”

She and I walked down a street following the very haunting music music from a distant harp. Only a ghost could have been playing a harp on that day in this solitary place. But it was the kind of day where the cat and I were prepared to meet any ghost, ready to invite them to make a trio with us!

Instead of a ghost, we found a very crabby man who hadn’t left with his brethren seeking warmer places. He drove us away, muttering rude words.

The cat and I didn’t mind. We found an open vista bathed in the last rays of the sun. Here, I took a photograph of my companion:

Soon after, the cat and I were back at the edge of town, where my car was parked - the car I almost didn’t drive. I looked at my feline friend and said, “Well, that’s it I suppose. It was lovely meeting you.”

The cat walked off as if she’d understood me perfectly. No fuss. I liked the straightforwardness of this cat. The cat I would have never met had I not conquered my cowardice. The cat with whom I saw rare beauty that wouldn’t have been as precious if I’d had it all to myself.

So, in short -

“Brave is better!”

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Ways in which I make myself braver:

1.Performing The Haka.

Long ago, a visiting drama teacher from the UK taught me and some of my fellow schoolmate thespians the Haka. It never fails. Once in awhile, Ananya, Aahana and I perform it on a whim together.

Here’s the New Zealand women’s rugby team, doing it like it should be done:

2.Reciting Rudyard Kipling’s “Now Chil the Kite..”

This poem always gives me a shot of courage. What a steady meter - a heart working to find kinship with braver things around it. Read it aloud yourself once; the words will come out in a rhythm as if by themselves! You’ll feel like you can do anything.

Now Chil the Kite brings home the night
That Mang the Bat sets free —
The herds are shut in byre and hut,
For loosed till dawn are we.
This is the hour of pride and power,
Talon and tush and claw.
Oh, hear the call! — Good hunting all
That keep the Jungle Law!

3.Practicing Iyengar Yoga

I’’m not joking when I say that a session of Iyengar yoga in the mornings, especially doing the standing asanas, makes me feel braver.

The typical depiction of a brave person shows them with their chest held up and out. Looking at Guruji doing Virbhadrasana 2, you can see the amazing accentuation of his upper torso, expanding his chest and thus also his lungs in the process. Better breathing = braver human.

I love that we can make our way deep into ourselves via our physiological aspect. I know that the reverse is true as well: when we feel brave, we stand taller and throw our shoulders back, our chest looking prouder than when we are frightened.

This thesis is in line with my understanding of Buddhism, which says that the best parts of ourselves are already there within us - they just need the right triggers to manifest. In Buddhism - this is called being “fully endowed”, i.e. you don’t need to add anything new to yourself in order to be enlightened. You just need the right stimulus that brings the right thing to the fore.

So, just do Virbhadrasana 2, or…

3.Chant(ing) Nam Myo Ho Renge Kyo

Since I brought it up…

“Myo Ho Renge Kyo” is the title of the Lotus Sutra. Chanting NMHRK is part of my practice of Nichiren Buddhism, which never fails to raise my spirits. Like Virbhadrasana 2, it is the stimulus that brings forth the best part of my spirit, one aspect of which is Courage (‘Buddhahood” is often referred to in my practice in terms of “unlimited courage”).

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Why I feel nervous

I get a good insight into my current conundrum by thinking about how my Buddhist chant comprises of revering the means to become braver, via the inclusion of the word ‘Nam’, which in Sanskrit means “to offer reverence”.

Here I am, thinking about frightening stages and harsh spotlights (see last para of “Growth Exposes” above) when I should be revering and deploying Virbhadrasana 2 and Nam Myo Ho Renge Kyo - both of which I have as a means to become braver.

I other words, I must emerge on the other side of that tunnel and dance! I must get to work!

Here’s my favourite ‘let’s get to work!’ song (and what a find it is! I’d never seen this video before, and it’s a real 35mm retro treat!).

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Sam Shepard on endings

To conclude, I think the problem with prayers arises when we see prayers as ends in themselves. Thanks to YU #33 and to you, dear Yet Untitler with your ready ear, I’m moved to see prayers more as bridges than as ends in themselves.

I continue my story, a little braver than before, leaving you with my favourite quote by actor/playwright/author/screenwriter/director Sam Shepard:

“I hate endings. Just detest them. Beginnings are definitely the most exciting, middles are perplexing and endings are a disaster. … The temptation towards resolution, towards wrapping up the package, seems to me a terrible trap. Why not be more honest with the moment? The most authentic endings are the ones which are already revolving towards another beginning. That’s genius.”

Thanks for listening! See you next week!

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Before you go

What do you do when you need to feel braver? Do you have a secret button you can press, like the comment button below?

Tell me. I want to know!

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PPS…

I’m aware that this instalment could have been more ‘processed’. If I worked on it for another day or two, it would likely be less muddled and more refined. But it was a conscious choice to send it out in this form. I like how it’s a more unfinished, more immediate picture of my thoughts.

If you have thoughts about this, or a critique, let me know?

I’d love to hear from you ❤️

✌🏼