Namaste KT Ji,
A heritage so rich is had to imagine without a tear or two welling in the eyes;
so far removed from the red brick and grey slate roofs of neatly ordered boxed
houses standing like regimented soldiers in rows of my natal greygreen British
abode; how I would love to wait a while beneath the mango tree and discuss my
origins which are in a much older branch of history than the one I have been so
half heartedly taught; were I not so readily fleet of mind, I might be stressed
by the thought of such a change in perspective; duly the plastic life in the
climes I now habite, actively encourage this; they push the nature of time to
the surface as if it were a seed waiting to find the light of day. Despite the
desires of those so linear in their thought that their illusions be preserved,
I think for fear of thought its self, as rāhu has his way. A wise old
shipbuilder once said to me: the bridges built from un-sawn trees, are by far
the strongest; that the older wood which, in retaining its natural form, of the
more ancient schools of carpentry; resists the erosion of time with a far
better resilience than a log sawn straight by man and his machine; for in the
straight beam the veins of the wood are severed whereas in the natural log they
remain a whole, internal structure quite intact, pṛthvī and jala. How curious a
desire it is to want to make everything so linear? Rather like trying to remove
the finer nuances from the musical scale; all very well if you can not hear
them; but what of those who do; Shall we banish them, so as to confirm to our
own beliefs? Or worse, but I shall not go there now ...
I apologise for bringing the smog of the Occident beneath such a glorious tree;
I should rather eat some fruit and perhaps sing for a while. Learning of all
there is to know of divisions in fractal branches; that I might glimpse the
whole for just long enough to know which way is up and around which pole we
turn.
That is perhaps an axis rather than a point but when all said and done; that is
precise enough for me; to know that I am always moving ...
I wonder now what defines these 8 modes of time in Sanskrit and how I might
make shorter work of a Jyotiṣa narrative, if they were readily accessible in my
thought; The mind boggles, and if it didn't, how would we know that we are
alive?
You have offered me much food for my thought, for which I thank you.
Kind regards.