Love Lived, Life Loved

I'm home from a very long, exciting, interesting day. Today we had a treasure hunt which spanned the city and resembled the Amazing Race (which, I learned, I would love and excel at for about three hours before crashing), called Khojo Hyderabad. Essentially, we were given money for travel and had to follow clues and hop rickshaws to reach our travel destination. My group came in second, winning us a small sum of rupees. It was fun - particularly when multiple rickshaws were racing to the destination, four kids crammed into the back of each, cheering the driver on ("Juldi, bahaee!" -- "Quicker, brother!") and jeering the opposing teams. In the process, we visited a small local business which produced numerous types of beautiful clothes and rugs (a traditional process which was essentially saved and revived by a single woman, who told us of her story and her art), a sprawling local art museum and a Hindu temple and community center, where a sadhu (ascetic) lectured us on his guru's teachings of yoga, strength, virtue and unity of thought, word and deed. During that last one, a second speaker and follower of the same guru wasted no time leaping into a discussion (he emphasized, not a lecture) on purpose, happiness, goodness and wisdom. Near the end, social barriers to philosophical discussion thoroughly dismantled, he asked if we had any doubts (a word Indians frequently seem to use meaning "questions", though doubts was perfectly appropriate just then).

So, I asked him a question which has plagued me ever since I took my first class on Eastern philosophy - how does one love fully without attachment? Buddhism teaches that all of life is transitory and impermanent, and that it is our perception of things as stable and unchanging which causes the suffering in our lives. Thus, if one frees oneself from attachment through the recognition of all of life as fleeting and in flux, one frees oneself from suffering. Traditionally, this realization is the essence of enlightenment, liberating one's self from the material world through attainment of nirvana.

Much of this sounds about right to me. I understand that attachment to some standard is at the heart of any pain and ultimately responsible for the experience of pain itself. What eludes me is how one could be free of attachment in human affairs without sacrificing some degree of passion, in turn sacrificing a bit of one's very humanity. It is easy for me to feel little attachment to material goods or power, for instance, because I place little stock in them. Necessarily, my passion for these things dwindles as does my love for them. In these two cases, I would say that's most likely a good thing.

But where love is concerned, for others and ideas, I see the death of love and passion as an end to life itself. Without these guiding forces, these basic principles which move us forward, directing and defining our lives, I should not find life worth living. And so for these matters, one cannot simply extinguish love and attachment together. Somehow, one must carefully blow out the harsher flame, leaving the gentler, essential one aglow.

How could one love, entirely, devotedly, humanly without attachment? Is not the pain of loss the proof of love extended? How can one feel so terribly much for an ideal or human being without the desire to maintain the beloved's presence?

Wondering how to live a brilliant, energetic life without delusion, I posed the sadhu this inquiry. He offered the example of his guru, a man who came and fulfilled his dharma (duty) avidly and lovingly before simply, elegantly, leaving. The how was shown more than it was told, conjured through images of indiscriminate love and humility. Such seems to be the way of wisdom; it cannot be transmitted, it rather must be realized.

He offered two closing prayers, so we chanted ancient Sanskrit with this smiling, gentle man, before joining him again in our native tongue. He spoke the first few words and I half-smirked in recognition.

We then shared the serenity prayer.