What are you doing this Christmas? II

As you may know, I usually wait until the end of a season of Confessions of a Merry Monk to write something a little different, but as the last few episodes were a little heavy and probably a tad depressing for the reader (sorry about that, it does get better, I promise 🙂) and with Christmas right around the corner, I thought I’d change the tone a bit.

Here it is.

On a chilly winter’s Himalayan morning, while it’s yet dark outside and the stars and moon are still casting their gentle light upon the path that leads to the temple, I step out of the shower and wrap myself in my towel, and a realisation strikes me. I cry into my towel, overcome with emotion. Why?

Well, before I tell you, I wanted to tell you a little about my most recent trip to Kenya.

While in Nairobi, for just over a month, I stayed in a beautiful, tranquil convent on the edge of Kangemi, a well-known slum of over 150,0000 inhabitants that Pope Francis (Pope Francesco) visited in 2015.

The convent is run by some of the sweetest, kindest ladies I have ever met. They are Catholic nuns. The elderly, Sister Mirella, originally from Italy, and Sister Terezinha, originally from Argentina, who have been in service in African countries, including Malawi and Kenya, for most of their lives, made my heart melt with their gentle and welcoming ways. And I have to say, Sister Terezinha makes the best pizza I’ve ever had. I looked forward to Sunday suppers 🙂

The nuns live simply, they speak quietly, they sing hymns with the voices of angels during church, and they are always in prayer and service. They respected that I would be in silence during my stay and did everything to make sure my experience was completely peaceful. And it absolutely was.

While there, even though I was a guest and although they provided hospitality services, I made sure to clean my room myself and wash my own dishes. A convent is an ashram and I could not allow fellow devotees to clean up after me. Everybody did their share and I was happy to do what little I could to be less of a burden on them.

Even Sister Terezinha, who is one of the senior-most Sisters, cooks and cleans and mops the floors with the same humility as any novice eager for the grace of God. I can see it in her heart, she’s doing it for the Holy Mother.

We might call them by different names, God, Bhagwan, the Holy Mother, Ma, Swami ji, but we both know we call out to and pray to the same One: The One who is Love.

And it is this Love that the Sisters have spread throughout Kangemi; with their school projects and social work, bringing hope and smiles to those who otherwise would not have it.

Kangemi is just one of the thousands of slums in the world, where, according to Habitat for Humanity, statistics say that up to 1.6 billion people live. That’s a quarter of the world’s urban population. Most have no electricity, no hot water, no running water even, let alone drinking water and a sewage system. Forget about medicine, air-conditioning, refrigerators, washing machines, radiator heaters and plush, warm, fragrant towels…

So when I stood in my shower room that morning, I cried because:

I’d woken up in the morning and used my remote to switch on the heating so that I could warm up my little studio apartment here at the ashram where I live, nestled in a quiet valley overlooking the river, while I meditated cosily covered by my quilt before getting out of bed.

I’d taken a hot shower, while my freshly washed and dried plush towel, which I’d laundered in my washing machine with my favourite scented fabric softener, lay warming on the radiator.

I stood for a moment and breathed in the warmth and scent of the towel and the tears began to flow.

This is the pinnacle of luxury, I thought to myself. How did I get so lucky?

I knew, millions of people around the world would never get to experience this. The faces of those living in the slums I’d visited in Africa and Asia, and the ones I’d seen on TV flashed through my mind and pierced my heart. It hurt for them.

And with those thoughts also came a wash of gratitude. What have I done to deserve this peace and this luxury? Nothing that millions of other people haven’t done. I couldn’t express enough how grateful I felt. Like a mantra whispered over and over again, my heart chanted, Thank You, God; Thank You, God; Thank You, God.

There was a certain sombreness and deep reflective gratitude in my being as I made my way that morning under the moonlight to the temple for the Vishnu Sahasranama (The chanting of the Lord’s thousand holy names). On my knees before Him, I prayed for those without the basics of life, and I tried and failed to express just how deeply grateful I was for everything I had. No matter how many tears I cried, I felt it would never be enough. I still feel like this. I understand when Swami ji says, we can never be grateful enough.

Around this time a couple of years ago, I wrote this post: What Are You Doing This Christmas? You may like to read/reread it. I describe some of my Christmas experiences serving in homeless shelters while I lived in London and I mentioned some suggestions for what you could be doing over the Christmas holidays, whether you celebrate Christmas or not.

And if you can’t do any of those suggestions? 

Perhaps you can just be grateful.

Grateful that you’re not fighting for your lives or rights somewhere like in Ukraine, Afghanistan or Iran, or fighting to survive in any slum in the world. Most likely, if you’re reading this, you’re not. So can we be grateful?

So grateful that the feel of clean bedsheets or towels brings us to tears.

So grateful that the taste of fresh water brings us to our knees.

So grateful that holding the medicines we take to alleviate our daily suffering overwhelms us.

So grateful that we are warm enough (or cool enough, if you’re in the Southern hemisphere at Christmas time) that the same feeling of contentment spills out as loving kindness for everyone who crosses our path. 

To my beautiful, respected Sisters in Nairobi, I will never be able to express how grateful I am for all the love and affection you showered upon me and for all the wonderful work you are doing for the people of Kangemi. 

I wish you and everyone reading this the most divine and blessed Christmas, full of peace, contentment, joy and kindness.

🎄❤️🕊️

Joy to the World; the Lord is Come! (Swami ji😊)

With His Grace, 

Sushree Diya

❤️

Photo: Courtesy of Jamie Street at Unsplash