Excepting a few books in the image, most of the others have been on my shelves for a few years, including a couple of the yoga books. I’ve read them, left them alone and come back to them again and again. The first reading would always be a mad devouring, wanting to greedily lap everything the pages held. Subsequent readings were usually piecemeal, sometimes a line or two, sometimes a page, sometimes 20. Every single time, the words have revealed something new, more a little uncovering rather than discovery.
I’ve been graced with a sense of deep gratitude as I practise living in accordance with the principles of Yog to the best of my ability. Perhaps this fervent belief has led to a different response to whatever I read. The response is less intellectual and more devotional, although it seems strange to use the word in connection with myself.
Sometimes a commentary on one of the Sutras prods me to pick up The Gita. This in turn pushes me to open the translation of the Upanishads. At times something reminds me of a line I read a while ago and I go searching for it. Yet other times, it is getting carried a way with the Puranas and the epics as they paint the gamut of human and divine life. There is literature available to satisfy every kind of reader. The sheer range is staggering.
The project to memorise the Yog Sutras resulted in a certain familiarity with Sanskrit words. It has brought in its wake a new slow savouring of the timeless texts in this studentship. Today’s trigger was a brainstorming session with a friend as we explored the concept of zero waste. It reminded me of the lines from ‘The Wasteland’ and what could I do but hear what the Thunder said…