Saanich Fall Fair: The Best of Country Living

Swami Pragyapad Leaves Islanders Questionless

The other night I went to the Salt Spring Centre of Yoga. The ad said that Swami Pragyapad was giving a presentation. I showed up about 10 minutes prior to his arrival. A somewhat flurried middle-aged woman was acting very officious and nervous as if she was awaiting Jesus or Buddha or the reincarnation of Mahatma Ghandi or something. She seemed annoyed at me for hanging around the lobby. Namaste to you too, I thought. Namaste. Namaste. Namaste.

A few minutes later Swami Pragyapad arrives up the stairs. He's got a very lovely face and very beautiful black hair. Love his hair. Imagine running my fingers through that hair. He's dressed in a long white sari. He has a fantastically warm energy. I would have liked to have gone up to him and asked for a big bear hug. There's something really sexy about a nice looking guy in a sari. I thought it was just kilts. Saris and kilts. Good to know. Scotland and India.

He seemed to have a bit of an entourage of Indian women of a variety of ages. Maybe he travels with his family. He was being driven around in a black Mercedes and that kind of ticked me off.  He better not being staying on that massive yacht in the harbour I thought although as I say that I think, why not? Why shouldn't we all be so lucky?

He was very silent and calm a the front of the room  as he sat with a placid smile resting across his lips. He just surveyed the crowd and was completely at peace. He didn't even move his feet or anything. No finger drumming on the chair. Nervous white people were wondering when he wanted to begin. "It's up to you," he responded. "Whenever you like."

The same officious women crept up to him and nervously poured him some water and placed a white napkin over the glass. God forbid he should get a fruit fly in his water. Minutes and minutes passed. I looked at him. He looked at me. A smiled crossed his lips. Maybe he could see my right eyebrow raised in questoning. How do you get to be a swami anyway? Who says so? I'd like to ride around in a mercedes and have men follow me and sit at the front of the room waiting for "sincere seekers" to ask me questions so I could ponder them and try to impart my spiritual wisdom to calm their conflicted minds.

He tells us that he doesn't really like to talk a lot. He'll talk a while and then as "sincere seekers" we must have questions so he'd be pleased to hear them and have this be more interactive. Isn't that right? he asks. That's his trademark question. Isn't that right? he asks. Right? Isn't that right? Well, you tell us I think.

Now here's the thing. On this island chock a block with people who boldly proclaim their "special powers", their ability to see your aura or fix your aorta, who claim to be able to read your future in a bunch of loose sticks left at the bottom of your teacup or to read the health of your intestines by looking at your tongue when they have a real, live, sexy, breathing Swami sittin' a mere 10 feet from them only THREE of us have questions. WTF?  That's right people. A total of 3 questions by an audience of more than 25 people. I don't get that.

After it was over he suggested that if anyone would like to be blessed they could come to the front. Many people lined up. They bowed. He put his hand on their head. They knelt towards his feet, as if they were going to kiss them.I thought about it for a minute. Should I have him bless me? Why not? Why wouldn't I want him to bless me? Why wouldn't I want anyone to bless me? But then I decided against it. I didn't really want to bow in front of him. I'm not really the bowing in front of anyone type ya know? Afterall, he's a mere male mortal and I want nothing to be happy and I can be happy in any situation so I don't really need his blessing and I have absolutely no doubt that these, his very own words, apply to me not requiring his blessing. But, he was a cool guy. I could tell. Just a feeling.

If I was a Swami what would you want to know from me?

Fernwood Dock Unlimited

This morning, after a night of heavy rain, the sun was warm. It sparkled on the ocean. I got out of bed in some sweats and a T-shirt and after microwaving my coffee, I put on the same thongs I've worn all summer, the ones that have left my feet a perpetual black, and I walked outside.

As I crossed my backyard and walked around my car, I could feel the dew of the blades of grass tracing my skin.  I could hear my steps on the gravel of the road. I love the way, in the sun, long yellow sheaths of grass are backlit and golden.  The Arbutus bark has turned as red as it will ever get bronzed by a summer of sunshine. I saw the black bunny run across the road near the house that's been for sale for ever and 7 crows in a tree farther ahead.

I was headed the 15 minutes or so it would take me to get to my favorite dock, Fernwood Dock. I now feel that I have photographed this dock, including the image below, from almost every angle possible. I'd have to be under the water or in an airplane to get it some other way than I have already. But, I'm sure I'm wrong as I say that. I'm sure there are still more ways. That is the challenge.

As I was walking back down the dock after taking these photos, two people - a man and a woman - walked hurriedly towards me. "There are whales out there," they said. "We could hear them from the beach." I turned around and walked back with them. Why couldn't I hear them I wondered. I couldn't see anything either. They pointed again. "Near the end of Wallace island," they said. I could see them, barely. I caught the glint of the sun off their wet skin and intermittent black fins as arrows rising from the water. I could see the fine mist from their blowholes. Just barely. A whole pod of them near Wallace island.

We watched in silence. They had binoculars. More people showed up. There were 9 of us now.
"It must be the sockeye," she said. Another two locals showed up. "Friends called us. They could see them all the way up  Trincomali Channel. We haven't seen whales in this channel for a while."

Another recalled the time a pod of Orcas cornered a Minke whale all the way into Ganges Harbour. "They cornered it and finished it off," she said.

It was one of those mornings when I was really paying attention knowing that being here, surrounded by beauty, is not to be taken for granted. A morning when everywhere I looked a natural gift materialized.

I could get up out of bed, wearing what I'd worn to bed, throw on a coat, walk in flip flops down the road and feel the warmth of the sunshine on my face while it brightened the red of beautiful Fernwood Dock. I could play with my camera at 8:30 am, capturing reflections and experience others' fascination with barely visible Orcas across the water. I could see sailboats and power boats and follow the wake they made in the silence of faraway waves. I could share the experience with others, just as awestruck by the luck of living surrounded by beauty and peace in a world where so few get to experience that reality, consistently.

When was the last time you were really paying attention to your surroundings and counting your blessings? When was the last time you were looking around and knowing that the moment you were experiencing would never come again, in the same way, and that you must savour it because it is the present and it's all you have. Just one moment after another. If you do not savour them, your life is passing in numbness and then, with regret, you will look back knowing that you experienced only a small portion of what was right there in front of you holding your potential for joy as if in a palm stretched lovingly towards a blind man?