Читать книгу Simple Pleasures - Robert Taylor - Страница 13

An old man in Chile once told me about a simple pleasure he and his sister invented for themselves when they were children. They lived in an isolated house far out in a flat and windy desert. Some mornings when they were bored and had nothing to do, they would make hoops out of brightly colored paper and place them on edge on the desert sand. The wind would roll the away, and the children would watch them disappear towards the horizon. At midday, when the wind reversed its direction, the children would watch for tiny colored specks in the distance—the hoops were coming back, careening past the house towards the opposite horizon. Sometimes the boy and his sister would make hoops for several days in succession, setting up a brilliant multicolored traffic of wheels across the barren land.

“I said to the Wanting Creature inside of me, ‘What is this river you want to cross? Do you believe that there is some other place that will make the soul less thirsty? In that great absence you will find nothing. What we seek is here already . . . Just throw away all thoughts of imaginary things not yet come and stand firm in that which you are.’”

—Kabir

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