I received the news that my beloved grandmother has left this world. Grandma or "Ayya" was our endearing name for her was an embodiment of Divine mother. She was nurturing, accepting and greatly loving.
When I received the news my initial reaction was to habitually respond the way I was conditioned to: "we belong to God and to Him we returned" I calmly mumbled, my head spinning. Then I took a deep breath and the sobs came.
I don't know why I sobbed. I was relieved. I don't mean to say this but in compassion. Ayya lived her last years with very little sense of hearing and seeing. Her senses were completely withdrawn. She sat there hour after hour mumbling prayers. I can only imagine she was in a constant state of meditation.
But I was relieved because her last months were of physical suffering. I was relieved she was finally free of the dress we call the body. And yet I sobbed. And in my grief a side of me was still very calm, very aware of the grief and yet unchanged. And it seem to have asked me "how are you going to use this pain to awaken?". I felt like a child with a tantrum responding to a calm loving parent. "I know You are still with me" I cried back.
I owe this insight to years of mindfulness practice. I watch my mind often and although I haven’t completely mastered it, I have managed to detach from it. I have managed to look at it without being in it and that had made me feel safer, calmer and stronger.
In our grief, in our joy, in our ups and downs of the always changing mind there is always a silent witness within that remains calm, remains the same, watches without judging. Who is that witness? Who are we? On an end note thank you to all of you who voted for Namaste at the Bahrain Entrepreneur People's choice award. It is an honor to have been a part of it and I feel blessed to be sharing my passion with all of you.