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Cherish your winters: Remembrance of a old winter, five years past. Read an old post here about beauty in winter
For a more Zen experience, read my poetry series :The Awakening of Silence
The Forgotten Rain Sutra


Its funny how sometimes the songs you have been humming for years don’t really ‘speak’ to you all. But a time comes may be on the bus, or the tube, or a train, or a taxi u hear it and for the first time you actually listen to it…. And u realize something, something greater than the song , something which could not have been conveyed in words to you, and between the words of the lyrics it just erupts in you and floods u with its calmness.

Something Similar happened today:

It was a mid-summer afternoon, the heat was unbearable. And with the heat we all became very restless indeed. The class was nearing its end, the audience was hardly listening to the Instructor, everyone was talking and their minds whizzing in a million directions. Everyone was clearly frustrated not excluding me. The atmosphere outside became dark and windy.

We were starting to be relieved a little by the coolness offered to us by the winds. Sullen clouds are gathering fast over the black fringe of our small campus. Soon we were smelling the rising summer dust, and we knew it was raining. I stared at the dark clouds around us from the window. The winds were roaring and struggling among the branches like a wild beast tangled in a trap.

And the rains sang their song, the same lyrics that I had heard since I was a child, yet this time I listened to its roar, intimidating yet graceful. And after many years the rains decided for the first time to ‘speak’ to me….. There’s something about the rain that’s beyond this world. Though it is noisy yet it is as peaceful s silence. The noise of your mind just dissolves in the melodies of the song the rain sings.

Centuries have passed; poets and seers have sung hymns and poems praising the symphony of rain. Yet there is sacredness to rain which is not of thought, nor of a feeling that can be awakened by thought. This sacredness about the rains can’t be written down, it is no to be thought of. It is not recognizable by thought nor can it exploited by thought. Thoughts cannot generate it. But there was a Sacredness to the afternoon’s rain and every rain, which is untouched by any word or symbol. This cannot be communicated. But it is a fact. And I would like to take Krishnamurthi’s quote to describe what we had realized, “Like beauty, it cannot be seen through its opposite for it has no opposite

Every one present there was filled up the immense peace of that indescribable sacredness.

-- Sachin Modeel