The Indian Lady

[Guest guest]

both hands and give thanks for the gift of sweetnes and nourishment it so freely

offers." At that, son Alec, who usually inhaled apples, wrinkled his brow and

glanced at the waxy macintosh in his hand. Our airy kitchen enchanted her and

her cooking soon cast a spell over us. It didn't take long for her to sweep the

meat and eggs from the fridge, but she did it so sensitively and with such a

logic that we welcomed it. After preparing delicious vegetable stews (curries),

she would quietly chant the prayer and set asider her first morsel as an

offering of gratitude. Her subtle examples began to seep into us all.

Christmas season came and enveloped the family. We were all, as was our season

custom each year, dancing to the stressful strains of the holiday

hustle-bustle, scurrying our seperate ways, meeting only on rare occasions. One

day i walk in, breathless as usual. Louise is also there, having just arrived

with a new

Christmas wreath. "Nice," I say, "We've got five minutes. Let's hang it." I

grab hammer and nails. She grabls the wreath. We zip out to the front door.

Our Indian lady is there with us, totally enthralled with the wreath. "Oh, it's

so beautiful, so green," she gushes, "such a wonderful symbol. Oh, see how the

leaves and berries exist together...oh, hw gorgeous.Yeah," I say, motioning

for Louise to hold it in place on the door. Bang, bang. "There, done," I smirk.

I pivot to return to the house and, Oops! almost trip over to the Indian lady.

She's doing a namaskar (kneeling on the patio, forehead to the cement, hands

joined out in front of her), intoning a special blessing toward the wreath!

What do you do when a friend is kneeling at your feet directing prayers at your

holly? Do you ignore her and tiptoe away, step over her and risk stumbling? Do

you kneel with her? Having never encountered the

issue before, we just stand a little self-consciously, waiting for her to

finish. And we wait, and wait - one minute, two minutes, three. While

positioned there, waiting, I come down a little from the frenetic pace and the

world becomes a little quieter. Indeed, now that I notice it, she's right about

the wreath: it really is a beautiful thing, and what it represents is even more

so. What's more, as we stand there, her blessing seems to work! The wreath

becomes imbued with something more significant than simply being a decoration.

For four full minutes (a long time nowadays) I stand there; the wreath is on

the door at my shoulder. As i so, I begin to feel something more from it - a

specialness, a power that I was unaware of before. And that power lasts

throughout the holidays. Gradually the family pace becomes less hurried. As the

calm grows, so does our appreciation of the season. And each time I pass the

wreath, I feel

that "something" reach out and touch my shoulder. --- Excerpts from

"Reawakening the Spirit in Work: The Power of Dharmic Management" by Jack

Hawley. .