On The Waters

I set thee in the passage of the waters. I set thee in the

swelling of the waters. I set thee in the ashes of the

waters. I set thee in the lustre of the waters. I set

thee in the way which waters travel. I set thee in the

flood, the place to test in. I set thee in the sea, the place

to rest in. I set thee in the stream, the place to rest in.

I set thee in the water’s habitation. I set thee in the

resting-place of waters. I set thee in the station of the

waters. I set thee in the meeting-place of waters. I set

thee in the birthplace of the waters. I set thee in the

refuse of the waters. I set thee in the residence of waters.

(Yajur-Veda, Book XIII)

This week Brother Larry suggested I peruse the Vedas. My namesake: Shruti means, after all, “dscriptures of the Vedas”. I’ve never given them that much thought despite the heritage. On Monday I talked to Brother Larry about living traditions of the dead versus dead traditions of the living. I have always felt that texts lean more towards the latter, because Hinduism is so intensely ritualistic, and text has never come alive to me in the same way that chant or libations do. To me, a living tradition is something you carry out yourself; it is knowledge that you live with, and question, and then choose to live with, and that’s what makes it sacred.

So this week I am trying to explore my choosing of the Vedas, or lack thereof. There’s a lot of fancy English translation that is literally holier-than-thou, and I wish I could read Sanskrit because that’s how much it annoys me, all this thee-thy-thou nonsense that a white translator stuffed in there. But I go through the first thirteen books of the Yajur-Veda anyway. Skimming: I haven’t crossed the boundary yet between perfunctory and meditative. There are some passages I like and some I make a mental note of to come back to later. Then I stumble upon a verse that brings me pause. 

I set thee in the passage of the waters. I’m a sucker for anything that doesn’t make me choose a homeland. Instead let’s find ourselves in the waters: we are always growing, always changing. Whether in the Ganges or in the viscous tides of troubled years, we anoint ourselves. I set thee in the ashes of the waters. My ancestors, my own dead things– parts of me that fall away and parts that grow in their place… … I set thee in the way which waters travel. We are carried by God. The flood, the sea. The resting-place, and the meeting-place. The birthplace and the refuse and the residence. We touch upon all these places, and we also come away from them. 

To me this is the essence of Hinduism: my mother’s always said it’s not a religion so much as a way of life. In my understanding of this passage, and in my understanding of my mother’s understanding, there is no call to the absolute.  It’s true I believe in God, but I believe in God the same way Book XIII believes in the waters. A current, pulling us throughout life, so subtle beneath us that we believe it to be a part of our very selves. There is no dead tradition, only a living one as the river continues to flow. 

One Comment

nedayas posted on June 7, 2023 at 2:56 am

This religion and school that came into existence, in my opinion, can be good when they lead us to the real goal which is God…

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