Dipa Ma is one of my teachers. She died before I could meet her. I have her 'Lessons to live by' on the walls of my house. She is magical in a way I can't explain. She has a part to play in a small fire in my living room this year. Her face glared out fiercely from the flames as they extended up the tinder-dry wall near my mantle shelf. I had lit some incense and it must have set fire to the frame of her photograph. At first I thought she was protecting me [she might have been doing that in her own way]. Later I realised she was drawing my attention to my mindlessness. The specks of soot passing in front of my eyes made me turn around. Another few seconds and it would have been too late and the timber house would have 'gone up'. My daughter, Simone was fast in her response and smothered the flames. Dipa Ma kept staring sternly, but with a twinkle in her eye, from the center or the charred plastic frame. Thank you Dipa Ma.
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ReplyDeleteDipa Ma is one of my teachers.
ReplyDeleteShe died before I could meet her.
I have her 'Lessons to live by' on the walls of my house.
She is magical in a way I can't explain.
She has a part to play in a small fire in my living room this year.
Her face glared out fiercely from the flames as they extended up the tinder-dry wall near my mantle shelf. I had lit some incense and it must have set fire to the frame of her photograph. At first I thought she was protecting me [she might have been doing that in her own way]. Later I realised she was drawing my attention to my mindlessness.
The specks of soot passing in front of my eyes made me turn around. Another few seconds and it would have been too late and the timber house would have 'gone up'. My daughter, Simone was fast in her response and smothered the flames.
Dipa Ma kept staring sternly, but with a twinkle in her eye, from the center or the charred plastic frame.
Thank you Dipa Ma.