We were in Kashmir, leaving the area with Muslim dominance seeing more and more temples around. The road was winding up a mountain once again. Turning left, turning right, turning left, turning right.... it was a long loop, the mountain was high! About halfway to the top we saw an open shed build right in the sharp curve. A man was sitting in the shed. An old man dressed in bright orange – radiating beauty, peace and harmony. The shed had only three walls, so we could see into every corner, and see all the little sacred things gathered there. Absolutely no other buildings or population on this mountain. Just this beautiful old man sitting patiently on a table, looking out on the road.
The Hindu
My friend stopped the motorbike and said he wanted to say hello to the man. I stayed outside, enjoying the view. I saw my friend in the little dark shed where a candlelight was burning, talking to the beautiful man. I felt a serene energy around the place. He called my name and said that the man wanted to meet me. I went inside to see that he was invalid; all he could do was sitting on this wooden table. He should be a pathetic being, but he was not. His eyes were deep and amazing – a place to dive into another world of love, the kind of love where no promises are needed. I felt connected to him right away. He looked intensely at me, and asked my friend where I came from, without taking his eyes off me. My friend translated this to me and I heard the word “Denmark” in his answer. A longer conversation started between the two. I had no idea of what was going on. I didn’t understand one word. I looked into the eyes of the old man all the time and never asked for translation. The whole situation seemed so familiar to me, and I felt strongly the bond between us. I had no need to know what they were talking about. After a short eternity they stopped talking and my friend told me what it all was about. He said that when he told the old man that I came from Denmark, the old man replied that he had been there. And that was too much for my friend’s sense of reality. So he questioned him about how and when, whether he had been there in or out of his body. He asked him if he could describe how it looked etc. etc. “But he couldn’t give me any satisfying answers. I believe that he was talking pure nonsense, and maybe just trying to be friendly” he concluded. I listened to what he said with only half an ear. Almost all my attention was in the strong bond of wordless communication and belonging that was going on between this old man and me. How could I tear myself away from this and explain to my friend that the old man was right. That he has been where I come from. That he wasn’t talking about Denmark or any other physical place on Earth. I had no need of clarifying this point to. I smiled at the old man, bowed and greeted him with a “Namaste”. Both of us knew, and it was a beautiful feeling. A short and a very happy meeting in a shed halfway up a mountain in Kashmir. The old man was Hindu.
The Buddhist
We went a few days to Nubra Valley during our stay in Leh in Ladakh. We spent the first night in a nice little place with a wonderful vegetable and herbal garden. I was pretty tired of cooked food at that time so I was quite enthusiastic in exploring this beautiful garden. The young guys running the place found it amusing that I was so interested in their garden and they allowed me to take what ever I wanted. I spent a long time going through every single herb and plant with one of the guys from the kitchen. When I came back I saw my friend talking with a monk. They were apparently waiting for me. He told me that the monk had the superior responsibility for the garden, and that he wanted to show me the real garden. Before I could even say hello to the monk, he got up and started to walk quite fast. With my mouth still open ready to say hello I hurried to follow him. He walked out of the gate, down the road and suddenly disappeared into the hedgerow. He was quite ahead of me, and I started to run not to miss him. I found the place where he disappeared. There was an old gate, almost invisible from the road. I walked in and found the monk waiting for me in this huge garden. They were growing vegetables here, and right now it seemed to be pea season. He showed me that we were going to pick peas. A strange and different afternoon started. We spent at least an hour together in this serene garden out of the world. He didn’t know one English word. He only spoke Ladakhi and a little Hindi. We had no way of communicating with words. And yet, - we spent the hour talking and talking having a wonderful time. He taught me his words for sun, moon, the earth, rain and willow tree – and he gave me his name. I told him about my mother, about my beliefs, about my love for the earth. We had a beautiful time together beyond the world and beyond time – and we forgot all about picking peas for dinner. We ate them instead. Our communication was made possible through love, love for the plants, love for the trees, love for the earth – we were together like a tone from a tiny silver bell ringing in this other vibration where we were lifted into, being nurtured and loved in a feeling of oneness. The connection I felt to this monk was just as beautiful and special as the connection I had to the old invalid Hindu………and totally different. But he too has found a home in my heart. He was Buddhist.
The Muslim
Sonamarg is the place with the eternal glaciers. A place of immense beauty. We went for a walk in Glaciers Valley to get close to these big glaciers which never melts. It’s a walk about only 3 kilometers, and it was the perfect time of the year. All the snow from the winter had melted, and the new snow had just begun. We took the bike to the beginning of the valley, and started walking. The energy in the valley was very special and I wanted to listen to it in stillness. We didn’t walk together. I wanted the stillness and I had to climb down into the stone river all the time. It was calling and calling out for me, and eventually my friend was quite ahead of me. I saw him in the distance being contacted by 3 girls begging. He stood there talking with them until I finally made my way to them. He asked me if I had a pain killer to give to one of the girls. She had a terrible headache. I had of course none. The girls didn’t speak any English – but who needs words to heal. I approached the girl with the headache and gently laid my hands on her head. She got afraid and ran away…..about 10 steps. She stopped and looked at me. I know I look very different from the people here. I sat down on the ground so that I would seem smaller and less threatening. I smiled at her and showed her with my hands that if I had a headache I would lay my hands on my heads and the ache would go away! She looked at me concentrated while I was doing my little performance and walked back to me. Once again I placed my hands on her head. She tolerated it for about 10 seconds before she once again ran away in fear. I asked my friend if he would explain to her that I wouldn’t do any harm to her. That I would help her to get rid of the headache. He said no and asked me to be very careful. He told me that these nomad people are very superstitious, that I could be accused of witchcraft, putting things into her head and that it could cause me deep trouble. He wanted me to stop what I was doing immediately before the situation became too serious. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. How could anyone perceive this as wrong? But I gave up and we continued the walk to the glaciers. A beautiful and awesome walk. We reached the end and turned around to go back again. Once again I didn’t feel like catching up with his speed and he walked ahead of me. I had to walk very slowly to connect to this amazing place. I saw a man walking down the mountain. He was heading directly towards my friend and I got a funny feeling inside. What if he was right! I felt clearly that the man came there because of me. What if the man came to accuse me? Well, the only way to find out was to be there, so I started to walk very fast to get to them as soon as possible. If I was to be accused I definitely wanted to be there from the very first minute. When I was only a few meters from them my friend turned to me and said that this man wanted his help to contact me. I couldn’t talk with him because of the language barrier but my friend was willing to translate. I greeted the man and asked him to talk. He said that he wanted me to help him. He told a very sad story about himself. He was 45 years, looked like he was 75, he hadn’t had any sleep for several months; he hadn’t been to the toilet for several months. He was sooooo tired, and now his fingers had started to turn black. Many had tried to help him, all in vain. He had been to hospital; he had taken lots of white medicine. Nothing had helped him. He showed me the prescriptions and asked me if I would help him; if I would heal him. He had 4 daughters and he really had trouble in providing food for his family. He couldn’t work like he used to – and within a weeks time they would have to pack down their temporary camp and start walking towards Jammu and warmer weather. The snow was soon to come, and the whole area would close down. What a strange situation to be in. I am not an authority to help a person in this way. But how can I turn my back to a fellow-being asking for my help? I asked my friend to explain to him that I had no cure for his disease, but that I would help him to strengthen his body hoping that it could fight especially the sleeplessness. I told him that I would have to go to my room and find some remedies to give him. I told him that I would wear a bright red jacket so he could see me from a long distance. When he spotted me on the track it would be time for him to climb down his mountain again and meet me. I found what I wanted to give him and we drove back to the entrance of the valley. I knew my friend was very tired after the first walk and I persuaded him to let me walk alone into the valley and wait for me in the car park. I had brought pen and paper with me and had already figured out how I could make myself understandable by drawing. I brought 3 natural remedies to this tall skinny and sick man. I started to walk the track still thinking about how to communicate most efficiently when words cannot be spoken. I never knew whether it would have worked or not. After 20 minutes walk I heard voices behind of me - 2 young guys were yelling at me. I had met one of them the same morning. He stayed in the same hotel as us. I waited for them and they asked me if I would join them on the walk to the glaciers. I said that I had already been there once today and that I was walking this track because I had an appointment somewhere after the third stream. We talked while walking until we came close to the mountain where I had met the sick man. I saw him coming down the mountain and I saw him walking the track towards us. The man was Muslim, wearing this little embroidered cap. He was tall and very skinny, a long beard and tattered clothes, radiating humility and dignity. He looked more like a rush gliding in the wind than like a man walking. An amazing and fantastic sight coming out of another world. There comes my appointment, I told the guys – they looked at me like I was a strange being. They thought I had them on. And the situation was really absurd. When we met with the man he opened his mouth and said to me “May my God give you a long life”. He pronounced every syllable very carefully like it was something he had learned by heart how to say. The two young guys almost stumbled over each other in surprise. No way were they going to the glaciers. They had seen them last year they told me. They definitely wanted to stay with me and my appointment. I told them that they could stay on the condition that they would translate our talk. They did a wonderful job, I felt certain that they were not only translating correct, but actually translating with the heart as well. He told me that he couldn’t pay me, and I told him that I had been paid. That it was an honour to be asked. And I asked him if he would allow me to send healing to him. He granted me that, and I told him that I would never forget him. That is true; he too has found a home in my heart.
I still think of him often and send him love. That is welcome wherever he is.
3 different stories about 3 different men with 3 different faiths – and with 2 things in common. One that we had no spoken language to share and second that they all have found a permanent home in my heart.