During the peak of a scorching heat wave that swept through Northern India, with temperatures soaring between 46 to 50 degrees Celsius, I embarked on a journey northward to spend a few days with my 8-year-old nephew.

One evening, as the weather cooled slightly, we stepped out for dinner. As we were walking to the car, his parents were engaged in a conversation with a neighbour.

As my nephew and I were waiting for them to finish the conversation, he suddenly pointed up at the sky and exclaimed,  “Aunt, Can you spot where the Chandrayaan 3 spacecraft landed?”

Surprised by his question, I wondered how anyone could point to a specific spot on the moon where a spacecraft landed. However, I didn’t want to dismiss and dilute his enthusiasm, so I replied, “I don’t know. Can you?”

I followed his lead, and upon opening my eyes, he pointed to a small valley-like formation on the northern edge of the moon. Sceptical but intrigued, I focused and indeed spotted the distinctive shape he described. Pointing it out, I asked tentatively, “Is that it?”

He jumped with joy, confirming, “Yes, you got it!”

Then, to my surprise, he continued, “Now, look around the moon. Can you see anything moving?”

I scrutinised the lunar landscape and noticed a tiny dot swiftly traversing just outside its edge. I pointed it out, and he exclaimed, “That is a man-made satellite orbiting the moon!”

My initial scepticism led me to check his assertion. I opened the Stellarium app on my phone, which he had insisted I download. To my amazement, the app confirmed his observation - a man-made satellite, clearly visible with its wings, was indeed orbiting the moon.

The moon has always held a special place in my heart since childhood, but that night with my nephew, I gained a newfound appreciation for it, seeing it through his eyes. Our shared joy in moongazing brought a warmth to my heart that only such simple, profound moments can.

It is interesting that neither Buddhist nor Taoist Philosophy explicitly discusses gratitude. Both philosophies urge us to cultivate awareness, presence, and interdependence with all the sentient and non-sentient beings in the Universe.

It seems that appreciation is a prerequisite for gratitude.

Appreciation can be cultivated by looking at everything around us with awe. To truly see things as they are - without our stories, labels, identities, expectations and preconceptions - is to savour the beauty and the fullness of each moment. This helps cultivate appreciation.

In the workshops I facilitate, I sometimes guide the participants through a raisin-eating exercise similar to those found in yoga or mindfulness classes.

I ask participants to bring a few raisins to the class.

“Have you eaten raisins before?”I inquire.

“Oh yes, they are delicious. I can never stop at just one. I devour the entire stash in one go,” they often respond.

Then, I ask them to take one raisin, settle comfortably, and examine it closely. Turn it around and observe its texture, shape and colour. Hold it up to the light, noticing how it changes as they rotate it. Hold it to their ears, listening for any sound. Then, place it under their noses, inhaling its scent. With their eyes closed, they roll it between their fingers, experiencing its texture.

Finally, I invite them to place the raisin in their mouths but not yet bite into it. Roll it with their tongue, feeling the saliva increase in their mouth as their bodies anticipate eating it.

When they bite into it, they savour the raisin, chewing slowly and mindfully, experiencing the sensory delight in their mouths, faces and bodies that arise from this simple act of being present.

As I watch, participants are captivated by this exercise. When asked if they feel the craving for more raisins afterwards, the unanimous response is, “No, this was satisfying. We don’t need more”

This concludes the deep-dive series of “The Tao of Pooh.” Thank you for letting me share these reflections with you as we journey through Benjamin Hoff's book. This book came to me again at exactly the time I needed it. I’ve enjoyed reading, reflecting on, and writing about it.

I would love to hear about your experiences with this book as well.

We conclude this edition with a tiny story this week.

Moving Towns

Two men visit a Zen master. The first man says: “I’m thinking of moving to this town. What’s it like?” The Zen master asks: “What was your old town like?” The first man responds: “It was dreadful. Everyone was hateful. I hated it.”

The Zen master says: “This town is very much the same. I don’t think you should move here.”

The first man leaves and the second man comes in. The second man says: “I’m thinking of moving to this town. What’s it like?” The Zen master asks: “What was your old town like?” The second man responds: “It was wonderful. Everyone was friendly and I was happy. Just interested in a change now.”

The Zen master says: “This town is very much the same. I think you will like it here.”

Unknown

💌 Siri