Posted on September 30, 2017
Not minding what happens
There is a lovely story in Eckhart Tolle’s book A New Earth about a gathering of people who have gone to listen to Krishnamurti speak in order to gain some understanding of how to achieve peace and enlightenment.
“I will tell you my secret” says Krishnamurti as the crowd wait with bated breath. This is the moment they have all been waiting for. A chance, at last, to grasp the meaning of Krishnamurti’s lectures.
“I don’t mind what happens” he tells them.
And that’s it! Can you imagine their disappointment? Their confusion? What did he mean? How can we not mind what happens?
I have thought about this on many occasions and I think I am finally getting a tiny inkling of its meaning. Perhaps his wording was lost a little in translation, I don’t know, but I think there is a subtle difference between not minding what happens and not caring about what happens.
Was it possible, I wondered, to care without minding?
I decided it was. I replaced ‘not minding what happens’ with ‘accepting what happens’ and set about putting it into practise. Our leaking roof seemed a good place to start.
Our flat roof, sporadically, likes to bring rain water into the house. I have spent many exasperating hours painting on layers of roof sealant and it stops leaking for a while, tricking me into believing that, finally, I’ve sorted it. Then the sealant cracks under the summer sun creating havoc again the following winter.
Each time it leaks I curse and swear – and bring out the bucket until I can get back up there to repair it again. (Get a professional to fix it, I hear you scream, but that’s a whole other story which I will not bore you with right now. Suffice to say I am the current roof fixer – and clearly not a very good one!)
As I sat at my computer last week, trying to hash out my second novel, the drips began. I looked outside and knew that the dark, heavy clouds would not allow me out on the roof for a day or two at least.
I ran for the bucket.
I tried to remain calm and continue working. After all, once the rain stopped it would dry up and other than a brown patch on the ceiling (just don’t look up, I kept telling myself) you would never had know it had leaked.
It was only then that I had sudden inspiration regarding Krishnamurti’s philosophy. I was able to accept the leak without getting stressed like I usually did. I cared enough to get up on the roof and fix it as soon as it was dry but I did not mind it happening.
Whether I will be able to apply this reasoning to other areas of my life only time will tell but I sense a breakthrough.
I have hope that when I return home from a weekend at my father’s to discover the sink full of dirty dishes I will not boil with rage and shriek at my husband and son like a fishwife…
I will let you know!