“The consciousness of every living being is my real form. I have provided ample space for the activities of all beings. But I am prior to all that. My true form has no touch of ‘I am’.’”
Nisargadatta Maharaj: The Earliest Discourses by Mohan Gaitonde
Willa tended and grew some baby aubergines in her allotment at Trencherfields. They emerged from the honeyed earth, delicate and fragile, after a season of erratic weather patterns. Yet they prevailed in almost impossible conditions - quiet statements to the love and attendance of their caretaker.
Each one hung alone and naked, yet clustered with the other plants and vegetables around them. Each a small journey of improbable survival. One tiny bulb, vulnerable and buffeted by the wind, constantly tapping against its stem throughout the season, on examintion showed signs of bruising, yet was strengthened nonetheless by this and arrived intact.
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Another one bore the scars of small rodents who came by, sniffing for sustenance, sinking their tiny teeth and claws into its delicate skin in exploration. For some reason they stopped, and the marks on the skin served to strengthen this little survivor on its path to fulfilment.
Eventually, after a season burnt by the heat of summer, dried and tested by the lack of rain, in the autumn, they were deluged by long awaited rains and through absorbing the moisture, they expanded and completed their journey.
On hearing the forecast of cold weather and frost to come, Willa knew it was time. They were plucked from their stems, handled with care, consideration, and appreciation.
The marvel of their existence was undeniable. Against the odds they succeeded, carried by nature’s steady power. Life’s energy, channelled into their tiny forms, reveals the impossibility of something seemingly coming out of nothing, appearing here as one example of myriad possible forms, infinite in scope, colour, and shape. They tell us in their humble shape that manifestation is miraculous, endlessly creative and unstoppable.
Tonight they were grilled and placed upon a simple plate in front of us, and we delighted again in the repeated praise of their existence. We placed them in our mouths in silent wonder. By cuisine and consumption our taste buds received them, offered up to us, and we to them, in the delight of our common purpose.
Thank you, God. Thank you Willa. Thank you, Baby Aubergines.
Magnificent indeed and unknowable are your ways…
