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The Fine Art of Inspiring Cows
Life is not only divine, it’s also bovine from time to time
“Practice,” it’s been said, “makes perfect.” Practice, indeed, is how human beings translate theory into action and how any of us get good at anything.
Of course, there are millions of ways to practice. In a group. Alone. In a cave. In a gym. In your mind. Online. Off the wall. With a teacher. Without a teacher. The sky’s not even the limit and there are always invisible pilots who can help.
The following story, if you can call it that, is all about practice — a curious version of that fine art form I never imagined I would try. Here goes:
More than forty years ago, I was living in a commune on a 600-acre cattle farm 12 miles outside of Charlottesville, Virginia. We were three couples, two cats, and one child in a five bedroom house. We called ourselves “Ananda Household” (at least that’s what it said on our checkbook), ananda being a Hindi word for bliss — our go-to word of the moment, all of us students of the same teacher who was helping us awaken to the source of bliss within ourselves.
Or like, whatever.
Towards that most inspiring end, once each week we would have “satsang” in our living room — “satsang” translating as “company of the truth” which, simply put…
