It was a Friday afternoon. I’d just finished my shift at Z petrol station and was psyched to get stoned with the boys. Dreaming of what the night could hold, I suddenly heard, “Excuse me! Saw the Wu-Tang t-shirt.”
Stopped in my tracks, I turned to see a young guy, his countenance blissful. Mystified by his demeanour, I was struck with how he could appear simultaneously nonchalant yet poised for the strike, like a praying mantis waiting for that opportune moment.
I soon noted he was holding books in his hands and I thought, “This guy is going to try to sell me something, right?”
“Look man, I don’t have the time,” I announced.
“Ah, so time has you then?” he responded.
That really got me, I must admit; there seemed to be some truth to that. Everyone is pushed and pulled along by time’s tides. We are under time’s control yet subconsciously we assume that time is under our control. Time isn’t a commodity for our disposal— really, are we being disposed?
I liked to think of myself as a bit of a philosopher—a lover of the truth.
It’s cool to be deep.
“Okay man, what you up to?” I shook his hand. “I’m Joel.”
“My name is Dharma. I’m a monk,” he replied.
Pleasantly surprised, my interest was piqued as I inquired, “What are you doing?” Turned out Dharma was from a yoga lounge on Beach Road in Auckland called the Loft.
I’ve seen the place, right next to the Tai Ping Asian supermarket, just up from my work where I’ve been pumping gas for years.
“You look like a deep thinker. By the Wu-Tang t-shirt, I’d say you’re a bit of a philosopher. Am I right?” Dharma inquired.
He read me well. With a smile I replied, “Yes. You know the Wu?”
They say wisdom, is the wise words spoken
By a brother attemptin’ to open
The graves, of these mentally dead slaves. . .
Dharma replied with RZA’s lyrics from “The Birth (Broken Hearts).1”
And there we were, in the hustle and bustle of the Queen Street tussle, like two old mates—we connected.
Dharma put a book in my hand, Bhagavad Gita As It Is. I could feel its potency, nothing trivial or insignificant— but something sublime.
I flipped open to a page and read, “Time I am, the great destroyer of the worlds . . .”
Oh yes, the time. I had better jet. I’d planned to meet two mates, Marty and Aaron, by 5:00 p.m.
Dharma explained that the book cost sixteen dollars for printing and shipping. “We accept a donation for that,” he said with a smile.
I liked the guy and I liked the look of the book. Besides, it would be something buzzy to read while high. I flicked him twenty dollars as he slipped me a flier for the Loft. “On Sundays we have a festival. Five bucks, all you can eat, at 5 p.m.,” explained Dharma.
“Aight man, peace.” I popped the book in my backpack and zoomed up Queen Street, catching a bite to eat, before heading to Newmarket to meet my mates.
APATHY KICKS IN
Later that evening I found my hazy escape from the world I despised— with its environmental calamities, economic pressures, wars, and news fraught with tragedies.
After all, what can a guy like me do about the global crisis? Thinking about it makes me feel like I’m Atlas being crushed under the world’s weight. My circle of influence is insignificant. How much anxiety can I accommodate? I do my part. I recycle and use energy-saving light bulbs. What more can be expected?
Now it’s my time to relax. No worries, mate.
Entering into the network of my own thoughts, fascinated by the workings of my mind, I suddenly returned to Queen Street and the monk, Dharma.
Pulling the book from my rucksack, I disclosed my new treasure to Marty and Aaron: “Check this out. Bhagavad Gita. Got it from a monk.”
Marty and Aaron perused the cover and contents of Bhagavad Gita. With an approving smile, they agreed to read it after me.
“And check this out,” I said, handing them the Loft flyer. “There’s some festival with music, vegetarian food, and philosophy. Sounds dope.”
Agreeing that five bucks is reasonable, we decided to be there Sunday evening. For now we had other priorities— hip-hop beats, munchies, and whatever else the night would bring.
Smoke filled the room, enough to make you choke. We bopped to hiphop and the stereo boomed:
A day to God is a thousand years
Men walk around with a thousand fears
The true joy of love brings a thousand tears
In a world of desire, there’s a thousand snares. . .2
Sunday evening approached and my anticipation built. “What will the Loft be like?” I pondered. We were to rendezvous at 4:50 outside the Loft. I arrived and looked at my watch, “4:49. Where could they be?”
“Yo, Joel!” A cry rang out from behind. Marty and Aaron were just on time.
Climbing the steps to 103 Beach Road we reached level 1. Through the open door rhythmic music drifted; sweet incense wafted, beckoning us inside. Greeted with pleasantries, the good vibes settled me—I thought, “This feels like home.”
After paying the cashier, we were ushered into a large room and given a seat.
Melting onto a cushion, I sat comfortably as my ears pricked up and vision focused on what appeared like a live band.
They sang:
Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna,
Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare,
Hare Rama,Hare Rama,
Rama Rama, Hare Hare
Initially the song appeared like music, but it was a kind of meditation. Not a performance—it required group participation. The lead chanter sang to the melodies of a harmonium (an Indian keyboard instrument) and the audience echoed in response.
All at the same time the three of us looked at each other as if to say, “What planet have we landed on? Are we still tripping?”
I surveyed the room, carefully scanning the faces. Some nervously moved their lips to the chant, while others, eyes closed as if in meditation, sat silently. And then I saw others who sang out with zeal.
Suddenly there was silence.
The lead chanter spoke, “Welcome to the Loft. This is an ancient yogic meditation called kirtana. This is a mantra we are singing. Mantras are sacred sounds with the power to free your consciousness from material limitations—limitations that keep you from higher states of happiness. It is simple and joyful. I will call and you can respond. We can continue for another fifteen minutes.”
The chant resumed.
As it is said, “The mind is like a parachute—it works best when it’s open.” I was willing to give anything a go. “Don’t be skeptical,” I thought, “be experimental.” I began to chant as the rhythm picked up. The beat climbed to a crescendo as the whole room erupted with clapping and singing.
I surveyed the room, carefully scanning the faces once more. The nervous chanters and silent meditators beamed broad smiles as they chanted with abandon.
As I chanted, I perceived joy within myself—an innocent happiness, like that of a child’s. But I couldn’t put my finger on it. “Why is chanting this mantra making me so happy?” I mused.
Again the chanting subsided.
BEST USE OF TIME
The MC stood to introduce the next event. “Next up we will have some timeless wisdom—that is a talk about time—given by a monk, Dharma.”
Dharma walked in and took his seat at the front. “He’s no Friar Tuck or Buddha,” I thought, “But he sure seems peaceful. There’s a serenity that surrounds him. Maybe he’s reached nirvana or has his third eye open.”
Dharma expounded, “How carefully do you spend your time?
“What is the best use of your time?
“Someone asks you what you’re doing, and what do you say? ‘I’m killing time.’
“But one cannot kill time; rather, one is killed by time,” Dharma said.
“That’s so true,” I thought, as his wit and wisdom attracted my head and heart. “Time is killing us— we’re not killing time.”
Suddenly I was struck by my own mortality.
Dharma continued, “The death rate is 100 percent and time is bringing us closer to it moment by moment. Minute by minute. The rising and setting of the sun spells doom for those who are caught within the grips of time.”
I contemplated, “I’ve never thought of it like that. The sunshine is so warm and welcoming. When it’s out, the last thing I think of is inevitable death. I marvel at the beauty of a sunset. Yet, another day passed is another day dead.” I leant forward.
Dharma said, “People say, ‘I’m wasting time.’ But what is really being wasted? Or rather, who is being wasted?
“As William Shakespeare said, ‘We are time’s subjects, and time bids be gone.’
To waste time is the greatest loss. Time is what life is made up of. Therefore, to waste time is to waste your life.
Canakya Pandit, a fourth century Indian teacher, philosopher and royal advisor wrote, “Even one moment of life spent cannot be regained for millions of gold coins. Therefore, what greater loss is there than time spent uselessly?
“What greater capital do we have? Time is the greatest currency. But how do we spend it?”
“Damn! He’s right,” I reflected. I can’t buy back a second of my life with all the riches of the world. But I’ve frivolously spent time in playing video games, watching TV, caught in clouds of intoxication, finding the bottom of the bottle. . .
Dharma continued, “We live in an economic based environment. There’s no time to smell the flowers—because smelling flowers isn’t lucrative.
“Time is money.” Benjamin Franklin famously coined the modern mantra.
So, not to be making money with your time is time wasted. You hear it in the music:
Cash Rules Everything Around Me,
C.R.E.A.M. get the money,
Dolla, dolla bill y’all! . . .
Dharma smiled in my direction as he quoted these lyrics from yet another Wu-Tang song, C.R.E.A.M.
He explained, “Is making money the best use of your time?
“What is the current minimum wage?” he asked the audience.
Someone called out, “$15.75.”
Dharma continued, “So maybe you are paid $15.75 an hour. That is an hour of your life. But a second cannot be purchased back with millions of dollars.
“Does money bring happiness?
“The statistics are out. Yes, money does bring happiness—but only to a point.
“Social scientists have established that increases in income or luxury beyond a basic middle-class standard of living do not lead to an increase in happiness.
“We spend more time at work than we do at home. What for?
“So that you can come home and sit on a leather couch in front of the TV, have your microwaved dinner and go to bed?
“Your pet enjoys the comforts of your home more than you do.
“Is there more to life than this economic struggle?”
Dharma’s words moved me to introspect deeply. What am I doing with my life? If making money guarantees happiness only to a point, then what else is there?
Dharma concluded, “Today we have a time robbery. Time is being stolen from us. No one has the time to contemplate deeper existential issues—like, ‘Who am I?’
“Are we matter or spirit?
“This inquiry is what the wisdom culture of ancient India crowns as the crest jewel of life—the best use of your time.
“Now is the time to inquire about the Absolute Truth.
“Our life is meant for self-realisation.
“Krishna, who great sages explain is the Supreme master of all yoga, said that the wise don’t take part in that which has a beginning and an end.
“What do the wise do?
“They spend their time understanding that they are nonmaterial.
“Krishna explains the goal:
In the stage of perfection called trance, or samadhi, one’s mind is completely restrained from material mental activities by practice of yoga. This perfection is characterized by one’s ability to see the Self by the pure mind and to relish and rejoice in the Self. In that joyous state, one is situated in boundless transcendental happiness, realized through transcendental senses. Established thus, one never departs from the truth, and upon gaining this he thinks there is no greater gain. Being situated in such a position, one is never shaken, even in the midst of greatest difficulty. This indeed is actual freedom from all miseries arising from material contact. (Bhagavad Gita 6.20-23)
“What will it cost you to purchase this spiritual asset?
“So I encourage you, learn how to spend your time like a yogi—please read and learn to live this great art taught in the Bhagavad Gita.
“That’s being time wise.”
The Loft finished with more kirtan meditation and a mouthwatering vegetarian dinner.
I felt inspired from my visit to the Loft to spend more time finding out who I am.
Could I be spiritual? Could my true identity be nonmaterial?
One thing was for sure—I would read Bhagavad Gita and return to the Loft. Enough with wasting time. Enough with escapism through hip-hop and intoxication.
I wanted to find a higher reality.
1.RZA is a member of Wu-Tang Clan, an American East Coast hiphop group from 1992 to the present.
2.RZA’s lyrics from “A Day To God Is 1000 Years.”
