The weighted veil

There are moments when I feel that the veil is to be lifted and all the world will be seen in the original light of its creation - and I sense that it is your own fear of the freedom such seeing offers that is weighing the veil down, not allowing it to be drawn back.

Such a moment was at breakfast yesterday, sitting in the morning light, watching a prideful peacock strutting across the lawn, refusing its own display, tail feathers firmly held behind.

At the day's closing, I was standing in a field, remote from Jaipur, under the stars having shared food with a delightful family: the son of which is a delightful paper manufacturer with a compelling story to tell.

I am trying to thank his mother for her, their hospitality and she is insistently, simply telling me how delighted she is to be happy and to have made us happy and how she will pray for each of us; and, you just surrender into a mutual being happy, rather than insist on formulating your thanks, and all is well and all manner thing is well.

The world rests in its origins for a moment and all is at peace.

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