Daily Theosophy

Rich business men and women tended to eat to much, get too fat, and ate what was tasty rather than what was healthy. So they were more unbalanced, more stupid and therefore needed more doctors.

(63)

(Nothing much happened … yet)

Making wooden things was not the only thing made in our village. One family was specialized in pots of baked clay. These were used by everyone to catch water from a stream at the bottom of a hill in the rainy season, or from a deep well in the dry season, and they used pots for cooking, storage and carrying sand or clay. There specialization though, for which individual people came to buy from other villages, were water pots, made of thin clay, then baked, in such a way that some moisture would percolate through the terra cotta and evaporate at the outer surface of the pot without leaking – and this would keep the water inside remarkably cool.

Some five houses in the village were grouped together around a small square. They all belonged to members of the same family. They were textile dyers. They knew the art of making colors from herbs and materials from the soil – they kept that art secret – and how to fix it to textiles. They had developed a fine series of designs, and with all this ran a good business. They were the richest family in the village. The lady who was entrusted with selling the colored textiles looked particularly fine even though she was over 40. She knew very well how to make a good prize, but was greatly respected, also because much of what happened in the village was dependant on their finances. Traders came from all corners of the land to buy, and they also brought the goods to the city.

When Shano was 14, and doing nothing, just sitting, he never thought of the temple anymore. He thought of girlfriends. He was no longer telling all his experiences to his mother. He fancied that he could make a big show to impress the girls. But regrettably the most sexy girl of the village went for Marico. Again Marico, who was always the first and the best. Both Marico and Shano were working hard now, almost full-time, in the workshop of their father. Playing time was over – except in the evenings. Often Shano’s mind went to Marico. If he was in a bad mood he wished that Marico would be knocked out by some animal and broke his bones. Or even that he would die. He would fancy all kinds of mean things. He knew that actually he himself was more sensitive and refined than Marico.

Still Marico always was the first. He couldn’t stand it. He thought that one day he would take revenge. He didn’t mean that seriously, and he never told anyone about these thoughts. In reality he did never anything really naughty towards Marico. He was his older brother, and he was really good. He was not a bad boy. It was just that Shano was jealous. If Shano would have had control over his mind, and had used his good willpower, this had been a golden opportunity. He could have counteracted his bad thoughts by just refusing to think them, or think something good instead. For example that he wished to become Marico’s best assistant. But that did not happen, even though the silent voice in his heart tried everything to draw his attention away from such jealous thoughts and feelings – it just didn’t succeed in drawing his mind’s attention when Shano was in such a mood. Shano did not remember of course that he had sworn revenge in his former life. But still he could have cut the history thread that was created all these hundreds of years ago, or at least make it weaker. But by every time again thinking such thoughts he made it stronger instead. But usually after some time while in such a mood he would be distracted by something else. Not by a squirrel, but rather by a girl, or by his mother calling him in for dinner, or his father for some work. In daily life he often behaved stubborn to Marico, and never wanted to admit his own mistakes. But for the rest Shano was a good and mostly quite cheerful boy, liked by everyone. He was helpful and considerate, and especially good with children younger than himself. And that’s how life went on.

The greatest event of the year was the camel races. Actually it was only once in about two years. And two years is a long time for children who have otherwise not much to do. It was combined with a camel market, and altogether the festivities took a whole week. Camels and their owners came together from dozens of villages, and also some horses, cows, buffaloes, goats and even dog puppies. People love their camels and care for them like for their children. They are always decorated with some colorful plumes and cloth and leather things. And of course all the musicians and storytellers and tradesmen would also come. Big parties were organized, with big meals. You could eat things you had never seen or heard about before. The fantasies in making sweets seemed inexhaustible. Marico was sixteen when a camel race took place. He was too small to handle a fiery young-adult camel. Falling off one might mean death, so he had to wait a few years. For the race festival the camels were ornamented with woven carpets at their saddles and colorful brushes on their head. Some had little wooden bells and other rattling things, so every step of them made some music. Marico was very enthusiastic. He was allowed to ride on some camels and to take part in the children’s races. Camels can run faster with children than with grown-ups on their back, because children are much lighter. But is was dangerous, and no-one was allowed to officially take part of the races below 18. But he was sure that his greatest wish in life was to get a top class race camel for himself, and in future he would win the race, even when competitors from a hundred villages and the town would show up. Shano wanted that also. But he wanted it mainly because he wanted to win from Marico. But, as it goes, after the race and the fair, where even baby camels were far too expensive for Marico to even think of, life went back to normal and that was a happy life too.

In the field of carpentry, when the children grew a few years older, Shano became more inclined to do the coarse woodwork, like making beams for houses, or doors and windows. Marico on the other hand became very good in fine woodcarving – and by the time he was eighteen he was better than his father. Shano also did his work well, and he was much appreciated by the clients for his work, regarding he was just fifteen. But deep within he was jealous with his elder brother. Shano just could not do what his brother did. Sometimes this gave tensions in the family, but mother, who could neither read nor write, was a born psychologist and relation-therapist and she always managed to bring happy peace and laughter back in the family and in the work. Still she could never heal Shano’s hidden inner pain, she could never get a grip on that. Had she been able to see the relation in their past life between the two now young men, she would have understood that the problem wasn’t to be solved that easy.

(64)

(STONED)

 Father and his two sons became a marvelous team of quality carpenters, and people came even from villages of two or three days walking (or sitting on a donkey) distance, and traders took their furniture on carts to the city, more than a week away.