On my very first trip to India in 1986, I had the opportunity to go on a yatra, a pilgrimage,
to a holy place named Kedarnath, high in the Himalayas at an elevation of 12,000 feet.
This little town is the site of a famous temple in which Lord Shiva is worshipped as Kedarnatha,
the natha or Lord of kedara, the fields and meadows that adorn the flanks of the mountains.
My yatra started in Rishkesh, in the foothills of the Himalayas, where I was staying at my
guru's ashram with a good friend who accompanied me on the trip.
Our driver skillfully navigated one-hundred miles of twisting mountain roads with lots
of dangerous blind curves.
We first drove from Rishikesh to Devaprayag, where the Bhagirathi and Alakananda rivers
join to form the Ganga.
We traveled onwards to Rudraprayag, where the Mandakini River merges with the Alakananda.
From there, our route followed the winding course of the Mandakini, through increasingly
deep and narrow gorges, until the road abruptly came to an end - with snow-covered peaks spread
out before us.
We had arrived at the town of Gaurikund, a base camp where tired pilgrims can rest before
or after their trek to Kedarnath.
The next morning, our trek took us from Gaurikund all the way up to Kedarnath, nestled in a
valley on the flanks of a towering mountain, also called Kedarnath.
We started walking up the wide footpath in the company of scores of other pilgrims and
ponies ferrying travelers and provisions.
The route was exceedingly steep.
From Gaurikund, our path gained 5,000 feet in elevation during its 8 mile course.
Along the way, there were many tea stalls where we could stop for refreshments.
While drinking a cup of milky chai, I watched the steady stream of pilgrims slowly climb
up the mountainside.
Their stamina amazed me and put me to shame for our leisurely pace, as we strolled from
one tea stall to the next.
As our trek neared its end, we heard pilgrims shouting in joy, "Kedar baba ki jai," hail
to Lord Kedarnath.
Their enthusiasm seemed to rub off on us.
We doubled our efforts to climb the steepest parts of the path, and we finally reached
our destination.
The accommodations and food available in Kedarnath were very basic, to put it mildly, but at
least we could wash, eat, and rest a bit before going to the temple that evening.
Inside the temple, many pilgrims and priests had gathered in the dim light to worship Lord
Kedarnath, who resides here in the form of a linga.
A Shiva linga is a rounded, figureless stone form that symbolically represents the formlessness
of God.
Around the world, Shiva is worshiped in the form of smoothly rounded lingas, elegantly
sculpted in stone.
But here, the linga is different.
It's a rough granite stone shaped like a pyramid.
This stone is actually part of the mountain.
It's called a swayambhu linga, a naturally occurring stone linga, unlike those carved
by human hands.
This linga was never installed in the temple; instead, the temple was built around it, to
enclose a linga that already protruded from the mountainside.
I sat in the temple contemplating the fact that no edge or boundary separates the bottom
of the linga from the rest of the mountain; there's no way to know where the deity ends
and the mountain begins.
I suddenly realized that the entire mountain, Mount Kedarnath, is itself Lord Shiva in the
form of immense swayambhu linga.
This recognition changed my perspective dramatically.
When I emerged from the temple, I felt that the mountain we so strenuously climbed wasn't
a mountain at all; it was an embodiment of Lord Shiva.
The experience and insight I had inside the temple can serve as a helpful metaphor to
better understand Vedantic contemplation.
In this metaphor, that temple represents your body.
Entering the dimly-lit temple represents closing your eyes for meditation.
Encountering the sacred swayambhu linga in the temple represents your meditative encounter
with the divinity manifest within you -- your true nature, pure consciousness, the consciousness
that reveals all your thoughts, emotions and perceptions, the consciousness that fills
your mind with the light of awareness.
Just as the linga in the temple has no particular form, the light of awareness is formless.
Being formless, it has no edge or boundary; it's limitless, all-pervasive.
And since consciousness is all-pervasive, it can't be stuck inside your head; it permeates
the universe.
Just as the swayambhu linga isn't confined within the area enclosed by the temple, in
the same way, consciousness isn't confined within your mind.
In addition to that, the swayambhu linga existed before the temple was built.
In the same way, consciousness existed before your body was born.
If the temple were torn down, the linga would continue to exist, unchanged and unaffected.
And when your body dies, consciousness will also continue to exist, unchanged and unaffected.
That all-pervasive, unchanging, eternal consciousness is your true nature, atma.
The teachings of Vedanta can completely transform your perspective, like my perspective had
been so dramatically transformed in the temple.
As we walked back down to Gaurikund the following day, I was struck by the irony - that yesterday
morning, we were walking up the mountainside, eager to see Lord Kedarnath in the temple,
without knowing that we were already in His presence; we were walking up his back, so
to speak.
Every footstep taken on that sacred mountain figuratively treads upon Lord Kedarnath.
In the Hindu tradition, it's considered highly disrespectful to step on anything sacred,
especially when wearing dirty shoes.
But, while walking up and down Mount Kedarnath, what choice did we have?
There was nowhere else to place our feet.
This same point is illustrated by a wonderful story about
Namdev, a 14th century saint from Maharashtra.
He was searching for a qualified guru and was told to go to a particular temple to meet
a great saint named Visoba.
When Namdev arrived, he was horrified to find Visoba laying with his feet resting on temple's
sacred Shiva linga.
He respectfully asked Visoba to move his feet.
Strangely, the saint told him, "I'm too old and tired to move my feet.
Please move them for me."
Namdev gently shifted Visoba's feet to the side of the linga, but another linga appeared
at that very spot.
Namdev moved Visoba's feet again and again, but each time, another linga appeared, directly
below his feet.
According to this story, Visoba was using his yogic powers to teach Namdev about the
all-pervasive nature of God.
God, or Ishvara, pervades the universe because everything that exists in the universe is
a manifestation of Ishvara.
The entire universe can be understood as Ishvara's physical body.
Scriptures poetically declare, the sun is his right eye, the moon - his left eye, the
heavens are his belly, and the earth - his feet.
Other scriptures refer to the Earth itself as a form of Ishwara known as Bhumi Devi,
goddess Earth.
Many Hindus recite this prayer to Bhumi Devi before getting out of bed each morning: samudra-vasane
devi parvata-stana-mandale vishnu-patni namas tubhyam pada-sparsham kshamasva me.
"O Goddess, the oceans are your clothes, the mountains are your breasts, Lord Vishnu is
your husband.
Salutations to you!
Please forgive me for placing my feet upon you."
This prayer acknowledges the essential divinity of the Earth, not only its pristine waters,
fields and forests, but also its concrete and asphalt covered cities, as well as the
creatures that live - on the Earth, in its waters, and in the sky.
All these creatures, including you and me, are sustained by the Earth and the food it
produces.
When we understand the divinity of the Earth and recognize how it sustains us all, our
personal responsibility to respect and care for the planet is clear.
After my first visit in 1986, I returned to Kedarnath on three more occasions.
But I haven't been there since the terrible floods that swept through the region in 2013.
Those floods virtually destroyed the town of Kedarnath and several others along the
banks of the Mandakini.
Fortunately, the temple remained relatively unscathed.
But sadly, many pilgrims, townsfolk and workers died in the floodwaters.
By some accounts, more than 5,000 lives were lost.
Governmental and service organizations mounted a gigantic effort to rescue more than 100,000
people who were left stranded by the floods, often without food, water, and shelter.
Those rescue efforts were followed by equally vigorous efforts to rebuild everything that
had been washed away, including the towns of Kedarnath, Gaurikund, and the path connecting
them.
This tragic natural disaster was met with an outpouring of resources and labor contributed
by people around the country.
With their help, the temple was able to reopen to pilgrims in less than one year.
The success of this endeavor shows the resiliency of the people affected, and the tremendous
dedication of all who recognized their responsibility to care for this planet and to preserve this
sacred place for generations to come.