Interfering or Intervening is Not Always Necessary on the Path of Peace

Let go and let God

Whatever comes, let it come. What stays, let stay. What goes, let go. If there is peace in your mind, you will find peace with everybody. If your mind is agitated, you will find agitation everywhere. —Papaji

Last July, I considered myself very fortunate to get the chance to explore the state of Punjab, India, for the first time, all while working on videos and writing about peace. One day, in the late afternoon, when the summer sun was feeling relatively less intense, I joined my dear friend for a walk in Mohali, a satellite village of Chandigarh, also called The City Beautiful. As the sun set, I remember hearing the sounds of the moment: birds, insects, people chatting at construction sites, and the voice of someone singing Shabad in the distance.

As we walked through the humid air that happens during monsoon season here, taking our time at a relaxed pace, we came across a small park tucked into the block. This neighborhood where the park was discovered is relatively new in contrast to older areas of Chandigarh that, as I am told by the people who live here, were developed in the mid-20th century. The eye can discern here between the older areas and the newer developments because the architectural styles are distinct from each other. In some ways, though, they are similar. Indian homes, regardless of the era in which they were built, seem to have always valued access to fresh air, natural light, and greenery. One appreciates these things as part of living peacefully.

In Mohali, the park that we apparently stumbled upon looked as if it was still in development, but that was not what registered in what I like to call my working (creative) mind. Instead, my attention focused on the children frolicking and laughing in one corner of the park, playing with their father on a brightly-painted playground structure, enjoying their time together. I noticed the purple and pink blossoms on the trees in another corner of the park as we walked the circular track around the periphery of the green space. I noticed my dear friend’s calm, relaxed attitude and the way he laughed easily at small things, which in turn kept my own mood elevated and easeful. During one round of walking, one of the children approached me and looked directly into my eyes with a gaze that I could call quiet and contemplative and open.

Then, we heard a low “moo” sound coming from across the road. There, we saw an empty lot between two houses with a cow, or गाय or gaay in Hindi, standing in the middle of the tall, green grass. The cow was black and stood with its head turned to the right, looking slightly behind. We wondered whether the mooing sound had come from the cow, and then we heard it again and saw. Now, we were certain the cow had made the sound.

There are cow herders walking along the streets here sometimes, I have seen; they often hold a stick and keep a mindful eye on the animals in their care. The cows in each herd are led to open fields, where they are seen to graze on the fresh grass and receive exercise each day. The cow making the “moo” sound appeared to be on her own, separate from the herd.

The mooing sound she made sounded curious at first, or nearly inquisitive. As if to say, “Where did the others go?” without much affect. Now, I don’t have the capacity to know what is happening within anyone’s inner world, including our animal brethren. To my ears, however, the cow sounded unbothered, at first.

Then, something happened. She suddenly changed her tone.

Suddenly, the cow’s “moo” changed. It became higher in pitch, almost a whistling or crying sound. This new, keening “moo” sounded nearly urgent to my human perception. Was I projecting my human perception onto the cow’s moo, I wondered? I considered how often we assume we know the inner life of others before spiritual awakening. After that, I stopped assuming to know what is going on inside anyone else, as the focus turned to myself.

And yet, I found myself assuming the cow’s cry was one of sadness and separation. I noticed my heart feeling pain for what I imagined was a lonely cow seeking her fellow companions.

I asked my friend whether he also felt the cow was expressing feeling of missing her herd. Did he also feel that her cry expressed some kind of loneliness, a certain upsetness at suddenly seeming isolated? My friend thought for a moment in silence, then he gently admitted that yes, he did also feel it was possible that the cow had feelings somehow like we humans do when we feel suddenly abandoned or isolated.

However, I have come to realize that feeling isolated or separate is an illusion, at least to me. Anyone in my life who I have loved, I feel they are always with me. No, not physically with me. But in my Heart, they have never left. It is a deep peace that comes with a lightness of being after spiritual awakening. Missing people rarely happens now, because I know we are all connected, even across distance. Even in silence. In fact, silence is where God is said to be most present. I have found this to be true myself.

As I listened that afternoon to the cry of the cow, I noticed my response to the cow’s change in tone was a sudden urge to lead her back to the herd, but I did not do that. Instead, I chose to breathe in and out calmly, letting the cow continue to make her cries without interfering or taking any action. Why?

This may sound cruel, but I felt it was God’s will. I felt it was not my place to “fix” the situation but to surrender to trusting that the cow would do what was required for herself. There was nothing I could do, I realized, as I had not seen the cowherder that day, nor the herd. I did not know where to lead the cow, so I came to see clearly that it was admittedly futile to try to help. In fact, sometimes helping has the opposite outcome of “fixing” a situation; it can actually add unnecessary complexity. We can trust each being to know how to proceed best. Each being knows the way when it listens to its true self.

When helping another is required, we will just know what to do. For example, if someone is injured, and we are trained in first aid, we will immediately provide the necessary care in that moment—without planning or thinking about it. It will happen spontaneously.

Discernment, as I see it, is being granted the wisdom to know what we can control, and accepting what we cannot change. On this day, the cow’s lostness was outside of my control, and I had to accept hearing her cries of apparent loneliness. I had to trust that all would be well, according to Source.

My friend sensed what was going on inside me during this time, as I stayed silent. Then, he said in a soft voice: “She’ll find her way.”

May we each surrender to the present moment, right here and now, allowing each one to find one’s own way, trusting the Source to guide us, even when we may occasionally still feel an urge to intervene with our own will. Instead, let us stay aware and trust that the given way will open for each of us, without interference—God willing.