Meditation With Feet Poem by Ajmer Rode

Father meditated with feet
in a pan of warm water
before sleep every evening
He never expected my mother
who brought him the water
to kneel.

Rather than wash in hurry
he wanted his feet left alone
let the dust particles loosen
as he quietly thanked
his feet and a supreme being
he vaguely believed in

Dislodging particles
spawned sensations
he could experience no other way
Not even from the touch
of Mother's caring hands
Slowly his feet calmed
forgetting the bare-soled work
in the rugged fields
where I sometimes
joined him to help end the day

Meditation must start
in the head said Hegel
Head is where the mind is
and mind is where
impure spirit waits healing.

Father had never heard of Hegel
and his dialectics
striving toward spiritual perfection
Nor of guru Patanjali
who said
your body is your mind
stretched into bone and flesh.
It matters little
where you start the meditation

Father simply dipped his feet
in warm water
every evening.