Woolgathering

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Woolgathering is the precise opposite of Meditation. In Meditation one is supposed to try and ‘focus’ one’s mind (such as it is) on a single thought, fighting all other thoughts that forever are trying to crowd out the single chosen thought. The process is an extremely tiring one, at least in the initial ‘novice’ stages. By and by the thing is supposed to get easy: as easy as breathing, they claim. The result is: ‘strength of mind’. Depending on the intended ‘purpose’ of Meditation, one can use the fortified mind for Peace or Prosperity (The two are known to be mutually exclusive: sublime Peace is the result of renunciation of all Prosperity….Shiva-Parvati vs Laxmi-Vishnu).

Books and tomes have been written on Meditation. In fact the genre is now one of the ‘bestselling’. All you have to do is to Google for ‘Meditation’ and do a clever ‘copy-paste’ job from the 27,100,000 sites; and you have a book on your hands ready for marketing. On Woolgathering you are on your own. Very little has been written on the subject. It is not popular or fashionable. The ‘activity’ (or rather the ‘passivity’) is condemned and ridiculed as useless and wasteful of time as well as energy (it needs no ‘energies’ however).

Woolgathering is not the same as Daydreaming. In Daydreaming the Dreamer has one or more ‘wish-fulfillment’ purposes. In Woolgathering there is no wish to fulfill. The perfect example of a Daydreamer is Thurber’s Walter Mitty. He has a ‘Secret Life’. The Woolgatherer has no secret life..…indeed he has no secrets to conceal, nor much of a ‘life’ either, so to speak.

Few of us are capable of Meditation or Daydreaming. Meditation requires a ‘Drive’ and Daydreaming requires a ‘Driver’. Both are purposeful, willy-nilly. Only a few can aspire to reach the heights of Meditation or Daydreaming. The former become Yogis and the latter Artists. But all of us are eligible for Woolgathering. Only we should have the time, place and inclination. Meditation is an artificial activity. Daydreaming is unnatural. Woolgathering on the other hand is the most natural state of the mind. I have watched many birds and animals at rest and at peace with themselves when their physical needs are for the moment met. A Woolgatherer is like a cow chewing her cud. Or a pigeon on the window sill. Ruminating.

Meditation is nowadays a profoundly ‘social and cultural’ fashion accessory. Woolgathering is an unsocial activity. A confirmed Woolgatherer is not in a hurry to mix with people. However it doesn’t mean he is a recluse hermit. He is like any of us; jobbing, marrying, procreating. But he is never ‘bored’. Left to himself, he would gladly sit down (or more likely lie down) and gather wool. But he wouldn’t knit the gathered wool into a sweater or glove. He just gathers.

While the hallmark of Meditation is ‘focus’, Woolgathering is all ‘diffuse’. If Meditation is like lifting the mind with its bootstraps, Woolgathering is letting the mind in its ‘free fall’. While Meditation is like setting the mind on ‘fire’, Woolgathering is like ‘quenching’ or ‘cooling’ the fiery mind.

Woolgathering requires a ‘born lazy’ attitude. None with any ‘Ambition’ would gather any worthwhile wool. Woolgathering is essentially a male activity. I haven’t seen women gather wool of any color or kind. Women are wired differently. They don’t like a restful mind. They are scared. And that is why they go forth and select (‘Natural Selection’ of Darwin), marry, and invite trouble for themselves and all.

I have seen a gentleman drive his Maruti from Prem Bazaar with his pet poodle; and both alighting and occupying a cement bench in Harry’s. The dog would sit quietly on his lap. Tikka would supply unending cups of Tea and Cigarettes for the gentleman and ‘samose’ for the poodle. Both would sit by themselves for a couple of hours and drive away.

He is the perfect Woolgatherer. How do I know? I would be doing the same thing on the stone bench opposite his and go through the same routine, sans the poodle. We had known each other for decades. But neither of us for a moment entertained the mere thought of invading our privacies by even sidelong glances. That would be Sacrilege!
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