《美食祈祷和恋爱》Chapter 71 (156):第一次熬夜祈祷

My flight leaves India at four in the morning, which is typical of how India works. I decide not to go to sleep at all that night, but to spend the whole evening in one of the meditation caves, in prayer. I'm not a late-night person by nature, but something in me wants to stay awake for these last hours at the Ashram. There are many things in my life I've stayed up all night to do—to make love, to argue with someone, to drive long distances, to dance, to cry, to worry (and sometimes all those things, in fact, in the course of one night)—but I've never sacrificed sleep for a night of exclusive prayer. Why not now?

我的班机将在清晨四时离开印度，这是典型的印度运作方式。我决定当天晚上不睡觉，整晚待在禅坐洞祈祷。我生性不是夜猫子，却想在道场的最后几个钟头保持清醒。我这辈子曾经熬夜做过许多事——做爱、与某人争执、开长途车、跳舞、哭泣、担忧（事实上，这些事有时在同一个晚上发生）——但我从未牺牲睡眠特地祈祷一个夜晚。现在何不这么做？

I pack my bag and leave it by the temple gate, so I can be ready to grab it and go when the taxi arrives before dawn. And then I walk up the hill, I go into the meditation cave and I sit. I'm alone in there, but I sit where I can see the big photograph of Swamiji, my Guru's master, the founder of this Ashram, the long-gone lion who is somehow still here. I close my eyes and let the mantra come. I climb down that ladder into my own hub of stillness. When I get there, I can feel the world halt, the way I always wanted it to halt when I was nine years old and pan-icking about the relentlessness of time. In my heart, the clock stops and the calendar pages quit flying off the wall. I sit in silent wonder at all I understand. I am not actively praying. I have become a prayer.

我把袋子留在寺院大门边，让凌晨时分计程车到来时，可以拿了就走。而后我走上山丘，进禅坐洞，坐下来。我独自一人，坐在看得见道场创办人、导师之师、早已作古却仍在此地的思瓦米吉的大幅照片的地方。我闭上眼睛，让咒语来临。我爬下阶梯，进入自己的寂静中心。抵达之时，我感觉世界停顿下来，就像我九岁的时候，对时间的无情感到恐慌而老是希望时间停下来一般。我坐着，在寂静中，思索一切我已了解的事物。在我心中，时钟停止，墙上的月历不再从墙上飞走。我并未主动祷告，我已“成为”祷告。

I can sit here all night. In fact, I do.

我可以一整晚坐在这里。事实上，我这么做了。

I don't know what alerts me when it's time to go meet my taxi, but after several hours of stillness, something gives me a nudge, and when I look at my watch it's exactly time to go. I have to fly to Indonesia now. How funny and strange. So I stand up and bow before the photograph of Swamiji—the bossy, the marvelous, the fiery. And then I slide a piece of paper under the carpet, right below his image. On the paper are the two poems I wrote during my four months in India. These are the first real poems I've ever written. A plumber from New Zealand encouraged me to try poetry for once—that's why it happened. One of these poems I wrote after having been here only a month. The other, I just wrote this morning.

不知什么东西提醒我该去搭计程车，在数小时的寂静后轻碰我一下，看表时，正好是该走的时刻。我现在必须前往印尼。多么有趣而奇异。于是我站起身来，在思瓦米吉——专横、神奇、激昂的明师——的相片面前鞠躬。而后我把一张纸塞入他相片下方的地毯底下。纸上是我在印度四个月间写的两首诗。是我头一次创作的真正的诗。新西兰的水管工鼓励我尝试写诗——此即源由所在。其中一首写于待在道场一个月之后，另一首则写于今晨。

In the space between the two poems, I have found acres of grace. Eat, Pray, Love

在两首诗之间的空间，我找到无限宽广的恩典。