Simran as silent Prayer
* Philadelphia.
PA. USA. Email: vghunia@earthlink.net
Naam-Simran in one sense is to invoke peace in prayer. As such, simran
is a meditative prayer wherein God’s name is repeated lovingly in short
phrases. Simran is potentially a transcending mantra that serves
to direct our thoughts - better, our energies - towards God while lucidity
interposes imperceptibly between the recesses of our minds.
Invocation: “Wahe Guru, Wahe Guru, Wahe Guru Ji / Sat Naam, Sat
Naam, Sat Naam Ji” is prelude to Naam-simran,
the recitation of God’s name. This particular verse is customarily sung from
the moment the vaak - a reading from the Guru Granth Sahib - has
concluded, to the moment the holy bir is ceremoniously for repose.
Although simran may be intended for internal practice the community
aspect in this instance, where the entire sangat – the congregation –
repeats the above mantra in unison for five minutes, is itself an
edifying experience. And if this does not adequately constitute spiritual
sustenance then perhaps we can say it engenders a sense of harmony.
As one sits among the sangat,
it ostensibly makes no difference whether one is an amritdhari, sehajdhari, or
even a Sikh. All that should matter is one’s commitment to simran, be it
during kirtan, ardas or vaak, all these being
potentialities for transcendence. In joining the sangat, the Sikh
practice demands, in fact, two commitments, the first being simran; the
second is seva - voluntary work in the service of the sangat, pangat
and the Guru. Seva is evident and ever-present though often partaken by
only the few, whereas simran is internal and could pass unnoticed. Seva
is for community, composing a model for societal ideals.
Integrating: Simran is
personal, prefiguring a foundation by which one might relate to God. Of course,
Sikhism is comprised of ideals, the practice of which is very simple, simple
enough that it is often forgotten, or taken for granted, so simple in fact that
they might be misconstrued as not religious. The pieties inherent to seva
may suffer now from such evolutionary missteps. Simran, however, even if
misunderstood, has not been displaced. Nominally, it remains the crux of the
Sikh religion, faint yet ineradicable. The lucidity of simran is gently
superceded as mind’s prevailing thoughts emerge from their sabbatical to
contend with real life. The sociable
linger in the hall and talk with friends in small clusters. The politicians
sitting in a wide circle on the carpet hold brief, oftentimes vociferous,
meetings in a corner. The pious, exit the room slowly; they socialize minimally, assist in serving
the food, and enjoy modest portions of langar, their consciousness possibly
still ensconced in simran by the time they weave their way to their cars
through a parking lot of luxury cars and – most precious of all - pent-up
children.
Faith: Where there is piety there must also be reverence.
That which they revere is also that to which they pray. Into their prayers they
sneak their pleas. They have faith that these shall be heard; they have faith
that it is not a vice to hope. Some come from a hundred miles away every Sunday
so their pleas might be better heard and better serviced. There are those who
would call it an act of primitive religiosity to make pleas to God, to
importune God to make their lives better than they presently are because, what
they presently are, is likely good enough. And the pleas do come, to be sure,
in antithetical tandems – some demure, some importunate; some large, some
small; some material, some spiritual; some selfish, some selfless. Typically,
however, people do not make their pleas during simran. Because they
shouldn’t. It is not that sort of prayer.
Humility: In simran, God is revered. God’s name is God’s
praise. God’s name is a portal, a vessel, its repetition an act of humility.
Where we do not plea we are closer to God. Where we come as someone laid bare,
we are closer to God. Simran confers peace upon our minds. Horizons are
superceded: we are closer to our Self. Simran inspires proximity to God. Yet,
we can not hope for this nor do we plea for this. Faith, the solvent, our minds
dissolve fractionally toward a beatitude stripped of description. We detach.
From everything: our words, our places, our wants, everything to which we have
been bound. Simran is a spiritual conduit made nearly unnavigable, some
might say, by our own disruptive thoughts, reveries, and pleas – aspects of maya
- all of which impede the way to our atman.
Simran is also a conduit which grants - not destination but - proximity not to
godliness but to God, His farthest reaches not an abstract cosmology but the
ether of the deepest recesses of our souls, our Selves – atman. With this,
if we can attain it, we must be content. What propels us through nothingness
where one need not ascend nor transcend when that which propels is the same
that disrupts is our submission to nothingness, obedience to the Law - Hukam
we cannot comprehend.
In simran, there is
no propulsion toward proximity. Divested of hope and effort, we sedate our
thoughts, coax our mind to its barest essence, and discover a less tenable
truth: that we are proximate, that atman is the intersection of Self and
God, and that this resides latently inside us, virgin and inchoate. God is not
our likeness but that which binds the interiors of all our likenesses and
unlikenesses alike. We endeavor to discover this - and seldom do.
q