India

India is NOT NORMAL

2010-05-09T07:14:00.000-07:00

Once again I'm sitting in the middle of Delhi's "charming" chaos ready to depart India. It was almost exactly one year ago that I oh so innocently arrived in India. I remember my first reckless rickshaw ride like it were yesterday, and my introduction to karma yoga, ashram style, a.k.a fertilizing trees with cow shit. Over the past year I've traveled from the south to the north wide eyed, like a child viewing the world for the first time.

Several times today I've caught myself thinking that my surroundings are normal. I've had to remind myself, "No Shaina, there is nothing normal about India." As I write this, I'm nearly laughing out loud as two sketchy looking white swamis dressed in orange fuss with the waiter. They are placing an extremely nit picky order while demanding an ashtray despite the no smoking sign on the wall. Are they under cover criminals dressed up like swamiji's? I can't help but wonder. In any case, they are not NORMAL!

India is the land of anything goes and for this reason people will often smile proudly and say, "anything is possible madame." And it's true, India has proven to me that anything and everything is possible. I've seen everything from cows that give kisses to naked babas riding bareback on horses. India has undoubtedly opened me up to the bazaar, the ugly, the pain stakeingly beautiful and the unspeakable.

It's no wonder why they call her MOTHER INDIA. She embraces us all, regardless of our freaky nature. In fact, she seems to show her love more and more, the less "NORMAL" I become.

Save Tibet!

2010-05-09T07:03:00.000-07:00

Being amongst the Tibetan people, one cannot help but engage in the fight for justice in Tibet. How could this oppressive reign go on for so long? How can one government be so powerful? And why do the victims have to be some of the kindest, most gentle people I've ever met?

Since the Chinese annexation of Tibet in 1949, as many as 1.2 million of these beautiful people have died through executions, torture and starvation. Not to mention the thousands of Tibetan temples that have been defaced or destroyed.

Here in Dharamsala the Dalai Lama has taken refuge for exactly fifty years. It has become the center for Tibetans exiled across the globe, numbering more than 150,000 refugees. Whenever I see the Dalai Lama I feel as though I'm in the presence of a realized being. The permanent smile on his face marks his ability to transcend beyond struggle and pain. He is a true example of the benefits of living the Dharma. If he can find true happiness, then anyone can.

The best thing I did while in Dharamsala was spend an afternoon teaching Tibetan Monks English. I was also lucky enough to be here on the very day that marked the Dalai Lamas 50 years in Dharamsala and 51 years in India. Tibetans sang and danced, the Dalai Lama thanked India and her people, and the old Tibetan woman sitting next to me cried quietly to herself, while holding her mala and reciting, Om Mane Padme Hum, Om Mane Padme Hum, Hale to the jewel of the lotus.

The Golden Temple

2010-04-28T22:57:00.001-07:00

As the sun set upon the Golden Temple, I wondered to myself, "What is the story behind this holy site?" Just then, a messenger arrived.

There once lived a king, he explained, who had seven daughters. Six of his daughters proclaimed that he was god, but one insisted that he was merely her father. As punishment for her refusal to see him as an almighty God, he forced her to marry a crippled and maimed villager. One day the married couple went to visit the Golden Temple, which at that time was not Golden, but simple and undecorated.

Upon arriving, the wife momentarily left her husband to go fetch some drinking water. While away, the crippled husband grew extremely hot under the Amristsar sun, so he decided to dip his feet in the water that surrounds the temple. While soaking in the water he watched in astonishment as his feet transformed and healed. Bit by bit he immersed everything but his right hand into the healing waters. When his wife returned, she shouted, "Where is my husband? What have you done with him?" "I am your husband", he responded. Look, I've been healed. Just then, he dipped his crippled hand into the water to prove the miracle.

Ever since that time, people have traveled far and wide to immerse in the healing waters. About 200 years after the crippled man was healed a great king donated enough gold to coat the whole temple. Although it's a Sikh temple, all are welcome. And never have i seen so many people of different faiths flooding into one temple.

With my eyes closed, the sound of instruments and Punjabi voices below, time falls away. Four hundred years ago, the first healing occurred on these grounds. Now in 2010, my heart awakens to the unfolding of past and present, and to the miracles that await.

What is love???

2010-04-17T11:26:00.000-07:00

"Love is the nature of everyones consciousness"

Yesterdays lecture with Swamiji began with the question, "What is love?" He explained that love and passion are opposites. People generally love one another because they want to satisfy themselves in one way or another. This type of satisfaction is not only self serving, but it is also false. In order to love someone without attachment, you must love all beings equally.

Anthony piped in and said, "So based upon what you're saying, if I'm to love without attachment, then I have to love the bum on the street just as I love my wife. I don't think that's possible."

Today I met a Brazilian Baba named Prem Baba who gave a short lecture about the Ramayana, the greatest love story ever written, according to Indians. It's a stroy about Hanumans devotion to Rama and signifies divne will vs. self will. In reference to the Ramayana, Prem Baba said, "If ones aim is communion with the divine, then all of your talents must be used for the benefit of all vs. personal gain." Anthony walked away from this teaching really questioning his work life and investigating different ways to combine talent, love and service. Prem Baba concluded his talk by saying, "Ask yourself when you wake up each morning ---What motivates me to get out of bed, is it love, devotion and a determination to serve others, or, am I driven by self interest? Every day we have a choice. Everyday we have a chance to truly experience what love is."

Kumbh Mela

2010-04-17T10:27:00.000-07:00

As I sit alongside the Holy Ganga, water dripping off of my body, I understand why it was so important for me to come to the Kumbh Mela. Amongst millions of other pilgrims I came to remember that everything in this universe is holy. With this idea in mind I'm filled with an emanation of bliss. Looking around I see no difference between myself and the men, women and children I'm surrounded by. Tears flow down my face as I realize what this means. The illusion created by the concept of me, my, mine crumbles and I'm left feeling both empty and full.

A part of me is in disbelief that I could be so lucky to realize these simple truths in this lifetime. As we take the boat across the river into Rishikesh, I wonder if the past few days were a dream. I marvel at the prospect that this whole life is a dream, an idea that often crosses my mind. Deemed as kings, queens, villains, theives, sages,beggars, we all play our given roles, assuming that we are separate from one another. Every once in awhile, a messenger appears in the dream and we wake up, but the dream continues on.

Who is this messenger?

Maybe it's the voice of every person who has ever experienced a moment of wakefulness.

Whatever or whomever it is, it's sacred and I'm certain that it's the nectar that everyone in India refers to as the essence of life - Amritam.

Bablu, Give me my box!

2010-03-10T01:47:00.001-08:00

My last night in Varanasi was spent tracking down the man who owed me a box for my harmonium. In the middle of the night I gathered two friends of mine and at 12am the three of us banged on the Bablu’s door. When he finally opened it, I yelled, “Bablu, my box!” As we proudly walked back to Assi Ghat with my harmonium box resting on Mario’s shoulder I sighed in response to the past couple of days. As much as India teaches me patience and understanding, sometimes I’m left with no choice but to gather a couple of thugs and go banging on peoples doors at midnight demanding what I’ve been promised!

Forbidden love

2010-03-10T01:10:00.000-08:00

How often do you stop to appreciate your freedom to fall in love? I never did before coming to India where falling in love is strictly prohibited amongst most Hindus unless it’s with the man or woman that you’ve been arranged to marry. However, in Varanasi I met two women who have “love marriages”, one of which was my music teacher.

Due to Gopa's love marriage, her husbands family considers them a complete disgrace and has forever cast them away.

My friend Mega who has a love marriage claims that most women in Varanasi shun her. She is not in any way a traditional Indian woman. Not only did she marry for love, but she also refuses to wear a sari, speaks perfect English and has decided not to get pregnant until she and her husband are able to buy a house.

Nikki has been sneaking around with her boyfriend for four years. She claims that once he has his P.H.D and can prove that he’s worthy of her, she will reveal him to her parents and beg that they be married. One day when we went to the movies we met him in another part of town. The rickshaw driver pulled over, barely stopping while Nikki's forbidden love jumped in. All the way to the movie theater the love birds stole affectionate glances at one another, with a look of yearning in their eyes. As soon as the lights went down in the movie theatre they were arm in arm. When we were dropped off that afternoon Nikki got out of the rickshaw not acknowledging her love. Once we were about 100 meters down the road she called him to say goodbye.

shedding

2010-03-10T01:04:00.000-08:00

Varanasi is a place where people come to die and to have their bodies burned alongside the mighty Ganga. Little did I know that I myself came to this auspicious place of death to put to rest many aspects of who I’ve claimed to be all my life. Each time I sat at the burning ghats where bodies turn to ash, I offered myself to the fire. And, often I asked myself, why and where did all of these false perceptions of self come from? The best I can do at this point is bring to light one by one the parts of who I am that my soul does not fully identify with. By stripping away these limitations I hope to achieve just a little more self-awareness than I’ve previously attained. In any case, Varanasi has been an experience beyond the norm. I have walked down the galis that lead to the burning ghats day after day, and somehow each time I arrive I feel more prepared to let go of pieces of who I am as I ask myself, Who am I anyway.

Ode to Saraswati

2010-03-01T20:48:00.000-08:00

Saraswati, Goddess of knowledge, on this day called Holi, I fix my gaze upon you.

Dressed in white with swastika beads in one hand and a Bina in the other,

your luminosity pervades.

As I sit before your image, I give thanks for the knowledge you have bestowed upon me.

I can only hope that the river of wisdom will continue to flow through me, washing away my ignorance. I am reminded each day how much I have to learn.

Knowing this, my thirst for knowledge grows and grows.

This thought both excites and humbles my feeble mind.

There was once a time when I was proud and stubborn, but slowly I can see how you have softened my edges and opened my mind.

These days I realize that the more I think I know, the less I am able to truly understand.

With this truth I can rest and settle into the here and now.

Oh sweet humility, how I praise your honest way of reminding me to speak softly and walk delicately as I enter into new territory.

the beauty of Varanasi

2010-02-25T22:43:00.000-08:00

more photos of Varanasi

2010-02-25T22:33:00.000-08:00

MMMMmmmm!!

2010-02-25T22:29:00.000-08:00

Thank you mom for sending chocolates, vitamins and my new credit cards all the way to India. It was an amazing feeling to receive a package full of love that was sent all the way across the globe. I shared the chocolates with some of my friends here who have never tasted good chocolate. The look on their faces was priceless!

And dear sweet Angel, thank you for the beautiful card! I will cherish it.

I love you guys!

xoxo

Pilgrimage to Sarnath

2010-02-21T05:59:00.000-08:00

Sarnath is where the Buddha met his first disciples and gave his first dharma talk. Sitting with the monks while they chanted, I felt like a new born baby. With eyes closed, I imagined that the monks were chanting a buddhist lullaby, rocking me into a deep sleep. I could have stayed there all day, meditating and resting on the voices of these modern day disciples.

Frozen in time

2010-02-19T21:19:00.000-08:00

The sounds, sights and teachings of the past roll down the mighty Ganga day in and day out. Like the melody of a beautiful hymn, the ghosts of Varanasi linger, haunting the galleys and ghats.

I constantly think to myself, "Why is it that an aspect of this place seems to be frozen in time?"

Interestingly, where Varanasi resides, the Ganga River turns back upon itself toward the Himalayas, as though longing to return to her source. This change of direction in the flow of current is considered to be immensely auspicious. The ancients saw this backward loop as a representation of the Hindu concept that the Universe is conceived as expanding outwards from one source into many, but always returning to it’s origin. Through this complete loop, this union, time falls away and a supreme reality takes it’s place. It has been speculated that due to the geography as well as the geometrical construct of the city itself, Varanasi will always be strongly connected to it’s past or it’s origin. Could this be why I’ve lost track of time since arriving here?

Most of the inhabitants of India, worship the holy Ganga, therefore honoring the union of past and present. India happens to be the last place whose great rivers are still worshipped and considered to be holy. The same rituals that took place at the foot of the ghats thousands of years ago are still performed today.

As the exterior of Varanasi crumbles, the spine of the city, the Holy Ganga, continues to flow as does it’s spiritual potency. This city proves that we are neither here nor there, but innately connected to and moving with the current of life. In the same way that humans always gravitate toward their center, the continuum of life, and the Holy Ganga both move inward and outward, pulsating to and from their source.

Kaivalya (freedom)

2010-02-19T21:08:00.000-08:00

“Adam, are those really owls in straw cages?”

“Uuuumm, yah, I think they are.”

“Excuse me sir, what are you doing with these owls?”

“For good luck madame. You buy for 150 rupees and you get blessing. Then set free”

Although I didn’t believe in what the man was doing, I couldn’t resist the urge to set the owls free. As I held each one in my hands I prayed for it’s survival. Symbolically I also prayed for everyone and everything in India who falls victim to desperate acts of survival. I cannot blame this man for caging these beautiful birds. I don’t know what it is like to have to resort to such means. So instead of judging that which I don’t understand I say a prayer for every caged bird that I am not able to set free. I pray for every starving child I’ve seen on the streets of Delhi and every limbless man or woman who has ever asked me for help. I say a silent prayer for the woman that is forever burned in my mind who sat before her bandaged, dying baby as she cried and begged for help. I pray for all people who hassle me to buy something each day and for the women who call me didi (big sister), with their hand extended, pleading for a way out of their misery. I pray for the lepers that most people don’t even know still exist. With a baby owl in my hands anxious to be set free, I pray for all people who are imprisoned by their suffering. If I had one wish I would set you all free for 150 rupees, but for now the best I can do is extend the love in my heart to those in need. I hope that one day I can do more.

Is Varanasi what one would call a microcosm???

2010-02-13T21:53:00.000-08:00

When reflecting upon the streets of Varanasi, Richard Lannoy wrote,

“The compelling mystery of these externalized inner spaces is not hidden but to be found in what is visible - sacred drama constantly enacted in front of our eyes. The ordinary is the miracle – an ever present probability of beatitude, redressing, restoring by it’s surprise and rightness, a full sense of human possibility.”

I’m convinced that I’ve reached the center of the earth, the incubus of everything that humanity exudes and encompasses: the kind, the cruel, the beautiful, the ugly, the divine, then inhumane, the old and the new, the surreal and the concrete. I’ve already planned my escape twice, yet day by day this strange, otherworldly place seems to be seeping into my pores. Reoccuring moments of disbelief on the riverside steps of the Ganga have awakened a new sense of what’s possible, invoking the question of what’s real. The dream of my daily existence ripples and folds upon itself. My consciousness lingering and drifting inbetween the ancient past written on the walls of every gali way in Varanasi and the present moment.

As yet another pilgrim who has ventured to this holy city I am reminded that to be a pilgrim is to surrender to whichever miracle overtakes you. As Anandamayi Ma put it, “ Every step of the pilgrim is death, every step is birth. The distance beckons, longing awakes. The pilgrim does not seek, he finds. Whoever tries to grasp the goal of pilgrimage with his mind, sees it slip from his grasp.”

Smelly Delhi

2010-02-06T21:00:00.000-08:00

photos from my hotel window.....

I have to admit, as I flew into Delhi I was feeling quite cynical about my decision to return to India. I thought to myself, “Why have I come back to this loud, over-populated, dirty, chaotic place?” As I tried to invoke sleep I was less distracted by the sounds of dogs barking, horns honking and music playing, than the amount of noise that was going on inside my head. While staring at the dingy walls of my hotel room, I had a conversation with myself. The last thing I remember before falling asleep was making a promise to myself that I would take things in stride. “Don’t over think it Shaina, just keep listening to that voice that tells you to get your ass to Varanasi. Even though it doesn’t make perfect sense, there’s a reason for this unshakeable calling.”

When I awoke the next morning I was actually excited to step out my door onto the dusty streets of Pahar Ganj. I was even more excited to pet my first cow since arriving. With a little more ease each minute, I sipped my chai, ate my extremely savory Indian breakfast, and slowly settled into a feeling of acceptance. Who knows why India feels like home to me, but deep down inside I know I’ve been here before. Later in the day I met a man who said, “We know all, but we don’t remember all”. Sometimes I wish I could have access to the infinite amount of knowledge that my soul has gathered over its many lifetimes. I guess the most we can hope for are small glimpses into the vast continuum of wisdom, offering us tiny morsels of truth.

I once asked a Buddhist Monk, “Why aren’t we just born enlightened”. He smiled and said, “How could we possibly become realized beings if there were nothing for us to realize.”

In the name of Perspective....

2010-02-04T01:48:00.000-08:00

On the train to Bangkok I gazed out my open window at silhouettes of branches that were pressed up against a brilliant Technicolor sky. As I reflected upon my short time in Chiang Mai, I suddenly recognized an over-arching theme. Whenever tragedy struck (which was often), moments of grace almost immediately followed. For example, when a dog at the Buddhist Wat bit me, a caring monk instantly came to my rescue and cleaned my wound. His kindness made me shed a single tear while I walked away. Minutes later I spotted a herd of reindeer with furry antlers. I sat next to them in awe, for I’d only imagined that such creatures existed. They peacefully stared at me through their acorn shaped eyes while I observed their delicate character. The very next day after I fell down the side of a mountain, I stumbled through a bamboo forest. The sound of each stalk swaying, creaking and clacking in the wind created a melody that soothed my bodies’ newly acquired aches and pains. Soon thereafter I found the cave I’d been looking for. Its timeless walls bore the signs of history, cracked and weathered, inviting my curiosity to venture inside. The bats steered me away from the caves cavernous depths, but I was satisfied with the embryonic feeling I got while sitting within a belly of rock and clay. By the time I left the forest, I’d nearly forgotten that I was injured and covered in dirt.

The next morning just after I discovered that I’d lost my wallet the night before, a man asked if he could join me at my table. He drew me in with his positive attitude as he told stories of his enchanted life. About thirty minutes into the conversation he revealed to me that his wife had recently died of cancer and that his mother’s funeral was the very next day. I decided right then and there not to feel sorry for myself, but rather to dedicate my day to gratitude and appreciation.

Amidst it all, the most profound occurrence was the re-kindling of a very important friendship. Though I didn’t expect to see Richie while I was in Chiang Mai, the universe brought us together once again, sealing a bond that clearly cannot be broken.

So as it was, Chiang Mai turned out to be a myriad of contrasting themes. All in all, I am reminded that if it weren’t for the arousal of difficult experiences in life, that which is extraordinary and beautiful may not have the opportunity to shine so brightly.

Saying Goodbye to Ko Phangan

2010-02-04T01:14:00.000-08:00

Although my time on the beautiful island of Ko Phangan ended earlier than expected, it was a time to be remembered. The best part about it wasn't the yoga I did, or the mantras I learned, but rather the amazing people I met. Thank you all for being so unique and inspiring!

photos of sound chamber

2010-02-04T01:10:00.000-08:00

The Sound Chamber

2010-01-16T04:40:00.000-08:00

You never know who your greatest teachers may be. Although I have been appreciating what my Mantra teacher has been sharing with us, one of the women in our class seems to be having a far greater impact on me. Her voice is so moving and her spiritual practice clearly runs deep. Today she and I drove motorbikes around the island in search of “a sound chamber” which we’d heard was a part of a yoga school in the jungle. We were successful in finding it and were permitted to spend as much time in there as we pleased. I mostly listened to Jyoti’s incredible voice and at times we joined our voices in Mantra. Today I was about the richness and connection that lies in the voice, particularly when singing prayers. Within that chamber of sound we were clearly not alone, and as the spirits that joined us left the space, they took with them the prayers we spoke. And as we left, a part of me felt awakened to the power of prayer which is brought into being through sacred sound.

Wanda

2010-01-16T04:18:00.000-08:00

Have you ever met a creature that seemed like it came from a different planet? The other day as I was walking along the beach with my new friend Jyoti, we spotted this gigantic bird perched on the porch of a bungalow. For 45 minutes we watched the unusual creature interact with a small parrot and those of us who were staring at it in amazement. By the way, instead of saying “IT” every time I refer to this amazing animal I’m going to give her a name: Wanda. At one point Wanda flew past me while her massive wings cut through the air, whoosh, whoosh. It sounded like there was a jump rope whirling around me with extreme force. Instead of walking, Wanda would hop up and down propelling herself sideways, forward and back. Watching from a distance was moving enough, but one thing led to another and before I knew it, I was face to face with the most unusual creature I’ve ever met. I even had the chance to feed Wanda a papaya and pet her enormous beak! The most profound part of the whole experience was that Wanda seemed to really respond to touch. When we would pet her, she seemed to lean into your hand, like a gentle nuzzle. And when you fed her, she would ever so delicately reach for the food, without any fear. Here was this extremely rare and completely wild creature that seemingly wanted nothing more than to just simply be loved. Meeting Wanda made my day, and days later I’m still in awe.

2010-01-07T06:39:00.000-08:00

All day my eyes were cast upon beauty that was natural and unacquired

Every grain and gravel I saw had been made into an enshrined sculpture

And every thought I had was in response to the delicate artistry before my eyes

Day 3 in Thailand

2010-01-07T06:32:00.000-08:00

Today when I stepped off the water taxi I spotted a crippled man sitting on a skateboard. After having spent time in India so recently, my immediate response was to assume that he was a beggar. I reached in my pocket and without thinking twice I went up to the man, offering him a hand full of change. He looked at me confused and then smiled and proudly shook his head. I felt a little ashamed that I’d assumed he needed my help. I apologized and walked away while thinking to myself that such a thing would never have taken place in India, where people on the streets are so desperate it makes you cry when you look into their eyes. As I took the sky train back to my hotel I continued to contemplate the differences between India and Thailand. I concluded that without a caste system in place the disadvantaged have at least somewhat of a community to rely on, which leaves less people in desperate situations. This is not to say that Thailand doesn’t have poverty, a country where the average monthly income is $200-$300, but there is a feeling of kindness and non-judgment amongst the Thai people that is less prevalent in India. I’m sure it helps that the primary religion in Thailand is Buddhism, which teaches that non-judgment leads one straight to the heart of compassion. If only this one principle were the primary incentive behind every persons every action, the world would likely be a much better place.

I miss you all already!

2010-01-06T06:16:00.000-08:00

I couldn't think of a way to sum up the past couple of months in words, so I decided to share some of my most memorable moments by posting photos. The next two entries display a road trip to Southern Oregon/Northern California, our dad's memorial, a butoh performance in the woods, lot's of time hangin' with my lovely peeps in Seattle, a yoga retreat on Whidbey with Lee, a road trip to San Fran, my sister's wedding in Sedona, and various unforgettable moments in between. I love you all! Thank you for all of heart warming memories. I will cherish them forever! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo!!!!!!!

2010-01-06T05:33:00.000-08:00

2010-01-06T02:36:00.000-08:00

a day in the life....

2009-12-14T22:10:00.000-08:00

I went for a hike the other day with my friend Scott. When he arrived to pick me up I opened the door and smiled. He paused, and said, “uuuummm, are we still going hiking?” Of course I said, knowing why he was asking. I wasn’t in my normal hiking gear.

I brought along a bag full of "stuff" that I decorated the forest with, adding a little more magic to the already enchanted Tiger Mountain. I made miniature alters throughout the woods, while Scott, bless his soul, remained in good spirits, even though he was likely thinking that I’m a bit mad.

It was a wonderful way to let go of things that I deem valuable. Considering that I don’t intend to bring much abroad, I am on a mission to minimize. Each alter had a separate meaning, “the fortune cookie alter”, “the nana alter”, “the dad alter”, “the relationship alter”, “the creativity alter”, and of course, “the Tara alter”. There were more, some more random than others, but all were meaningful in one way or another to no one but me.

The last alter was a poem, which read:

Listen to Nature’s teachings

Be humbler than a blade of grass

And more tolerant than a tree

Giving up worldly prestige,

Offer all respect to others

And expect none in return.

This venture was the first of a series. I am working on a stop motion film, documenting the process of letting go.

2009-11-25T00:26:00.001-08:00

My earthen mood

exudes a shimmer of rusty bronze tones

I feel rigid, yet twisted and tireless

Robust

Determined

Reflective

Branded by glances and mere moments

Nestled in this delicate dance

Is a chance to rise and fall

And rest with ravens and branches

that wrap around

my earthen mood.

2009-11-22T15:56:00.000-08:00

11/19/09

I am always astounded by what can come of spending a weekend in the woods with a group of women. It’s affirming to be reminded that, No I am not an overly sensitive, hyper-analytical, pseudo-spiritual woman. I'm just a woman, which naturally lends itself to an easily accessible attunement of the senses. Thank you creator for making me a woman in this lifetime. I wouldn’t have it any other way! If I weren’t constantly asking myself, "What is my hearts desire, TODAY?", I would never know how beautiful and truth-telling life can be. Every time I ask myself this question I discover something new, something hidden, something that celebrates when light finally shines upon the shadow that was once cast upon it.

full circle

2009-11-07T22:01:00.000-08:00

Last Saturday marked one year since the day my father took his life. In some ways it feels like a lifetime ago that he left. Sometimes I find myself asking, "Did he ever really exist, or was that all just a dream?" And the night I stood in front of his car, his head slumped beneath his hoodie while his uninhabited body rest in the front seat, did that really happen?

Today I took a "Yoga and Trauma" workshop that emphasized feeling the peripheries of the body and creating a “container” for past and present experiences. The idea was to harness the things that you fear in order to become more aware of what we hold deep inside our bodies. I realized that although I still have a long way to go, I no longer shutter when I place myself in front of my father’s dead body or when the sound of my sisters screams resound in my mind. I also recognized how thankful I am for the painful things that I’ve been through. In some ways they make me feel more alive. Within the deepest darkest places I’ve been, also exists a rare beauty that transcends the mundane. I think it’s that beauty and the mystery behind everything that’s indescribable that has carried me through life with such grace. I often picture myself calmly wading through a raging river with my eyes closed while someone plays the piano at the shore. This image is so full of emotion and always brings about a wave of calmness. I don’t know where the image came from, but it takes me to a place of depth and gratitude for the richness of the human experience, a place that is anchored in beauty.

The Final Hours

2009-10-18T20:31:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting in a cafe in Delhi feeling completely in-between anything and everything. Tonight I fly back to the U.S. where I will re-enter into the western world. Although six months isn't a tremendous amount of time to be away, I know that I will need to move slowly through the coming weeks, while I observe the ways in which I've changed.

I will miss the marching bands at midnight, the street cows that I'm more likely to cuddle with than the dogs, the gypsies, the decorated buses that play loud music all through the night, the friends I've made on my journey, and most of all the freedom to express divinity at any time, in any place, and in any form.

HARE OM! HARE OM! HARE OM!

Thank you India.....Until we meet again.

Temple dance

2009-10-15T07:33:00.000-07:00

Colleena really does live a fairytale life. Her house is full of bright colors and things that glisten when the sun shines in through the windows. Each day she makes her way from her enchanted house to the gorgeous temple in which she dances her little heart out. She is often invited to Maharaja Palaces throughout Rajisthan to perform, which is any Classical Indian dancers ultimate dream. As Colleena walks through town you hear a constant echoeing of her name. Everyone wants to be blessed by her greeting and smile.

But all of this would not be possible if she didn’t have the dedication and zeal it takes to make her dreams come true. It’s not without an incredible amount of hard work and focus that Colleena has become the Dancing Deva of Pushkar. Spending the past two weeks taking Colleena’s dance intensive and shadowing her life, has reminded of the amazing gifts that come from discipline. When it comes down to it anyone can live a fairytale life, but not without focus and extreme dedication. I’ve been reflecting upon how in the west we are less inclined to excel at one thing because we spread ourselves so thin. Indian culture seems to have mastered the art of discipline. I think it helps that for most Indian people, the highest goal is Union with God. It makes sense that one is more likely to be successful with such an enlightened goal in mind. It definitely beats working toward fame and riches, which is often thought of as the ultimate goal in the west.

Blessing the dance space

2009-10-06T07:10:00.001-07:00

First couple days in Pushkar

2009-10-05T05:56:00.000-07:00

Maybe it’s the fact that I’m in the desert that makes me feel so at home here. For the first time my skin isn’t sticky and moist, and the constant sound of honking horns has decreased to a bare minimum. The people here are gorgeous, the camels make me giggle, and the cows have big droopy ears, which urges me to pinch their puffy little cheeks. Tomorrow Colleena’s school of dance opens and I will begin learning the art of Odissi. I will also start teaching yoga, which feels like the perfect offering at the end of my first trip to India.

2009-10-02T05:38:00.000-07:00

I think I’ve been in Delhi for a day or two too long. Through this experience I’m realizing that when I come back to India I will need to find a tranquil environment in order to go within. With so much outer stimuli it’s difficult for me to find my center.

Today is a strange day. I want to sit down, close my eyes and just be quiet, but I keep finding ways to distract myself. I seem to be avoiding something. I don’t think I expected to miss my “pretend boyfriend” so much. I allowed myself to get perhaps a little TOO comfortable in his presence. It was hard to avoid, considering that everything flowed with such ease and grace while we were together. For two weeks we could have been anywhere – it wouldn’t have mattered. It just so happened we were right in the heart of India – hot, dirty; our senses constantly on overdrive. But despite our outer environment, we walked slowly, laughed a lot and went to bed each night feeling calm and quiet. It must have been that conversation Richie had with Ganesh, the elephant god/remover of obstacles, whom paved our way.

I don’t know why the natural human tendency is to be remorseful in the absence of something or someone that brings you joy. It seems that the wise approach would be to express gratitude for the opportunity to experience such joy.

I guess being human doesn’t always make logical sense. That’s probably why all the sages say “Meditate! Meditate! Meditate! The mind brings only suffering, but within the lotus of the heart lives nothing but love, compassion and pure joy.”

I think I’ll stop procrastinating and go meditate.

2009-10-01T11:16:00.000-07:00

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2009-09-30T11:09:00.000-07:00

I think the most tragic thing that happened in the past two weeks was Richie getting shit on by bats outside the tomb filled muslim ruins in Delhi. Oh, and I should probably include the time he stepped in human shit just before dinner. These events were the beginning of his infamous quote, “eeewww”, which grew in inflection and tone as the days rolled by. I remember what it was like adjusting to a different standard of cleanliness, to put it lightly, therefore I allowed Richie a full two week grace period to be grossed out as much as need be.

From Delhi to Rishikesh and back to Delhi, Richie carried his guitar and charmed the locals with his latest songs. It’s impossible to be incognito in India when you’re traveling with a virtuoso superstar at heart. His music became the soundtrack of our trip. I’m sure the melodies will remain with me, in fact I woke up this morning singing a song Richie wrote about the infamous Mexican Revolutionary, Poncho Villa.

The photos I’ve posted pretty much tell the story of our time together. It was definitely a trip that will go down in my history book of times to be remembered. Despite the fact that I totally fell off the band wagon with my daily yoga practice, I believe that my stomach muscles are actually stronger due to the amount of laughing we did together. The trip ended with an affirmation that we will be friends for life, and for that I am eternally grateful.

Rishikesh

2009-08-31T09:33:00.000-07:00

Rishikesh is everything that I dreamed India would be: Ornate temples strung majestically along the mighty Ganges, Sadhu's in orange robes everywhere, mischievous monkeys thieving anything possible to feed themselves and their young, and echoes of melodic chants flowing from every direction. The selection of yoga is never-ending. Spiritual seekers from all over the world have been coming here for decades in search of enlightenment. I will be spending one month here studying Ashtanga, pranayama and meditation. Photos coming soon!

2009-08-31T09:18:00.000-07:00

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The Dalai Lama

2009-08-30T07:29:00.000-07:00

The Dalai Lama spoke of compassion, renunciation of the ego, selfless service, realization of ones true nature, and how important it is to simply love one another. On the fourth day he initiated us all into Bodhisattva-hood. The initiation was intended to remind each and every one of us that the light of the Buddha lives within in us all and can be called upon in any given situation. It was an incredible blessing to be in the presence of such a realized being, but instead of idolizing the Dalai Lama, I found myself seeing him as being just as human as the rest of us. This perspective reminded me that through effort and awareness, we truly are capable of becoming Bodhisattvas to one degree or another.

The Magic Forest

2009-08-18T05:13:00.000-07:00

Finally, a place where there aren’t ANY right angles. Even the stonewall that surrounds the magic forest is crumbling, as it winds along the countryside. The trees themselves are twisted in every direction, reminding me of how most things in life change form depending upon ones vantage point. Everything living here is old, even the ground is cracked, like the canvas of a century old painting. I can sense that people for hundreds of years have sought refuge from the sun on these very grounds. At the entryway we are greeted by bones, feathers and dried leaves; all remnants of life that has come and gone. As I sit in the magic forest I reflect upon the wisdom that can be exchanged between all living creatures, past, present and future. Frozen in time, this enchanted forest speaks to me in a soft whisper, draping me with a blanket of ease. If it were up to me I would stay here all day, but the others are ready to leave. In my final moments here I draw my surroundings into my heart and promise to visit often. I will return to this place whenever life on the outside contradicts the peace and harmony that the magic forest emanates.

The oracle lady

2009-08-13T21:57:00.000-07:00

My day began sitting on the floor in a small decrepid fluorescent blue room. I was crammed together with about 30 Ladakhi men and women, while a local Shaman performed her rituals on us. We were each there for our own individual reason, but we we’re all seeking healing of some sort. Before the healing could take place, the Shaman had to get into trance. She had a medium who began chanting, convulsing and hiccuping. She then ran out of the room and when she came back, she and the Shaman were both in trance. They charged into the room sweating, shouting, chanting, throwing rice and eventually growing silent. The Shaman was now prepared to work her magic. The first round was oracle based. We all had the opportunity to ask one question. I asked if my father’s spirit was at peace and the answer was yes. I cried out of relief. For the second round we would each point to the area where we were experiencing pain or illness. The shaman would suck different colors of fluid out of peoples bodies, one at a time. When it came my turn I pointed to my stomach. She sucked, but nothing came out. Then she gestured for me to bow down and pointed to my head. Again she sucked and nothing came out. Then she pointed to my back and had me pull up my shirt. She gasped and people gathered around. My face dropped and I began to think of all sorts of horrible things that may have been detected. Do I have a giant lump in my back? Is there stuff oozing out? Do I have an evil spirit inside of me? As it turns out they were all looking at my tattoo. The Shaman said that she couldn’t touch my back because with Green Tara on it, it is considered holy. Although I was hoping to have a large clump of black goo sucked out of my body, it was still an amazing experience.

Vipassana

2009-08-13T21:40:00.000-07:00

Arriving back in Leh from a ten day meditation retreat deep in the Himalayas, I’m clearly experiencing a degree or two of culture shock. My senses are so heightened that I’m aware of even the subtlest of stimuli. I am moving at an extremely slow pace, which makes everything around me feel as though it is traveling at lightning speed. As the guy next to me talks rapidly, I wonder to myself if he’s even aware of what he’s saying. Bob Marley is playing on the stereo and the people at the table across from me are smoking a joint. Peoples thoughts are talking loudly as they read the newspaper, eat large plates of food, and quickly come and go. As I observe them I think, do they ever actually arrive anywhere? I could ask myself the same question.

Despite all the stimuli around me, I feel clear and calm. In fact, my mind feels so clear that I don’t know if I have any original thoughts left. Although I was supposed to be meditating consistently for the past ten days, I thought a lot. And in the end, not to my surprise, I discovered that with the rise and fall of each thought there is another one, and another one, and another. Throughout the course Goenkaji’s voice resounded, Equanimity, Diligence, Patience, Persistence, Impermanence….You are bound to be successful, bound to be successful.

What was the goal?

According to the Buddha, the technique of Vipassana is meant to dissolve old Samskaras (afflictions). As you become more aware of the gross sensations in your body, and approach them objectively, they cease to exist, clearing your karmic debt. Once the gross sensations are dissolved the subtle sensations within the body become apparent and you begin to sense the electric flow of energy that is consistently flowing throughout the body at all times. As your conciousness becomes clear, Panya (wisdom) arises. To be honest, I didn’t have any particular expectations of the retreat, I just knew that it was something I had to do. The main lesson that I walked away with was the understanding of Impermanence. Just like my thoughts, nothing lasts forever. With this idea in mind, reactions lie low, giving wisdom a chance to arise. A deeper level of acceptance is possible when the ugly head of aversion is lowered. And craving, oh how much I crave and desire in this life. But with this craving comes suffering. It’s more clear than ever that if I continue to do good in the world, remaining as aware as possible, then merits will come. And when life ebbs, nature is at work, revealing to me the counterpart of happiness, the opposite of love, and the antiquity of ease. The secret is to remain in accordance with what is.

The facility in which we resided for the retreat gave the perfect opportunity to practice objectivity and non-reaction. The rooms were made up of dirt floors covered with tarps, and thin dusty mats covered by tattered blankets. At night, we were accompanied by giant hairy spiders, geckos, and many other creepy crawlies that lurked in the darkness. There was one “toilet” (a.k.a hole in the ground), for 30 women, and a bucket for a shower. The meditation hall was a mud hut with a tin roof covered by large rocks to keep the roof from flying off. When it was windy the rocks would roll around on the roof while we were meditating. It was extremely hot during the day and freezing cold at 4 am when we arose for our first meditation of the day. This was my training ground for remaining calm in any and all situations. Although it was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done on my own volition, it was also the most rewarding. At moments I didn’t think I was going to make it through the course, but day by day I became more calm, more aware and more EQUANIMOUS.

"In the name of progress"

2009-07-28T00:22:00.001-07:00

I’m learning how the people of this region are faced with numerous challenges, mainly in the name of “progress”. The government controls their education, training the children for jobs that will benefit the economy. Unfortunately 80% of children fail the final exam which leaves them without the traditional skills of farming or an opportunity to be a part of the industrial/technological world. The locals have been encouraged to use pesticides on their gardens: the most affordable kind has been banned in most countries. Tourism poses threats on their water shortage and limited resources. And the list goes on and on I’ve seen many of these problems throughout India, but because a traditional lifestyle was maintained here for so long, the issues are more visible. When I return from my ten day Vipassana retreat I am going to volunteer at the local Cultural/Community Center. I hope to be able to contribute in some way.

474 steps

2009-07-28T00:16:00.000-07:00

I woke up at 2:30 am this morning. Alone in the dark I climbed 474 steps and at the top, accompanied by a Buddhist Gompa, I lay on my back, making sure that the whole sky was in view. One star in particular caught my eye and for over an hour I watched as it glimmered in the night sky. It was brighter than all the others, convincing me that it was a piece of the moon hidden behind the sun. But as 4 am came and went, the predicted time for the solar eclipse, I slowly lost confidence. Just as I was about to give up hope, the star disappeared. For a moment my excitement was revived, but before I knew it the clouds rolled in and swallowed my beautiful black star. It’s possible that the sun danced across the moon while the cloud-like curtains were drawn, or maybe the brightest star deceived me: steeling my attention while the eclipse happened in another part of the sky. My friend Vincente suggested that I may have been staring at Venus. Who knows, but as the sun lit the valley below, I chose to take advantage of being at such an high peak and began doing yoga. I wanted to stay longer to meditate but there was a bitter chill to the air, complimentary of the Himalayan Mountains that surrounded me. I walked around the hilltop, searching for an open door to one of the Buddhist structures. I followed the smell of incense and quickly found what I was looking for. A lone monk motioned for me to enter a small room lit by candles, housing a giant golden Buddha. I bowed before the Buddha, sat down in a cross-legged position and began to meditate. I heard two more people enter and sensed them prostrating several times before the Buddha. I could tell that one was quite old because he sighed each time he bowed and grunted as he struggled to stand again. Then from three corners of the room drumming began, followed by a small symphony of perfectly harmonized voices. I can’t be certain exactly what they were chanting, but it invoked in me a feeling of peace and calm. As I sat there my body felt heavy, anchoring me to the ground and the voices of the monks. I couldn’t have felt more present. The comfort of going deep within wrapped my mind, like a blanket, allowing my thoughts to rest in what felt like a deep sleep. I’m not sure how much time passed, but eventually the chanting stopped and all that remained was silence. When I felt it was time to go I mindfully climbed down 474 stone stairs leaving the magical monks behind. Throughout the day I’ve contemplated what it will take to feel that same degree of centeredness everyday. I’m hoping that the 10 day Vipasana retreat I’m about to go on will be a nice compliment to my current efforts.

Bus ride to Leh

2009-07-28T00:07:00.000-07:00

2009-07-28T00:01:00.000-07:00

The bus ride to Leh was the scariest so far. Climbing up to nearly 12,000 ft., we passed numerous signs that read, “incident prone area”. At one point I looked down and saw a giant oil truck in the valley several hundred feet below.

Have I mentioned that India has really funny signs?

2009-07-27T23:51:00.001-07:00

Have I mentioned that India has really funny signs?

2009-07-27T23:44:00.001-07:00

Floating vegetable garden

2009-07-17T02:08:00.000-07:00

Waking up at the crack of dawn for the floating vegetable market was a wonderful way to spend my final morning in Kashmir!

Phase II of my Kashmir experience

2009-07-15T07:57:00.000-07:00

Part I: An overview

The only way to describe Kashmir is to break it up into two separate categories; the army and the people. I’ve learned so much from the Kashmiri’s in the short time I’ve been here. I’ve seen in them a kind of strength that can only come from having lived in a war zone for a lifetime. It’s the kind of strength that comes when your friends and relatives are accused of crimes they didn’t commit, when people close to you are shot down for no reason, or when you have to be searched constantly by suspicious authorities. I don’t know what it’s like to look in the face of a system you despise day in and day out, and feel powerless against such a massive force of control. And somehow every Kashmiri I’ve met has conveyed a quality of joy and pride that I believe is a product of what they’ve lived through.

It seems that the Himalayas offers the people here refuge and an added sense of pride. Despite the ugliness of the political situation here, they do live in one of the most beautiful places on earth. When we went hiking through the Himalayas I really understood why Kashmir is often described as heaven on earth. In some ways I envied the simplistic lives of the gypsies that we came across; in another way, just like the rest of my Kashmir experience, I was gifted a deeper appreciation for what I have. Unlike the Kashmiri’s I am lucky enough to have my freedom. Even when we were deep in the Himalayas we came across soldiers that constantly interrogate nearly everyone. I don’t think I’ll ever take my freedom for granted again!

Part II: The grim details of my Himalayan adventure

When you go through something difficult with someone it either sends you in different directions or it brings you closer together. Due to the challenges presented over the past few days, I believe I’ve made a friend for life. My guide through the Himalayas, Hashim, was so patient with me while I suffered one minor tragedy after another over the course of three days. On the first night I slept for a total of fifteen minutes because our guesthouse turned out to be more of a clubhouse. On day one of hiking I severely strained my ankle because the gypsy trails we hiked on were at such an extreme slant for 15 of the 30 kilometers, that by the end of the day my right ankle was acutely bruised and swollen. At one point my feet couldn’t even grip one single bit of flat surface causing me to slip and nearly pummel to my unfortunate death. I screamed and fortunately, Manju (our local guide), reached for my hand just in time to save me. On the same day I smacked my head on a rock (don’t ask me how) causing blood to trickle down my brow, branding me with a nice shiny black eye. On night two I threw up all night because I foolishly drank milk coffee at a hill station. On day two I rode a horse and bruised my inner thighs because I squeezed the saddle so tight when going downhill due to the fact that I was WAY too big for the saddle and the horse. And finally on day three I cut our mountain trip short cuz I’d simply had enough! Oh AND somewhere in there I got bit in the butt by something unknown to me, leaving two giant welts. During the fifteen minutes that I slept on my first night, I had a nightmare about an evil spirit. I’m convinced that it was this same devilish entity that plagued me for two days and two nights on my long awaited trip to the Himalayan Mountains.

p.s.- I don’t have photos because my camera broke. If only I’d known that that was the beginning of the end.

2009-07-06T03:34:00.000-07:00

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pictures!

2009-07-06T03:13:00.000-07:00

summary of the past month

2009-07-06T03:02:00.000-07:00

Due to my lack of blog attentiveness, I am challenged to summarize the past month in one short entry. Since I last wrote I spent one amazing month in Mysore practicing Ashtanga, after which I traveled to Hampi and discovered the exhilarating freedom that driving a motorbike offers. Without barriers I drove through lush landscapes which were unusually decorated with rocky contours and the remains of Hindu temples from the 15^th century. Near and far I caught rifts of the Ramayana being chanted and even received a couple of lessons from Sadhus on Rama, Sita and Hanuman. Every evening I practiced yoga on the rooftop with my Swiss friend that rode on the back of my motorbike one day and shocked local villagers (What is that tattooed woman wearing blue jeans doing driving the motor bike while this skinny little man with a purse, and dressed in a sarong is riding on the back of the bike, shrieking every time they go over a speed bump)???? Even funnier was when he would pull out his umbrella to protect himself from the sun. Oh how I adore this man.

While I was in Hampi the main topic of conversation between the locals and I revolved around Michael Jackson. One evening a man ran up to me and said, “Did you hear? Michael Jackson died of the swine flu!” This was the first of many claims on Michael’s life. In the days to come I heard everything from swine flu to marijuana overdose to starvation. In my final hours in Hampi I treated myself to a pedicure and an ayurvedic facial.

From Hampi I took a 39-hour train ride to Delhi where I was challenged to overcome my psychological disorder impeded by small spaces. In Delhi I sweat, drank fresh squeezed orange juice and somehow allowed someone to convince me to get on the next bus to Kashmir. So as it was I endured another long journey of a supposed 18 hours, which turned out to be, exactly 26 hours and 34 minutes while my “sleeper” bus roared along mount sides, otherwise known as cliffs, day and night. Through Haryana, Punjab and Kashmir we traveled while I tried to scuff off the promiscuity of the situation I was in. The amusing road signs along the way became an effective distraction mechanism. My favorites were, “Stop gossiping, let him drive”, or “Speeding thrills but it also kills”.

Upon my arrival in Kashmir I had a minor panic attack (yet again) when I was informed that all of Kashmir was on strike because a soldier raped and murdered two women. My panic increased when I was brought to a household full of men and no guests in the guesthouse to welcome me. As it turns out, the men have become amazing companions, escorting me wherever I go and laughing at my ridiculous idiosyncrasies. To be honest I think they believe me to be a bit off my rocker, but they smile and bob their head just the same. All along I am laughing at their obscurity as well. Javed constantly says, “Welcome to Hotel California”, upon our arrival anywhere and “Don’t worry, everything is going to be all right”, lacking the melody of the song. Arafat is always summoning people to take me here and there; out of nowhere people arrive, introductions take place and I am off to dinner at their families house, on a walking tour of the Mogul gardens or to the lake for a boat ride. I am not paying to be entertained, but somehow they feel it is their duty to give me a true taste of Kashmir. And never have I met people more proud of their origin, despite the tomultuous history of their homeland.

Tomorrow I head to a small village, which will serve as a base camp. For six days we will hike into the soaring Himalayas and return to the village for dinner and sleep. As Arafat and I were discussing our route, he smirked and said, “we’ll see how good of shape you’re in and determine our days upon your fitness level.” I replied by saying, “look who’s smoking”. In all honesty I’m hoping that my Himalayan virginity and Arafat’s smoke ridden lungs will balance one another out.

p.s. – I’ve been reading many books about India to keep me company while I travel…..I recommend ‘Midnights Children’ by Salmon Rushdie, ‘The Glass Palace’ by Amitav Gosh and Red Earth and Pouring Rain’ by “shit I forget his name.”

***forgive this not so short entry. I will try to write more often.

a few more photos - I can only post five at a time! LAME!!!

2009-06-07T20:55:00.000-07:00

a few photos

2009-06-06T23:35:00.000-07:00

Sri Pattabhi Jois

2009-06-01T22:59:00.000-07:00

Sri Pattabhi Jois (the godfather of Ashtanga yoga) died on May 20^th two days before I arrived in Mysore. Yesterday was his funeral. The day began with a puja (ceremony) in the street involving a baby calf and a full grown bull. Various colors of powder were smeared on the animal’s foreheads, old men chanted and westerners took photographs. As soon as the cows were escorted to the side of the road, cars and motorbikes began to honk, people scattered and as though nothing had ever happened life continued on. From a timeless moment to life on fast forward, we all witnessed a clear example of how the pace of modern day India cannot be slowed down. Annoyed drivers sped past the mourners, nearly running over anyone who was not quick on their toes.

Next we were fed an amazing meal followed by a memorial in the shala (yoga studio). The chanting was unlike any sound I’ve ever heard. It pierced right through any barriers and seemed to draw everyone into it’s depth and intention. Later my friend Gabbi pointed out that I was standing next to David Swenson throughout the ceremony (the first westerner to bring Pattabi to the west ). Who’s David Swenson, I asked. What?!*#

Secretly I think she was shocked by my ignorance, but kindly and gracefully she kept it to herself while explaining to me that “he’s only like the most famous Ashtanga yogi in the world”. Oops. Other renowned ashtanga fanatics such as Richard Freeman and Chuck Miller were there as well as about 300 other yogis, family and friends. At breakfast this morning I heard people saying that there were over 700 people there, and I’m sure the number will keep growing as time goes on. Considering that Pattabi Jois put Mysore on the map, it will be interesting to see how things change around here and whether or not people will still flock to his studio. In any case, I was honored to be at his funeral and it is definitely a fascinating time to be in Mysore.

Dinner at Aunty's house

2009-05-28T23:36:00.000-07:00

Directly next to a cow stall hangs a small crooked sign alongside an open doorway that reads, 'Aunty’s'. Through a dark corridor we walked to the back of a decrepid building to Aunty’s house. We took off our shoes while Gabbi asked Aunty if she was cooking tonight. Of course, she said, sit down. She pointed to the next room, which was just big enough to house a small table and some stools. Apparently this is Aunty and Uncle’s bedroom by night/restaurant by day. There isn’t a menu, Aunty just cooks whatever she feels like cooking on that given day. Just after we arrived, a man walked in to fix the fan. Suddenly he was climbing onto the dinner table with his bare feet and yanking the fan out of the ceiling. Within minutes he gallantly exited the room, seemingly very satisfied with his fan fixing abilities (I’ve come to accept the fact that hygiene does not exist in India and neither does etiquette. By now I find these occurrences humurous and quite entertaining).

Dinner was absolutely amazing. It was full of ghee but delicious nonetheless. After dinner we walked off our meal, stopping for coconuts and chocolate along the way. As we walked I felt like laughing out loud as I absorbed the obscure and indescribable charm of the streets of Mysore. I think I’m beginning to fall in love.

Mysore

2009-05-27T04:15:00.000-07:00

There are three kinds of laughter said Swami Babaji. The first kind is at the expense of others, the second is joyful laughter and the third is brought about when one holds a mirror in front of ones own face. This third kind of laughter is very important and should be done on a daily basis.

Looking back at the past couple of days I can’t help but laugh at myself. I had my first experience on an Indian train in 'sleeper class'. In what felt like an overcrowded oven I spent ten hours crammed together with far too many people for my own comfort, two hours of which I was forced to stand. When I got off the train I had thirty minutes of relief before I boarded a bus where I would spend the next eight hours bouncing up and down as I tried to sleep. Hah! At the end of it all I was spit out onto the busy streets of Mysore where I would spend the next two days going out for a maximum of three hours and then coming back to my hotel for one hour to re-cooperate. At the point in which I was ready to flee the city I rolled out my yoga mat and as I began to sweat I visualized my frustration and fear being drawn out of my body. It’s amazing what just a little bit of yoga can do. After that I walked out onto the street and the same things that were freaking me out didn’t seem to phase me,: the constant honking of horns and cars nearly running you over or people repeatedly asking me where I’m from and trying to sell me something. Instead I just smiled and let it all pass me by. It was pretty amazing to experience such a stark contrast in just a matter of hours. It goes to show how powerful the mind is and how easily it can spin out of control. The next day I found an amazing shala to study ashtanga at, and rented a sweet apartment with marble floors, big windows and a rooftop veranda for under $100 U.S.! As a bonus, it is run almost entirely on solar power. After just a few days of practicing Ashtanga, my body is pretty sore. I am looking forward to my ayurvedic massage tomorrow. I conveniently scheduled a massage after the Thursday Vinyasa practice, which apparently is going to kick my ass!

Parvati

2009-05-20T07:51:00.000-07:00

Everything in India is loud. From garbage trucks that are intricately carved and brightly painted with patterns and deities, to music blasting on loud speakers atop buses, to people yelling “Madame, Madame, where are you going?” Every single sense is engaged on a constant basis here.

Yesterday I ventured to a nearby island to visit a beach said to be Kochi’s best-kept secret. The most enjoyable part of the venture was getting there and back. The journey began by taking a small, and very crowded ferry to Verij Island. Just as we were about to depart I looked around and realized that only men surrounded me. Where were all the women? I turned around and realized that the women were sitting at the front of the boat. I jumped out and retreated to the women’s side just in time to spare myself a boat ride of encroaching stares. The women giggled, realizing my mistake. From there I took a very sweaty and crowded bus that revved and screeched in between every stop. Once I got off the bus I walked and drank coconut water for another thirty minutes. At the end of a dusty road I could hear the roar of the ocean. Hidden by lagoons and a large strip of land lined with palm trees a long stretch of white sandy beach awaited. On the way back I got caught in the rain but I didn’t mind. After the long day, the downpour felt like a refreshing shower. Drenched, I arrived at the jetty station where I sat on a stonewall that greeted the sea. Underneath an umbrella of branches, red flowers rained down upon me. Into the sea they fell like joyful tears falling from the check of Parvati, the goddess who was said to have paved the way for the spread of peace and felicity in the world.

Amma's Ashram

2009-05-14T02:33:00.000-07:00

"Behind every action is blind faith."

The beauty of travelling is that you never know what is going to happen next. I find this to be especially true when I allow myself to surrender to the adventure of not knowing. Four days ago, my willingness to let go of my previous plan led me to Amma's ashram. Resting amongst lush tropical foliage, and tucked between the backwaters and the sea exists a cluster of pink buildings forming a community of Amma devotoees. For those of you that are not familiar with Amma, she is known as the "Divine Mother" or the hugging saint. In 2005 she received the Nobel Peace prize for her tireless humanitarian efforts worldwide. Her philosophy is that love can heal the world and she claims that love is her religion. I've spent the past three days in an intensive meditation retreat with one of her main disciples. He has been teaching us a form of meditation developed by Amma herself called IAM. I am learning all about my inflated ego and my persistently nagging mind. I clearly have my work cut out for me!
i luckily arrived at the ashram just in time to experience one Satsang (a gathering of devotional singing) with Amma and to be serve a meal by her. In just a couple of days she leaves on tour for three months time.
At the last ashram the motto was "Serve, Love, Give, Purify, Meditate, Realize". This seems to be the case here as well. However, at Amma's ashram the energy of the feminine is very prevalent and love seems to be the main focus.
In just a few days of being here it is clear to me why Amma is so highly revered. So it is amongst "The Divine Mother", and a small handful of her devotees that I have been resting my mind on the precipice of my heart, learning from Amma's example about unity, love, and selfless service.

2009-05-09T00:23:00.000-07:00

The taxi ride from the airport was a bit topsy-turvy to say the least. At one point I asked the taxi driver, "do you ever hit anyone?" "Sometimes", he replied, without the slightest sense of sarcasm. Judging by his response and the deep valley of concentration in between his eyebrows, I chose not to distract him. Nonetheless I made it to the ashram safely. I have been at the Sivananda ashram for almost a week. My days are full of meditation, chanting, chores, lectures and yoga. From 5am to 10pm, I am constantly working toward some sort of a deeper understanding of life and of my little self. Each day presents new gifts and challenges. The most difficult challenge so far has been the past two days of karma yoga (chores). My job was to serve as one link in a human chain. The chain served as a catalyst to transport giant buckets of cow shit in order to fertilize the trees. With the sun beating down upon me and the buckets of "fertilizer", I learned how to very effectively breathe in and out of my mouth. Not very yogic, but it was all I could do to avoid loosing my breakfast.

The yoga practice at the ashram has been interesting. It's not quite for me, but I can appreciate it for what it is. I'm finding myself craving a more challenging practice. I am looking forward to traveling to Mysore to practice some Ashtanga.

Tomorrow I will be heading to Varkala, a small beach town where I will rest for a few days before making my way to Mysore. I may make a trip to the infamous backwaters of Kerala inbetween Varkala and Mysore if the mosquitos aren't too bad. I am looking forward to stepping outside of the ashram and taking in my surrounding environment. It'll feel like stepping out of a cocoon into the vast unknown of Southern India.