tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76201143867644437302024-02-20T08:15:43.325-08:00Unbroken Wholeness In Flowing MovementKyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.comBlogger51125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-12478682034205299452010-01-18T08:10:00.000-08:002010-01-18T08:55:18.182-08:00Contours of ConfluenceI woke to the rain dribbling down the windowpane and swapped places in bed with my boyfriend so that I could stare out of the window from bed and contemplate the new day. Today is January 18, 2010 - almost two years after I left this city for a grand journey on January 23, 2008. Like the rain on the windowpane, options have come, options I've touched, relished, rejected, then the options were gone. Many more dribbling all around me. Yet, at this point, I'm not sure which one to go for. Instead, I might rather lie in bed and contemplate whether depth applies to any option. What, really, is the point of riding an option? Money? Health? Welfare? Identity? Contribution? Success? Meaning? I feel fortunate to have somehow managed my affairs in such a manner that I could dribble my way through jobs and opportunities - with the end result rather like that of a carousel - a circle of multi-colored, adorned creatures, free for the taking if they're available, and as you ride each creature, you appreciate its contours and unique style, angle your body and posture just so, so that the ride is as smooth as possible, look outside from your vantage point and appreciate the view, try not to get annoyed at the obstacles, and hold on while the journey takes you somewhere around and around - yet the ride is short lived, kindof pointless, the ride stops, you get off and if you choose to do it again, you're kindof obligated to change creatures. Although a job should be much more stable (in the American culture), my career has been more like a carousel. <div>It's funny. The job is a defining feature in our culture. I still see people that I haven't seen for a couple of years and the first thing they reply with when I ask them about their lives is a job update. I've found that I do the same.</div><div>Yet, today, I'm at a different point. I don't have a job and I'm not too concerned about it. Am I lazy? Or is this liberation from routine that is helping me to realize, yet again, that there are choices out there. There is an option to experience out there. It's all around us all the time. When one is trapped inside a building all day long, there's no air. Just thought. The mind's disease of thinking too much is precisely what I learned to shuck in my travels. The journey of combining those two extremes....now THAT is precisely the place I'm in...the contours of east and west. A pause for reflection in the midst of extremes.</div><div>I believe that it is possible to manifest our destiny. I just returned from Tanya and Tristan's wedding in Costa Rica. She went to the top of a waterfall (Nuyacca Falls) in Costa Rica and meditated on her ideal man. She wrote it in a journal and offered it up to Spirit. On her way down the waterfall, she stopped into a famous meditation cave, and there he was! Tristan - the man of her dreams. On their way down the waterfall to (surprise) the same finca in which to spend the night, two butterflies/mariposas flitted alongside them, interweaving hearts and grace and love all along the path. One year later, they returned to those falls and he proposed. We returned to those falls as part of their wedding extravaganza. And it was beautiful.</div><div>So, I've asked the universe for things and the universe has been very accomodating:</div><div>Interior design: an acquaintance asked me to move in and decorate the entire house. I painted it. He liked the colors and then he hesitated re. money and whether we could get better rates if a professional interior designer (with whom he wanted to have sex) helped out. She flaked. He wasn't sure if he wanted to spend money on furniture and then decided not to. All the while, he was an absentee client and I wasn't sure whether my color choices were what he wanted. I enjoyed the experience of working with color and what frustrated at the inability to complete the task. But, no matter. I got a taste. I liked that.</div><div>I questoned what it would be like to edit. My ayurvedic teacher gave me a book, and I read it, but her style was such that I couldn't edit it. It was flowing and beautiful - the direct transmission of spirit, and so I had no changes to make (except some spelling and grammatical errors).</div><div>I questioned Ayurveda. The ayurvedic school took me in, but once Pratichi ji was not the main teacher, I lost interest in the minutia. I found it was HER that really appealed to me - her essence. I only finished one half of the curriculum. They are restarting the program now and I haven't joined because I feel too flumoxxed about the course in my life and economics. I don't want to commit to two nights a week, plus two weekends per month. Too much commitment. </div><div>I questioned working the festival circuit and having fun. I met a man and sold goods at a booth at festivals. Nice, but low pay. But fun. I met the security people at these festivals and considered applying -travelling and having fun, but somehow don't see myself doing that.</div><div>I've considered teaching yoga. I have and people are asking about privates. As always, once I get a space, I can settle. I can teach. I can make a schedule.</div><div>I questioned litigation. I got a part time job in litigation and I was terrible at it! I hated it. No human interraction. All very heady and quite over my head, in fact. It was impossible to concentrate and every morning I would wake up with dread. I was relieved when we jointly agreed this was not a good fit.</div><div>I question policy and politics. I've applied for a job as a Legislative Aide. </div><div>I question teaching English or general subbing. I've passed the CBEST, need to get finger printed and need to network. </div><div>There are just so many choices and I have so many talents, but I don't know what to do. The universe has been overwhelmingly gracious with opportunities. Things I've sampled, touched, licked, then left because they simply don't resonate with me. That's it, the key, the ticket: RESONANCE. I hereby trust and surrender to the flow to expose my vibrations, my true vibrations to the universe so that I may recognize a resonance, follow that trail and create abundance and love and joy. Something sweet. Something creative. Something joyful.</div><div>I've questioned love. Would you believe that I have found love? In a friend who I though was gay for a long time, but loved as a person for a long time. For years, his love for me burned bright as he waited for me to come around to him. After 1.5 years, I did. He, too, returned from a long trip of exploration back to his legal job in San Francisco, back to spinning fire and burning man, back to playing guitar and writing songs and living in a sexual intention community where he learned about clitoral stimulation and communication. This man, this unique and vibrant fellow - well, when he returned to the US, I found him masculine, not seemingly gay and after several months, we kissed, then more and he was incredible. Incredible. But polyamorous. I didn't want to change him, but after a while, my feelings grew too strong and I had to let him go. But, I couldn't. Somehow, he made the choice to be solely with me. We went to Costa Rica for three weeks together. We're looking at a place to live together. There is fear, yet comfort, in all of this.</div><div>I have questioned writing. I haven't edited this blog b/c I'm waiting for a climax. Is he my climax? Love right in front of you and you're so busy that you think it's gay? Is it the same thing with my resonance in life? </div><div>I would like to invite someone into my life to help me navigate through the creatures on this carousel. I'd like clarity, and yes it's in my body, but outside where is it? I'm not sure. I admit that I'm not sure how to do this. </div><div>This is a jumbled, honest blog entry. Unique and colorful. Like me. A blessed confluence of contours reflecting and glimmering and inspiring and limiting - just like the dome in Percy Shelley's Adonis. Life. Full. Rich. Amazing. Kinda like the world I saw in Avatar last night. Wow.<br /><div><br /></div></div>Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-55134112899598539342009-09-27T08:17:00.000-07:002009-09-27T09:08:03.646-07:00Moving Into the Bhav...and so I haven't written for many, many months. I sit today in the middle of a ranch in Ukiah, at a beautiful wooden home rented by Tanya and Tristan, listening to Krishna Das as Tanya does her yoga outside on the porch and I do my yoga inside. I spent a few days on the other side of the ranch working the land and interacting with nature. I held in my hands the many layers of nature that need to be nurtured and cultivated before it ends up before me for my consumption. I likewise realized that the identification of myself solely as "a lawyer" denies the many layers of Kyra that I am: a country child who loves mud, an adventurer exploring different perspectives, an inquisitive nature that can only take in answers through actual experience, a woman with bearing that has issues of childlike neglect, a woman with grace that fumbles daily and stops herself regularly to choose courage, not fear. Gratitude, not desire or pining for something else. I am blessed. I am unemployed. I am homeless. I foresaw all of this in the breathwork I did shortly after my return from India: I stand on a rocking ship in a tumuluous storm. Waves are crashing all around and spraying me. The wind is blowing everywhere. The sky is dark. Yet, on the deck I stand, I keep my footing. I know that this is a tumult of darkness that I must go into, and in doing so, I find my footing and my connection to Spirit. I've molted the external protections and am completely exposed. What now? What now? What now? After months of striving to understand, I'm finally inspired to write again...so much has happened...I have my feet on the ground. They are on a conveyer belt. I play a supporting role. It's not all about me. I surrender to Grace and experience that love can not exist if fear is in the way. So, I look at the fear, I nurture the fear and the fear absorbs into courage. Love. I surrender to love.<br />I have been 'home' in the United States. I studied yoga and ayurveda for many months, living in Berkeley. It was a language that I could relate to. The language of experience. Yet, I stayed in that bubble and didn't reach out to any buy my mother, sister and a very good male friend. Eventually, that male friend became my lover. I wouldn't allow myself to open up beyond my yoga mat for anyone but them, not even myself. I was grateful for a male energy with an ivy league law degree and a great passion for spinning fire and creating community. He, too, left his legal job to travel the world and explore. He returned in a state of flux, like me, and we understood eachother. He also studied female orgasms and was a blissful lover. He told me that he loved me again and again. And this was enough for me to be sated. I didn't mind so much that he had other lovers. I just ignored that. Until....he told me that one of them was a friend of mine. Ouch. I stopped. And then I missed his counsel. We started again. Yet, the sweetness was gone and I felt a portion of myself compromised every time. I began to resent him. And myself.<br />I volunteered for the San Francisco Municipal Transit Authority in the taxicab division and deeply considered my eventual role as a taxicab prosecutor when funding came through for a position. I grappled and grappld with being inside a room with no windows, but relished the idea of stability and an income. I loved the idea of regaining my confidence in the legal world and finally being able to take credit for my own work, as opposed to earlier work where I did the legal research and writing and my boss (either firm partner or federal judge) affixed his name to the work. I experienced the pride that came from my intellect and keen legal acumen. I spent so many years honing these skills. They flowed out effortlessly, but the surrounding environment was stale beyond belief.<br /><br />I studied Shadow Yoga with Scott Blossom and learned to transfer energy through the different areas of my body during my yoga practice. I convinced myself that I could study with Scott and balance the stagnation from a return to this type of job. I signed up for djembe lessons. I found a place to live in a conscious home. It was all lined up, even though I didn't resonate with the pulse of San Francisco anymore....nor the job. I promised myself that if I didn't get the job, I would leave San Francisco and trust Spirit just a little more to guide me in the right direction.<br />I volunteered in August and learned that funding wouldn't come through until September. The idea of volunteering without pay and living in San Francisco at an acquaintence's house where I did not feel comfortable didn't feel good. As I was walking home from volunteering in late August, I decided that I'd spend September in the flow. I wondered what to do about the room I was leasing. At that moment, the landlord, my housemate called me, and screamed in a rage about the fact that I had moved his drum set in order to lay down my yoga mat. I told him that he never used it and said repeatedly that he didn't even want it there anymore. I told him that I needed more space than just an 8x10 room to live in for $900/month and had previously asked to spread out just a little. He said he liked things as they were. So, in a fit of desire to practice outside of my 8x10 box, yes, I moved the drum kit, delicately, aside. I laid down my mat and my practice was beautiful. Well, he didn't get this and proceeded to scream. I suggested that I move out post Burning Man (one week away). He bellared his assent. I arrived home to his glaring face and crashing doors and boxes as he prepared for burning man. He was seething rage. It was crazy. I was scared. I called my lover and left a voicemail that I needed to be with him that evening. He texted me back to love myself that evening. I thanked the Universe: the job, the home and the man were clearly not working. San Francisco couldn't have screamed anymore to me, "Get Out!" So, I packed up my belongings the very next day and moved everything into 10x10 storage. I actually had more space in storage for $120/month!<br />I hightailed up to Tahoe to stay with an old friend, Cheri. And there, the healing continued. Fresh water, a compassionate friend, a reconnection to love that I'd isolated myself from before. We went to Burning Man and I had an amazing time: wide open. connected. blissful. radiant. powerful. creative. sexy. intelligent. inspired. loved. absolutely in my essence as shakti. I taught yoga, I played, I connected, I released and I bonded with people. I finally cracked that self imposed shell of exile and related to people again. Wide open.<br />Cheri, Shanti and I returned to her place in Tahoe for an additional week and I spent time with people who were simply laid back and happy, notwithstanding a very low income. I liked their vibe. It felt nice. Cheri and I decided to go to Bhakti Fest in Palm Springs the following weekend b/c we actually live Bhakti and this is who we are. So, I went.<br />In the bliss of the realization that I just needed to trust and surrender, I ran into friends from Thailand and India and NYC and parts of CA and my life. All of this through yoga. The bliss again came through yoga. It always has. I met a beautiful man from Mississippi there. I'll go to visit him. He feels good, very good. He lives a life of offering yoga to others in transition, in the pain of our western paradigm. He struggles himself. He's real. He's good. I like him.<br />After Bhakti Fest, I learned that I didn't get the job in SF. My ego was evicerated. My gut was relieved. I gave thanks again to the universe. I cried and cried and cried. I asked what felt good. Mississippi. That doesn't make sense. Then, again, it does. So, I go there and make no decisions until I experience for myself what it is that feels so nice. As always, I learn from experience. Yoga.<br />I went to another festival in Yosemite thereafter and saw the trimming culture of leathers and feathers and techno. Not my scene, but again, these people are relaxed and happy in their unconventional ways. I ran into another friend from Thailand. He invited me to join him and his girlfriend in the Tahoe hills for a few months of work. We can continue to do shamanic journeys and yoga. Another way...but, it doesn't feel quite right.<br />I moved stuff into my mother's place to feel some semblance of a home. I came up to Ukiah to work. Tanya and I are exploring me joining her practice. In working the land, I saw the many layers of existence and the many layers of protection/ignorance that I've laid over my identity. I finally allowed myself to molt the lawyer label and feel connected and grounded in the wonderful person that I am. I can do anything. I don't know what. I don't know where. This is a further discovery. But, I trust. I surrender. I will go further with the flow. The flow resonates sweetly with the man in Mississippi right now. That makes no sense. But, oh well. I'm looking into Costa Rica options since I'll be there in January for a wedding (Tanya and Tristan's!). There are people that know people. My call of yoga has a place there.<br />What will happen? I don't know. I'll head to Rusty's class today to celebrate with the teacher who taught me 'courage, not fear' so many years ago. Then, I'll head to my ayurvedic kula to celebrate the final day of Navaratri - the 9 day goddess festival. At the height and the low, in the confidence and the quivering, the yoga is always there - a light beacon within me that holds me steady and loving.<br />The neti-neti (not this, not this) continues. Yet, before I discriminated with fear. Now, I remind myself again and again to discriminate constructively - with courage and gratitude. The flow is here. I'm part of it. I surrender. Jai Ma!Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-22366607676715575182009-03-08T20:43:00.001-07:002009-03-08T21:34:12.198-07:00Blessed PainI sit in the kitchen of my new home listening to Snautaum Kaur. There are two cats leaping and landing in my lap and purring as I pet them and simultaneously attempt to swivel my nostrils away from the invisible dander that tickles my nose. I have landed. I'm in Berkeley (well, just outside of Berkeley) and all of my life lies before my like a carpet unfurled for a walk through the doorway of the next chapter of life. As Rusty Wells says, 'how blessed we are.' And that may not always be a smooth and effortless transition. In fact, it hasn't been. Confluences aren't always subtle (think of tectonic plates shifting in earthquakes), yet it's the natural, effortless way to carry on - each day, each tremble, each shift, each movement - fight it or ride it, that's what I've learned. Have you surfed lately?<br />I'm learning from ayurveda that the whole of life is composed of aspects of which we westerners have given little thought. While we try and control and organize and structure our lives, we ignore the very fabric of existence re. elements and flow and balance and wholeness. So, here, again, I listen and learn of these teachings. I acutely feel in my body how the pitta seethes with action and "must have now!" and the vata can't make it's mind up. It's only when I consciously STOP, take a breath, and THEN react, that I realize the kapha is increasing - it's steady, thoughtful appoach levels it all and balance can be restored. But, how many close calls must one make to finally realize that attention and grace are all that are needed to surrender and live sweetly?<br />One of my best friends from the age of 17 turned Kaliesque on me and raged at me "have you ever noticed that all of your friends walk on eggshells around you!?". She informed me in no uncertain terms that I am selfish and don't EVER put myself into the shoes of others. I initially wanted to run away - to leave this demoness, yet realized she was correct. So, I stayed. And I listened. And then I realized that I simply can't understand the ways of others. It's very, very, very hard for me to think of them when I'm dead set on my own agenda (which is regularly). "You have no idea how powerful you are!," she bellared. And I suddenly had 100 flashes of the way people respond to me - with humility, gratitude, appreciation and oftentimes relief. And then I remembered the 100 other times where people responded with pride, disgust, defensiveness and shrinking to me. As much as I didn't want to be that woman/monster at that time, I listened to my friend as she raged in truth and I heard her. She was right. To swallow that pill was a tough one, but a necessary one.<br />Since then, I've unnaturally placed myself in the shoes of my friends as often as possible. It is a practice that is unnatural for the way that I have learned, but it's necessary. So, I ask all of you: have you placed yourself in the shoes of others? It's a beautiful way to connect with others, to humble oneself and to relate to the connectedness of life. I invite you to look, really look at the way you interact with others...are you alone? Or do you practice compassion? The path in which I choose to continue on this life is through compassion. It's not natural NOW, but I am trying. And I am succeeding. Life is much, much sweeter this way.<br />A man from my past emerged and summoned me to him. He said "you were the one that got away" and apologized. I automatically went to a place of romantic revisionist history. Is he "the one?" Has he changed enough to finally appease me? And what do you know? I EXPECTED him to do exactly what I wanted...to ask me out, to show himself and to stand in all of his Shiva glory before me and say "feed me, Shakti!"....but you know that didn't happen. Men in the Bay Area don't "happen" that way. So, I shriveled, I retreated, and I felt very, very sad...for two minutes. Then, I realized this was my same instant replay feature. That feature didn't work in past relationships, just as my not thinking of others didn't work for my friends....so what?<br />It's time to practice compassion and time to practice measured awareness. My thoughts, as fiery and strong as they are, are NOT reality. My desires, wishes and demands are fierce as ever, but useless without the feminine aspect of love and understanding. So, what is missing must be cultivated b/c it IS natural. Women are the compassionate between the sexes. Softness is within us, certainly within me, and this is a beautiful quality to relish, live and celebrate. In shirking my prior life as a masculine litigator and choosing to practice yoga daily and to teach those that are seeking, I am becoming softer and softer and more open and loving. Yet, the path is not always clear as it's tangled with my breeding, my experince and my habits. So, I stumble, I offend, I learn and I (hopefully) make it right...<br />How blessed we are, indeed...Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-60967817423887669912009-02-17T17:51:00.000-08:002009-02-17T18:06:18.090-08:00Gratitude<p>I have a little story re. love and faith and destiny.<br /><br />After three weeks of dead ends and frustration on the job market, I broke down crying. I woke up the next day and instead of rushing for the laptop, I did four hours of yoga. Then I blogged. I was reminded to be clear and in my body. So, in that state, I asked my body "what do you want?" Answer: "Yoga. Ayurveda. To know how to live this life." I reconciled myself to the fact that I DO have money - it's in an IRA. Although I don't like the idea of taking it out, I already lost 30% of it with the economy downturn and I need it now - not in the future...so what am I waiting for? I want to rest easy about money. I have that option. I want to do what I like and be with people that I like. And I want to study more yoga and learn about ayurveda. That's it. And hopefully, I'll find a paying job on the side...</p><p>If I'm clear in my mind and body, the right career opportunity for me will emerge when it's supposed to emerge. I can't force it. I immediately thought of a school I discovered online on my second day back in the U.S. (At that time, I breathed a sigh of relief to see that an Indian woman was teaching ayurveda and yoga in the traditional Vedic tradition, just as it had been introduced to me by Dr. Geeta in Gujarat during my last week in India, i.e. the yogic cleanse week. I noticed the classes had already started the week before and gave up on the idea for 2009. However, there was no hesitation in my mind that this was the school for me.) So, after doing yoga for four hours and realizing that I wanted to do this, I simply wrote an e-mail explaining my frustration with my return to the U.S., my desire to study yoga and ayurveda and I listed all of the huge steps of my spiritual journey that brought me to this point. I asked if I could join the course at this late date. I also asked if we could arrange a work study. The main teacher e-mailed me almost immediately and invited me to the weekend course on the Yoga Sutras.<br /><br />The course was incredible and she was a funny, brilliant, gifted teacher. After the morning session, she agreed to let me into the program and said that all of the seva (selfless work) places had been filled but that she would ask. In the afternoon, I had a sudden gush of clarity again and I approached her. I asked if she had written a book. She said "yes, it's 2000 pages, is very esoteric, and has lots of citations to texts that need to be checked. Are you a good writer?" After I responded "I'm a great writer!" and mentioned that my legal training is in reading, writing, clarifying and cross-referencing cites, statutes and common law in support of a theory, she smiled broadly and said "I asked the universe to send me someone to help me with my book." I replied "I asked the universe to guide me on a spiritual path of ayurveda and yoga studies because this is the only thing I want to do...and write." And you know what? It's true. And now it's happening. The universe provides...<br /><br />She is modern and Indian and very, very real. I have found my teacher and am honored to have the opportunity to edit her book, incorporate our classes into the book and at the same time, maintain my blog as a reflection of this unbroken wholeness in flowing movement. Oh yeah, I also found a great home in Oakland with an ayurvedic yoga practicioner (who is a former corporate person, not a vegetarian and is living the yogic path) and a physicist who wants to learn about yoga (I've been looking for a physicist to share yogic theories with since I read the Dalai Lama's book 'The Universe in a Single Atom') - three women, three rooms, my share: $500/month. Unheard of in a beautiful home.<br /><br />I'm just thrilled and wanted to share with you. Here's a description of the course.<br /><br />Self Heal with AyurvedaThe education in Ayurveda follows the following course:<br />In the First Year- Heal the Self:<br />The first year helps the student understand the basic principles of Ayurveda, its unique philosophy, spirituality and science and how the different aspects of Ayurveda integrate and work together to create the one of a kind Ayurvedic path of self healing.<br />More importantly, the student begins to understand how the different facets of Ayurveda apply to the personal, daily life of the student; and how everything fits together intimately in the scheme of things for the student, here and now in the 21st century in the modern lives with its typical challenges.<br />Sacred circles, class discussions, check ins, journal and dialoging with the teacher will facilitate enlivening Ayurveda beyond the text books and into the real life of the student, center stage amidst the drama of crisis and resolution; ill health and health; pain and relief; ignorance and wisdom...to lay path to well being, step by step.<br />Vedika Gurukula unfolds wisdom with love...so that the student begins to think, breathe, eat, live, talk, walk and be...inspired by the sage science of Ayurveda.<br />Important Features of First Year of Studies at Vedika Gurukula:<br />Self healing<br />A stand alone foundational course to establish students in their own wellness practices and Ayurvedic life skills.<br />Guides students to overcome / manage personal wellbeing and lifestyle problems through careful study and application of Ayurvedic principles and regimens (under teacher's direct guidance)<br />The first year is as valuable to homemakers committed to understanding and living an Ayurvedic lifestyle as it is to students on a track to ultimately become Ayurvedic practitioners. It is as relevant to a serious student of Vedic Astrology, Vastu Shastra, Yoga or Indian Philosophy as it is to those who plan to practice Ayurveda professionally.<br />Complete introduction to the principles and practices of Ayurveda<br />Create a strong foundation for continuing students to become effective and insightful healers.<br />Prerequisite year for students going on to practitioner-track studies.<br />The first year of studies is not intended to create graduates who will begin to help others (but rather begin to help their own selves).<br />Gurukula experience<br />Exposure to Gurukula style of learning and its culture of seva, sadhana, and sangha.<br />Experience of intangible spiritual values of Vedic tradition.<br />Learning of classified knowledge, taught only inside in livingGurukula lineages.<br />First year Includes all the typical courses of introductory level Ayurveda, and more:<br />Philosophy. Cosmology and History<br />Basic Ayurveda Anatomy and Physiology<br />Ayurvedic Psychology<br />Ahara: Diet, Nutrition<br />Ayurvedic Lifestyle: Svasthavritta, Sadvritta<br />Pharmacology: Dravyaguna<br />Subtle therapies including Pranayama, Mantra, Mudra, etc<br />Intro to Ayurvedic Self Diagnoses and Self assessment<br />Additional Topics (unique to Gurukula)<br />Introduction to Vedanta Text: Tattva Bodh of Shankracharya.<br />Introduction to Sanskrit: Devanagari script and pronunciation, recitation of Sanskrit shlokas, Ayurvedic vocabulary building.<br />Introduction to Yoga Darshan: Text-Patanjali Yoga Sutra.<br />Introduction to core Vedic values: such as Dharma, karma, Karma Phala, Yajna, Puja.<br />Participation in festivals and pujas of the Vedic tradition, and exploring their relationship with Ritucharya and Tattva Shuddhi.<br />Subjective Case management (unique to Gurukula)<br />In the first year, students are given themselves as the case to manage under the teacher's guidance.<br />Students learn and practice regimens such as seasonal and detoxifying diets (modified according to their Vikriti), lifestyle practices, consume herbals Rasayanas that they recommend for them selves with the teacher's approval, do pranayama, mantra, japa, etc. Students track their own case and report back in class and in writing.<br />Yoga Studies<br />The philosophy of Yoga as well as its applied aspect is covered under the topic "psychology" and under "Gurukula Classified Teachings" and in the first year students study in depth the text Patanjali Yoga Sutras.<br />Vedanta Studies<br />A renowned Vedanta teacher from India is especially invited to Vedika Gurukula in Berkeley to teach the first year students Vedanta's foundational scripture: Sankaracharya's: Tatva Bodha.<br />Studies in Yajna Shastra<br />The fire ceremony of or Yajna ritual is at the heart of Vedic learning. The word "Vedika" itself means the altar in which the fire of transformative knowledge blazes. Students learn about the foundational principles of Yajna Shastra from India's leading Vedacharya who will visit Vedika Gurukula and all lead the students through an experiential passage through the fire altar in their own Upanayanam (initiation) ceremony. The students will chant Vedic mantras together and pour ghee and herbs into the flame, (insert coma) and understand the tangible and non-tangible benefits of the healing science of Yajna.Sanskrit Studies<br />Sanskrit studies are mandatory for first year students. The Sanskrit language classes have been arranged 3 to 4 weeks apart so that students can have ample time to review, revisit, internalize and memorize the information provided in the previous class.Constant Enhancement Not Examination<br />Gurukula tradition does not promote memorization of knowledge and the mechanical testing of this memorization; instead, Vedika Gurukula promotes internalization, contemplation, expression and dialogue of knowledge with peers and teachers. Therefore. (insert coma) there are no competitive, graded examinations or tests inside the Gurukula. Rather, there is emphasis upon Oral Q and A or dialogue in class and a formal oral presentation at the completion of the year in which the students presents to teacher and the entire class the essence of their learning and insights from the entire year (about their own case). The students will also turn in a hand written or typed presentation that teacher will review at leisure. All quizzes and homework have open book policy and emphasis is upon essay type questions to stimulate contemplation, understanding, imagination, and articulation.<br />Culture of Seva (unique form of learning inside Gurukula)<br />Inside a Gurukula, students are encouraged to embrace the spirit of selfless service - Seva; as it is an ideal of conscious life (d Dharma). Vedika Global is run entirely on volunteer basis. Through the selfless service of the students (and teachers and board), a whole support and logistical system has been put into place. Even students who are busy with families and professions are recognizing the value of selfless service in purifying the heart and mind and enhancing quality of life and wellbeing. As part of the Seva culture, students will soon be helping out at Vedika's free / low cost ayurveda centers for at -risk and economically challenged communities. Rendering Seva, students are learning hands on about the Gurukula model and methods of education transmission.<br />Thus, the first year is dedicated to learning the fundamentals of Ayurveda in an experiential manner ... and then completely owning the wisdom in personal life. If a student wishes, they can, at the end of the first year, begin to illumine family and personal friends with the benefits of incorporating an Ayurveda based lifestyle and science of foods.<br />Other Relevant InformationCross Class refers to presence of more than one batch of students in the same class at the same time. Several batches of Vedika Gurukula will come together for special instructions, lectures, festival celebrations and other special occasions. Cross Classes may at times fall on non-class days; however, attendance in Cross Classes is mandatory to integrate Gurukula's experiential education - and requires planning ahead of time and special accommodation from the student's side.<br />Kula Meet refers to the informal gathering of teacher and students of Vedika Gurukula (all batches); and involve exchange of knowledge and energy; food and community. The word "Kula" represents the teachers family and in Vedika Kula. Students sit with teacher as one family; derive tangible as well as non tangible benefits from the sense of unity, community and closeness that are the hallmarks of Gurukula education. Attendance in Kula meets is optional; however attendance adds extra credit or hours to the student's portfolio. Attendance will be taken at the Kula meets. Typically, students enjoy Kula participation and Kula meets are memorable landmarks of the year long process. Students are encouraged to invite friends and family and usually bring an offering of food to the common table.<br />Required Attendance<br />Kindly note all dates carefully:<br />85% attendance is mandatory to graduate.<br />Three day retreat attendance in November in Tahoe is compulsory for gaining your certificate as this is your final project where you will present your Self Healing Presentation that highlights your understanding of the information provided in the entire year. So please plan leave of absence from your work, school or other ongoing engagements ahead of time. Children are not permitted at the retreat, so please create baby sitting options. If student is taking care of an infant then presentations will be made outside the retreat during normal class hours and permission to not attend retreat will have to be obtained ahead of time with reasons.<br />Classified Curriculum<br />Apart from the syllabus in Ayurveda, along with Yoga and Vedanta philosophy and introductory studies in Sanskrit language, from time to time, the students will also be taught Gurukula Gupta Vijnanam which is the internal classified teaching of the Gurukula tradition. The classified teachings increase in volume and intensity with each progressive year of study and immersion inside Vedika Gurukula.<br />Homework<br />Once, twice or thrice per month - quizzes will be posted on an online forum for students to complete online and post for the teacher to review. Students will also take a print out and file in a HW folder to show to the teacher at the end of the year at the retreat. Vedika Gurukula has an open book policy to promote a contemplative reflective study style. We encourage students to refer to text books and class notes to answer quizzes. Homework helps students review topics studied in class and internalize the information at deeper levels. Quizzes that will be completed on time, or display care and extra effort get extra credit. We recommend 6 hours per month in homework. Some months it may be slightly more or slightly less.<br />Self Study<br />Vedika Gurukula promotes Svadhyaya - which means being with the wisdom in silent attention. Students are encouraged to sit quietly with closed eyes, and reflect upon knowledge transmitted in class, or pour over study notes, recommended books, and scriptures; or make flash cards and detailed self study notes in time allotted for self study with minimal distractions. One hour per week is easily managed by most students so the recommended self study time per month is 4 hours. Just being with the Gurukula knowledge by conscious effort, reviewing the written pages again and again, drawing inner conclusions and allowing the interconnections to occur with ease and flow and enjoying the sweetness of what this knowledge has to offer, savoring each piece and internalizing it through meditative contemplation is called self study or Svadhyaya in Gurukula tradition. There is merit in keeping ourselves surrounded by this wisdom that has the capacity to heal our bodies, enhance the mind based awareness and liberate our soul from conditionings and material restrictions.<br />Extra Credit<br />Vedika Gurukula does not promote competitive model of education. Sage education at Vedika Gurukula is purely for the evolution of Self and that includes the celebration of all beings. That is why there are no tests or competition that are scored or graded in terms of numbers. In fact, it is every Gurukula student's sacred duty or dharma to assist a class mate who needs help with their studies or other matters. On the other hand, Gurukula rewards students who make sacrifices in material life and dedicate more time to the spiritual process of self education and self healing. By cutting out social time or TV time students who turn in excellent contemplative homework; or do self study, or offer more seva or self less service to the parent non profit Vedika Global that makes the excellent education possible; or help out inside the school Vedika Gurukula or assist other class mates in their studies and attend Kula meets (attendance will be taken) get extra credit as a symbol of recognition and appreciation from the Vedika elders. Vedika education is not merely about numbers (credits for credits sake) but an entire culture of self sacrifice for self transformation and global transformation. Hence students who display exemplary zeal and understanding of Gurukula culture, willing attitude, focus towards their studies and positive energy will be allocated credits by the Vedika elders (in each students file) and at the time of final graduation - student will pass with honors and additional titles and categories of recognition. More details will be provided at beginning of the class in January.<br />Daily Immersion<br />The daily immersion refers to the time spent in pursuing unique Gurukula curriculum which includes a spiritually energized curriculum, Gayatri sadhana, mediation, Yoga asana, Pranayama, Abhyangam, etc. Two hours are being allocated in lieu of such practices and it is recommended that students adopt these practices mindfully and go through them daily in the tradition of experiential education. When such practices are sincerely adopted and practices in daily life, the multi-dimensional healing tradition of Ayurveda gives fruitful results.<br /><br />Come, let us dive into the magical ocean of Ayurveda ...the ocean will come live inside us...let us embrace each wave, cherish each drop and shiver withanticipation Blessed, the sun, moon, wind, earth and ether are frolicking withus in the ocean of Ayurveda...let us play....loving you, </p><p>Your teacher, Shunya Pratichi</p><p>...and so the journey continues...and the gratitude is even deeper than ever before.</p>Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-17408491130344352072009-02-11T11:27:00.000-08:002009-02-11T12:03:21.019-08:00Alive<p>I've been a headless chicken panicking, racing, networking, applying for everything and anything that comes my way. I've run around so often from the south to the east to the north bays, in and out of the city, that I'm always busy and always frazzled. The reason? I have no money. The bills for health, my phone and my future home are there. I've always had money and for the first time in my life, I have none. I can't find a job no matter how much I network and apply. This is the first time that my networking hasn't helped either. I can't join friends for dinner, dancing, lunch, events, classes, etc. I can't go to study groups where a monetary contribution and commitment is required b/c my priorities are survival - and although this is necessary for balance, I've lost that.</p><p>It was only today that I just stopped. Cleansed, meditated, did two hours of restorative yoga and grounded back into me. I was reminded just after meditation of my resolution theme for 2009: Clarity in my body. Where did it go? I forgot all about it. So, I'm inspired now to write that maybe there is a reason that I understand what so many people are going through. I hope, through yoga, to teach them how to deal. I'd like to offer it to them for free. This blog is the beginning. </p><p>I followed my heart and went to an ayurvedic center where I was given the name of a woman. She needs a roommate, has had a similar spiritual journey and is tapped into the east bay yoga world. Her place is looking for a teacher. Her place holds teachers from Nepal, Tibet and India. I'm meeting her today. The rent is cheap. I have my 401K (more like a 201K) to make ends meet temporarily, even though everyone panics about that prospect since my generation won't have social security payments. Then again, I'm living NOW. This feels right. Clarity. In my body.</p><p>I know that once I get more grounded, more situated, I will find the right path. I'm already on it. All these obstacles are enlightening me, guiding me. I've never been very effective with anything until I've felt it. Now I feel it. I feel the pain of no money. I feel the loss of identifying yourself with your ability to spend it. But, how about your own self? Your feelings? Connection with friends, with family, with theories, with philosophies that you believe in and can contribute to? Will this be the new paradigm that a struggling economy will find itself in? Absolutely. The more people that get this and can offer solace and power within oneself and the community, the better. This is supposed to be happening. I'm meant to experience this.</p><p>And, I'm still networking, but slowing down. I won't apply if it doesn't feel right. Simple. I am an attorney. I can volunteer somewhere to learn some skills and then start making my own way, if necessary. I think of billable hours and a stifling firm and it doesn't feel good. Simple. I think of networking or an alternative realm of law outside a traditional firm and it feels good. So, tonight I am meeting with a prominent criminal defense attorney who has made a reputation for himself defending medical marijuana and civil rights activists. His approach to the law is a renegade approach - it's not dry and mean. To work with a man like this would be colorful and hard and help me help people. I've applied to another that does non-profit establishment advice and trusts and estates. Again, this helps people. This feels right. So, it takes time. I say I have no money, but I have an IRA. Rather than freak out, just take a bit from my future, b/c this is the present, right. Get established, do what feels right and the money will come. Even a modest amount is all I need as I just get clear. In my body. Present. Alive. Thank God.</p>Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-22250891378853196572009-01-28T11:59:00.000-08:002009-01-28T13:21:48.159-08:00Turning Inside OutI try to remain hopeful and trusting in somewhat overwhelming and bleak conditions. As surely as India is chaotic on the outside and the people are calm on the inside, I've found that my previous style of life in San Francisco, as reflected to me by many people here, is calm on the outside and chaotic on the inside. Urban western single life seems to breed discord.<br /><br />Is this just my perspective or is the anxiety of western life seeping back into my blood now that I'm home? I've found that I calmed down a lot on my journey and here I am: no job, no home, no man, vying for spirituality in an urban environment, no money, not sure where I want to live, not sure what I want to do for a living, and at least very sure of the kind of man I want - steady and stable, but how am I to meet with him if my own life is so externally chaotic? Will he see the calm within me - that giving everything up for surrender was precisely how I got to this calm? Surely.<br /><br />Can I maintain my calm as I look for non-law jobs in an economic recession, manage my finances without an income and find health insurance coverage that I can afford, seek a worthwhile place to call home and try to visit about 100 people all over CA (and I'd like to visit my sister in Miami, too)? If I stick with my yoga practice, I believe that is so. But it's challengind. It seems as if everything is absolutely upside down/inside out from when I left.<br /><br />Job: Many friends have been laid off and are losing their apartments and wondering how to go on with their lives. The economy is bleak. I read advertisements for litigation associates and want to cry at the idea of doing that again. But I apply anyway - just in case nothing else shows up. I at least know how to do this work. I contacted my old firm to suggest contract work and received a perfunctory response. I'm meeting with a man very soon who is starting a virtual law firm and am not sure if malpractice liability will extend to legal work that is outsourced to Manila and has my name on the papers as the licensed CA attorney.<br /><br />I apply for other positions outside of the legal wall and see that my hard-earned legal credentials pale in comparison to the requirements and experience desired by prospective employers. The market is saturated with people looking. Not a good time to make a career change in the Bay Area. Or is it? I keep reminding myself to truly ask what I want. Make this next chapter a sweet one. Perhaps my reactions to legal work are a sign. If I don't get a job in this area, that's a gift. Look at that! What do you want? The idea of holing up in Pt. Reyes at a B&B (if I can find a live-in job) and writing my book and practicing yoga is a good one. It would be nice to have some contract work to make some money and pay off my student loans, too. Is this possible? Why not?<br /><br />Instability: Sometimes, the freedom of being an individual is too much. I've had many lovely people write about how much they envy and admire my experiences and I can just as easily say I envy and admire their stability, husband, children, home, lifestyle and job. I chose to leave those prospects for this life. Now I'm back to where I should start these prospects up - where I should find stability - and I can't figure out what, where or how. This is truly a challenge. I try to maintain my calm.<br /><br />My mother told me to say this mantra: "I am easy, I am easy, I am easy." It helps. She helps a thousand-fold. She's a law professor and can take days off. Yesterday, we drove 20 minutes to Santa Cruz and walked for hours along the beach clifftops. We compared the best ways for hopping up on a surfboard - she likes knees first; I prefer the hop-up. We sat and watched a hippy etch a giant 2009 peace mandala in the sand. We looked at million dollar remodeled homes and noticed sea otters, sea lions, pelicans, sandpipers and seagully roaming all around. My mom is easy and funny and settled. She and my stepdad love eachother. Super stable people. She is 100% supportive and tells me to give myself some time. She says I just need to settle back into the west and give myself time before I go full throttle again.<br /><br />Yet something inside me is eager for answers; eager for a life that I can call my own again. I feel so...irresponsible. I'm 35. I live with my mom. I have no income. I don't know what sort of job I want to do b/c I'm not ready to work full time again in any one area. Perhaps a hodge podge of yoga, writing and working - there, that's nice. But where? It is here that I must stop. Breathe. Choose courage. I responsibly chose to shift my life this way. I responsibly will choose the next shift. It may not even be in California. My mother is right. Take time. Feel. Breathe. Think about what will make my heart sing. If I trust and surrender, my spiritual path will unfurl. I believe that. And my spiritual path MUST have a professional, money-making component to it - at least enough to live on. Just pause. Be happy to have such luxury, time and comfort. Life is good. Just different. I chose this path. Might as well enjoy it.<br /><br />Social Life: Before I left, I was THE girl about town. I realized upon my return that those invitations for fun and savvy events are still coming at rocket speed. I am welcomed easily and mirthfully back into the San Francisco social scene. That's wonderful and I'm glad. However, everyone is so...BUSY. I've tried to connect with friends and we have to arrange a time two weeks out to see eachother. They work so much, that only (some) weeknights and weekdays are available. That just seems wrong to me. Americans shouldn't work so much. In other countries, they enjoy time socializing and with family.<br /><br />Flaking is standard in my community. In San Francisco, it is common to call at the allotted meeting time and say you're running late (from 30 minutes to one hour). I even had the hostess of my welcome back party tell me on the day of the party that she'd be 1.5 hours late. The friend at whose place I was supposed to doll up for the party advised me on the same day that she was going to dance class and wouldn't be home until 30 minutes after my party start time. The venue selected by my friend was too small and we got the boot to a different venue - so many friends who came couldn't find us b/c they couldn't see the little makeshift sign outside of the bar.<br /><br />All of this "inconvenience" could've been foreseen and alleviated with just a little consideration. But, people are too busy with their own lives to just consider other people's feelings in this town. The intent is there, but the follow through dissolves. Perhaps I became spoiled in my travels. There, the people were kind and considerate and giving. They live with their families. The live in community. They treat a guest with graciousness. They treat eachother with respect.<br /><br />As if I'm REALLY supposed to learn a lesson, two things happened the night of my party that really rocked my world (one friend, one man). First, the girlfriend who was going to drive me to her house after the party left me in a taqueria in the Mission District (not too safe) at 2:00 a.m. to go have a hot makeout session with a man she just met in her car. I kept calling and texting, but she wouldn't pick up. So, there I was - no car, no place to go, little money, totally reliant on one of my friends - and she simply blew me off. I called and woke up another friend and took a cab to a safe night's sleep. The next morning, I called the woman who blew me off to make sure she was alive. She gave me a perfunctory apology and launched into a monologue about how exciting her rampage was. I was appalled, told her I was glad she was okay and said goodbye. I still can't believe it. She doesn't think it's a big deal or is in denial. I'm not sure. But, I don't understand. I don't like it. I don't want this type of crazy, flaky, selfish society. Is this how I was to my friends before? On a smaller scale, I see very clearly that I fit in just fine with this attitude before. Not anymore.<br /><br />Men: Clearly, living in the aforementioned social style made me a less than desirable girlfriend. I get that now. I'm humbled. Also, the men I chose to spend my energy on were really less than desirable. For instance, a man who wooed me one year ago - a real charmer - ended up being with two other women at the same time as me. He was a liar and a cheat and I told him so before I left. He agreed and apologized profusely. This year, I decided to give him another chance and invited him to the party. He was there, handsome, super attentive and flirty, lavished the charm on me and my sister, told my sister how enamored he still is of me and how much he regretted his behavior, but how he's grown, etc. My sister, who is a great judge of character, was convinced that he'd turned over a new leaf and regretted his ways of the prior year. So, I softened up to him only to find out that he has a girlfriend! He profusely apologized for being so base as to not tell me right away, but said he was so attracted to me, blah blah blah. I just told him not to worry and I won't spend any more energy on him no matter how charming or handsome. Why tell someone you've changed if you haven't? I don't get it. THIS is the type of man I was dating before.<br /><br />Now, those are the bad friend/man experiences. I had several lovely, grounded, good people come to my party. They made a big effort to be there and were sweet, inspiring and very much on their paths. These are the people that I should spend more time with. I'm lucky to know them as I had previously been so busy and so flaky that I didn't see them much. What a lesson!<br /><br />The Right Man: Where are you? You are stable, calm, honest, confident, fun, smart, handsome and easy. If you are him, how will I not scare you away by all of this fluidity in my life? I will have to make sure not to overburden you with my need for stability. You're just a person. But, now I feel lovable and calm and emotionally responsible. I want to make a history with one person now. Are you ready?<br /><br />Yoga: I went to the class of my beloved yoga instructor to whom I devoted my practice every day over the year. I am sorry to report that I found it absolutely bhakti beautiful as always, but the pace was too fast for me to truly enjoy the yoga. The music was too loud for me to relax. The space was too hot and constricting for me to feel easeful and restful. The asanas were far too demanding for me to keep up. Yet, at the end of class, we greeted eachother with a huge warm hug. I was so happy to see him. He's a beautiful, beautiful person who gives his heart fully and completely to his class. He asked if I needed anything and I asked if there were discounts. He told me I could come to his classes for free for three months. Life stikes a balance.<br /><br />Two friends are holding weekly satsangs for a select group of yogis that want to incorporate the Sutras and the Gita into their lives. Of course, they're in San Francisco. I'd like to go. This may be a perfect segue back into a spiritual life in San Francisco.<br /><br />Do I want to teach yoga? Yes, but not multiple time a day. I'd like to get settled first b/c I can't apply unless I know where I'll live. I can take classes near my mom's house for $40 for 30 days, but that is the vinyasa urban style and I don't know if it's for me. Will I even be here 30 days? Is it best to get out and do yoga, see if I can teach this style happily, or just do my own practice for now and explore Pt. Reyes b/c it's still calling to me. I think the answer is obvious: I'll go do my own practice in a moment.<br /><br />One last thing: Finances. Everyone is consumed by it and it is infectious. The money will come. It will. I have a 401 K (more like a 201 K now) and I can take money if I need to. The last thing I want to do is to settle into a job I don't want full time and lose all of the clarity and calm I obtained from just being within. It is possible to balance work and health. It should be 50/50, really. How to do this and live in expensive CA? Is there a beautiful place where this is possible? Or should I go teach english abroad and live cheaply a little while longer???<br /><br />It's all inside out again. Is this the natural flow of life? Spiral-like. Seems like it. Surrender...Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-41236773383308204772009-01-22T15:34:00.000-08:002009-01-22T16:46:41.043-08:00East meets WestMy two days in Bangkok were a tired adventure. My San Francisco friend Matt, who has lived in Bangkok teaching english for several years, graciously delivered the two giant bags of luggage that he had been holding for all these . After a walk through town and a late dinner, I came back to the hotel and went through everything. In my new-found ability to molt, I steadily packed an entire bag of unnecessary stuff, placed a note saying 'Free Stuff' on the bag and placed it in the hallway of my guesthouse. The next morning, the bag was gone and I was relieved. I miraculously narrowed my belongings to one piece of luggage, a day pack, a carry-on bag and my purse. I couldn't believe it and swelled with pride at the small successes in life.<br />I joined a tour at 6:45 a.m. to go to the floating market outside of the city. It involved a 1 hour drive in a van and a 20 minute longboat tour. The longboat portion was fascinating as I sat alone in the front row and marvelled at the colorful, simple Thai river life. My mom, stepfather and I went there 13 years ago. Like everything else in Thailand, it changed. A lot. The market still had women with giant straw hats selling fruits and soup. The new addition included shops selling tourist junk and curios on the land surrounding the waterways. Rather than pay an additional 150 baht (approx. $6) to take a rowboat through the market, I sat alongside the waterways and ate some soup ordered from one of the ladies on a boat. I watched as the happy tourists floated past in their boats - polished and smiling - and I felt very, very different all of a sudden. I walked further through the market and joined another boat vendor at the water's edge and ate a mango. People were snapping photos, requesting her to paddle her boat into the sunlight for a better photo opportunity and looking askance at her when she offered to sell them dragonfruit or special apples. So many simply wanted nothing but to take her photo. She smiled the entire time and never tired of her sales pitch, but not much money or fruit changed hands. I marvelled at her ability to pose and smile while these people bought not much of anything from her. The whole market made me somewhat sad. I took solace in eating every bit of Thai food that I had missed and wouldn't be able to obtain back in the USA. That was the soup, the mango and finally hot coconut patties grilled over an open fire with fresh coconut milk glaze. On my way out of the market, I bought a picture of myself on a plate that was snapped by some tour association while I was on the boat. As this was my last day on my year sojourn, I figured "Why not?" I realized it would be the only plate that I owned when I got home and laughed at the idea of eating off of it in the near future. Ha ha!<br />I took a risk and decided to see the cobra show, touted as 'the greatest show on earth!' You know what? It was, indeed, one of the greatest shows I've ever seen of its kind. The showmen were talented, daring and terrifyingly close to deadly pit vipers. In the first act, a man was on his knees as he released an angry cobra from a cloth bag. He swerved out of the way within millimeters of the repeatedly striking cobra. I could hear it's menacing hiss each time is struck at the air. Another man did the same thing while a mongoose in a plastic cage attacked the striking cobra from below (the cobra was removed before the mongoose killed it). Two men brought the cobra directly to me (I was in front row center, no barrier) and displayed the venom of the snake as he spewed it into a jar. I writhed. They later brought a giant python to the audience for touching. It was cold. One man took on three snakes at once and captured the last one just above the head by diving on top of it and capturing it WITH HIS MOUTH! I wonder how these guys train for this job. The serpentarium was extensive and housed the fattest crocodile I've ever seen. I wondered what he'd just eaten to be so fat and was relieved when the driver told me it was time to leave.<br /><br />I got back to the hotel and checked e-mail on my laptop that was part of the stuff Matt had stored for me. I wasn't sure how I'd get to the airport and sent up a wish for someone to share a taxi with at 4:00. As if on cue, the waitress asked the couple next to me, "what time is your taxi?" You guessed it, "4:00." I quickly asked if we could share and it was no problem. The young english girl was parting with her boyfriend and heading for India. She was terrified b/c she'd never been there before. This was precisely why she was going. I shared some of my experiences with her, my similar fears, my love of India and although she was nervous, she seemed a little more at ease. I felt like the magic of India was already happening for her by this coincidental meeting. Perhaps, the magic is always happening for all of us everywhere.<br />The plane ride home was uneventful, except that I met a lovely Thai lady who had left her home for three weeks to go on vacation to CA. Three years later, she lives in CA all alone and only just returned home b/c she had obtained her US green card and could return to the US without any problem. I admired the fact that she just left everything she knew and all the people she loved for a life in a new place. I thought about my family, my friends, my love of CA and doubted that I could be so brave. Or could I?<br />I flew into LAX on Thai Airways. They played Christmas Carols while we were waiting to dock at the LAX gate. I missed Christmas. In LAX, had to wait for four hours for the connecting flight to San Jose. It was no problem, as I could walk the six terminals over to reach United Airways. I walked along and noticed the usual LA way of people looking at you to assess whether you're famous. I said to myself "this is the last time anyone will look at me so regularly in the United States." And it's all because of television and ; not because I'm a solo white woman walking along. <br />Inside the airport, I was stunned at how fat so many people were. Just plain fat. And unhappy. Many people were arguing or complaining to eachother, the airport employees or on the cell phone. I tried to see things through a brighter lens, but could not. All around me were fat people rushing to get somewhere and doing many things all at once with scowls on their faces. I felt like I did at the floating market as I sat on the edge of the river watching the tourists go by: different. Yet, I was really, really, really happy to be home. I understood all the signs, I understood the culture and the visa man flirted with me and told me in response to our brief discussion about my bad timing arriving home during the recession: "you can get a job with us. Government jobs are secure. Mine is safe until a pretty girl like you comes along," to which I smiled and said "Well, thanks, sir, that sure is a nice way to be welcomed back to my country." And I meant it. I didn't know how I would be received. All I felt was different and relieved to be home.<br />So, I waited in the only place that wasn't blasting bad music and reeking of artificial food and alcohol in the airport: Starbucks. I paid $10 for water and a parfait of fruit and yogurt. It hurt to pay that much. Many people buzzed through with computers and cell phones and they all seemed so....busy. Of course, the very particular orders of the people at the counter and the follow up specifications requested by the employees was a spectacle to behold after all that time away. Nothing changed there, except for tazo tea added to the menu, but I quite literally FORGOT about this experience. I felt like I was in the twilight zone. In the meantime, I look just like everybody else (not as fat) and no one knows that there I am, observing it all from a table, and literally TRIPPING OUT!<br />The plane landed in San Jose. I stepped onto the open staircase from the plane. It had frost on it! The familiar scent of pine and cold air wafted into my nose and I became nostalgic about all those times I'd return to Northern California from my Southern California university for Christmas break and smell that same intoxicating scent of Northern cold and pine. I loved it! I smiled ear to ear as I wrapped a scarf around my neck and proceeded to the airport. <br />When I saw my mom, stepdad, sister and nephew, it felt like I had seen them only yesterday. They were cheering and smiling. My mom had roses and a "Welcome Home" balloon. My sister had a gift box of pajamas for me "so I wouldn't be cold" and I realized immediately that nothing had changed with my family. I have travelled thousands of miles and lifetimes, and they are the same with regard to me. I am the same with regard to them. We're a well travelled, sweet, loving family (most of the time) and no matter what we do, where we go, or what we experience, the family arms are always open and loving. How lucky I am!<br />We returned to my mom and stepdad's house in the Los Gatos/Santa Cruz mountains. There was silence and trees all around us. My mom left every single Christmas decoration (including the tree!) up so that I wouldn't miss Christmas. I love my mom. <br />I slept until 1 p.m. the next day and my mom took me hiking to see a beaver dam built inside Lexington Reservoir (the lake that my folks' live on). The air was brisk and cold, bu the sun was out. I wore a hat and gloves and my mom laughed at me, saying 'it's not that cold, Kyra,' but I felt cold as we trumped along the greens and blues and reds and yellows of the moist trees and soils surrounding her house.<br />The following morning, I woke up in time to see Obama being inaugurated to the Presidency. He spoke of moving on in times of trouble, just as George Washington had commanded his troops when it seemed they might not win the battle of independence. He's a brilliant man who believes in love, understanding, collaboration, courage, responsibility, dignity, diversity and tolerance. I revere this man. I'm so proud to have him leading America. Our nation needs it in these trying financial times. Many people have lost their jobs and are, just like me, looking for their next meal ticket to continue their lives. We're all in this together, no matter how different I feel. And there's no better man to elevate us all than Barack Obama. How lucky we are, indeed!<br /><br />That evening, I finally left the house with my mom and Eric and went into town. I felt kindof frail and didn't want to be overwhelmed by the affluent beauty of downtown Los Gatos. We entered the ritzy apple store and I bought an i-phone, so that I could get in touch with people right away. We walked past the Lamborghini store with polished bright orange, red and yellow cars flashing in the window displays and past $400 toasters on display at Williams Sonoma to a Thai food restaurant and it was nice, but American Thai. I sent a little prayer of gratitude up into the sky for that last bowl of Thai soup I had at the floating market --- spicy and authentic. I'll miss that, but am lucky to have had it at all!<br />The next day, my pal Jodi invited me up to San Francisco to go to the Museum of Modern Art with she and our other friend Kelli. I smiled as I drove up Highway 280 in all of it's green beauty. The horses and cows grazed upon the undeveloped rolling hills that cascaded into the San Andreas . The pine and redwood covered Santa Cruz mountains rise up and over to the Pacific Ocean on one side and the San Francisco Bay extends on the other side. The clouds were silvery bright as the sun peaked from behind. I love Northern California!<br />I drove into San Francisco and the skyline took my breath away, per usual. I marvelled at the neatness of the pastel high rises with steel and windows, surrounded by water. I felt that familiar sense of wonder with the city and realized I'd rather live in this city than any other city on earth. Slowly, my phone started ringing, as one by one, my long lost friends called me and we began to make plans for a reunion. I floated along the streets to meet Jodi and Kelli on the busy commercial street and when I saw them, it was as if I'd just seen them yesterday.<br />We decided not to go to the MOMA and instead to have bananas in the park and talk. We discussed the possibility of me writing a book and my experiences in India, with yoga and romance. Jodi spoke of how she was laid off and her love life. Kelli spoke of teaching yoga and admitted that she burned the $80 teapot that I entrusted to her to a crisp. "I can't believe I spent so much money on a teapot," I thought.<br />That night, I went on a date with a man that I had dated several times before I left. He moved to NYC about the same time I left. He moved back to CA (after being laid off) on the same day that I did. Again, it was as if I had seen him yesterday. He told me I seemed calmer. Kelli and Jodi said the same thing. We went into the jacuzzi at his apartment complex and it was HEAVEN to be submerged in popping hot water! I loved it. We had a very nice evening and I found myself seeing him differently than I ever had before. I saw so acutely how unavailable I had been one year before - emotionally. I was always too busy to make any plans with him and brushed him off again and again and again as I juggled so many things with the little personal time that I had. Now that I was able to just relax with him, our conversation took a deeper path and I saw him for the first time as a genuinely good guy that emigrated all the way over from Serbia on his own to start a life in the United States. I respected him for that courage - all I can say is I finally SAW him -- and I believe it was nice for both of us. I felt calm in his presence and he felt calm in mine. We relaxed without tension.<br />The next day, I helped Jodi prepare for her dinner party. I walked her dog to the grocery store. I was bundled in a hat, gloves and a leather coat with fur collar and cuffs, jeans and black boots. Within one day, I morphed into a San Franciscan and I loved being right back there. I saw that San Francisco, here I come, was my immediate future. But it's not going to be easy to find a place to live and a job, perhaps. Jodi has a fabulous industrial loft downtown that is too much money to pay for someone with no salary. Yet, she genuinely knows that she need not worry. How she has this wisdom is beyond me, but I know she's right. I feel the same way unless I choose to travel down the stressed out route. I see the beauty in her calm amidst all the stress and I gained a newfound respect for her, too. Suddenly, I'm seeing all of these people that have been close to me as really good, courageous, brave, brilliant beings and I feel so lucky to be their friend. The dinner party was a success and the women that came were the typical San Franciscan women: 30ish, attractive, well traveled, sophisticated, funny and sassy. All unmarried, but 50% were in serious relationships resulting from online dating! I can't imagine dating online again, but that's precisely how I met the man I went on a date with two nights ago over one year past. The circle rotates again. What a strange life. What a strange city. And I love it. It's great to be home.Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-30745535962668915172009-01-16T23:22:00.000-08:002009-01-22T15:34:20.739-08:00Indian Farewell(Originally written Jan. 13) I sit here alone in a modest little government home in the city of Vadodara (Barota), in the state of Gujarat, still in the country of India. I am surrounded by pictures of Sri Aurobindo and ‘The Mother’ and the birds are chirping on one side of this building, while someone is blasting bad technobangra music at full decibel on the other side of this building. The birds sing between branches strewn with lost kites and the music sings in anticipation of the city-wide kite festival, wherein people fly hundreds of kites and slice the bright pink strings of others’ kites in hopes of being the last kite runner flying.<br /><br />The inhabitants of this apartment are both MDs in Ayurvedic medicine and devotees of Sri Aurobindo Ashram. They are Gujarati and in their mid 50s. Right now, they are at work. You may be asking yourself, “why is Kyra there?” Great question. I am here doing a yogic cleanse with one of the doctors, who I met at the Int’l Yogic Conference in Pondicherry. There, the doctor has one of her offices and a home near the ashram, where she regularly conducts seminars and gives ayurvedic consultations and massages. She told me that she used to give massages to ‘The Mother’s’ daughter or granddaughter – I can’t remember which. She has also been sponsored to go to Brazil several times to teach one to two month long courses in ayurveda, yoga, massage and naturopathy. She was also a guest speaker at the International Yoga Conference.<br /><br />In Pondicherry, when I learned from an acquaintance that four people were heading to Chennai one morning, I suggested we share a cab. I was introduced to the doctor as one of the four and learned that she, like me, was headed straight for the airport. I suggested we go to the airport together. When she asked where I was going, I told her I was going to Kaivalyadhana ashram for a panchakarma one week cleanse. She said, “that place is not so good, come with me, I am an ayurvedic doctor, I have many things to teach you” and handed me her card. She was called away to be honored as a guest speaker and came back. She looked me squarely in the eye, held my hand and said “we have met in a past life,” “you are a special person,” “I’m supposed to teach you what I know,” “come with me.” I told her I’d think about it and agreed to meet her later that evening. In the evening, the doctor told me that she would give me spiritual, physical, mental, cosmic and karmic cleansing. She said I could come to her house and she would cook for me and take care of all of my needs, including cleansing, massage, shirodahra, steam, etc. Her price was almost twice that of the ashram. I questioned whether I should go to an ashram and be one of many receiving treatments or go alone with this doctor and be her sole patient. I wasn’t sure. But, then I figured that everything happens for a reason and it would be best just to throw caution to the wind. I also figured that this would be very nice individualized treatment and much better than being a number in an ashram. I asked if she knew where I could get a small diamond stud for my nose b/c I heard Gujarat had cheap diamonds and gold. She smiled and said we could do that. I assumed that because she was an MD from Gujarat (where many wealthy indian families named Patel come from), that her house and office would be very nice...<br /><br />Wrong. After a 10 hour journey in which I read a book given to me by the amiable and integrity-filled man Rajen (Jay’s cousin who I met for two dinners and a breakfast before leaving and is lovely) about Gujarat, I was a bit rifled. First, I didn’t know that Gujarat had a massive slaying of Muslims by Hindis in only 2002, including burning of buildings with people in it, rapes, murders and massacres. This was a bit disconcerting. When we arrived to the airport, the large town of Ahmnebad was dilapidated and chaotic with massive construction and giant piles of garbage, dirt and potholes everywhere. It was India at it’s finest. After the immaculate, French-designed town of Pondicherry, this city was a shocker. I looked at everyone wondering whether they had participated only seven years ago in the taking and raping of human lives. She told me in the car that she and her husband were very poor and lived very modest lives. She was honest. We arrived to her apartment which was a polished concrete floor with colored rocks in every room and walls sorely in need of paint (which was chipping, cracked and dripping with various colors of yellow and green ???)). It was open air with rickety wooden doors and windows to close in the heat. It was cold in Gujarat – another surprise I hadn’t expected after having such lovely weather in India all along (most of the time). The apartment was freezing – even more so without any carpets in the entire breezy place. It was spartanly furnished and very, very basic. There was an Indian toilet and one room with a shower head, but no hot water. Every single room was decked with pictures of Sri Aurobindo and ‘The Mother’ on almost every wall. The treatment room had an alter to the two of them and not even a massage table. I was too tired to react. I just went to sleep in the bed that they provided for me. That night, I had a dream that ‘The Mother’ was with me and I felt a tremendous sense of peace ease my nerves. I then had a nightmare and woke up crying in the middle of the night – I dreamt that I had offended my sister Stacy by being mean and there was nothing I could do to fix it.<br /><br />The next morning, I awoke to spooky chamber music being played from an organ. I wondered what the he#! I was doing here. The music stopped and the doctor started singing a sweet Gujarati song. Her voice was calming and lovely. I decided to give it a go. We woke up at 6:30, per her instruction and I learned the morning cleansing routine: gargle warm salt water five times, wash my eyes with cold water, take a lidfull of sesame oil in my mouth and hold while exercising for 10 minutes, brush my teeth with ayurvedic powder, scrape my tongue with a special copper contraption so deeply that I gag and hack loogies out of my fully extended tongue, sit in their terrace and drink slowly a glass of warm water, take a jala neti pot to my nostrils and wash out, then quicly dring 2 glasses of warm salt water after which I hold in my stomach, massage my chest, stick my tongue out and gag myself until all of the salt water comes out via 5-6 vomits, then gargle salt water once more and go to the terrace again for a special warm juice of neem, lemon, ginger, tumeric and water. This, we do every morning at 6:30 before beginning out treatment for the day.<br /><br />The first morning, she told me some philosophies of yoga and gave credit repeatedly to ‘The Mother’ who guides us and provides us everything we need from the Divine. I looked at the pictures of the mother and just couldn’t see how I could revere this woman. I looked at the doctor and continued to wonder if I made a mistake.<br /><br />After we did some breathing exercises and other things (that I can’t recall just now), she told me she’d have to go to a conference until 2 p.m., but that an assistant was there to take care of me. The assistant was a young, pretty Indian girl. She had me lie on the floor buck naked with nothing but a blanket between me and the floor and the windows open with a draft. It was freezing! She told me not to talk, then asked me a series of questions. The massage was horrible – her hands were cold and she sniffled the whole time while I wondered if she might accidentally snot on me. She then told me to listen to the creepy organ music as this was ‘The Mother’ playing a piece she wrote to stimulate cell regeneration and growth. I insisted that I have blankets both above and below me. At this point, I started crying...I then listed to another tape of a hypnotherapist with a creepy accent telling me to imagine that I was ascending a rainbow. We went to the kitchen thereafter for a “steam” and I literally sat naked on a stool while she took a steamer connected to the boiling water and waved it slowly over each limb. Occasionally, there would be boiling hot water dripping on me and I’d have to control my reaction as not to hit the steamer. This, too, was awful. She then told me to take a bath. This amounted to sitting in a little bucket filled with warm water and sponging myself on the cold floor.<br /><br />After the bath, I had another juice and some food (which was delicious). The girl asked how much the doctor was charging me. She then told me that the doctor doesn’t pay her. I asked if she knew Kaivalyadhana ashram. She said she didn’t, but that there were plenty of ashrams in town that had nice treatment centers that didn’t cost as much. I asked if she thought I made a mistake in coming with the doctor. She swore me to secrecy and told me she thought I had made a mistake. This was all I needed to hear. I started to pack my bags. At that moment, the doctor called and asked how I was doing. I told her I was leaving because I was cold and wanted to go to Kaivalyadhana. She said she was coming right away. So, I waited and told her very calmly that I wasn’t comfortable there and that I was freezing. She asked what happened while she was gone and I said I had a massage and I was freezing. She said that there wasn’t a flight until the evening and she could take me to the ashram for me to meditate on this decision a little bit more. This freaked me out even more b/c of the organ music, the spooky pictures all over the place and the general fear I had that this woman came to me in my sleep and this doctor was a huge devotee of a cult I wanted nothing to do with. Plus, I thought, she was dishonest. So, I told her I was leaving right then. I offered her 1000 rupees. She refused. I insisted. She asked that I put it before ‘the Mother’ on the alter. I scoffed inwardly and lay the bill in front of the picture. The doctor started crying as I descended the staircase and I apologized. I left.<br /><br />The assistant took me to the airport. Sure enough, there wasn’t a flight until that evening and there was no other way to get to Kaivalyadhana. So, I waited in the lounge for an hour for the airport to open. I decided I would just go to Thailand and check into Health Oasis Resort on the beach for an expensive, but very nice, nine day deluxe cleanse with massages and enemas and treatments every day with a good diet and WARM facilities. I asked the security guards (with full rifles loaded and ready to shoot) how to get to an internet cafe. The were very kind and called a rickshaw for me, negotiated the price, and told him how to get to the cafe.<br /><br />As I was writing the confirming e-mail to Health Oasis to reserve a space for me, the doctor appeared. The security guards at the airport told her where I was. She said she had been too distressed earlier to give this to me and presented a perfect diamond nose ring. She helped me put it in my nose and I asked her how much. “Later,” she said. She then went on a long discussion of how she really felt that she was supposed to teach me and wanted to know why I suddenly left like that. She said Kaivalyadhana is also cold b/c it’s a hill station. I told her I was going to Thailand. I told her I wanted water. She said she was planning on taking me to the River for sunrise one morning and she had worked out my entire treatment plan. I told her the massage and steam were awful. She said she personally would do everything for me the remainder of the week. She said she’d told the assistant to cover me and that she had a massage table for me. I told her that I didn’t respect her gurus and didn’t feel right taking their teachings through her. She said her teachings came from her father and yoga and life and I need not revere Sri Aurobindo or ‘The Mother.’ I told her I hate that organ music, it scares me – she said she wouldn’t play it again. I told her I had nightmares in the bedroom and she said I could share the other bedroom with her instead of sleeping in her husband’s bedroom. In honesty, her room was cozy and had two beds – it looked very warm. She then said she had an entire treatment plan laid out for me and already bought all the oils and items needed for it. I told her I’d pay her for the items. She then looked me straight in the eyes and said “please don’t leave, I really want to share these things with you – it’s not just treatments that I’m giving you – I’m giving you divine blessings as I do it – with intention and yoga.’ ‘Other practitioners can’t do this for you – it’s important when you receive these treatments to have a practitioner with the right intention.’ ‘I know that I am supposed to teach you. I have the right intention. I am sorry that I left you. It won’t happen again.’ She then showed me that she’d registered us for a conference on consciousness and hypnotherapy from an east and western perspective. Rinpoche was there from Tibet and other people from England, Israel, India and Germany. The program looked pretty good. She also told me more about her life. She’d had two near death experiences and experienced the netherworld. There, she learned the value of life and experienced the connection with the universe. This, she said she wanted to teachme through pranayamas and yoga. She said that all bad external things come out during a cleanse and that this was what I was experiencing. She told me she cried for an hour during mother’s cell regeneration music. It’s part of the process she said. Again, she told me that we met in this life for a reason and that she felt I was a special person and needed to receive this information now. She told me I didn’t need to pay her, but just to be her student for one week. As I listened to her and looked at her, I decided that any woman who tried so hard should have a second chance. She seemed genuinely sincere. So, I agreed to go with her. I cancelled my ticket for 100 rupees.<br /><br />Since then, I am glad that I made the decision that I did. Although the apartment is spartan, it is immaculate. She is not a crook, a cook, or dishonest. She and her husband, as well as hundreds of other people around the world (including those who live in Auroville – the idea of ‘The Mother’) also are devotees of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother. She doesn’t fault me for not believing and instead we talk about the Hindu deities and she reveres me with stories of her experiences in the Himalayas, as well as her fathers that come straight out of ‘Autobiography of a Yogi.” She is the real yogini. If she lived in a mountain, she’d be a baba. Instead, she lives in this little place with her husband and they only had sex twice – to conceive their two children – and both are brahmans, devoted to the spiritual path through yoga, ayurveda and naturopathy.<br /><br />So, this is real India. This is the real teacher. She has given me beautiful massages and many, many treatments that I would get in a spa. We have philosophized, meditated and chanted while meditating – you can actually feel vibrations coming within and without and connect to so many things outside and inside. I’ve learned many aspects of cleansing, yogic asanas, kriyas, breathing and aspects of the chakras, diet and the circulatory, respiratory and digestive systems. I’ve also learned a ton about my body. I learned I am kapha vata, not pitta vata. I learned my digestive system is lazy and my back is weak. The rigorous ashtanga practice I have been doing is physically straining on my back. I’m not physically strong enough for that yet and need to go back to the real yoga of aligning breath with smaller physical movements that don’t strain the body. I’m not sure I’m ready to accept that yet, but for this week, I will. She told me not to do headstands until my back is stronger and gave me many back exercises to strengthen my back. She’s given me many meditations to clear my stress from my system and to connect with my breath at any instant to avoid anxiety. I learned from the aftereffects of my enemas, that I have worms that are coming out of my system. Gross. She informed me my reproductive system is in perfect health. She has challenged me on every level – physical, mental, spiritual and even cosmicly and I am grateful for it. Yet, still there’s a piece of me that is skeptical and looking forward to leaving as well as looking forward to the end of each exercise that we do. I wonder as I watch myself how I can be so fascinated with ayurveda and yoga and realize the wonders that it can do for people’s health, and at the same time, feel relieved that this one on one bootcamp of all of this has breaks and will come to an end. Am I lazy? Ungrateful? I asked the universe to give me a cleanse, some yogic knowledge, I wanted to learn about Ayurveda and here is the teacher – presented in a 100% Indian way – and I am looking forward to leaving, yet at the same time, looking forward to someday perhaps coming back and learning more from this woman.<br /><br />She is truly a baba. When we do exercises, she can tell what parts of my body I can’t feel without me telling her. She has read my mind several times. She stopped playing the creepy music, but did take me to the ashram once and we meditated there. It was nice. I said I didn’t want to go the next night and she was fine with that. She’s told me stories of healing she’s done of people that are deaf and dumb, with diabetes and arthritis. When we were at the consciousness conference, many people greeted her with respect and told their colleagues “this is a truly enlightened lady” and others thanked her for the treatment. She told me the king of Gujarat’s mother wants to give her some land to open a holistic center or an ashram for her, but that she wants her freedom. She prefers to help people one on one. Her friends in Brazil have also invited her to stay for an indefinite period of time. She is, indeed, the real deal. What a weird and wacky way to experience such a person.<br /><br />Our activities are culturally fun, too. She’s taught me vedic songs and chants and even some Gujarati dancing. We saw a Gujarati dance performance, went to another ashram of Ramakrishna and even went to the nicest naturopathic center in town (where she trained for three years). This is what I would’ve received at Kaivalyadhana – it is beautiful, but filled with Indians and the treatment center is equally cold, but all facilities are side by side and you can hear them talking all the while. Indians go there for weeks to recover from illnesses and one masseus has eight patients in one day. I am certainly receiving much more specialized treatment from the doctor. One day, I spent lunch watching cricket players. On their break, they invited me to stay the whole time – they were very friendly and taught me a bit about cricket. I find it very boring, to tell the truth. But, it was nice to see a new game, anyway...<br /><br />So, here I am, alone in the apartment b/c she had to go to work for some hours. But, she gave me homework, which I finished. Now she is back and we’re going to do another shirodhara. She just told me, that if I want to do a cleanse at home, this is what you do day by day (this is just her passing through the room and as usual spilling knowledge out like water from a faucet): First day, only light food and fruit. Second: fruit and soup, Third and Fourth: warm water only, Fifth: soup and fruit, Sixth: some light cooked food and seventh day normal food. Take one or two enemas to cleanse, or just one to cleanse.<br />She says “you are your doctor.” Trust your own body, listen to your body, love your body.<br /><br />I do love my body now. I have cleansed unbelievably through the bowels and nose and mouth and ears (even) and my mind is beginning to become uncluttered. When I breathe, I feel heat through every channel and even my toes are warm. I’ve learned that yoga is soooo much more than asanas, but this time I’ve experienced these lessons, rather than hearing them. This is teaching of true yoga. Plus, I now weigh 136 pounds and look radiant in my skin. I look very young and have lots of energy. Mostly, I’m positive.<br /><br />Yet, the skepticism remains. The fear about going home and starting on the right path troubles me. Yet, she told me to breath in strength, courage, confidence, consciousness and breathe out fear, weakness and competitiveness. This, I do on a daily basis. But, this life is a trying one. Then again, I spend all day receiving treatments from my personal teacher/doctor/yogini. This is as easy as it gets...right? It will be very, very nice to combine these teachings with the ease and beauty of home that I miss so much.<br />(Updated Jan. 17, 2009)<br />My last day in Gujarat, I had a morning "cleanse," per usual. Then the doctor gave me a shirodarah (third eye with oil) massage and we did some more breathing excercises. I was given three juices and some fruit - which was heaven to eat! She gave me a hair treatment that I thought was a conditions with clay and mud. Turns out it also had tons of henna, so my hair is now red! I like it, but it was a surprise - gone is the blonde - now it looks healthy and golden red with brown undertones. A nice surprise! I also had my final enema and even more toxic sludge emerged from my bowels. My stomach is now flat and soft and feels so clean and light. I love it. During the shirodarah massage, a message came to me that my sister MUST come to this doctor to regenerate and renew her frazzled life. I asked the doctor about it and I am it is possible for her to be treated in the far more comfy surroundings of Pondicherry. I wrote my sister an e-mail immediately proposing the idea. I was thrilled beyond measure that she consented to it. If there is anything in this world of treatments and program to detoxify, i.e. remove the toxins of this life, no matter how easy or hard, I firmly believe that this doctor - who combines yogic knowledge straight out of "Autobiography of a Yogi" and ayurvedic/naturopathic experience with a heightened sense of spiritual grace - is the one to do it. I have not one iota of doubt. So, I'm pretty certain that I will return to India with my sister and perhaps her child and there we shall spend at least one month cleansing and loving what the universe has given us. Regaining our light, recapturing our power. My sister raised me like a mother. Now, there is no one to look after her. It's my turn to give back and it feels very clear, very right and very good. I love her. I love this life!<br />Anyway, after my system cleared, the doctor took me across town to a kite flying festival. The high rise buildings were teeming with people flying kites off the top of them for as far as the eye could see. Set amidst these high rises was a giant statue of Shiva with his trident and the minarets, cupolas and spires of muslim mosques and hindu temples. Every rooftop was blasting different music and the people were writing to the music while flying kites in the sky and slashing eachothers kites with glass blades on the strings. The electrical wires and trees and everything in between was littered with lost kites. The sky was filled with dancing rainbows of kites going all directions. As night fell, the sky was covered in even more color - huge firework displays outdoing the fourth of july in america with their height, color, diversity and sheer numerosity - it seemed like every third rooftop in the panoramic realm was doing their own fireworks show. Amidst the swirling kites, exploding lights and blasting music filtering through the air, people lit little air balloon types things with large flames as they slowly ascended to the sky releasing people's prayers. In true Indian style, at times, the wind would blow the balloon a bit to the side and the entire balloon would catch on fire and cascade in a burning mass below. Mothers with little babies would gently swoosh rooftop celebrants aside and let the chaotic embers blow past them.<br />Once again - the flow in the chaos for which I so love India. An older man asked me what I liked most about India: "the wisdom," I said. I truly appreciate this wisdom, this celebration, this spirit of the Indian people. It's an inspiration and it goes straight to my heart every time. I love India...<br />The whole event was such a celebration! I ate sweet after sweet after homemade Indian dish after homemade Indian dish. Of course, this was the first time I could eat, so my stomach was full and in pain within a very short period of time. I simply stopped eating and tried not to jump with glee at the excitement I felt coursing through my entire, very, very clean and light body. I didn't realize how very sensitive I was to everything. All of this, ALL of it, was so celebratory - it was like Christmas as a young child - and I just had to cry at the beauty of all of this. I was so grateful that Dr. Geeta and I found eachother, that I stuck with her, that I did this cleanse, that I finally, finally, finally really deeply experienced ALL aspects of yoga and the light that comes through your body when you stick with a disciplined regime. This was the perfect celebration of light and love and the greatness of all things India on this rooftop. It couldn't have been more perfect. As we drove home on her motorbike and were nearly careened into five zillion times, I floated, smiling and unfazed. Just so very, very, very at peace with myself. So very, very in love with India. And so very, very grateful to be me in this life just now. Namaste.<br />That evening, the doctor reminded me that I am my own doctor. I know my own body best. She told me, "you want more rigorous asanas, I know - so just experiment with what I taught you and blend it with what feels right for you. Find your own path. I know we will meet again. You will study more with me." I have no doubt. My sister, too, will feel the light of these teachings. Life is good.<br />So, the next morning, we had a tearful farewell at the airport and I arrived in Mumbai and walked into the parking lot just outside the airport to find my Bollywood friend that I met in Rajastan dancing around the fire in the desert with gypsies. Sure enough, I walked right into Asif Basra. His mouth dropped when he saw me. "Wow, you look so...different...there's this radiance about you, this light, it's like what Bollywood film stars have..." he said. I felt exactly that way. Exactly. So, on I hopped to his Royal Enfield and we sped through the madness of Mumbai - from the slums to the elegant city center replete with English architecture and stone roundabouts with lovely sculptured fountains - and straight to the fishing harbor. There, we hopped onto a local ferry after having my last parotha in India (and a chai, of course) and they moved his bike on to the boat with manpower and a single wooden plank. We were cooled by the breeze as we glided for 1.5 hours on the Arabian Sea to the north and discussed his idea for a television show in which he travels on his motorbike through India and explores the multifarious cultural talent. It was lovely to see him, effortless to talk to him, and quite scintillating b/c he was wearing a hat and glasses as not to be harangued by people. His fame is increasing - being with a western woman is borderline tabloid gossip, you see... When we got off, we hopped on the bike and rode through clean, fresh green countrysides bordered by palm trees and banyan trees with hanging roots of wood. We passed through small villages with school children and vegetable markets. It was peaceful and rural and very refreshing. We arrived at a place with two cottages only 10 feet from the sea. It was lovely and only 750 rupees per bungalow - that's about $14 USD. They agreed to cook us a local dinner of seafood. The place was perfect. We dropped our bags and proceeded 20 kms along the coast to a beautiful beach where I indulged in my favorite dish of channa masala and nan bread. He had a fish thali. Both were very inexpensive, but the view and the freedom was worth over $1 million USD. We sat overlooking this beach that went on forever and discussed the choices we've made in life. Both of us have gotten off the train of convention and chosen a life of exploration and freedom. As a result, here we were having a "million dollar lunch" - one, neither of us will ever forget.<br />We then went to another beach and Asif had a jog while I meditated into the sunset and sang and thanked Mother India for all of her love and gifts and graciousness and lessons. I cried. I sang. And then Asif and I met up again, went home, relaxed under the stars in the hammock and laughed and talked and laughed and talked through our yummy local dinner. He is an elegant, entertaining and charming companion. It was a sweet and beautiful day, a sweet and beautiful evening. It was in every way...perfect. The next morning, we enjoyed the beach air some more and after another local meal, we headed back to Mumbai. We lunched at Leopolds and he showed me the Taj and Chowpatty Beach on the way to the airport. The sun was setting behind a mosque in the middle of the water on which you're supposed to make a wish upon viewing. I wished for my sister to be cleansed by Dr. Geeta and for my own peace and ease in transition back home. I wished for Asif to have a peaceful life and again I shed a tear as I thanked and sang a song to beautiful, beautiful India for everything.<br />I arrived in India with a charming 25 year old English actor on the back of a 350cc Royal Enfield. And I departed India with a slightly older and more charming Bollywood actor on the back of a 350cc Royal Enfield. I cried both times. But, this time, it was full circle. India has loved me and I have loved it. I will always love this country.<br />Now, I sit in Bangkok. It's clean and organized and I'm not too interested in roaming about. I'm just very excited to go home and see my friends, family and the ocean. Yet, I can't help but feel the light of the cleanse, the light of India, the light of all the love I experienced and felt with my fellow travellers, fellow Indians, fellow experiences, and everything. I am so lucky. As Alex said when he dropped me off in India, "India will take care of you, and then you'll take care of India." The former is true and I don't question that I'll return someday to make the latter true as well. A connection has been made. Venus shined at me from the sky that last evening in India, just as it will back home. It is all connected. This universe is Divine. Dhanyuvad (thank you), dhanyuvad, dhanyuvad!<br />I love you, India.Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-62238533944291226142009-01-05T00:49:00.000-08:002009-01-05T01:58:58.551-08:00Yoga in Pondicherry<p>A few days ago, I left Val to flow with the ripples of Mt. Arunachala and her own experience. I headed east to the Bay of Bengal to get some fresh air and a revival with yoga. As wonderful as a travel partner as Val could be, it was time to leave the meditative mountain and Val's theories about the master teacher Ayhuasca and to slip back into a yogic lifestyle that I could experience alone. Fresh air and the promise of yogic philosophies invited me to the 16th Annual Int'l Yoga Conference in Pondicherry.</p><p>From the perfunctory reports I'd heard from other people, I expected another polluted Indian city on the water. I was therefore pleased to enter the most beautiful Indian city I have seen to date. The Bay of Bengal abuts the wide, long tree lined boulevards peppered with vendors selling popcorn, Indian goodies and whirling whistles. Smiling Bengalis are vacationing and romancing eachother along the rocks, the women's scarves and saris fluttering in the wind while the wild waves of the Bay crash often and spew white foam into the refreshing unpolluted air. The town was designed by the french, so it feels a bit like New Orleans with the cobblestoned streets and perfectly appointed pastel buildings with painted doors and shutters and curling wrought iron light fixtures. It is safe, here. I can walk on the streets at night without any hassle and it's the perfect place to be alone in that regard. However, I finally FEEL alone and don't really see the point of doing it much longer. </p><p>There is a famous ashram here called Sri Aurobindo Ashram where a guru of the same name lived with his french partner known as "mother." Mother created the idea of Auroville - a community of international people living in peace and industry. There is a prime real estate parcel right on the Bay of Bengal at the end of the wide-lined boulevard which houses an ashram residential facility called Park Guest House. You can't stay here unless you're an ashramite, but it is rumored to be one of the classiest places in town. Naturally, I went directly there when I arrived. I walked into the gate, ignored the sign saying "sorry, we are full" and plopped myself onto a stool in the elegant lobby and patiently waited for the two ladies behind the desk to acknowledge me. They did so after a few moments and said "sorry maam, we are full." I smiled and asked if I could just ask two questions. First, do they know anything about the int'l yoga conference? "no." Second, do they have a recommendation re. where I could stay that evening as I'd just arrived and it was only a few hours until sunset. The elderly lady said something to the younger one in Tamil. The younger one said "wait." Within moments, they discovered that they had one room left and I was very lucky because it was a garden/ocean view room for only 200 rupees ($4 USD). She asked how long I wanted to stay: one week. She said there was a three day maximum. I said 'no problem, thank you so much' and ran to the rickshaw to fetch my backpack. </p><p>When I returned, I stared to fill out the registration paperwork. Just then, two stressed out american women - very pretty - but stressed - rushed into the office and said in a cursory, biting tone: "um, can you PLEASE not place my keys on the desk so anyone can just walk in and take it?!?" The young lady replied that all of the keys were left in that manner and there was no problem. "Well, can you just make an exception for me and put it in a drawer or something?!" the lady said as she practically shoved the key down the young lady's throat. The young lady took it in her hand and the american stormed away. She promptly placed it on the table with the rest of the keys. I kept my head down and kept writing. Then, the other american came in and said "the bike seat is too hard, do you have some sort of padding that I can use?" to which the ladies politely stated they did not. The american huffed out of the office with a yoga mat in hand and the elderly lady behind the desk started to say "please don't take the yoga mat from this site," but was rudely interrupted by the american who said in a patronizing, loud tone "yeah, lady, I know!" and all three of us let out a little gasp of air that she could be so rude to an elderly lady. I wanted to apologize for my countrypeople, but realized it was their own thing. This has bothered me for days. At first, I thought it was b/c this was who I would have to face on a regular basis: a stressed out society making way more out of reality than there was out of paranoia, fear and a sense of entitlement w/out any respect for elders or the fact that this was an ashram community, i.e. yogic ideals and principles of kindness, health and non-violence. But then, I realized that this bothered me b/c this was how I was before I left (at times). I was short, angry, curt and borderline abusive to people at times without thinking twice about it. These ladies were a mirror for me and a reminder of what I don't want to return to. I've come so far. I've softened so much...</p><p>So, as I'm thinking about how badly I feel that they represent my country, I remembered that I had an unbroken sealed, new package of dates. I took them out of my bag and presented them to the elderly lady. "Do you like dates, madam? I haven't opened these yet and I'd love to give them to you" came humbly out of my mouth. She smiled, declined, then said something to the other lady in Tamil again. The younger lady said to me in English, you can pay for two nights now. Come back after two days and we'll see. "And please, madam, if you are going to take sun in the garden, make sure you cover yourself - we are an ashram community after all." "This is fine," both ladies said as they gestured to my fully covered body in a tattered skirt, scarf and three quarter length shirt. I then realized that both americans were wearing tank tops and tight pants. No wonder they refused me at the inception - I bet they refuse a lot of westerners who don't care for their customs, traditions or ways in an ashram or in the whole of India. </p><p>Fortunately, I returned after two days to the same two ladies. I was wearing a long, flowing white dress and a white scarf and carrying a copy of Aurobindo's literature that I picked up in the canteen at breakfast. I tried to look as virtuous as possible. That morning, I asked the photo of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo that was hanging in my bedroom to please let me stay. I requested to stay another four days so I could attend the yoga conference and offered her a flyer of the schedule for her information. "Wait" said the younger lady. So, I put my head down and read. The older lady was watching me. I could feel it. I just tried to be radiant and respectful. "You may stay another four days, madam" said the older lady. I thanked them and left. That evening, I brought the elder lady flowers that I left with the younger one as a token of gratitude. </p><p>The room itself is heavenly. It overlooks the garden where I do my yoga every morning. That overlooks the Bay of Bengal. The sound of waves crashing and the cool bay breeze billow into my window and I have a magnificent view. I decided I wouldn't need the mosquito net supplied b/c of the breeze and a fan. Lo and behold, the first night I was eaten alive by mosquitoes. It's funny, b/c I haven't been attacked by anything except bedbugs once in Nepal the entire time I've been travelling. The next night, I used the net and all was well. But, my arms are covered with red lumps. It looks hideous. I met a Belgian man trying to find people to stay in his guest home in a fishing village. I asked him what he thought all the red bumps on my arms were. The next day, his protege picked me up on his scooter to show me the property and one of the first things he said was "how are your pimples, madam, do you need to see a doctor?" By this time, I figured out they were mosquito bites and just had to laugh and decline. I was reminded of the advice: "when it's no longer funny, it's time to go." As Park GH let me stay, I didn't stay at this man's property.</p><p>Later that day, I took a rickshaw to Sri Vast ashram in Auroville to see whether I'd like to spend a week getting spa treatments and ancient ayuverdic cleanses with an on-site guru who fuses self fulfillment with love of nature. On the way, I saw a sign to Ananda Ashram. This is the Ashram where my teacher in Thailand, David Goulet, studied for many years the science of yoga from Swami Gitananda. I went to the ashram and it was closed. There was a door that said "enter here, but only if you're happy." A man opened the door and said to come back later and I told him I couldn't b/c of the yoga conference later in the afternoon. I explained my teacher was a disciple of Swami Gitananda and I'd really love to see the ashram. "And I'm happy, see?" I said, as I smiled like a nerd. He laughed and let me in for two minutes. The yoga room was warm and stately. There were pictures of the deceased guru everywhere and it just felt really, really nice in that space. I bowed to the photos and walked slowly around to take in the space. Tears welled up in my eyes and I thanked the man as I swooned with the feeling of "this is where my teachings came from." It was beautiful and brief. I thanked the man and beamed back to the rickshaw. </p><p>The Sri Vast ashram site was beautiful, but dry and away from the beach and didn't make me swoom like Ananda ashram did. All the ashramites were out on a field trip with Guru Vast so I didn't get to see them. The place seemed nice enough, but it's almost $100 USD/day and that seems a bit much. I then considered whether I want to fly to the Andamans and relax on the beach. No. I then considred doing a vipassana retreat somewhere. No. I couldn't study at Ananda b/c they only have a six month teacher training course that started in Oct. I wished that I could take a class with Ananda, at the very least, to sip up some of their teaching before leaving India. I then went to Auroville Beach - open to Aurovillians and their guests only. I walked up to the gate and asked a man on his motorcycle if I could be his guest. "Oui, hop on" and off we went. I thanked him as I hopped off and went to the beach. It was odd. There were Indians on either side of the small beach gawking in a line at the white women in bikinis. The security guards kept them at a distance on either side and behind the Indians, the beach was crowded for miles with Indians in full dress enjoying the Bay. I stripped out of my clothes to go for a swim, but only went to my ankles as the water was dirty and there was garbage floating around in it. The waves and undertow were big and strong. So, I reclined on the beach, which was also somewhat dirty and soaked in some rays. A man came along and offered me some of his homemade honey which I licked off of my hand and didn't buy. He was sweet. His wife was selling jewelry to the ladies on the towel next to me. I covered up and we sat side by side watching her conducting the sale. I returned to the cafe, had an oatmeal chocolate chip cookie and observed the Aurovillians speaking french and smiling. They seemed very content and healthy. I realized I have no real skill to contribute to the community if I don't want to practice law. This made me sad. The smiling and happy families made me lonely. I suddenly wanted to go home. This feeling resurfaced from when I first walked along the Bay of Bengal and the breeze reminded me of the SF Bay and I felt homesick. </p><p>So, I returned to Pondicherry and attended the yoga conference. Lo and Behold, the entire conference is put on by Ananda and was started 16 years ago by Swami Gitananda. My wish to have some teachings from this place culminated in a four-day conference! I haven't yet gone to see the competition, but I have attended a series of lectures this morning on yoga as a way of life and yoga and health. They are fascinating and resonate deeply with the teachings I acquired in Thailand. Yoga is more than postures, it's a way of living, being, eating, believing, experiencing and feeling. Music to my ears! I'll check out the competition after this blog. It seems very unyogic, but a nice way of seeing the strangeness that India puts to just about everything. I approached the head teacher of Ananda (Gitananda's wife) and told her of David, my teacher. She invited me to practice asanas with them tomorrow morning at 6 a.m., so I will! Wish fulfilled. I told her I may apply for the teacher training program. She smiled. I may. Who knows?</p><p>So, here I am in India. I certainly feel that it's time to come home. All the options of paradise, spirituality and contentment are not appealing from the outside, anymore. I feel complete and good, but very homesick. I want to come home to the paradise of SF, my family, my community, my teachers Rusty and Janet and the sweetness that I feel when I think about being . I saw a lady that walked like my mother and it made me wistful. When I spoke with the elder lady at the ashram about the partition of India, she reminded me of my grandmother and I grew wistful. Life is precious and short in this time. I want to celebrate it with those who I love, those who I know. How very, very lucky I am to have travelled all this way and been taken care of so beautifully by mother India. Now it is time to go home and just BE with those who I love in the place where I'm from. Lead the yogic lifestyle of health, kindness, philosophy, faith, kindness and connection. God, I love this life!</p><p><br />I am thrilled to have obtained the very last room directly on the sea at Park Guest House. My room overlooks the meditative garden and the ocean breeze lulls me to peace all the while. I do my asanas in the morning in the garden and walk along the Bay of Bengal whenever I leave to explore Pondicherry. I am further pleased that the entire conference has been run by the guru, Swami Gitananda of ICYER/Ananda Ashram, of one of my greatest yoga teachers. I am therefore resonating deeply with the conference and its message. Every person that I meet is of the same vibration and I'm obtaining lots of insights and ideas about bringing yoga into my western life when I return back home. I also am increasingly encouraged to return to Ananda Ashram for its six month teacher training course, if only to deepen my knowledge of the science of yoga. It holds no end of fascination for me. </p>Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-32952073871863151482009-01-01T04:44:00.000-08:002009-01-01T05:59:20.939-08:00Arunachala New YearIn the state of Tamil Nadu, there is a town called Tiruvannamalai and in this town there is a mountain called Arunchala. It is not spectacular and imposing like the Himalayas that I trekked through in Ladakh in Zanskar and drove past in Nepal. Instead, it is said to be the oldest mountain in the world, created from the fire of Shiva. It is, the people here say, pure 100% Shiva energy. For those of you not familiar with Hindu lore, Shiva represents the pure masculine destructive force and regenerative arising that is created from that destruction, like phoenix from the ashes. When combined with divine feminine shakti energy, the union of masculine and feminine creates life. Thus, Shiva is the life force, highly revered in India, as represented by billions of lingums (phallic symbols) in just about every nook and cranny of India.<br />I like Shiva. A lot. He slays what doesn't serve the highest purpose of one in one's life and starts over from nothing. In a way, I'm kindof going back to that. And what I realize, as with Shiva, is that starting from nothingness is a beautiful way to live. It doesn't take leaving your life or anything dramatic and draconian to reach a state of nothingness, it's merely a recognition that something happened and letting it pass by without completely attaching to it and losing yourself in external circumstances. So, if something happens, I respond, I notice the response, let it go and start over, fresh and new for the next thing that happens. Not bad.<br />I wonder as the weeks of this journey come to an end, what on earth will I do when I go home?<br />Something will happen? I'll return home. People will ask "so what are you going to do now" and I'll get that crunchy feeling in my stomach and it will start knotting all around in response....OR I'll breathe into that crunchy part, let it go, say "I'm not sure" and trust that in truth, not knowing, not being attached to anything, not even having a plan, is exactly where I need to be. In fact, I have a world of opportunities awaiting me - meeting me - wherever I go.<br /><br />This mountain is famous because a guru named Maharani Ramana meditated in one of the caves for 19 years and reached enlightenment. When he was a boy of 16 years old in stellar health, he had a sudden fear of death overtaking him...and he panicked. He then realized that death of the body is not death of the mind. He asked himself again and again, "who am I?" And he kept coming back to "I am not the body, I am not the doer." My understanding is that the essence of his realization was that the universe moves us along as players on the playboard of life and everything is interconnected. Thus, nothing matters and no one matters. If we realize this, there is no panic about what and where and who. "But, what about real life?" I think, "bills and babies (I may have someday?) and jobs, etc." "How does one implement this 'I am not the body business' into actual business?!?" Well, again, it comes to feeling your body, feeling that most of the time, I let external situations determine my experience, rather than feeling from the inside out. If I encounter something and I have a feeling, do I ask how I feel or react? I've always reacted. I've always taken it personally. Yet, there has never been anything personal. Perhaps, a better way to just relax and feel good in this world is just to feel my body in any situation from the inside out, breathe so I am relaxed and recognize that whatever drama is happening around me is just part of the play of life and I am an observer. Just an observer. Yes, every action has a reaction. So, why not react in a way that is from love and peace and calm, not fear or resentment or personal pride? This is what I've resolved to do for 2009: be in the body and be calm. No matter what. Happy New Year.<br /><br />I've been trying this system out in Tiruvannamalai and I feel calm and peaceful and very serene. It's a world of difference from Kerala and the way I felt there. I remind myself that the world of litigiation made me as agitated and frustrated as Kerala. As soon as I left Kerala and came to Tamil Nadu, I felt lighter and better. This may be evidence that the surroundings DO matter as far as vibrational frequencies are concerned. Layering the Ramana Maharishi "I am not the doer" logic on top of the law of physics, I do believe we are susceptible to the vibrational frequencies in the world because we can't control those frequencies. If we can't change the facts, we CAN change the way we deal with them. Kerala wasn't working. I calmed down, stopped resisting so much, tried to see the beauty, and things changed for the better. But, it still didn't feel right. A rugged Australian traveller told me, "when you're doing the wrong thing, it just spits you out." In a way, I feel litigation did that to me: "[Spat] Get outta here lady, what the f#*! are you doing here, anyway?" And so, here I am. I like the circumstances in Tamil better. I think I may like a profession that is not litigation better. I'll just go with the vibrational frequency. FEEL it. Period.<br /><br />Now for the question of "Who am I?" Well that's a tough one. I'm no one, nothing and everyone, everything. I feel all emotions all the time. I'm a whirling dervish of sensations and I am as radiant as I've ever been. Why? Because I've been exploring. Not only the world, but myself from the inside out. And I love it. I wish for everyone to have such a journey. No one can quite tag me when they meet me. I may be an American. Most people guess that I'm French. I may have been a lawyer. Most people can't guess what I've been before, but they're not surprised when I say I teach yoga. I used to squeeze into size 10 and now I can squeeze into a size 6 (barely). I used to be brunette and now my hair is gold. I am 35. Most people guess I'm in my late 20s. I'm about to return home. No one can guess where I'm from. My faith in god comes from the experiences I have in my body through yoga, through nature, through connected vibrations. Most people guess that I have no faith. So, that just goes to prove, who I am is always changing depending on the observer, the circumstances, the way the question is considered. As I consider who I am, I just feel like a lucky little peon on this orb of existence fluttering away in a little space creating and responding to other ripples in the universe. That's it. There's something very refreshing in that realization. Do you get it? I hope so.<br /><br />This place is filled with spiritual seekers. There are more satsangs and bhajans and ashrams and yoga and spiritual healing and new age seekers here than I've seen in the whole of one Earthdance Festival. The thing is that these are older seekers from all around the world. They're open. They're kind. They've got the same judgmental superiority air of "I was here first" as anyone anywhere. But, they're all here for the purpose of going within, asking "who am I" and radiating with the vibrational frequncy of Shiva via Mt. Arunchula. Who am I to say it's all a bunch of new age mumbo jumbo masquerading as an ancient indian guru secret? I've experience peace here. I've experienced inner exploration. So have they. Something works with this formula. And then it doesn't. But that's just life.<br /><br />I walk along the street and a bus misses me by inches. I don't panic, I notice it, thank God that I didn't just die and keep walking. If I die, that's it. Time to go. I can't control it. Of course, I could avoid walking near buses, but in India, they seem to appear out of nowhere. Everything does all the time, but I finally understand how in the midst of all this chaos and near death collissions everywhere, the Indians are so calm. They're just flowing within and without. Peaceful. Santosha. My theme for 2008 was santosha/contentment. Just in the nick of time, I got it. I felt it. I experienced it. Thank you India. Thank you very much. Thank you Kyra and the universe, etc. Now I'll stop rambling and get to some storytelling...<br /><br />Val and I are cramped into a little tiny ashram room with a full size bed. She's 5'11 and I'm 5'9". Her nose is often almost nestled into my armpit and somehow, we've adjusted to this sleeping arrangement. There are horns and bells and fireworks and people yelling and cows moving and clanging carts just outside of our window and we simply wear ear plugs to maintain some peace. We have no sink, just a bucket and a faucet - at least it's running water. And it's clean. But, it's funny. It's funny to think of my luxurious penthouse apartment in San Francisco and her even fancier one on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. Yet...here we are. Like this. Who knew?<br /><br />There's a lady named ShivaShakti here who is supposed to be a transmission of the divine bliss. People go to sit in a room. She walks in, sits down then walks around once to look at each person in the eye. This is supposed to be a divine transmission of grace. I was a bit skeptical. I sit down, she comes in, she is tiny and very peaceful looking. She looks at me and without blinking manages to send me a twinkling little warm fuzzy from her eyes. I'm tickled. I return the next day and she does it again. This time I send her a warm fuzzy back and her lips curl into a bit of a smile. I think. Anyway, I love that all the people are here, again, just to experience some kindness, some love, some bliss from the universe. They can revere anybody, I don't care, I just love that they aspire to this and they live it. I admire them for it.<br /><br />And who knows? It's quite possible that people can transmit energy through their body unto another. I experienced this several times: once with Baba Hari Das on New Year's Day 2007. I was so sad and disconnected from others after years of litigation and a bad break up with a man that broke my heart. When I finally felt more sad than I ever had before, I asked him what this was. He told me sadness is the necessary first step for any spiritual journey and I could either lose my mind to the pain or merge with the pain, keep a strong mind and my path would unfurl. I didn't know what he meant, but I realized that my prior path was no doubt of the losing my mind bent and I didn't know what to do. All I knew was that I wanted out of the pain of living a life that made me feel isolated, alone and very sad. As soon as I decided I wouldn't live like this anymore and that I'd try to merge with the pain instead of ignoring it and keep a strong mind instead of a skeptical and dismissive one, I decided to surrender and just trust that the universe would flow exactly as it needed to. When I made that decision, he looked at me and I swear to God that white gold light went straight from his third eye to mine and down my shushumuna and it cradled my sadness like a lotus flower in my belly in a pool of white gold light. With one look, this man connected me with the bliss that I could see and not feel from everyone around me. blew my mind as I would never have believed this could happen. But it did. So it is possible that certain enlightened beings can transmit light to us? Absolutely. I had to experience it to believe it. But, it's not always good...<br /><br />Sometimes, power and reverence exacted by devotees can go too far. I heard that a self proclaimed avatar named 'Adi Da' passed out of his body, i.e. died, last month. It made me remember something very uncomfortable that happened to me in late Sept. 2006. I had several acquaintances in San Francisco that are devotees of Adi Da. They refer to him as 'Beloved' and they revere him and sign a contract that dedicates their life to him. I went to a two day play written by him that explains his journey to consciousness because my friend was in it and I wanted to support her. I was also curious about how someone so smart and sophisticated could willingly devote herself to another like this. The play was performed in their commune in Lake County. Adi Da was on his island in Fiji at the time. My friend did a great job in a play that I found dark and disturbing. At the end of the play, I was informed that Adi Da's assistant called from Fiji to see who I was b/c my name appeared on the attendee list and I wasn't a devotee. "This is great news, perhaps he'll come to you in a dream now, he has that power, and he knows who you are" mused my friends. I was not happy to hear this, nor did I believe for a second that it would. So, I went to bed that night and sure enough, he came. Five times, he appeared in front of me with open arms and loomed all around me. I didn't like it. I didn't want him. I asked him to leave. He wouldn't. Five times, I wrestled myself awake only to fall back into this looming presence around me in my sleep again. It felt like wrestling with a tiger. Fierce and indominatable. I finally went to my mantle and prostrated on my lambskin rugs before my boddhi sattva. I said, "please make him go, please make him go, please make him go" and I cried because I was terrified. Nothing like this had ever happened to me and I was terrified. I returned to sleep and he was gone. I later learned in Thailand that the best protection a beginning yogi has on her path is to sing a mantra to protect against encrosion by dark powers. I guess this is what I did. Of course, at the time, I wasn't a yogini. I didn't practice yoga. I didn't sing mantras. In fact, I didn't even know what the bodhi sattva was - I just saw him at an antique store and had to buy him because I though he was absolutely beautiful. So, this was my first time recognzing that there are powers that can't be explained. The power of Adi Da to transmute to my dreams and the power of me to be divinely guided to protect myself by prostrating to a boddhi sattva and doing a mantra of "please make him go." When I heard that Adi Da passed away, I was reminded of this experience. It used to make me feel like I was a lunatic. But, I come to a place like this and I see that while there may be many fakes out there, there are certainly many people capable of transmitting SOMETHING to other people. Who knew?<br />The reason this came up is because a beautiful french man named Allen who has been coming here for years told me he may move to Fiji with a group of people to start an ashram like community. He invited me to come. My first thought was that I didn't want to be near Adi Da. When he said he had passed, I was relieved. Then, I went down this path of what is real? who am I? are all these new agers crazy or actually on to something? i believe they're on to something. I didn't answer the frenchman. But, it's a nice offer. My yoga teacher in Thailand is starting a new yoga university and community in the Phillipines. He sent me an email about it. I could help in that tropical paradise, too. Another nice possibility.<br /><br />On to men...well, India has been very kind to me on this front. It seems I have a golden spark. Wherever we go, we meet beautiful men. These men treat Val and I beautifully and I have had several sweet encounters with men from around the world. Without expending so much as an effort, I've received massages, presents, compliments, tours, meals, gifts, inspiring quotes and even poems from males around the world ranging in age from 23 to 53. It's as mind blowing as these spiritual transmissions, really. It just keeps coming and coming and coming...who knew? The most recent came from a Bulgarian that I danced with last night at the New Year's Eve party. He told me he has been seeing me for the past few days and I am one of the most radiant women he has ever seen. All he wanted to do was kiss my hand and press it to his heart. It was very sweet. Another frenchman told me the highlight of his day was my smell as we sang alongside eachother at his house with a group of people. Rather than taking offense at my singing abilities, I'll just accept that this was another little dollup of appreciation from man to woman. As I am wearing no perfume or deoderant, I can only appreciate the naturalness of the compliement. This man also wanted nothing from me - just to tell me what he appreciated about me.<br />I've become acutely aware in this place of spiritual seekers just how important it is to have that inner glow coming from within as opposed to outside. Of course, I love the attention and compliements, etc. that I get from these men, but it no longer determines my sense of self worth as it did before. I didn't feel complete if I wasn't wanted in some way. I grew angry, fat and resentful as a result and wasn't at all lovable. Now, I finally got that the love comes from within and I no longer need male affection to feel delicious. As a result, the men come in droves wherever we go and it's really quite funny. It's also funny because Valerie is gorgeous and I would expect all attention to go only to her, but with whatever I've got going, there's plenty of appreciation for me, too. Who knew?<br /><br />I take all of this love and appreciation and go to satsangs where people discuss their struggles with a philosopher/spiritualist. They all say the same as Buddha: go within. A polished man with a rolex says the same as the bare chested yogi from Switzerland as the babas asking for baksheesh outside the ashrams as the gurus say in their books and teachings. Just go within. I attend bhajans where people sing their devotions to all thegod of the Hindu pantheon - rather than a multiGod focus, it's merely a focus on various aspects of one God. In song. It's a pleasure. Again, it comes from within to sing out with others in devotion. I go to pujas, ceremonies with fires and chanting and incense and flowers and ritual and singing - I feel the love of these people as they send their love to "Mt. Arunchala"and "Ramana" and it brings me such a sweet sense of peace to be here in the midst of all this devotion.<br /><br />When I return to the United States, it will be tough not to besurrounded by such love and devotion all the time. Will the men and the compliments and the invitations and the opportunities continue to flow? Will life just provide for me? Will I keep an open mind and learn from the hardships, breathe easy through close calls and give thanks every single day for being alive? Well, if I'm in my body and clear, I think the answer is yes, yes, yes.<br /><br />I don't know, but I trust. As I started 2008 to surrender and trust that there is an unbroken wholeness in flowing movement, I flow into 2009 with a deeper truth - the realization that love and life is ongoing always and all I can do is feel it in my bones - live it in my heart - and life will continue to be exactly what it should be. Even if that means living in spartan conditions and not being a lawyer anymore. Life is love. Happy New Year!Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-15201200472019746722008-12-25T03:30:00.000-08:002008-12-25T03:37:42.235-08:00Christmas with AmmaIt is Christmas Day and I am at Amma's ashram somewhere in the backwaters of Kerala. There are thousands of devotees, both western and Indian, here to celebrate the holiday in Amma's presence. I have witnessed Amma hug hundreds of people since the time I arrived yesterday at 11 am until 2:00 a.m., when I finally ceased witnessing the spectacle all around me in the giant auditorium. Last night, there was chanting and dancing from numerous devotees around the world. They even sang silent night. Kinda like an open mike. Amma was there at the center stage radiating love and light and I STILL couldn't believe that not even once did she get up to use the toilet or eat. She's back at it again today. I went for a two hour nap.<br />If I have to be anywhere that is not home for Christmas, I am quite happy to be in a place where everyone gathers freely and believes that this woman is capable of chanelling love directly from "the divine source." I like it b/c this is really what the Christmas spirit should be - celebration of life, love, differences and faith in healing, kindness and service. <br />So, a brief blog just to say happy holidays one and all. I hope your year is filled with love.<br />I waited three hours yesterday for my hug and she smelled good and felt soft. That's really all I can say. No miracle occurred, but everyone is here for love. Isn't that nice? I have one more hug tonight then head off for Tiruvanumali tomorrow to circumnavigate Mt. Arunchala before Pondicherry's Int'l Yoga Festival. I then may head up near Varanasi to hear the Dalai Lama discuss compassion before heading back to Bombay, Bangkok for five days, then home.<br />I look very forward to the next phase of my life. I miss CA and my people. At the present moment, however, I thank the universe that I have such an incredible, lucky, open life. The kind of life where I can pop into the ashram of a "living saint" for christmas just to get some love not just from the saint, but from the thousands of pilgrims that are here to celebrate exactly the same thing: love. What a life!Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-12260063596715655382008-12-18T21:36:00.000-08:002008-12-18T21:44:16.656-08:00Indian SwitcherooAs soon as I finished the blog and the rain subsided, Valerie and I walked out of the bungalow for a walk along the cliffs . We wanted a delicious thali (all you can eat many dishes meal on one platter) and I was still depressed.<br />A man was just sitting there and asked "are you going to the elephant festival?" to which I responded "WHAT elephant festival?" When he replied there were 21 painted elephants gathering in the afternoon for a festival 30 minutes away, I was pleased as punch. You know how much I love elephants! Then, he said the price which was too much and we started to walk away. He asked if we'd been to Varkala town yet. No. He said he was taking his friend's mother to the doctor in town in his rickshaw and if we wanted he'd take us into town for free for a delicious thali. Val heard "for free" and I heard "delicious thali" and we were in!<br />The thali was fantastic, Varkala town interesting and full of kind people who smiled again. We went to an ashram and circumnavigated the tomb and felt very peaceful. Then we saw 21 elephants resplendent in gold and taller than ta ta trucks parading along the street. On the way back, we stopped at a temple and two teenage boys gave me two flowers. People smiled and waved as we drove along and suddenly, the magic of India reappeared.<br />Is it the energy of just Val and I? I think so. When we're with others, everything shifts. We realized this quickly as we headed for the beach and ran into the three kiwis again. Suddenly, everything felt different. Our driver parted from us and a weight reappeared. The sunset was spectacular on the arabian sea as hundreds of little fish skipped in little black schools along the crest of the waves. The muslim fisherman went out just after the call to prayer and within moments, an entire city of a thousand twinkling fishing lights adorned the water. "I love India," I sighed as I raised my sarong skirt and felt the waves splash up onto my thighs. Voila!<br />We decided we'll stick together unless someone with something to contribute comes along. The kiwis contributed plenty, but a different energy that made things heavier, somehow. Valerie is a lovely woman. She studied for one year with a shaman in Peru and is an ayahuascera/medicine woman who lived in the deep, deep amazon in extraoridnarily primitive conditions. She's tough and spiritual, yet refined. She also happens to be a former fashion model who retired at 30 after an extraordinarily successful career. So, she contributes a bit of fashion to my walk, i.e. she plucked my eyebrows, and I contribute a bit of easy going chit chat with people to hers. We're a great combo and I love her like a sister. We are on the same level. And this is why we flow with India. Even when it sucks, India comes back and surprises us. We're lucky to be here. Lucky to have eachother. And just plain lucky to have both left our western lives for the quest of spiritual awareness and just plain dirty living. Hurray!<br />So, the avarice we're experiencing. I do believe it's a ripple of the tsunami caused by the financial crisis of the world. Clearly. Wherever we are, whatever we do, we can't escape that people's lives are changing and grasping seems more of a constant in an otherwise tepid realm of consmerism. I'm guessing anyway.So, it seems that just when I despair about India, India regifts me with love and sweetness and 21 elephants with wet snotty trunks that hold my hand as I walk along the row to greet them. I was the first tourist to do this and quickly noticed another ripple -- other tourists shaking hand/trunks with the elephants and beaming with joy. India's not so bad.Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-10097912431966250222008-12-17T22:16:00.000-08:002008-12-17T22:51:16.877-08:00India MeltdownLast night I lost it. I just plain lost it. We met some people in Mysore and decided to take a car down to Varkala, Kerala with them over four days. That was fine and swell and we continued to spend a lot of time with these people. Val and I have a hotel that is on the south side of town. They on the North. Unfortunately, there are no cabs after eight and so I arranged ahead of time with one cabby to take us home in the evening. When I called him, he picked up and said "he is sleeping." Voila, that was it. No ride. Suddenly, this just tipped me over the scale. I became furious and had to storm away from my companions into the darkened streets to scramble up something because they were just standing there and I couldn't handle it anymore. <br />Naturally, losing one's temper and feeling like she's about to explode after such a trivial thing reeks of major mental problems. However, I reassure myself that it's simply an Indian meltdown of exhaustion and overtravelling. I have been on the road for nearly 11 months. It's all been beautiful as of Hampi. <br />Thereafter, things shifted. In Mysore, we stayed with a lovely lady named Alex that is staying in Ken's apartment and she was gracious enough to show us around. She's studying with Pattabhi Jois and we met many ashtangis in the scene there. I found it to be insulated and landlocked. I wanted to breathe my way out of Mysore. When we left with the three kiwis in a fancy car, it wasn't quite the way I wanted to travel India, but a quick option. We passed through a forest reserve and saw a momma and baby elephant. One of the men and I went to a seedy bar and I had a cocktail and everyone stared at me like I was a whore. It was very uncomfortable. Then we went for a walk through town and again there were no women on the street save me. I got lots of dirty looks from the men in town. Fortunately, one older man smiled at me and looked warmly into my eyes, bowing a namaste ji ( regards with high respect) and I felt recognized as worthy. <br />We carried onto a beach town outside of Kochi and were now in Kerala. It was a lovely beach decked with Indian families fully dressed wading in the water at sunset. We found a nice hotel that was overpriced, but clean. We went for chai and thus began the downsurge of hospitality that culminated in my breakdown last night. Whereas everything has always been "yes, madam" in India, here in Kerala, the predominant answer is "no." "Do you have chai/tea?" "No." "Okay, do you have coffee?" "No." Yet everyone around us is drinking little cups of hot beverages that look and smell exactly like coffee. They're all Indians. So, I walk away and try again later. "Chai available." <br />We drive down to beautiful Allepey - the venice of Kerala - with canals and palm trees and boats. Our driver rushes us straight to his "cousin" who has a houseboat and tells us we "must decide immediately" if we'll take his houseboat for 12,000 rupees for one night. We decline and look at others. He follows me and harrangues me further about the decision. In the meantime, our driver asks me to give him money for his dinner when the rules are clear that he is responsible for himself. We've been fighting with him about tolls and parking the entire way - he ignores the rules that he pays and it's frustrating every time. <br />I see several other houseboats and the price goes down to only 7,000 rupees. We select a boat. It's beautiful and comfortable. The food is subpar. We drive only a little bit and dock. Boats swarm up offering items for sale - shrimp, coffee, tea, incense, whatever. They are unrelenting. We go up a little further and Damien, one of the men, goes for a swim in the morning among feces and dead bloated cormorants. I choose not to swim although the heat is sweltering. The prior night, it took us three hours to get the drunk captain to give us some peace and quiet out of his company. The next morning, they ask us for a tip and we decline. Our car driver gets wind of this and is furious as he drives like a bat out of hell down the road. We tell him to slow down and he ignores us. I tell him I have to go to the toilet and he ignores me. I finally lean over and yell in his ear, "Stop! Stop! Stop!" before he slams on the brakes and out we go. We assume he's changed into such a state b/c he fears he won't get a tip. Little did he know that we'd already gathered 500 rupees for a tip for him that morning. We get to our destination and he tells us we have to pay 350 rupees extra for going on a detour. We call the office that arranged it and he says we only owe 200 rupees extra. <br />We give John is 500 rupee tip even though he's morphed into a demon and he seems genuinely relieved and satisfied. Then we come to our hotel and the owner tells us that we have to pay for an extra night b/c we arrived one day later than planned. He confirms, however, that he received our email advising him of this. He says he saved the room for us. I comment on the large number of vacancies in the hotel and he says "as you wish, pay as you wish." He never welcomes us. He just wants money. I go to the other side of the cliffs, which is littered with shops and bungalows and restaurants and internet cafes. Everyone wants money. Everything is overpriced. There are few tourists present. Every single Indian laments the lack of tourists due to Bombay and the economy. If I don't buy something, they say "promise to come back" as they hold onto your wrist until you consent. <br />All of this...well, it just wears you down after a while. After three days, I finally lost it last night. I got home after telling off the taxi driver who kept insisting that Valerie give him her cell phone number b/c he's taking us home. There is no logic here. Just harassment. His exorbinant fare had already been paid and he was being awful. It took long enough to find him, so when he kept not listening to me about directions and stopping to ask every clueless Indian for directions, it boiled. When he kept harassing Valerie and asked another man for directions, I screamed at him "LISTEN TO ME!" to which he turned around and started yelling that I was crazy. I told him to fuck off and slammed the door. I stormed through the mangroves in the dark (I wasn't far frojm home) and thought about how dangerous this was without a flashlight. But, I was crazed. I lost it. I couldn't stand to be in the car anymore with this man - the representitive of all that had been passing for so many days...<br />I got home to the hotel where Valerie was in the bathroom, put my stuff down and walked out to the cliffs where I cried and sobbed and howled with I don't know what for a good 40 minutes. I thought that I wanted to go home, I was tired of travelling, I was tired of people saying no all the time, tired of everyone thinking I'm a walking bank, or a whore, or whatever....just tired. In the morning, I did yoga for two hours and I promised myself that today would be one of calm, compassion, nonjudgment, reflections, forgiveness, love and tolerance. I feel bad about my behavior and at the same time see very clearly that a time comes when you're just full. Full of travelling. Perhaps, full of India. Someone once told me that India spews you out when it's time for you to go. That's how I feel. Like spew. <br />Today is a better day. It's gorgeous and I'll spend it at the beach. Meditating, reading and writing other more private details into my journal (which is nearly full, as well). What sounds good to me? Going to Amma's ashram to see what it's all about. Going to a spa outside Bombay. Seeing my Bollywood friend. Flying to Thailand for NYE on the island. Then, maybe just relaxing there in a place I know and love. A place that is calm and doesn't castigate me. I've had nothing but an amazing experience in India and it has been nurturing and inspriring...until Kerala. There is something about Kerala and the people of Kerala that just isn't working. Period. Okay, I submit. I still LOVE India. But, it's time for a shift.<br />Back home, friends are losing their jobs and getting married. Much has happened as I'm gone and I wonder what is available, who is available, what will I do? I don't know. But, I know it is home and they are my friends and family. It's reassuring and exciting to consider how different yet the same the world back home will be. It's been 11 months. Wow. And so the journey continues...Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-39961499863970278562008-12-09T08:36:00.000-08:002008-12-09T08:49:03.083-08:00Hampi is the land of chill. We arrived to a crazed bus station and negotiated the price of hindu deity stickers with wide brown eyed boys in long sleeved shirts. In India, it~s like you~re dropped into a swirling teacup and you~re just trying to either go with the flow or get to the side as quickly as possible. That~s what I most admire about India..the just go with the flow. Finally, one of us negotiated a rickshaw price outside in the rain and we tumbled into Hampi.<br />Villages built under giant boulders lined the narrow laned streets and children peeked from around the corners of granite to smile a ^namaste.~ We crossed the river on a boat and slushed through the mud to reach the other side, as recommended by several people. <br />What happened thereafter was pure magic...tbc...Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-19448622639817040872008-11-28T07:46:00.000-08:002008-11-28T08:19:01.310-08:00The Circle Rotates Again...I left Goa one day after Thanksgiving and the bombing/massacres in Bombay. It was time to make a shift. Goa is very comfy and very fun. But, it's also very western. It's not why I came to India. I have been eager to teach yoga, but the sala is still not built where I live. And things became strained and irritating on the home front, anyway. It was time to shift...<br /><br />After the Five Rhythms class on Tuesday night, I drove home to a rat filled bungalow at 11 p.m. I moved all my stuff to the nicer bungalow that is made of cement. Sunny (my Ladakhi friend and the manager) then told me we needed to discuss what I thought was fair to settle my account before we moved into December (high tourist season). I was shocked b/c I thought I was staying for free. This was because Praful (my other Ladaki friend and another manager) told me on several occassions that I would be their guest and their yoga teacher. This was the reason I came to Goa on such a tight budget - b/c accomodation was offered to me in person and again via e-mail. I also confirmed with him in person when we were in Goa that I would not pay. Unfortunately, this was not conveyed to Sunny. Because Praful is now in Leh, Sunny and I had the difficult task of negotiating what I should pay for accomodation six weeks after I first moved in. When I called Praful and asked what was going on, he said "yes, it's free in exchange for you teaching yoga, but you haven't taught yet." There was no point in pointing out that they hadn't yet built the sala. I paid my maintenance fee (still below the standard hotel rate of Goa) and tried not to feel offended or angry with Praful. And I decided it was time to move elsewhere.<br /><br />I then went to yoga practice and Ken told me that we should put off the first of our second series of rolfing sessions for a day. I suggested that he instead wait for me to return from Hampi and he agreed. There was something inside me that didn't know if I was really ready to commit to more rolfing sessions b/c I was feeling the desire to leave Goa. I had already decided with Jo (the five rhythms MC), Ash (a yoga teacher living in Goa whom I'd met previously in Koh Phangan), and Valerie to go to Hampi for a few days to check it out. As Hampi is 12 hours away, returning to Goa was a possibility, but then there was the rest of India...<br /><br />Ken mentioned something about my commitment to myself to study ashtanga for 30 days. I momentarily felt guilty, felt just fine trusting to keep that commitment to myself even though his adjustments are great for my practice. No problem. When he left class early and told me that he would be late to class the next morning, it confirmed that this was a good time for a shift.<br /> <br /> I went to lunch with Valerie in Anjuna and we decided it was just plain time to leave Goa. We both came here to experience India and had been in Goa for six weeks already. Why not continue south from Hampi? So, I packed up everything and here I am...in Hampi. All of my bags are with me and I'm ready to continue.<br /><br />My last night, Val, Ken, Dylan and Dylan's friend came over for a visit. The boys were supposed to have their opening night party - it didn't happen except for our little group. It was a fun evening and Dylan was particularly sweet to me. The next morning, Dylan, Val and I met my friend from Chakra Yoga school, Erin, for breakfast. We headed to the beach next door - Aswem - to find a famed 'teepee village' where hippies go to live for free. We found the village and Val spoke with the beautiful owner Rani b/c they both studied shamanism in Peru. We were welcomed to the community instantly and wiled the day away in the teepee village. I met a Scottish man who owned the campground that I stayed at in Arusha, Tanzania 15 years ago. Rani was also there - "no wonder you look familiar," she said. Small world. Dylan and I went for a swim in the very playful waves and came back for homecooked beans and veggies with tea. It was a delicious thanksgiving meal of homecooked food in a kind and worldly community. Who knew? I came home that night and packed up my goods, went to a party of a man in the dancing workshop and said goodbye to the vibrant yogi community here in Goa. <br /><br />Now, I am here. Right back in India. The touts were on the train practically before it stopped and they swarmed around me as I tried not to walk through murky puddles with my open toed shoes in the pouring rain. The children and men stared and chaos reigned on the streets with more cows and saris and horns...right back in to India. I just ran into an israeli guy who rented a tractor with us in Nepal to get the bikes across the washed out roads. Small world again. <br /><br />I have written to friends and family letting them know I'm not suffering from anyting Bombay related. I send love to those affected by such atrocities. Some things just can't be understood. India continues to blow me away every day. I'm exhausted now - tomorrow, I'll step into the place of over 1,000 temples (many to Hanuman, the monkey god). Legend has it that Hanuman picked up and personally transported the top of an entire mountain in order to provide Laxman (Ram's brother) with the right medicine to save his life from a war wound. An entire mountain top for one plant because he didn't know which was the right medicine...this one has always irked me as a bit excessive...perhaps, I'll finally get it now that I've returned to Hanuman land, i.e. Hampi. The lessons of India continue...Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-78677156695908338952008-11-23T23:58:00.000-08:002008-11-24T01:23:27.233-08:00Blown DoorsOne month since the last post. I've finished the teacher training course. It became progressively easier physically and progressively more difficult emotionally. I learned how to be more compassionate instead of judgmental with people and situations that I had no choice but to bear. The whole experience was positive - there were very good people - and not exactly the spiritual India retreat I had hoped for. Instead it was a practical, very effective means of teaching ashtanga yoga. I look forward to incorporating ashtanga into my bhakti chakra vinyasa classes (I haven't come up with a name yet, but no matter, b/c the yoga sala is not yet built where I am). The practice of ashtanga is rigorous and physical and rigid. It's a good balance with my windy ways of living. Grounding.<br /><br />In the retreat, I received the base return to asana practice as well as a view to emotional blockages. I am very good at closing doors on people. In any situation. I enjoy them, even love them...but usually from a distance. There's something that keeps me from crossing an emotional portal with people and truly being close. Surrender on my own I can do. But with another...well, for that I believe I've found the right teacher. His name is Ken. He was the anatomy teacher for our teacher training course and an ashtanga teacher and a rolfer. I knew right away that this almost 50 year old man who looks like he's in his late 30s had something to offer to me.<br /><br />First of all, I did three rolfing sessions with Ken. What is rolfing? In short - it's a release of emotional and physical blockages through intense "massage," ie. elbows and knuckles in deep places while I kinetically "meet him" by moving various opposing limbs. The result is a genuine release of stress and pain and elongation of limbs, light and space within my body and mind. As we go through each session, I learn a little bit about my attitude towards my body and life and see and experience an alternative way to exist that rather flows than opposes what's happening around me. For instance, in the first session, he touched upon a knot in my shoulder and I said "ah yes, that's it, let's GET RID of it!" and he suggested "how about you slide under it instead of attacking it?" So, I breathed under the knot as he suggested - the knot dissolved a bit in that instant. The next day, my shoulder and neck kept popping and cracking as it continued to dissolve years and years of stress from litigation and law school and desk jobs, etc. In that session, I kept asking him if it was supposed to feel like this, or if this was the right way, etc. Every time, he'd say "how does it feel for you?" and "you tell me if this feels like the right way." I realized that my whole life has been spent asking others how and why and where instead of just going into my own mind and body and FEELING. Gee, what do I want? What do I feel? It's not so much about what everyone else wants or thinks or does. Just me. Simple, I know. But with that interchange, it became abundantly clear to me that I'd never truly felt into me - I've measured my entire life with what others may want or expect. The exception of course has always come with travel. With travel, I've allowed myself to just go where I want and do what I want. But in REAL life, no. My only escape to not caring about others was with mind numbing substances in which I was detached and closed from myself and others in a bubble of inebriation. I was very grateful to not only hear this, but to EXPERIENCE this lesson in my body. I'll never forget this again.<br /><br />The next session, I was supposed to ground into my feet while he did some work on my spine. I kept losing my footing while concentrating on what was happening at the top of my body. He reminded me again and again to find my footing. I realized that often in my yoga practice, as well as in my life, I rarely remain grounded or aware of my surroundings. I've since focused on my grounding in practice and life. I actually take the time to imagine what my footprints must look like on the sand as I walk b/c I can finally tune into their shape and understand the way I've carried myself through life. What a gift to have the time and insight to do this. I am becoming more grounded. From a solid foundation, life is much more relaxing. I also asked during the session, whether I should ground into my feet to resist the pressure he was applying. He asked "can you just meet me instead." Voila - in a nutshell. Meet, not resist. Meet, not resist. What a concept.<br /><br />The last session was the most painful. He returned to the knot on my shoulder; the one that I would often hold in agony as it scrunched even tighter with the stress and anxiety of billing every six minutes of every day to my litigation practice. I breathed through it instead of tensing up, per his suggestion. At the end, I was dizzy. He grounded me through a deep shoulder massage, but my head felt fuzzy. That night, I had a nightmare that we were in ashtanga class and he told me to find my footing in tadasana/mountain pose, i.e. essentially a standing pose with two feet on the ground and two arms at the side. Simple. In my dream, I couldn't find my balance and was wobbling everywhere. I woke up the next morning and felt mentally and physically unstable. I wobbled in even the easiest of balancing poses and fell out of a couple of the more challenging ones. I kept cursing Ken every time he told me to do another vinyasa (fluid push-up sequence) and gave him venemous looks throughout class when he wasn't looking. I was pissed off and angry the entire time. At the end, when we sit in a meditative pose with crossed legs and a mudra (hand position) that unites the individual with the universe symbolically, I couldn't stop the tears from falling down my face. The crying continued through sivasana (the final resting/corpse pose). When I got up, I went to the restroom to stop the crying. I came out and shakily asked Ken, "what the hell is happening to me?" "I feel undone." "I can't control my emotions. I'm so angry and venemous and all this ugliness just keeps coming out of me." "Is this what we released last night?" I already knew the answer. He asked if I had dark thoughts that he should be concerned about. "Of course not." He said as long as they come in waves, and not constantly, to just ride through them. "We released all those years of litigation, Kyra, it's gotta come out sometime." And here it was - a flood of venom. He asked if I was a control freak before and I conceded that I was. He told me that it's scary not to have control of the emotions and it can be terrifying, but it's good to go through them. He told me to call him if it got really bad. I thanked him and he kissed me on the forehead.<br /><br />I walked down to the beautiful Mandrem beach and into the Arabian Sea. I thought of the woman in Chopin's 'The Awakening' who escaped her miserable caged-pampered wife victorian life by going into the water and not coming out. I laughed that my life was nowhere as tragic, miserable, caged or pampered and I was grateful for my freedom, the wealth of my emotional range and the freedom to just FEEL and release all of this yucky stuff caged up inside me. So, I swam, I cried and I floated in the midst of it all. My venom drained into the Arabian Sea and the Arabian Sea cradled and rocked me like a baby as I released. I came out sunburned and exhausted and went home to sleep for two hours.<br /><br />I met my friend Erin (from Thailand) for lunch and she told me my eyes looked more clear than they ever had. She said I was glowing. Indeed, I felt exhausted, but like I had loofa'ed (sp?) major emotional baggage away. The next day, I showed up at class much more myself, but lighter than I had been not only the day before, but in the last six years. This lesson - don't compress. Release. Merge with the pain. Let it flow. It's okay. Nothing will kill you, it will just make it better.<br /><br />As a further result of rolfing , my ashtanga practice is more fluid. I study with Ken every weekday in a mysore style class. He is one of only 400 authorized Pathabi Jois instructors in the world, so to have him as a teacher and a rolfer is very auspicious for my development in yoga, indeed. He knows my body - he knows my range - and he helps lead me deeper into poses through expert adjustments. His knowledge of anatomy assures me that I can trust him to only take me as far as is healthy for me. And I'm going deeper than I ever have before.<br /><br />I must admit that there's a confused element of me that isn't sure what to make of Ken. Marie Helene was convinced that he was the perfect man for me. I didn't see him like this - I told her I saw him as a teacher. He does look very similar in face to my ex boyfriend Lance and that does slay my heart anew if I think about it. But, he's a different man. But, what does a woman do when she meets a man with whom she can trust and surrender? And when she does, this man patiently and gently opens her up, helps her face her fears, helps her find peace within, helps her be a better person, a lighter being, just plain more open??? This sounds like the openings that love brings you - a partner with whom you can be a better person. Right? I have a high, very high regard for Ken, but I love and respect him as a teacher. I think he's amazing and I genuinely believe that when you are ready, the teacher will appear. He's that. In some ways, I think he's helping to develop me to be open enought and in love enough with myself to be READY when the right man for me appears. Right now, it's all about me. It's not about a man, any man. This is me. And Ken is sooooo helpful in helping me meet and love that person. I am very grateful for him. Thank you, Ken the rolfer.<br /><br />As a further opening, I finally did something I always wanted to do. I pierced my nose. It didn't even hurt! I looked away and thought of ice cream and rainbows as the Italian lady pierced my nose with a needle and voila, finished! I loved the way it looked. Upon looking in the mirror, I jumped up and down and squeaed "I did it, I did it, I did it!" My friend Val, who was with me, just stood by and smiled at my childish excitement. I love having a pierced nose. On the way home, I noticed several people looking at me. I thought it must be b/c of my beautiful nose ring. I later realized that my turn signal was on the whole time. My sweet soul buddy Marie Helene is usually on the back of my bike and tells me to turn it off when I forgot. Because she returned to Kuwait (weep!), I no longer have that reminder.<br /><br />A word on Marie Helene - she is truly a wonderful, generous person. She will be my friend for life. We connected instantly and had it not been for her and her brilliant wit and sense of humor, the month during the yoga course wouldn't have been nearly as enjoyable. With her, every day was great. I befriended her b/c she was a miserable virgo who wouldn't eat anything but biscuits out of plastic wrappers. She was appalled and disgusted by the dirt and grime of India. She had just spent eight years living in Dubai where everything is immaculate, air conditioned and enclosed. Her courage in even coming to India is remarkable! So, I told her, "look, tomorrow I'm renting a motorbike, we're going out for lunch and I guarantee you'll finish the day in love with India." So we went. We went to a semi-nice outdoor restaurant where you could see the tandoori chef preparing the food and she ate real food. Hurray! We talked and talked and talked so much (for three hours straight) so that when she checked her watch, we'd already missed one hour of class! We started to drive home when the only torrential downpour since I've been here occurred. We were sopping wet. We got to class and everyone moved into the restaurant b/c it was covered (our yoga sala had no walls and was soaking). This would've been fine, except for the fact that the floor was thick dirt. For the last 15 minutes of the class we barely made it to, we were doing upward dogs, pushups and downward dogs with soaking wet clothes that grew increasingly muddier with each vinyasa. At one point, she looked at me dirty, muddy and with her wild blonde curls splayed on her wet face and we started cracking up. Indeed, she fell in love with India that day. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. The next lunch, I took her nearby to a thali joint that was the dirtiest one I could find. But, the food was deliciuos and she ate it. After getting dirty and eating dirty, she no longer had hesitations with all things India. She blossomed and opened and laughed a lot. I admire her courage, her humor, her openness and her bravery. A brilliant soul! On her last day, she reflected with a smile "I'm surprised at how much I love India. Markus (her husband) will be shocked. I want to come back here." Another convert. Another beautiful being on the path. I love you Marie Helene.<br /><br />A few days ago, after Marie Helene left, I had a dinner party when the restaurant opened and several people showed up - a motley cast of characters that I've had the good fortune of meeting. Freeman from junior high; Valerie - an ex fashion model who retired at 30 and spent a year in the jungle studying herb derived medicines from shamans and is now travelling through India; Robert - Val's friend from Ireland who is on a spiritual quest and sang Irish songs through the evening; Shantam and Niko - two hippys in their 50s who play flute and a slough of instruments and Niko's demure and quiet Japanese girlfriend Gone; Ken; Dylan- a devilishly handsome and flirty ashtanga teacher who has travelled the world and taught yoga for years and years and years and rapped some of his original scripts; a wild Frenchwoman and her English lover who I met earlier in a cafe and b/c they kept staring at me smiling, I just invited them - and they came - and she sang in a beautiful french voice. The food was delicious as we reclined on pillows looking over the lake and up to the stars. The guests were entertaining and amused and everyone had a lovely, lovely evening. I kept pinching myself that this was my dinner party. What a life!<br /><br />I just took a weekend dance workshop called the Five Rhythms where you dance for hours and release emotional stuff. It's a new agey thing prevalent in the SF North Bay that I've always been skeptical about. So, of course I decided to go, since the emcee was a famous lady from LA. The workshop was great. A lot of stuff came up about me closing my eyes or not making eye contact with people while dancing. Again, I was reminded about how I'm out there in the public, but always maintain somewhat of a distance from most people. Why? I don't know. But, I allowed myself to make eye contact, dance with people, and have a good time. I wasn't high and my eyes weren't closed. For the first time in my life, I felt the ripple of music undulate through my body as I danced in community with other people and I loved it! I took the emcee to a nearby town to go to the market and we got lost on the way back. The ten minue drive took 1.5 hours as we toured throught the lovely Goan countryside. We had a great time and made it in time for class. She let me stay in her hotel room b/c I didn't have the exorbinant amount of money to pay for my own room. She is full of vitality and I'd recommend her course to anyone. We may take a tour of Hampi together before she leaves India. Time will tell....<br /><br />My bollywood actor friend who I met while dancing around in the sand dunes with gypsies in Northern Rajastan came around for a visit. Asif Basra is on his way to a film release and unfortunately I can't go with him, but it was lovely to see him. He'll be returning with his friends to Goa and I sincerely hope that he'll choose to stay again with my friends at Whispering Lakes Resort. He has an idea of a television show where he travels the backwoods of India on a cultural tour. He invited me to be a guest on one of his shows and we discussed that I can also be his personal yoga trainer if I live in Bombay and he can refer me to other people. After some photos, he asked if I was interested in acting....Time will tell...<br /><br />So, I call this posting blown doors b/c while I've been in Goa, so many barricades have been eroded or dissolved or simply blown away by a lovely light energy that makes life...easier. And it's not always easy. For instance, I am being terrorized by a rat who is becoming more territorial of our shared bungalow that he actually ran across my arm from the other side of my mosquito net at 3 in the morning! He eats my soap, knocks over all my toiletries from my bathroom shelves and spills my coconut hair oil all over the floor just to take a sip. He has broken into my bungalow through his own doors in the roof and the floors and I can't even have a standing glass of water without him getting into it. Sunni promises that he'll set a trap today and I genuinely want the vermin dead! He's gone waaaaay to far this time. He's huge and not at all cute and he simply won't. let. me. sleep. Ah, India! <br /><br />But, it's all worth while. I still don't know what I'll do when I get home or if I'll even stay, but Alex's words "India will take care of you and then you'll take care of India" stay with me. India has taken beautiful care of me. I love this place. I will stay as long as I can - until my visa expires on Jan. 17 - and continue to meet and merge and surrender and open. Thank you, India. The boys say the yoga sala will commence building in a couple of days. I am looking very forward to teaching classes in such a lovely place and finally giving back even an iota of what India has given me to others.Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-56907587527651339392008-10-24T23:33:00.000-07:002008-10-25T00:03:55.418-07:00Goa YogaHere I am in Goa, India. I'm studying yoga at Riva Resort on Mandrem Beach. I'm staying at www.dandoholidayhuts.com with friends from Leh between Mandrem and Arambol Beaches. They are turning this resort into a meditation retreat center and gave me a free place to stay in exchange for teaching yoga and meditation. The flyer for the place even has my picture on it as I am raising my arms to the sun up in Leh. <br /><br />My hut is idyllic - made of grass with two windows overlooking a placid lake and palm tree groves with the sound of the waves crashing only five minutes away. I walk to school every morning at 6 a.m. I walk along a river, through a palm tree grove, past a small gathering of Indian homes with a family of pigs roaming about, then along the river again until it comes to the ocean. Then I walk along the beach until I get to my open air school.<br /><br />In school, we are learning Ashtanga Yoga through the Iyengar and Himalaya methods. We also are learning chants, pranayama, meditation, anatomy, ayurveda and various philosophies. The two main teachers are indian and have studied with masters since a young age. Their age is impossible to tell - they appear very youthful. It's a tough discipline as we are doing four hours of physically demanding ashtanga yoga a day. We have finished one week.<br /><br />The first day, I cursed myself and said "this is really hard - why am I here?" But I see that the reason I am here is to slow down, get back within my body, tone up my muscles and relax into all that is India and all that is yoga. I'm still travelling, but I've been whirling about for so long that I've lost my center and my practice. It's really nice, though challenging, to come back to these via mediation, breathing and yoga. This course is professional and slow - nothing is easy - but it's all very deep and I am already experiencing lessons and emotions that I will reflect upon in a later blog as I am still processing. Mainly, I feel alone and I know that I can not go back to a corporate life. I don't know what to do and feel a bit lost. At the same time, I feel I'm easing into the true essence of me that makes me feel really good. If I continue this practice, when I make a choice, it will serve my highest interest and I can be healthy and happy.<br /><br />The resort I stayed at in Egypt contacted me to potentially start a yoga program . We have talked and I will know more later in December. If it's a go, I may return to Egypt in January and work for three months and study arabic and teach english, then perhaps explore the middle east. It is so fascinating to me. Not to mention, the economy is not so good to find a job now - teaching english and yoga is always a possibility. Life is nice. I just wish I had a man whom I could share all this love with.<br /><br />As soon as I returned to India, I was relieved to see cows on the road. Two girls in the car with me were freaking out about EVERYHING and I remained unfazed. Welcome home to crazy beautiful India. I eventually found my friends' place and only one of them was here, buried underneath remodeling projects. The place itself is gorgeous and there is much work to do before it is officially open in two weeks. Last night, my other friend arrived and I feel like I am again with my Leh "family." We've adopted a kitten and have the landlord's dog, so we even have pets!<br /><br />The people in my course are very nice - 20 women plus one man - and no one bothers me. They are from all over the world: Turkey (2), Lebanon, Italy, Slovenia, France (the couple), England, Canada, Holland, Ireland, Scotland, America and Mexico. I'm learning just as much about the rest of the world as I am yoga. My steady companion is a beautiful Lebanese woman named Marie Helene. We roam around on my motor bike during breaks and discuss life in the Middle East. She has lived in Dubai and is in the process of moving to Kuwait. We get along like schmick and schmack and I'm very happy to have another close girlfriend. She's very funny, very worldly and totally unique. She's going to teach me belly dancing and arabic. I'm going to teach her what I know of yoga and perfect English. Hurray!<br /><br />I saw my old high school acquaintance Freeman in Goa. He tried to surprise me at the airport b/c he missed his flight, but we missed each other. So, we caught up here. He's actually a man, now. Surprise! And India has been very good to him. He's cool, easy, warm and generous. He also lives a life of enterprise and freedom that he is passionate about. He loves India. He reminds me that you can do anything you set your mind to; including living in India and making your dream job yourself. I really respect him and appreciate that I can call him a friend now. I hope to see him again. He, like Marie Helene, is a virgo. I LOVE virgos!<br /><br />Today is our first half day off of school. I'm going to help the guys make a path around the lake and we'll swim in the warm water of the ocean thereafter. The beach is mostly empty now as tourist season doesn't begin until Nov. 1. Goa is thus uncharacteristically quiet and clean. I can only imagine how things will change...I've been travelling over 9 months now as of 10/23 - I can hardly believe the transformation I've undergone. I've found myself and I love me. I miss my friends, too. I wonder every day how on earth I will return to my prior life. I'm not sure how. Everything seems and feels so different now. We'll see....Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-38178659543641643002008-10-19T01:36:00.000-07:002008-10-19T01:37:49.085-07:00Mystical EgyptEvery fantasy I've ever had about Egypt is true. Every one. It is nothing less than astonishing every single day: Billowing sand dunes, crystal mountains, mystical pyramids, history everywhere and in everything, veiled ladies with beautiful kohl-lined mysterious eyes, muslim men in flowing galabeas (sp?) and muslim hats, shisha/hukkah pipe smoking (fruit flavored tobacco inside) at every other shop, souqs/bazzars winding through alleys built thousands of years ago with ornate wooden windows (for the ladies to peer out of from inside) and moroccan style lanterns lighting the way, shops selling belly dancing fabric, big jewelry, foreign instruments, buckets of spices, ornate decorations, slabs of beef and camel, etc.; feluccas sailing down a peaceful nile river with reeds on the river banks (although no crocodiles or baby moseses in a basket floating by), hieroglyphics on giant stones that are marvels to behold in both size and energy, ridiculously rich sheiks with turbans and gold throwing money as if it was nothing while dancing with a gyrating bad girl from Quatar or Saudi Arabia in a dance club, silent sands, still deserts, awesome sunrises on luscious oases surrounded by sand mountains converted to tombs for the dead, the call to prayer echoing over any town five times a day, sunsets that spill over the richness of history, camels, bedoins, incredible diving and underwater life with crystal clear visibility and last but not least, a history and allure of the captivating and indescribably type - an essence that defies any description. A mystical calling...<br /><br />And also the unexpected - a large reason I went to Egypt. What is Islam? Repressive to women? Full of American-hating terrorists? Belief in jihad? Intolerant of other religions? Will they stone me if I accidentally show my ankle or show a little too much curve with form fitting clothes and speak with an american accent? Do they hate us? Who is us? What is the truth about Islam? What is the truth about the middle east? What does THEIR media say truth?<br /><br />I received answers to all of these. Islam is love and universal connectedness. They view women as needing to be protected b/c men can't be responsible for their own sexual urges. They love Americans - they hate George Bush. Jihad as it is currently being used as a justification for hate and death and murder is the result of bad men, not Islam. Islam recognizes other religions and has respect for their teachings, but believe Islam is the right religion. They tolerate westerners and feel that yes, we're immoral, and yes we don't respect our bodies by not covering them, but we are different and therefore are not overtly offensive - only mildly. The men, especially appreciate the opportunity to see some skin and the ability to walk close to and actually smell, and possibly brush against an actual women. Men and women don't touch - even husband and wife between sunrise and sunset - and they certainly don't have love affairs as we do in the west. They get married (a marriage, btw, can be annulled within hours, if desired). They liked my american accent as I practiced my arabic and smiled broadly when I told them where I was from. I received gifts everywhere I went and was always invited to sit for a cup of tea. They recognize that "us" is not the united states in that not all of us support our president. You see, their president is a dictator, but none of them can speak out against him or they will be harrassed, imprisoned or killed. EVERY Egyptian I spoke to expressed hatred for their president, but frustration at their inability to speak out about it out of fear. They expressed hatred b/c they had no civil rights or liberties to travel outside the country. The economy is horrible and people are starving, but the money is being taken by the president. They MUST declare a religion - either muslim or christian (the only choices) to get any sort of identification. They can't leave the country unless they pay 12,000 Euros. The last man who went up against the president during "elections" was imprisoned for something (no one really knows) and came out silent, crazy and crippled. No one has questioned anything in public since. When the president dies, his son will take over. The oppression will continue. They love Egypt, but they hate their president? Sound familiar? "Us" is more common than we thought. The truth about Islam is that it doesn't say women must veil and hide in corners. It doesn't say westerners are the spawn of satan. It doesn't say maim and destroy. This is merely the way some people have chosen to interpret islam either forcefully or otherwise. Islam actually says that a guest is God and should be treated with all due respect. As a muslim, these people are blessed to recognize right living and treat every person with respect and courtesy. They see women as someone to be protected - pure and virtuous. The way women veil is subjective - many women love to adorn their outfits with matching scarves on their heads - this was particularly apparent in Cairo. Of course, their are exceptions, fundamentalists, abusive husbands, repressed victims, as in every culture - that take it too far - this is what we've seen. It's not good. At all. I saw that, too. The Middle East is complicated and requires much more exploration to even begin to understand. Some countries are more repressive than others. Some hate westerners. Some love America. Oil is important. Geography is important. History is important. Respect for islam and the culture is key. Always. That said, I don't believe isolating ourselves and demonizing muslims, a la the media's inculcations, is the proper way to achieve peace. We need a dialogue. Not out of fear - just respect for differences. That's it. Their media doesn't demonize westerners - it just covers the news. The economic crisis, for instance. Every Egyptian I met hopes, really really really hopes Obama will win. They hate what Bush has done to demonize thier religion and culture b/c it is gravely untrue. That is the truth. I hope all of you visit the middle east and see the truth for yourselves.<br /> <br />I started in Dahab and stayed in a luxury resort that overlooked the Red Sea and had a domed ceiling of brick above my bed and a whitewashed veranda. I slept on pillows on the veranda a couple of nights b/c the breeze felt so nice. I scuba dived one day and it was clear and lovely with bright corals and fish and manta rays - I dived Castle and the Island. I had succulent calamari at a bedoin restaurant with pillow seats on the floor, shesha pipes, billowing fabric for walls on the north and south sides only with sea on one side and sand mountains on the other. The next day, I went further north to the blue hole with a nice Dutch lady I met and we snorkeled around the blue hole and actually dove in one meter. Gorgeous once again. Thereafter, I wanted the calamari, so I caught a taxi, i.e. a camel, and rode along the Red Sea for about 1 km so I could taste the delicious calamari again. When I got there, the proprietor exclaimed with joy that he would give me his eyes if I asked, he was so happy to see me. The Egyptians, you see, are very romantic and use such comments regularly. They're also very funny. I can't tell you how many times I would walk past a man and he'd ask "how many camels?" I made friends with the manager of the resort and he invited me to breakfast (sunset breaking of the ramadan fast) with he and his brother at his home. His brother had been preparing the food all day and it was delicious. Beef, onions, pita, tahini, salad - all very fresh and delicious. They had the tv turned on during the breakfast. I expected something holy. Nope. But, delicious and a great experience to be invited. The following day, I met him at sunrise and we climbed the mountain behind the hotel. It had a gorgous view of the resplendent sun rising over the mountains of Saudi Arabia across the Red Sea ("Mecca is just there," he pointed). Then he leaned in for a kiss to which I protested. "Don't stop me," he stated. I stopped him. No more invitations for me to dinner. : ( <br /><br />I next flew to Cairo as Ramadan finished. I gasped as I first laid eyes on the Nile and saw the three pyramids of Giza from so high in the sky. It was incredible! The taxi driver had a scratch, low voice like Joe Pesce and looked like an aged and weathered gangster with a pocked face and leather jacket. He explained that he had a wife and was looking for a western wife. He wantd her young like me even though he was 57. Was I interested? No thanks, just the hotel please. Cairo at dusk appeared dirty and noisy and the streets had only men wandering around the hotel. I didn't like it. The next day was different - I saw women out en masse. The three days after Ramadan are like Christmas - no one is working and everyone is celebrating and eating. Girls are allowed to roam free. Imagine my surprise at seeing boys and girls walking arm in arm through the streets of Cairo! The girls wore tight fitting denim skirts and pants with sparkles on them and garish tight t-shirts over long sleeved form fitting shirts. Of course, thier heads were covered with bright scarves tucked tightly under their chins and surrounding ounces of thick makeup and heavily lined kohl eyes. They were gorgeous and young and happy and touching!!! What a trip! I later learned that this is a special time of year. When I later returned to Cairo, no one was touching, but the girls still dressed the same.<br />Cairo is modern with peppered history dating back thousands of years, i.e. islamic and coptic cairo, and on the west of the Nile River b/c the east is reserved for the dead. They believe that the dead rise to the afterlife with the rising sun. Simple. There are lots of cars, traffic, smog, people from all over the world and many women on the streets, as well as men. Men only smoke in the sheesha shops - as well as the occasional western women. These shops are prolific. I explored Cairo on foot and got lost in downtown amid the post-ramadan revelry, visited the astounding Egyptian museum and saw the treasures of King Tut's tomb as well as mummified pharohs and the supernumerary wonders of pharonic egypt. I visited Saqquara and another place that begins with a C to see pyramids and tombs with beautiful inscriptions and paintings of everyday life and the passage to the everafter. I learned of the various Gods and what their purpose is. I learned of the celebration of life. I learned that no one is sure how these temples were erected. I learned that they weren't slaves, but masters, who erected the pyramids during the winter season when the Nile flooded and they couldn't tend to their farms - a "solution for unemployment," apparently.<br />I met with my group to go on a two week tour - a young australian couple, two fashionista kids from Queens, a dirk-like Canadian exploring the world and hoping to get to oxford on a rugby scholarship and an eccentric Kiwi guy that I couldn't really label. Everyone was nice and young. Our guide, named Gandhi b/c he looks like him and is named Mohammed like every other Egyptian, was a bit older than I and very organized and nice. I was irked to have a time schedule, but very lucky to have a guide and such nice people with which to explore Egypt. I reminded myself that I used to have such a regiment that I had to account for every six minutes - if I could do that this would be no problem. We went to the Pyramids of Giza which were truly awe-inspiring and visited the Giant Sphyx. As I was walking up to this mystical piece of ancient egypt majestically situated in front of the middle great pyramid, I heard on my right "camel, camel" which I ignored b/c I knew it was someone selling a stuffed animal camel. I walked on and marveled at the majestic state of all this. Then, however, the voice said "dancing camel" and I turned around to see stuffed animal camels dancing on the white alabaster hallway - the voice was hidden behind an ancient pillar. I just had to laugh. Welcome to Egypt. A place where ancient majestic history rich and resplendent is met with people needing money, yet maintaing their humor all the time. A common greeting is "welcome to alaska." Very funny people. I didn't buy the dancing camel. I kindof wish I had.<br /><br />We took an overnight train to Aswan which was conservative and beautiful and calm. It's more african than the rest of Egypy b/c it is Nubian. The people are dark skinned and they sell more spices and play drums and chant in an africanized fashion. We shopped in the souq where two different shopkeepers brushed against me and I balked - they acted surprised. It irked me. One other shopkeeper was all googley-eyed and gave me great discounts b/c I agreed to shake his hand for a lower price. Selling myself, I guess. Not too bad - I got a great price. I also was offered seven thousand camels as I walked solo along the Nile River one day. I met an English man along the way who asked if I'd join his feluca. I declined, but suggested a cup of coffee as I was exhausted. We walked to a gorgeous view and it happened to be McDonalds! It had the most beautiful view of the Nile and delicious turkish coffee (mud like and small and very, very strong). Who knew? <br /><br />We took a feluca up the Nile and stopped overnight for a fireside dance and singing with several other touring feluccas. I had a bad case of diarreaha and missed the party, but no worries. It was lovely to be there. We visited Abu Simbel which was a giant temple for Ramses and another one for his wife Nefrititi carved in to two giant stone mountains. UNESCO moved the site to avoid flooding when the damn was built. I was in awe as to the beauty and magnitude of these temples as well as the feat of moving them! We also visited an island that had a temple for Isis on it - I can't remember the name right now. Again, there were carvings and ruins and temples that were larger than life and absolutely awe-inspiring. We swam in the Nile with no crocodiles and it was cool water with a strong current. I had to pinch myself that I was actually IN THE NILE RIVER!!! We visited a nubian village and I bought candy for the children. Two fruit sellers proposed marriage in 10 minutes. <br /><br />We carried on to Luxor which was magic. Luxor had Karnak, the Temple of Luxor, the Valley of Kings, the Valley of Queens, Ramses' Temple, the Laborer's Valley, Hatsheput's Temple and so many other places. Luxor is still being excavated b/c it has so many antiquities dating back thousands of years. They are regularly discovering new antiquities and resituating entire villages (and parts of Luxor itself) due to discoveries of towns atop tombs. Even today! Karnak was breathtaking in detail and grandeur. Many generations of phaorohs added their mark here and the statues, carving, obelisks and ruins defied description. The Valleys all contain(ed) dead people and were stuffed with beautiful objects and art for the afterlife of the deceased. The Royal people obviously had much more than the laborers. I learned that these valleys were forgotten in history b/c their location was known only to the ruling pharohs and of course the laborers (specially skilled people who built and decorated the tombs as soon as a pharoh took the throne). The laborers lived in nearby village specially built for to work on the temples regularly. When the government changed sometime after the Romans accepted Christianity, the bulding of the temples ceased and these people had no source of income. They would go into the temples and take only what they needed to survive. When we went to their tombs, we saw equally skilled work on the walls - they worked six days on the pharohs tombs and one on their own. Their was also a greco-roman church in this village, which illustrated the acceptance of egyptian religion fused with greco-roman influence. Emporers were dressed as pharohs and going through the same afterlife process as the pharohs with the egyptian gods dressed somewhat differently (with roman cross-hatched design) and carrying knives. I took a hot air balloon with Twinkle (from New York - an awesome 22 year - beautiful, brilliant and super cool) over all of the temples at sunrise. It was pricey, but I loved feeling like I was one of the gods flying over the temples to see if the giant statues and temples pleased me enough to grant eternal life. We were mostly pleased up there in the sky. It was truly awe inspiring to see the reverence for pharohs and life. We went to McDonalds - the first time I had food there in over 20 years! - and it overlooked the beautiful Luxor Temple. I think McDonald's must have prime real estate all over Egypt! Luxor Temple had an avenue of Sphinxes and dozens of temples and statutes richly adorned. We went at night and everything was illuminated beautifully. It felt out of this world. We took a horse and buggy back to the hotel that night along the Nile. As we were trotting along past ancient relics and marvelous hotels overlooking the Nile, I once again gave thanks for my life. I smiled the whole way home.<br />We next took a train to Alexandria, which was breezy and beautiful. Most of the historical places were destroyed. The New Yorkers and I teamed up. We had a drink on the water, then visited the library (closed for Friday prayer). We got lost downtown, then took a taxi to the famous fort which was built over a famous ancient lighthouse that fell into the sea during an earthquake. There, we had a delicous seafood lunch, then went shopping for nubian jewelry. We walked back along the water's windy edge and I felt so revived - I felt like I was in San Francisco. Married couples were walkig arm in arm and smiling at the water. Fisherman cast their lines in formation along the entire coast. It was lovely. We stumbled upon a gorgeous mosque with a giant fountain. Alongside this was a carnival with families beaming and smiling amid the lights of the rides. I tried some cotton candy - tastes just like the ones at home. We later met up with the group and brought them back here for George's birthday ride on a rocket ship. Then, we had more extraordiary seafood. We chatted on my balcony deep into the evening as it overlooked the water. We left too early the next day. I want to return to Alexandria. An entire temple and two cities fell into the water and is aviailable for scuba viewing. They plan on building the world's first ever underwater museum. Diving before it is built is costly. Perhaps I can study arabic, teach english, and scuba dive on the side with my income...we'll see...<br />As we headed to the desert, we stopped at Cleopatra's beach, where she was rumored to escape to with Mark Anthony. It was nice to see waves crashing over rocks and feel the sand beneath my feet. We stopped for only 10 minutes, so no swimming. But lovely. Next, we went to the giant oasis of Siwa. Thousands of palm trees and mineral springs and an ancient dilapidated city center consisting of salt-sand walls that fell to pieces during a rain storm. The resulting structures spilling over the top of the hill reminded me of Gaudi park in Barcelona, Spain - but all natural. There were several mosques here, so the call to prayer was very, very audible. Here, the women were even more conservative and I rarely say a woman's face as it was under a heavy veil - most with no eye-slits. We visited a mountain where tombs for the common people were built. The art was crude and very roman influenced. We then went to the Oracle's temple where Alexander the Great came several times for guidance and to inquire if he was indeed the son of Zeus. No one knows the answer. I asked the ruined temple what my purpose was and had the thought that it is whatever I make it. We then went to Cleopatra's bath - a mineral spring - and had a brief swim - I swam in pants and a t-shirt. Cleopatra never came here - Alexander did. There were men around waiting for the opportunity to see bare flesh. We travelled by donkey cart, by the way. At the mountain of the dead, one donkey started braying inconsolably as we walked away - Twinkle and I felt horrible - but that's the working life among donkeys, I suppose. We smoked shishas here at night b/c there wasn't much to do. Siwa was really beautiful. Very calm. Very nice. Very muslim. In the desert.<br /><br />Gandhi and I discussed marriage in islam. He told me about the ability to marry and divorce so sex isn't illegal. He told me how no one touches unless the girl is bad and she is VERY bad if you can kiss her before marriage. As a result, sex is like war, he says. The women is terrified and never wants to do it. The man has no idea what to do. When he tried to touch his wife's breast and asked what was wrong she replied "I've been hiding them for 25 years." She also had a genital "adjustment" when she was younger, so her sensual pleasure is gone. He said for many women, the wedding night is the worst night of their life if the husband is not patient or kind. Many men reach the age of 40 having never touched a woman and even knowing what their wrist feels like or what her hair smells like is a source of intrigue. This is the reason the men touched me in the Aswan market and why I get so many marriage proposals. Western women are so much more liberated - the men want to learn. It's natural. Crazy.<br />We next travelled to a smaller oasis and into the white desert. We passed a crystal hill where the rocks are all giant mounds of crystal sparkling in the sun. "Crystal Energy is Good!" I sang. The whole group started singing this song thereafter. We swam in another mineral spring and ascended a hill in the Black Desert overlooking dozens of black volcanoes peppered along the blackened desert horizon. We arrived to the White Desert at sunset and everything was gleaming pink and pearl like. The moon was full and illuminted the giant white rock formations all night long. It looks very similar to Salar de Uyuni in Bolivia/Chile. It looks like snow and Dali drew pictures of the Bolivian rocks - tall, strange contorted white formations jutting out of sand - but everything is bone dry and surrounded by sand and sun. <br /><br />Gandhi and I walked into the desert as everyone slept. It was too mystical for sleep. He told me I should stay in Egypt and offered to marry me and give me a house as his second wife. It was a nice offer, I said, but there was no way I could live in Islamic society. Then he said he was kidding. He later said he wasn't. Either way, I told him that I want to marry a western man - and I do. An islamic life is not for me, even if my husband is a good man, like Gandhi. I hope we remain friends. He taught me a lot about Islam. I even shook his hand and hugged him when we said goodbye in Cairo. Other than that, no touching. Just talking. Thank you, Gandhi.<br /><br />We returned to Cairo and had a farewell dinner at a famous kebab place in islamic cairo. Cats were everywhere and it felt ancient eating outisde in a labrynthian alley. Gandhi brought Twinkle and I to a place where we could buy shisha pipes (I bought one for my friends who have a new restaurant in Goa). On the way, we had to step over a calf that had its throat slit and had blood gushing onto the stones beneath its dead body being bludgeoned by two men. This is islamic Cairo. The streets are so old and ancient that they can't even install plumbing. Everything is done in the old tradition. The next day, I reconnected with Ed (the Englishman I met in Aswan) and returned to islamic cairo with Ed and Ben. We walked through downtown Cairo to get there and saw the streets teeming with activity. A vendor gave me a delicous glass of juice which I drank with no unsavory after-affects. We stumbled upon a coffee house that dated back 140 years. We sat for an hour in the courtyard of a giant mosque and spoke with an Egyptian about life, politics and religion. A man came along and gave me several books on islam. I sat veiled and at peace in this sanctuary in the middle of a thriving city of 20 million people (80% islam, 20% christian, btw). Then, we went back into the bazzar and did some haggling and shopping. We finally relaxed in a famous shisha cafe and had exceptionally delicious fresh pomegranate juice (served with spoon and straw) and a strawberry tobacco flavored shisa. Next to us was a lovely lady in her 70s who has been travelling most of her life. She was vibrant and beautiful and inspired me that I could live a life on the road if I desired. She saw Omar Sharif here once, she said. I wish I could see him. Gorgeous man. Egyptians passed by selling everything under the sun and I bargained very hard for a scarf. I felt bad at the low price I got b/c the state of affairs is very grim for many. I gave all of my food away as we were walking through Cairo. You can't help everybody. We ended the night with a tea and shisha on a beautiful hill overlooking all of Cairo. We drove past the citadel on our way up and down. The minarets and spires of the thousands of mosques on the Cairo skyline was truly dazzling.<br /> <br />That night, Ed and I went for Italian food in the ex-pat part of town on an island in the middle of the Nile, which was delicious. We found a way to buy a bottle of wine and left to find a place to drink it. Not allowed in the restaurant. We explored a beautiful ancient house with an open door to try to get to the roof, but no access. I saw a sign that said "apartment for rent for foreigners" and a man sitting near the sign inquired if I was interested. We proceeded to check out what an apartment in Cairo was like for 3000 egyptian pounds. We walked forever and he asked several doormen along the way in several apartments something and turned around to take us to the next place. Eventually, we found two vacancies and they were both dives with giant furniture and tiny windows. We carried on to the Nile and went into a glitzy bar/restaurant that reminded me of Miami. The prices were outrageous and we had no cash, so we walked on to find an ATM and a different option. We met several felucca captains and arranged to have a one hour tour for 50 pounds (about $10USD). We passed a private club where a wedding party entered and they invited us in. We carried on to town where there were cafes and rich egyptians and expats having coffees and shisas al fresco. We found an atm, bought some chocolate pastries and went back in the direction from whence we'd come. There were weddings in every river club and restaurant and park and giant feluccas were sailing past with egyptians dancing and celebrating with the bridal couple. We entered the club to find the couple that invited us in. The doorguy begrudgingly let us enter for 'two minutes only' and told us where the party was. We entered and just kindof observed the couple on the stage smiling out at the dancing crowd. Then, a man whispered into the ear of the groom and they both looked at us and the man called us over, smiling. We took pictures with them at their request, then the crowd pulled us on to the dance floor and everyone was snapping our photos and requesting dances - kids, old people, men, women. Ed kept saying we needed to leave b/c we were stealing the attention from the bride and groom and I kept saying we had to leave b/c security was going to come for us. But the crowd would not let us out of the circle. We had no choice but to keep dancing! We were finally pulled out of the crowd by the door man who was laughing and smiling while saying we weren't allowed. Imagine our surprise when we walked a bit farther up the road and saw a different wedding party in the same club dancing outside. THIS was the couple that invited us in. So, we actually crashed someone's wedding and they were as warm and welcoming as anyone I've ever met! We went for the felucca ride with red wine and chocolate - we paid the captain extra baksheesh for the illegality of the action - and toured around gorgeous Cairo with its towering lights on one side and the luxury villas of the embassies on the island. It was really romantic as we sat there taking it all in, side by side, as mates. The word that came to mind was "captivating" and Ed agreed. I fell absolutely in love with Cairo and finally understood a line in a book I read: "When you first arrive in Cairo, you can't wait to leave. When you finally leave Cairo, you can't wait to come back." <br />We tipped the captain and walked along to find some live music. I asked a tall Egyptian man with funky glasses whether he worked at a nightclub with live music and he said "yes." He was a sound engineer and took us for free to the swankiest club in all of Cairo. A famous Egyptian singer would be performing that evening (morning, actually, 4 am) and he kept tryign to tell us we should come back later, but we decided to stay and check the progress of the evening. We had one prohibitively expensive cocktail, then switched to tea and shisha. What transpired was weird. The DJ was incredible; truly one of the best I've ever heard. Only women danced and they were clearly prostitutes but incredible belly dancers in their tight jeans and tank tops. Every once in a while, a song would play in an arbic language and the men would come out and sing and dance. They clearly were gay, but since homosexuality is illegal, they weren't. No one was allowed to touch anyone else, but the indications were pretty darn stark! Then, it became crowded with people from Saudi Arabia and Quatar and Morocco. The Egyptian singer and band walked out onto the dance floor dressed in white galabeas and the picnic-looking head scarves of a sheik and sang while walking between the dancers. Men would say something in his ear while he was singing then throw giant wads of cash into the sky. Five men in white shirts had the job of picking up the bills. No one else touched them. There were giant body guards dressed in black suits that held up their hands to keep me from coming too close to who knows who on the dance floor (I danced once) and otherwise watched the women dancing at a very uncomfortable range. The rich men continued to throw money as they danced in increments of 50 pounds as Ed and I gasped in astonishment. I asked the bathroom attendant why they did this: "Because they are Crazy - not from Egypt - crazy people!" she said. <br />Mohammed, our friend that we met on the street, later told us that they were sons of oil sheiks and danced like this every night. They collected 30,000 pounds in this manner that evening = split evenly between the singer and the house. We finally left at 5 in the morning when the singing had ended. It was wild! <br />Mohammed had invited us to his house for lunch, so Ed picked me up at 1 pm for a 3pm lunch. We hopped in a cab with Mohammed and for about an hour to a suburb outside the citadel. Mohammed lives like so many Egyptians in a shoddy high rise apartment next to dozens of other shoddy high rise apartments. We arrived on the top floor to a clean and elegant little place with big furniture and a wailing baby boy. His son is 1.6 and a beautiful little boy. His wife came out blushing with a headscarf and said "hello." She spoke no English. Nonetheless, she took me into her bedroom and gave me egyptian kohl eyes and wrapped my head in my scarf in the muslim fashion. She was very sweet and said "I love you very much" as she insisted I take a plastic pearl necklace as a gift. We viewed photos of their family and life and played with their son while waiting for her fasting period to pass before eating. During Ramadan, she couldn't pray for four days due to her period and was now catching up. At 5:30, she served us a delicious Egyptian feast which she took four hours to prepare. We talked about the repression of Egyptians and rituals of islam. They were a truly kind couple. We were very lucky to have such an expose into Egyptian life. <br />On our way back to the hotel, we stopped at the same hill overlooking Cairo and I got to say goodbye to this incredible city. I jokingly kissed Ed on the cheek, to which the driver with his ever watchful eye exclaimed. Mohammed immediately told me "Kyra, please don't kiss Ed - the driver has requested." Islam. I made a special point to smile, make direct eye contact with the driver and say goodbye to him when I got out of the cab. He smiled back and I wondered if he thought I was a demon. Likely. Ed and Mohammed carried on and I returned to the hotel to pack and go to the airport. At the airport, I had two men pull a scam that they could help me get through the lines faster. I knew it was unnecessary, but gave both of them backsheesh of 20 ponds each. I generously tipped the bathroom attendant as well. When I realized I didn't have enough pounds to get a cup of coffee, the service guy said I could have it for free. So I gave him the rest of my money as a tip ( 7 pounds, but 12 pounds for a cup of coffee). He smiled very large and so did I. I love Egypt.<br />And now I'm back in India. In Goa...I am unfazed by crazy traffic, cows, leering men, substandard accomodation, veiled women and the overall bizarreness of India. It's nice to be back. Really nice. AstshtiKyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-67376532615677160532008-09-26T06:29:00.000-07:002008-09-26T08:09:24.998-07:00Sweetness in the BellyI spent today online downloading travel documents and buying supplies in Delhi for my trip to Egypt tomorrow. It's funny - I feel so at home in India that I want to make sure I transact all of my e-business and purchase of toiletries here. Chances are Egypt is every bit as e-resourceful and western consumer oriented. But, one never knows until one goes. All I know is that I really like India. A lot. Things continue to unfurl in a lyrical wave of motion and movement: unbroken wholeness in flowing movement, indeed!<br />So, a while ago, friends from Leh who owned La Pizzeria offered me a free beach shack if I'd teach yoga at their new resort/restaurant in Mandrem Beach, Goa. I said maybe, but thought not, b/c I imagined Goa to be a party place. Then, I looked into it and found it to be idyllic, peaceful and beautiful. I have really been missing the water in my travels. I also miss a rigorous yoga routine and want to study a bit more. What do you know? I looked at the only yoga school near Mandrem and they have a teacher training course from 10/19-11/16 and it's vinyasa, ashtanga, dancing, creative arts, bhakti...in short, all the stuff I love - on the beach! So, I applied with a hopeful wish and a chant to Ganesh and whoopdeedoo I was offered the last slot - a walk in slot - that is perfect for me b/c I'll live in the beach shack nearby. Kismet coalesces again! (BTW, my spelling skills are clearly atrophying as I can't remember how to spell "coalesce," but you know what I mean...) Thank you, India! The teacher training url is here: <br /><a href="http://www.yogagoaindia.com/yoga_teacher_training.php">http://www.yogagoaindia.com/yoga_teacher_training.php</a><br />On either 10/18 or hopefully 10/17, I fly straight from Cairo to Bombay to Goa to make it in time. Phew! I'm really looking forward to a dedicated practice again. I wanted one more teachers training or a serious ashram stint to conclude the India tour. Now it will be complete and blissful. That is the future. Now, back to the past: Rajastan - also complete and blissful.<br /><br />We left rainy Mt. Abu and headed for Jodhpur. I wanted to skip this city. I'm glad I didn't. I stayed at Yogi's guest house. Yogi is a young Indian guy who lived two years in San Francisco. We have a bunch of mutual friends - my international party pals of whom Ben, the DJ inBangkok who I first stayed with on this journey, is a part. Small world. Yogi explained that he has an entire warehouse full of Rajastani furniture in CA waiting to be sold. Throughout Rajastan, I've repeatedly found myself saying "perhaps I should become a buyer or an interior designer, specializing in India and Mughal design" b/c I take pictures like crazy of color combinations, architectural detail and rich tapestries by the hundred. The stuff just fascinates me. As if I had a light on my head indicating the same, one out of every three shopkeepers or hoteliers would ask me if I was in the design business. Of course, they all thought I was french, too, but that only adds to this fantasy, right? Anyway, when Yogi said this and further explained that his friend in CA is a trusted friend who has handled the matter thus far, but works too hard as an engineer, my interest prongs went up. I postponed my departure from Jodphur for a few hours so I could see his warehouse. The furniture is unique, beautiful, distinctive, custom designed and cheap! This is a real possibility. Yogi also took me to Maharani something-or-other that makes textiles and fabrics. They create fabrics used by Hermes, Versace, etc. and they are gorgeous! I splurged on a silver and golden woven tapestry made in the 17C Mughal style that reminds me of Klimt's 'The Kiss' and wanted to swim in the gorgeous miles and miles of fabric! Now, I have two very solid contacts if I do this business. An interesting prospect, indeed.<br /><br />We drove through Jaisalmer, stopping at a lovely palace on the water, and on to Sam Desert National Park in time for sunset. We settled into one of the luxury tent villages and for 1800 rupees (I usually pay 300 rupees max for a room), I got two camel rides (sunset and sunrise), dinner, a cultural performance, a tent w/toilet and shower (bucket water) and breakfast. The best deal I could find. <br /><br />I invited Kalyan to hop on the back of the camel for the sunset ride and he was elated as this was his first time. He was terrified and made little sounds the entire time. He's very funny! We hopped off atop a sand dune and the gypsy dancers who were following us did a song and dance on the dunes as the sun set behind them. The dunes were small, but lovely. Tourists had spilled out on camels by the busload, so the place was crowded with tourists, gypsies, camels and muslim camel riders in turbans and long flowing white garments. There were also beatles and the little tracks they made across the sand were every bit as intricate and decadent as the mughal motifs adorning the palaces of Rajastan.<br /><br />We returned for tea and dinner, after which the resident Gypsy troupe of three sisters did a dance replete with spinning, clanging bells, dark eyes, brilliant uniforms and graceful moves including brass bowls balancing on one beautiful lady's head, walking on nails and hopping along inside a bowl with said brass bowls balancing on her head. The muslim band sang and played traditional instruments. I was the only westerner at the camp along with two Indian families who looked at me with pity in their eyes as I sat for the performance. Shortly after the performance began, a group of young, hipsters joined the group - they looked Italian in style, but they were Indian. The young daughter of one of the families pulled my hand up to dance with her and the gypsies in the usual touristish bit where the audience dances with the performers. She said during a graceful turn: "that man is a famous bollywood actor - he's on tv." They were all joining us as we danced around the fire. Their moves were good - typical Bollywood. You ever know what can happen in India. Dancing with Bollywood and gypsies around a desert camp? Who knew? <br /><br />After dinner, I asked if they were from Bombay and asked for suggestions as to where to go. Asif Basra, the actor, gave me his e-mail and cell phone number and an invitation to explore the set with him to see what a day was like. "You can even perhaps get a small part if you're interested," he said. Perhaps. The rest of his pals wrote their cell phone numbers after I told them that I loved Royal Enfields and rode on the back of one across Nepal and throughout Leh. They have a bike club, you see...it's an Enfield thing. They immediately to tout me around Bombay on their bikes when I arrive. I feel very fortunate to have a band of Bollywood crew ready to roll when I hit Bombay. Perhaps the film will roll, too. Asif made a file about a westerner travelling in India, a love story of India, called "Outsourced." I'd like to see it. The gents left to their camp in the dunes and I pulled my bed out of the stifling tent under the stars for a sweet, desert sleep.<br />The next morning, I went for the sunrise camel safari. It was peaceful and calm and quiet. There was only one other camel out on the dunes. I was alone with the young camel driver. We ran through the dunes for quite some time and spotted a deer. I felt bad for the guy, as this was his only income and he was sweet and innocent. I tipped him 500 rupees just b/c I felt like being very, very generous. The look on his face was priceless - he was beyond thrilled. As soon as we returned to camp, he ran to the others and told them. <br /><br />Shortly thereafter, the owner, Karim, shouted to me on his way out: "Kyra, you are family now. You have made my cousin very happy. We hope you do not leave. Stay here as my guest, pay what you'd like. And I said "300 rupees?" to which he responded "yes, please stay with us." "You are family." So, I decided to stay another night and see what life in the desert was like. It was hot and boring. The resident gypsies came out of their tents and they tried to show me how to balance the bowls on my head - useless. I braided the youngest gypsy's (about 11 years old) hair and then the beautiful leader asked me to braid hers, too. Kalu, the owner's younger brother (a little older than me), invited me to go to the larger sand dunes about 5 kms away on his motorcyle. I suggested that we take the three gypsy women and Kalu in the a/c car instead. We did. The gypsies and Kalyan sat under the shade of a bush while Kalyan and I walked to the highest dune and chatted in the sun. I covered my head with a scarf and felt very muslim. He told me that he had many western friends and I was like a man to him - part of the family - and not to worry - he could be trusted. Okay. I said I was hot, he stood up and beckoned to me "Come!" and I felt even more muslim as I followed behind him back to the car. When we returned to camp, Karim was there. He professed his undying love to me and asked that I stay as his wife. I politely declined. I later confirmed with Kalyan that Kalyan would sleep somewhere close to my tent. Kalu offered to show me a woman's life (I'd previously said I wanted to know where the women were in India as I never interact with them) and took me to the tent village next door. The women were constructing a wall and we cooed as we petted eachother's clothes and looked at nails, jewelry and eyes. They braided my hair. They asked for chocolate. What woman anywhere in the world doesn't love chocolate? A common bond.<br /><br />That night, the gypsy girl came to my tent and pulled my hand to her tent. They were getting ready for the night's festivities and put gypsy makeup on me, including kohl eyeliner and glitter. It reminded me of Burning man. We were giggling and having lots of fun being girly and glitzy. They selected an outfit from my comparatively dull wardrobe and cooed as I left for the sand dunes. In the dunes, the Indian men stared at me and the gypsies from the previous night squealed and hugged me in delight as they exclaimed in their native tongue while looking at my sparkling face and dark eyes. We walked to a high dune and were entertained again by another troupe of gypsies. That night, dozens of Indian executives were hamming it up while the gypsies were dancing. The party went on all night. Kalu took us out to the dunes and we slept there. Kalu left and picked us up in the morning. He was angry at Kalyan for sleeping out there with me b/c he wanted to stay with me. Kalyan told him he had no respect. I didn't hear any of this until later. I'm so glad Kalyan was with me. The sand dunes were quiet and lovely - it was very calm and sandy to wake up at sunset and there were little tiny fox footprints next to my head in the sand. I gave the gypsies some clothes, a bra, bubbles and blistex. They gave me a set of colorful bindis and a barrett. The whole camp lined up outside the car as we left and waved until we were out of sight. Both Karim and Kalu have since called me and expressed "I want you." Thank God Kalyan was with me! <br /> <br />We passed through Jaisalmer and I took a tour of the city with another scam artist commission tour guide while Kalyan relaxed in the car. I had Mueslix at a restaurant that was actually puffed rice. When I pointed out that this wasn't mueslix, he said "it's jaisalmer mueslix" - touche. That's what I get for bringing my western notions to India. Good remider. We drove on to Bikaner that night. We saw the fort swelling with Bikaner pride, had a thali, then visited a Disneyized temple with a giant lion's mouth opening up to a giant Ganesh. On either side of the lion's head was a Kali figure and a Hanuman figure. It was just there - on the side of the road - giant cartoon deities larger than life. India is crazy and full of surprises!<br />That night, a fierce wind and rain storm blew trees across the road as we drove to Mandawa. Of course Kalyan, who stops for chipmunks, stopped the car until it was welll past. Although he's a gentlemen, Kalyan belches openly b/c all men in India do - they never say excuse me and I never get used to it. On our way, we saw two foxes, a herd of deer and two peacocks. A little safari. That night we arrived in the haveli-filled town of Mandawa. The hotel was filled with construction workers who were erecting a Bollywood set for a film to be shot the following month. I was surrounded by men in the lobby and felt just a little bit the minority in color, culture and gender. Whatever. I went to my room and didn't come back out until morning.<br /><br />The next day, the tour guide touted the cleanliness of Mandawa (due to a small population) as he threw a candy wrapper onto the littered road and spat thereon. He and Kalyan shared a love of singing and during lunch, I heard many a bollywood tune with wagging heads and swooning eyes. This guide spoke six languages - he was very smart - yet he bragged about how good looking he was and how tough he and his friends were as he grabbed his groin and spat. Charming. We visited a school of darling children. We sang the Gayatri Mantra together and I taught them 'The Morning Song' from my preschool days. On the roof, the headmaster pulled a branch off the Neem tree and showed me how to brush my teeth. It was sour, but he promised it would get better after 10 days. I donated another 500 rupees to this destitute school filled with bright minds and a charming headmaster. Not your typical city tour. I liked it. We saw a palmist in one place who told me I should've married at 30, but that just means when I do marry, it will last longer (20 years, to be precise - then he'll divorce or die) and I will marry very soon (to a man who wears something other than a watch on his left wrist). He also told me I will become more genuine in personality and consciousness now. Good news on both fronts. I'm ready. A circus girl on a tightrope picked her nose as she performed (everyone picks there nose here - even when chatting with buddies). I explored several private havelis and hotels and took many, many photos b/c I just loved the color, architecture and design. This really may be a new career for me. <br /><br />That night, we changed hotels and I splurged on a super romantic Maharani (queen) room that was painted with royal scenes of princesses and queens in nature and at court in golds and reds. It was opulent and splendid and super romantic. Of course, I was alone. I wanted to get away from the swarming men of the other hotel. But, I felt like celebrating my femininity and treating myself to something nice and romantic. The room was so beautiful that it took my breath away. Very special. At dinner, I explained a little to Kalyan about my liberal lifestyle as a teenager and he was utterly shocked. He is very innocent. I realized how much of myself I gave away or numbed without any feeling or consideration for the person that I was. It made me a bit sad. I thought perhaps India has a better way by preserving one's virtue and innocence until marriage. There's something very real about it. Then again, my life has been fun, although not too meaningful or full of self-respect. I woke up feeling anxious and lonely. Then I reminded myself of how fortunate I was to be here at all - even if alone - perhaps fortunate b/c I was alone. Whatever. However. It's beautiful to be me. Here. Now. And I'm grateful.<br /><br />We left the next morning for Jaipur. Kalyan played my favorite Indian morning song - Jai Ram - and I swooned as we passed farmers in bright saris and turbans with their animals living so calmly in this beautiful land. I love India. We passed a camel fair and I asked Kalya to stop. We walked in and explored the fair. It was the last day of one week where 10,000 camels, yaks, cows and (some) horses had been sold. A vendor showed me the camel nose rings he had for sale; another the bells he had for sale; another man invited me to see his camels and take a photo of him preparing his lunch. I did. I was surrounded by men in the camel industry. I saw only two other women present during the fair. We had chai, tried some pakoras and generally relaxed and shot photos with the people there. It was very calm. I got used to men just staring and following wherever I go. It didn't bother me. One of the men asked if I wanted a ride on his camel cart. We got on and after circling the entire area, he dropped us off at the road where our car was. We shot more photos and he shot me the hugest smile this side of the Indus. It was very sweet. Only in India. <br /><br />We returned to Jaipur and Kalyan was elated b/c he was so close to home. His singing and dancing increased. He danced like mad with the gypsies and the executive Indian men in Sam Desert. He's quite talented. He's been offered a spot on the "Explore India" tour in Russia for his Rajastani singing and animal sounds. I hope the tour will make it to CA someday. I told him he always has me as his sister there to show him around. I mean it. He's a really special guy. I'm very lucky to have had such a person as a guide, bodyguard, driver, entertainer, spiritual cohort and friend. Thank you, India! After errands including the post office and the bank, we made it to Tiger Fort (a palace fort built for nine queens - very feminine) for a final tour and the sunset with a beer. It was a lovely way to say goodbye to Rajastan and to Kalyan.<br /><br />The next day, I saw the Wind Palace, Hawa Mahal and did a little bangle and pashmina shopping. The shopkeeper, Ajay, gave me incredible deals and offered me gifts, lunch, a movie, etc. He wants to meet me when I return from Egypt. I asked what for. He said friendship. Friendship here means being lovers. I'm not interested. I told him that. He was very persistent and very sweet. I accepted his gifts of a free scarf and a leh of fragrant flowers. Then, I left as he swooned. This place is full of die-hard romantics. <br /><br />I ate a giant thali just before getting on the train and stocked up on water, bananas and chocolate for the journey. I was full as a tick. Little did I realize that my first class ticket included food and drink service (including veg thali, bananas, chocolate, water, plus, plus, plus) - none of which I could eat. I took stuff I could save and put it in my purse to give to pour people. I'm sure the Indian man next to me thought I was a kook. Whatever. When we stopped at a station, it was littered with people lying on the platform. I almost threw my food to the people, but realized they were simply waiting for the train. They weren't homeless. Sometimes, it's hard to tell. It just goes to show how culturally insensitive I can still be even though I've been here for a while. I have been relatively isolated and protected with Kalyan, even though I was often the only westerner around. Now, I'm back to being solo and immersed in India (see today's blog about my visit to the toilet museum). It's sweet as can be and my whole self is filled with gratitude and the chaos, romance and surprises of India. A book I once read called love "sweetness in the belly." I can honestly then say that I love India. <br />My solo love affair with India will have to wait until November, however. I fly to Egypt tomorrow for one week on the beach and then join a two week tour. Something about Egypt calls me. I don't know why. I'll return to India 10/17 or 10/18 then rush down to Goa for a month long teacher's training. Then....??? I'd really like to see my old highschool cohort Freeman who lives in Pune now. Why did he move here? Does he have that sweetness in the belly, too? Why? The plot continues to unfurl...Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-5478606636108867852008-09-26T05:15:00.000-07:002008-09-26T06:28:26.397-07:00Night SoilToday, I took a rickshaw for an hour drive outside of Delhi for one purpose only: to visit the 'Sulabh International Museum of Toilets.' I figure in a city thousands of years of history and thousands of men openly urinating on any and every street corner, field and mountain at any time of day, plus an omnipresent struggle to find an operational and sanitary toilet, plus a constant wonder about what the Indians do if they don't use toilet paper, I should finally take a plunge right in to 4,500 years of the history of the toilet. Why not? I've seen dozens of museums, mosques, bazaars and temples - it's time to get back to the basics.<br /><br />Little did I know that this museum was a part of a NGO called Sulabh International Social Service Organisation that has the objective of providing safe, sanitary and environmentally responsible toilets to the poor, disabled and elderly throughout the world. They have built millions of latrines around India and consequently sussed out a way to turn human feces into bio-gas (usages include electricity and inclusion in manure provides a great source of manure after about 1.6 years "fermenting" in a closed container as long as the moisture is sucked back into the soil through holes in the container - feces is 95% water). With my own eyes, I saw a lamp illuminate with 40-watt voltage, a gas fire of stones start so that stones could later be used for warmth hours after the fire went out, a fan start, a generator turn on, and gas stove boiling tea water (not urinary water). All of this came from the center's six thousand public toilets - one rupee per person - and one person produces 1 cubic foot of gas per day. There are over one billion people in India! That's a lot of gas, folks. They also figured out a way to make doorways out of feces mixed with dirt - it doesn't smell and is solid. There are some sculptures on display. But, I was far more impressed with the technology of shit. Perhaps I'm behind the times, but wow - what an eye opener this museum was! We can recycle waste in so many ways!<br /><br />It doesn't stop at feces, though. They also turn urine into non-potable water that can be used for irrigation, agriculture and further flushing of toilets where water is scarce. The water has nitrogen and phosphate, so is great for agriculture. There are two ways. One: they simply funnel urine into a sedimentation tank for 30 minutes, let it sit in a sand filter, then add some air to it then add some carbon and let it get some sunlight....voila! Clear, usable water. Who knew? Two: they add duckweed to large vats of standing urine ("dirty pond"), the duckweed multiplies quickly as it sucks up the volatile compounds from the urine water. The water is then transferred to a different, cleaner pond. They then extract portions of the fat and porous duckweed from the dirty pond and place it in little fish pond containers in the clean pond. The proteins inside the duckweed are so potent, that fish grow to twice their original size by feeding on the duckweed. So there you have it! Our pee with duckweed and two ponds plus a fish farm can make fish much bigger. A beautiful spiral of recycling again! Who knew?<br /><br />Of course, the museum of toilets contained fascinating information and exhibits for every kind of person.<br /><br />For the sybarites: There are 300 plus types of toilet paper that can be seen at a special toilet paper museum in Madison, WI. Japan created a toilet for only $100 that at the touch of a keypad button either, cleans the bowl, blows either air or water 'up' and can provide a massage and air freshner. The Americans on the other hand have created a $2,000 electric toilet that burns excrement within two minutes to a mere 1 teaspoon of ash. The problem is of course a very high electric bill. The French aristocrats, King Louis XIV and used to hold meetings at night with their court while on the crapper. Apparently, the king took his dinner and meetings all night long sitting on the loo and "frequently excreted" until the pot was full, at which time the chamber pot was passed under the noses of those in attendance until the person closest to the door could empty it as a reminder of the King's (or their lowly) rank. Ben Affleck allegedly bought J Lo a $105,000 jewel encrusted toilet adorned with rubies, sapphires, pearls and diamonds. "Jennifer is my princess and she deserves only the best even whe it comes to toilets," he said on April 18, 2003. And the winner? The USA!! NASA bought a $19 million space toilet from Russia that includes straps, vaccums and a filter to convert urine to drinking water.<br /><br />For the destitute and elderly: India is a poor country. If a village can't afford a 10,000 rupee toilet made of brick outhouses and concrete containers, there are options going all the way down to 1,000 rupees made of whitewashed jute outhouses and wood or clay containers. For the elderly who don't like to break the habit of going in the great outdoors, an open air spiral outhouse can be built so they don't feel suffocated and uncomfortable.<br /><br />For the spiritualist: Sai Baba has the largest collection of toilets in India. The excrement of his disciples provides electricity to 30,000 people. Toilet ettiquette was addressed in the Manusmriti Vishnupuram in 1500 BC India. For married people: cover the head with a cloth. If a cloth is not available, roll a sacred threat and put on right ear, bring over head to hang on left ear. Observe silence. Face north during the day. Face south during the night. Don't touch water why defecating. Use left hand for cleaning and right for the bowl. For unmarried or celibate people: observe the married's rules twice more intensely. If a sain, observe four times more intensely than the married. All of these rules apply to daytime. If evening, frequency of wash reduced by half. If travelling, rules further reduced by half. If sick, observe rules per capacity. The Manusmriti Vishnupuram also had some ecological precautions: urinate 10 hands (meaning forearm to fingers) from the source of water. Defecate 100 hands from the source of water. And urinate 40 hands from a river or temple.<br /><br />For the sybarites, artists and romantics: the art of defecation, termed "night soil" was the subject of Swift and Voltaire's musings, plus many a comedy through history (especially the dumping of chamber pots on unwitting victims - mostly in romantic comedies.) There are side by side toilets adjoined for lovers who can't bear to part. Some toilets are very creative. They are painted beautiful colors, designed as flowers (a San Franciscan is currently doing this) and hidden in chairs under cushions. The French built a toilet appears to be a pile of books - all with English titles on the books - how very French of them to desecrate the Brits.<br /><br />For the naturalists: In Chiang Main, the thai elephant facility frequented by tourists has installed elephant sized human toilets and trained the elephants to sit on the toilets and relieve themselves in order to avoid unnecessary droppings around the facility. There is a portable toilet used for tents and websites that has biodegradable bags as a toilet. There is a new model that has a 3.5 foot tower with a fan on top that is both solar and wind powered for the flush. The toilets that the center is providing to Indians has two containers (only one in use at a time, while the other is fermenting) ensures that excrement containers are 1 meter away from another container b/c bacteria can only travel that far through soil. In case of a fire, occupants of a western toilet are advised to jump into the toilet and flush. The toilets that the center is providing to Indians uses only 2 liters of water, as opposed to the usual 10-12 to flush. The US still uses 10-12 in most cases.<br /><br />For the historians: India claims to be the first to have sanitary toilets (2500 BC) in Harapa during the Indus Civilization. This technology was flushed away with the loss of the Indus Civilization. The first flushing toilet was created in 200 BC. In BC 33, Plinius claimed that urine has medicinal values. John Harrington, NOT John Crapper, created the first WC, i.e. water closet wherein "necessaries" were flushed into a sewage system, in 1596 AD. In the 18th and 19th century, Austrian Bucketmen and women used to stand around public places with a long coat and a bucket. For a small fee, a member of the public could conceal him/herself under the coat and relieve him/her self in the bucket. Believe it or not, there have been many such instances when I would have gladly payed for a Bucketwoman in India!<br /><br />For the skeptic: Here's why this is interesting. The act of excretion, as one of the most fundamental processes of all life, requires much more attention that it has been accorded until now in order that we may enjoy healthy and pleasant lives. Think about it: how many times have you walked into a public toilet and almost vomited at the lack of sanitation? At least you have toilets in the US. In India and Nepal and other developing countries, a toilet is very, very hard to come by. I vividly remember the outhouses in Africa: they were so old and moist from years of bush rain that the wood morphed out of shape and would congeal when the door was shut. There was no form of waste removal and it was rank! In order to open the door for an escape, one had to take a deep breath and not panic that the door wouldn't open, and instead figure out the angle in which to push a certain portion of the door for an opening.<br /><br />So, a toilet culture is a very good thing to have. The Museum of Toilets, with the Kobe Int'l Toilet Counsel aims for: 1) world health and sanitation for elderly, disabled and poor; 2) private and public faciities that are safe and clean; and 3) a source of global environmental solutions for overuse of paper and contaminated land and water and consequent disease irradication. The Counsel believes that overcoming these many issues requires an exchange of information, experience, technology and inter-disciplinary research on an international level.<br /><br />So, in line with my bretheren and sisteren (sounds like cistern, doesn't it?), I hope that this blog has effectively created and promoted toilet culture to all you readers out there! Go night soil!!!Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-65739938148458596052008-09-16T08:51:00.000-07:002008-09-16T10:08:07.166-07:00Royal RajastanIt's true that Rajastan is a land of palaces, forts, romance and pride. At times, I have to pinch myself for the incredible luck I continue to enjoy in such a place. At Amber Fort, I saw the palaces inhabited by royalty and as I trod through the grounds, I was stopped at virtually every second step for a photograph by Indian tourists visiting from the nearby villages. I was even followed down a corridor by a family wanting to take my photo. I got lost after a while b/c I tried to escape the masses and suddenly music started to waft through the fort. I followed the music to a group of Indian teenagers who promptly led me back to a place I could find my way out from. I had a lovely thali that was spicy and delicious and visited several palaces and temples with incredible architecture. I wasn't such a celebrity at these places, which were less incredible than Amber Fort, but far more comfortable to observe.<br /><br />My luck was shaky to begin with. The rickshaw driver, Chandra ('moon' in Hindi), who drove me around Jaipur for two days took me to the sights I wanted on day 1, but on day 2, he pulled scam after scam to get a commission from shopkeepers all the way to taking me to a "guru" who worked from a jewelry store. My mistake, I guess, for asking Chandra earlier in the day what his star sign was - gave him a new angle to scam. When I saw this "guru" and his gem shop, I turned around, walked out without a word and sat in the rickshaw. When he returned to his auto with feigned confusion, I told him in no uncertain terms that I'd had it! I was so angry that tears came from my eyes - the death knell to any Indian man, even a con artist - and then - everything changed. <br /><br />At that moment, I decided I didn't care about budget travelling anymore, I was NOT going to trust rickshaw driver after rickshaw driver to take me around from place to place in all of the towns I wanted to visit in Rajastan. I was determined to find one driver - and only one driver - to take me all over Rajastan. I demanded that he take me to the govt. tourist information office (NOT a place where he'd get a commission) so I could book a driver for a tour of Rajastan. Miraculously, he took me to the govt. tourist office. I paid him and thankfully watched as he drove away. <br /><br />I walked into the park like setting and peacocks started to meow as the sun was setting. This calmed me instantly as I grew up with peacocks across the lake and it was somehow reassuring to hear a childhood sound in this strange and unfamiliar place. An Indian lady smiled broadly at me as I walked past and I returned the smile - grateful that another woman was nearby in this land of men, men, men always staring, always scamming, always wanting something from me. I asked the universe to please give me a trustworthy, peaceful, safe driver who was honest, respectful, a Hindu, a yogi, married and could take me all around the state and share with me Indian culture without harrassing me or trying to make extra money via commissions. <br /><br />The universe clearly heard me. For starters, I booked the non a/c economy vehicle for a certain price, approx. $33 USD/day for 16 days. After agreeing on the price, the company (called by the tourist bureau) discovered it had no more economy cars and had to upgrade me to a luxury a/c vehicle with a/c for the same price. They also stated that Kalyan would be my driver. The govt. tourist agent said he knew Kalyan and he was a good, trustworthy man. Well, Kalyan isn't married - he's 28 and caring for his widowed mother who is in turn searching for a suitable wife for him. But, he is a yogi, a hindu, respectable, a ridiculously safe driver, a virgo (my FAVORITE star sign for a companion), not interested in commission, very proud of Indian culture and thrilled to share the religious and cultural aspects of country and religion with me. He meditates and does yoga every morning. He makes 175 animal sounds and wrote to the Guiness Book of World Records b/c this well exceeds the record, but got no response. He also has a beautiful singing voice and sings all the time. It only took three days for me to establish that just because he liked me, it was NOT okay for him to hope that we would have anything more than a platonic friendship as we toured the state together. So, the universe has heard me. He's the safest driver I've ever seen in India. Really. He makes suggestions for the itinerary, takes me to cheap and delicious thali restaurants and we go to pujas and temples all around India and share in the hindu culture. Of course, everythig is safer in India with a companion and a male Indian at that, by my side. He bargains for me, finds answers to my zillion questions from locals at the places we visit and has a great sense of humor and grasp of the English language. Thank you Universe!<br /><br />The luck continues. Our first stop was Ajmer to go to a famous mosque where a Sufi saint from Persia came and died about 500 years ago. I came here because I thought it would be nice to pay my respects to my friend Reza. He's a sufi and shared some Rumi with me before I left that made me feel much more grounded and sane in taking this journey. Rumi explained that many more before me had done very similar journeys. We arrived in mostly Muslim Ajmer and Kalyan stayed with the car b/c it wasn't safe. I walked through old town with my head covered, but my ankles were showing (it's tough to be so tall in a Muslim place). The women kept staring at my ankles and the men stared at the rest of me. Shopkeepers called to me, beggars pulled on my clothes - it was the most aggressive place I'd been yet - but I kept walking, eager to get to the Mosque. At the entrance, they told me I couldn't take my camera or my purse inside. I looked into the lady's eyes who was sitting at the gate and she extended her hand for my bag. I knew I could trust her. I was right. Inside the mosque, I bought an offering of flowers and went into the main temple where the saint was buried. A man took my flowers and gave me prasad (sweets) and blessed me with a cloth over my head. I didn't know what he was saying or what I should be doing, but I just wished Reza and his family health, happiness and love. I wished for Reza to find a nice wife. I also thanked Reza and Rumi and thought "God Bless the Sufis," to which I instantly shuddered and wondered if I'd just committed blasphemy to Allah. I was the only non-muslim westerner in the entire mosque and it was obvious. People were looking at me as if I was blue. Men pushed me out of the way and I kindof slinked into the courtyard to watch what was going to happen next. But, at this point, I was so paranoid and insecure that all I wanted to do was leave. So I did. The lady smiled at me as she gave me back my purse. I stopped at a tourist shop to buy Reza a gift, but had no idea what anything was - there was writing on trinkets and fabric, etc. - so I decided the prasad was enough and kept walking. I saw two young muslim men feeding prasad to a cow who was licking it from their hands, and was reminded that islam and hinduism go hand in hand in this place. Why couldn't I fit in, too? I felt better. As if they sensed my confidence, the beggars stopped pulling and the shopkeepers stopped hollering. I didn't care that people were still looking at my ankles. I looked funny b/c I was faking it, but at least I was being respectful of the culture. Next time, I'd do it with a little more class.<br /><br />Our next stop was Pushkar. Kalyan recommended a beautiful hotel on the lake and I got a room literally floating on top of the lake perched between Ghandi Ghat and another Ghat. The indians splashed the water on their limbs b/c it was good karma. Pujas were performed with rose petals and poured water from silver bowls. The Indians were happy to be there. Husbands and wives splashed water on eachother. Small children splashed around. Young ladies gingerly placed a toe in the water with their male relatives helping them step into the water. Singing resonated across the lake until 11 pm and started up again at 5:00 a.m. The moon was almost full as it glistened atop the water with the ever present spirituality wafting through the air in sound and feeling. The people were friendly and non-pushy. I ate thalis with the locals, sat with Rajasthani women who dressed me in a sari and put bangles on my arms for fun, was the first purchaser of a brand new shop opened by a 20-year old boy named Punkaj. His grandfather proudly beamed at his grandson's first customer loaded with two bags of gifts for her own family back home. They both agreed I had very good energy and would bring good luck to the business. I saw several westerners in town, but none were staying at the hotel. I don't know why not. It was beautiful. <br /><br />Punkaj told me there was a local fair outside of town. That evening, Kalyan and I drove there. The fair was several food stands and a stage. They were holding a raffle on the stage and the women were seated on one side, while the men were on the other. I joined the beautifully adorned women and started snapping photos. They LOVED having their photo taken and I was soon surrounded by women in bright pinks, yellows, reds, etc. I felt like a pollen filled flower to a swarm of colorful honey bees. The men's jaws dropped as they stopped in their tracks and just plain stared at me. Kalyan bought a coconut so we could make an offering to the cobra deity (an instrument of Lord Shiva). I made my offering and a man handed me a handful of ash. Kalyan promptly smeared it on my third eye. I have no idea where the ash came from. I decided I didn't want to know. The fair was full of villagers - many of whom had not seen a westerner before - so I was quite the show stopper. A lady invited me to sit with her family and try her food. It was delicious as I ate it from my dirty fingers. Her husband then sternly told me that I would have to pay 500 rupees. I said "okay and you pay me 1,000 rupees," to which they all laughed and gave me the namaste as I walked away smiling and namaste'ing in return. As we left the fair, the villagers were also departing on tractors and motorcycles, horses and carts pulled by camels and oxen. God, I love India.<br /><br />We next went to Kumbulgargh - highly recommended by the man at the tourist office. The luck increased. We stopped at a cheap guesthouse which was unacceptable to me b/c it had no windows and appeared to have bedbugs. We then stopped at a luxury tent resort b/c the location was beautiful. Tents usually go for 2,000 rupees. I told them my budget was 300. They said 'no' and I gave up. Kalyan said something and they changed their mind. I was the only guest and had VIP treatment for two nights in a giant luxury tent atop a gorgeous mountain in the middle of the jungle. Peacocks meowed and danced at dawn and the sounds of the forest played like a symphony all night and day. The food was delicious, the service impeccable and the experience nothing less than royal. All for 300 rupees a day. The fort at Kumbulgargh was gorgeous. I explored various temples and places on the land, feeling utterly safe, for 4 hours as Kalyan waited at the tea shop. I was reminded of exploring Tikal on my own, where ancient temples were overrun by jungles with leaping monkeys and gorgeous birds. Camels also passed by. A village teenager accompanied me to the jain temple and explained the history to me. I thought she wanted money, but she declined, wished me happiness and sauntered back into the forest from whence she came. I sat on the edge of the sun temple and birds whizzed by my neck so quickly that I could hear the wind underneath their wings. It was magic and beautiful and enchanting. At night, they lit up the fort so it illuminated like a christmas tree dating back to the 1500s. It was pure magic!<br /><br />As we drove through the country road to Udaipur, I asked Kalyan to stop for the first time solely to take the picture of a beautifully adorned man. He wore jewelry, a bright turban and literally shined like a bright peacock. I took many photos of he and others dressed like him that appeared out of nowhere. Kalyan discovered that they were gypsies who were going to perform at a festival 16 kms from whence we came. They invited us to join them. We went. We took three of them in the car with us. They suggested we first go to a Shiva temple, which we did. The Indians were more enthralled with these three gypsy traveller/dancers than they were with me. Sunner, Ganesh and Babu didn't wear shoes or eat green veggies for 30 days in preparation for this festival b/c they believe it helps them dance better. They were kind and respectful and vibrant. On our way down hundreds of stairs to the Shiva temple (located inside a cave with stalagtites dripping with water (or stalagmites?), they bought local fruit "cita full" which they gave to me to enjoy. It was delicious - looks like a little artichoke but is sweet, white and fleshy. Babu carried my water. When we got to the temple, they gave me a tikka on my forehead. When we walked up the path, they shared their coconuts with passers by. Sunner asked if I wanted glitter, to which I ascented. He put it on my face. He then asked if I wanted kohl on my eyes. I agreed. They were thrilled at the after effects as they admired my 'indian eyes' and swelled with pride at my transformation. When we finally got to the top of the hill, I changed out of my sweaty black pants and blue cottor top into a colorful silk skirt, blue shirt and colorful scarf. They smiled from ear to ear and we made a VERY colorful bunch as we approached a festival with literally hundreds of villagers dressed in every possible color watching dances, songs, comedy routines and people possessed by spirits in the middle of a giant field. These festivals happen rarely and the gypsies are always on the move. We were VERY lucky to experience this event. When it started raining, Kalyan and I jumped in the car and drove on. <br /><br />We passed another village about five hours later and the people were sprawled next to a lake. We stopped. As we approached the Krishna being carried up the hill, the entire village stopped and watched me. Again, I was a spectacle. I felt horrible for usurping Krishna's rightful place at center stage. But, I pretended I didn't notice and gave all my attention to the puja. After the puja, children surrounded me and said hello, shook my hand and asked for 'photo.' They offered me an apple, which I took and when I took a bite and smiled, they broke into applause. They then gave me a banana. They then showed me a black cobra that they stoned to death. I was getting a little too smothered by the kids, so Kalyan pulled me away and told them we had to go. A boy told him he'd never seen anyone like me before and asked where I was from. They waved and smiled as they swarmed around the car yelling "Bye Bye." Further up the road, the villagers were blocking the road and dancing for Krishna. They didn't move from the front of the car until Kalyan started laughing. This is a land of celebration and spirituality and wonder. The poverty and hard work is everywhere, but so is the celebration. So is my luck.<br /><br />We arrived late in Udaipur, which was nice, but I expected something more. I think I had been spoiled. We are now in Mt. Abu. We ascended the mountain in a downpour of rain. Today, I walked through the jungle hoping to see a bear on a trek, but had no such luck. We then went to a gorgeous Jain temple and took a boat around the lake at sunset with no rain. It was lovely. We also visited Rama Krishna spiritual university and I found it a bit cultish and bizzarre. Tomorrow, we leave for Jodphur and I look forward to dry weather again, although the thunder and lightning is incredible to experience.<br /><br />Christian and I decided to forego Morocco and I have confirmed my return from Egypt to Bombay, thanks to the help of my mother and stepfather. Thank you! All is well and as it should be. I am at times very lonely, especially when the Indian tourists in all of these places (mostly from Gujarat) stare at me like I'm insane for eating or walking alone. But then again, I'm American. Things are different. Independence is different. I'm different. It's okay. There is no harm or danger that I feel here. Only curiosity. Isn't this part of why I travel, too? It is a pleasure and an honor to be here. They can stare all they want. I am lucky to be alive. Lucky to be in India. And I welcome these ups and down in my travels.<br /><br />Rajastan, like India, is a magical journey. And the cows continue to be revered more than anything. Something I still find hysterical every single time. Increidible.Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-63976443122117836492008-09-07T07:25:00.000-07:002008-09-07T08:23:52.201-07:00Revolving Tower of OmI wrote this last night in the revolving restaurant atop Om Tower: Even after travelling all over the world, I sit atop a revolving Om and my mind revolves in time. I miss home, community, companionship and oddly enough - the wise Sufi wisdom of my persian friend Reza. I think he'll be a good friend to me for a long, long time. He has been. He is the one who reminded me that Rum wrote about the few people that hear the call and the fewer still that heed it. Many have done the spiritual journey before me. Is this a spiritual journey or a cop out? It's up to my attitude to decide. I am growing tired of a life without purpose as I sit here surrounded by Indian families who look at me sitting alone in a nice restaurant with curiosity and pity. So, I'll make this a purposeful journey - an exploration of other cultures infused with my spiritual journey. I'll really delve in to the taste and the culture. So, I ate a Rajasthani Thali that had seven types of local dishes (mostly made of spices and dahl). When I lauged to the waiter that I heard westerns lost weight in India, he balked: no, madam, you must get fatter in India - it shows you have been enjoying the food properly. Sometimes, I just love Indian logic. <br /><br />I started today with a new mission: to melt into the cultures - less tourists, more locals. Ironically, I started the day with a full-day tour from the rickshaw driver who drove us into Jaipur on Day 1. His name is Chandra, which means Moon in Hindi. When I said this, his green yellow eyes grew huge and a smile sprung across his face. I knew he'd be a great tour guide. Raymundo decided not to come and is heading out of town tomorrow. <br /><br />So I went out alone - day 1 with a local, even if this is his job. I threw on a blue headscarf to avoid the exhaust and fit right in with the veiled ladies - although still terribly shoddy looking comparatively (except for my fancy orange reflective designer sunglasses, of course). I went to the City Palace which was ornate and lovely. I sat with a painter for five minutes and watched him paint miniature stills of royal life. He painted a portrait of me and gave it to me. When I passed the shops, I was reminded of aggressive Kashmiri shopkeepers vying for my business all the way across the courtyard. I kept walking - this is not the culture I want to immerse myself in. I then paid a local guide to tell me how the neighboring giant observatory functioned back in the 1500s and was firmly reminded that I am not scientifically inclined, even if I am a modern woman - at all.<br /><br />I asked Chandra to take me to a real Indian thali place - cheap and spicy - and he takes me to Venus. Across the park is a temple for a water god, like Poseidon. He is surrounded by durga, ganesh, vishnu, parvati, ram, sitta, hanuman...the shiva clan..everybody is in the house. I sing little songs to all of them as I wander around the temple and feel very at home. <br /><br />At Venus, the owner sits across the table from me and when he gets up, the waiter sits down. Men from the kitchen come out and just kinda hover around the table. I decide that I'm just going to be myself and chat away amiably. After the meal, the owner invites me out for the night. I tell him that "being friends" means no touching, okay? He looks taken aback and says "I understand, madam." Was this too far or necessary? Who knows? I just felt the need to let him know a woman could be friendly, but that doesn't mean she's a benefits package. The thali was terrific and I left with a few more friends shaking hands and wishing me well as they commented on my positive energy. Groovy.<br /><br />We next drove 11 kms from town to sprawling Amber Fort. Along the way, men stared at me from the streets and the women that passed smiled from beneath their gloriously bedecked veils - I smiled back and loved being a woman in this place. As I looked around on the street, I realized that there really weren't too many westerners out on the street. As this was Sunday, all of the shopping stalls were closed, so the shopping tourists were gone. It was just me buzzing along blue eyed and light haired through the pink city in the ever smiling Chandra's rickshaw. This was a prelude to celebrity status...<br /><br />Chandra dropped me at the bottom of Amber Fort and I started to walk through the beautiful garden. Families were sprawled out en masse b/c Sunday is the most popular time for villagers to come to the Fort and enjoy a picnic all day long. Of course, the ladies were dressed in their finest saris and the golds and oranges and yellows billowed resplendent in the bright green gardens of the palace grounds. One of the lovely ladies approached me in my rag tag skirt, black shirt and blue scarf (and fabulous glasses) and asked if I would take a picture of her family. So I did. Lovely. As I walked up the path, an intrepid youth named Raj tried to sell me pictures that his sister painted. Rather than take no for an answer, he agreed that I would meet him there later. Fine. A group of elderly ladies, thin and poor, but radiant in their bright saris sat in the shade of an ornate entryway. We smiled at eachother and I greeted them with 'Namaste,' to which they invited me to join them. I almost sat down, but saw one of the ladies gesturing that she wanted money for food. I kept walking and declined with a 'Danuvad,' then wondered if the lady was actually using sign language to invite me to eat with them. Next time, go a little slower Kyra. Every fourth man said 'hello' or something synonymous and every second woman exchanged a smile with me. I finally made it to the entrance of the fort and bought a head set.<br /><br />As I listened to number 1, I noticed a group of small children wildly gesticulating at me from a nearby turret where they were having a picnic with three lovely sarie'd ladies. I smiled and waved and they broke into fits of giggles. When I got to number 2, the kids were alongside me and the mother explained they are an entire family that lives together and would I please take their picture. So I did, we shook hands, exchanged smiles and they all left in fits of giggles. When I was at number 5, one woman and five men approached me and again asked me to take their picture. THEN, everything shifted - they asked if they could take a picture with me. Sure, I said - only to then have each of them take at least two pics each with me with various cameras. I told them it would cost 500 ruppees each and they laughed and kept swapping people to sit next to me. As I walked under the Ganesh gate, number 7, I noticed several Indian tourists pretending to take pictures of eachother or the gate, but actually zooming in on me. This was weird. I checked my skirt to make sure it didn't have a giant hole or something. All well.<br /><br />As soon as I walked through the Ganesh gate, I was bombarded with Indian tourists at every step, literally, asking to take my picture and asking me to take theirs. Here was a beautiful fort and palace over 500 years old with intricate carving and mirrored moghul ceilings, and the Indian tourists were gawking at me! None of them spoke much English and I only new my happy yoga words, so it was a postive exchange again and again and again. I moved on to the ancient queen and women's quarters - naturally hidden out of public view - and had an entire family of men with one matriarchal lady follow me down the corridors and into a chamber overlooking the lake - just to ask me to take photos. What?!<br /><br />I decided to ditch all the Indians as well as my idea to assimilate cultures and I took a turn away from the path. One hour later, I'm in awe of the Escher (sp?)esqueness of the place b/c I STILL can't figure out how to get the hell out of the Red Fort maze. I hear music and people's voices and laughter echoing through the corridors, but can't find anyone. I finally find a group of teenagers who tell me to come with them. We all stumble around and find two security guards - both of whom have three different directions for how to get out of the place. They have no idea and join our reality show team from "Lost" as we stumble through endless stairways and pathways. I wondered if Sarah Winchester was a reincarnated lady from these days and places. <br />Finally, we find our way out and I take a few more photos and pose or a few more before slipping out of the Red Fort. All the Indian tourists I had seen that day shook my hand and smiled as I left the Fort. It was a very welcoming departure. <br /><br />It got a little too welcoming as I descended as Raj and a bevy of young men were waiting outside. I felt like the pied piper as they all shouted "madam, madam, you buy this..." Just when I thought I was going to go nuts, I saw a group of people carrying a Ganesh statute while walking through the shallow lake below and singing joyously. On the edge of the lake, two giant elephants were on their sides receiving a bath. It was soooo sweet! I automatically smiled and stopped walking. For whatever reason, the boy swarm melted away from me - was this Ganesh's removing of obstacles or did I suddenly seem like a weird hippy westerner to them or did someone more lucrative looking come along? I don't know. It just changed - everything - in an instant and I felt very bonded with India again. Ganesh, you see, is my favorite deity to whom I sang every day before leaving San Francisco. And elephants! My god, I love elephants! They've been my favorite animal forever. I love India!<br /><br />I rejoin with Chandra and ask why I got so much attention. He explained that there aren't many westerners here and many of the Indian villagers are tourists seeing a westerner for the first time. I am so used to being an "American" that everybody knows and sees, yet here I was: one of the only white people these people had ever seen in the flesh. Reality check! Whoa. We head to the floating water palace called Jal Mahal. I stop to take a stroll, hear singing from the lake and peek my head over the edge. A family is having their own little puja to Ganesh as they drop the deity in the water and watch it sink. They invite me to join them and I sing a Ganesh song with them: "Gung guna pataye namo namah..." They give me a red and yellow tikka on my third eye and I rejoin Chandra.<br /><br />It starts pouring down rain and Chandra and I go to a bar for cover. This is completely taboo as drinking with a driver is a big no no in the Lonely Planet. I have one drink. He has one. I show him how to play the card game 'shithead' and we play until he finally wins - round 3 - so that he is no longer "the shithead." He's 39 and not married. This gives me a red flag. He tells me I have a nice figure. Uh oh. Then he buys me a rose. Here we go... We leave - it's still light - and he asks what I want to do this evening. I say go home unless he has a better idea for a tour. He says, "we have another drink" to which I earnestly explain that I don't drink much and I don't want an Indian boyfriend. I say we are friends - no touching - no expectations - can he understand? He has the same shocked look which then softens into understanding and agrees. I hope that I have righted the situation.<br /><br />Tomorrow, Chandra will pick me up for the continued tour that got rained out and timed out by my celebrity pace and lost hour in the Red Fort. We will see whether it is possible to befriend an Indian man as a western woman and actually NOT have to deal with sexual expectations. Perhaps all it takes is simple communication, rather than not saying anything and hoping it will all magically be understood. I believe that's all it will take. I'll continue to be cautious, but as part of the cultural immersion, we'll have to understand eachother. I'd also really like to meet some Indian ladies...THAT would be great!<br /><br />October is the beginning of tourist season. Until then, I'll continue to be a celebrity westerner to Indian villagers visiting special places, i.e. all the tourist forts, palaces and parks all around Rajastan. I'll do my best to be open and maintain my sense of humor about India and the ever-revolving sense of Om...Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-49768474724790834752008-09-06T12:03:00.001-07:002008-09-07T07:25:34.544-07:00Horn to PleaseSomebody once told me that the minute India is no longer funny, it's time to leave. India is hilarious. Phew. Today I took a local bus from Delhi to Jaipur (the mughal pink city).<br /><br />On the journey, I observed that my new travel partner (a gentle, quiet 50 year old Swiss man) has two arms full of bad tattos, a "freedom rock" sense of style and turrets syndrome that thrice caused the bus driver to stop honking while swerving through the traffic. Just after a bombastic "Donald Duck bellar-quacks/sneezes in frustration" filled the entire bus, Raymundo remained nonplussed as the red scarf tied around his long gray ponytail blew in the ice-cold air conditioning.<br /><br />Across the aisle, I observe him from the warmth of my down sleeping bag. Outside, it is 42 degrees celscius. The camel carts are just a little faster than the hundreds of chubby Indian middle age executive men in yellow t-shirts having a relay race on the freeway in the midst of all the traffic. Grungy oil tankers whiz by us with a gale force honk and painted messages: "Highly Inflammable," "Edible Oil" and "Horn to Please."<br /><br />Unlike the night bazaar in Delhi that was teeming with hundreds of aggressive male touts and touchers in the absence of not more than 10 women, the females are out in force walking and working among the lounging men - not walking and not working, rather peacefully watching the cars and animals and people flurry by. And you can't help but notice these gloriously decked ladies as we drive toward Jaipur in Rajastan. The women are wearing screaming bright sarongs of yellow, pink, green, blue...every color imaginable. They make absolutely stunning figures as they float along like garish butterflies carrying giant bundles on their brightly veiled heads (and faces) . I wonder at the ostentatious array of colors flowing from a face veiled with the same bright color - walking purdah day glow sticks who don't want to be seen. What a contrast. "There must be more to this than meets the eye," I think to myself.<br /><br />And just when the contrasts can't get any more wacko, I see the courtyard of a Hindu temple and hundreds of women are dressed in white and pink alongside hundreds of men clad in white and . They are lined up beneath the trees with their hands in namaste mudra at their hearts. Their heads are bowed in unison and it is one of the most suddenly peaceful flashes on a freeway I've ever seen. Just then, Raymundo quacked again. The driver shuddered and looked back at him like he was possessed. One second later, the looked forward, renestled his bottom on the seat and as if to confirm that he was "back" on the wheel, he layed on the horn. Horn to please, indeed.<br /><br />I'm not really surprised by any of this - either because everything is wacko in India (kindof) or because it's just plain obvious. India is a land of contrasts. There is always fluidity in the chaos and hundreds of years of history to explain the way things are. All you have to do is open your eyes and refrain from judgement. It's all good.<br /><br />Raymundo can't help that he has turrets and is stuck in the 1960s when he takes a bus journey through India. Who am I to judge? My clothes look like a pauper's compared to the lovely saris worn by the Indians. And up until this trip, I thought the Indian ladies chose to dress like unevolved fashionistas. In FACT, they are classy and elegant and completely modern. My judgment was turned inside out.<br /><br />I did, however, decide to find out a bit more about Raymundo after he quacked up a few times. But first, a little history as to how he became my travel pal. In June, I saw him in Pokhara on the street and thought he was one of those mild-eyed, skinny westerners who has been in India for a long, long time. So, when I saw him again on the rooftop of my hotel during dinner in Delhi, I introduced myself and the next day we reconvened and shared a taxi all over town. I had a list of sights and he was wide open. He was also courteous, sweet, unintrusive and quiet. He also planned on leaving to Rajastan for two weeks. "The perfect travel partner!" I thought. And he is. For somebody.<br /><br />Raymundo doesn't work. His latest business venture involved buying decorated, i.e. jeweled skulls from Kathmandu for $500 USD and selling them in Zurich for $3,000.00. Apparently, Hells Angels like to buy the skulls for their choppers. Who knew? His arms have tattos with knives and "Bugs" (his former nickname) stamped in scuzzy black ink. I found myself making so many judgments with this and the freedom rock and the quacking...it just all spiraled into "be careful who you travel with" and then "you can't judge a book by its cover." Or can you? This will be a lesson in judgment. Raymundo is perfectly nice and harmless. We'll do another tour tomorrow of Jaipur and perhaps then we'll part ways.<br /><br />But I must admit that it's SOOOOO much nicer to travel with another person, especially a man. Last night, Delhi was crazy and I knew I was not heckled (much) because I was with him. I felt free! However, today I decided to venture out alone (Raymundo was sleeping in his room) and I had dinner on a revolving tower (that reminded me of my senior prom dinner in San Francisco). It was less than 1 km to the hotel, so I decided to walk. Whooeee! It didn't take five seconds to have men coming up and talking to me, every person staring at me, etc. until finally a 15 year old boy rides up on his bicycle and says "hi." I look at him and he has nice eyes so we chat. He escorts me all the way home and answers my question: "there are no other women on the road b/c it is not safe for them to be out at night." When I ask if I'm in danger, he says "no b/c you're a tourist - it's different for foreigners." Another contrast.<br /><br />So, do I keep a quacking freedom rock security guard or brave this alone?<br /><br />The Lonely Planet threatens "beware of friendly people that meet you on the streets..." because they want to sell you something. Duh. But, really what is wrong with people trying to sell you something? Some of them are pretty darn creative.<br /><br />For instance, I met three juvenile boys on the street (I pretended I was spanish and whaddya know, he spoke spanish). They invited me to their puppet show at the hotel directly across the street from my hotel. Later, I went. The puppet show was hilarious and totally amateur. They constructed a puppet stage on the hotel roof garden and had an entire cast of puppet characters. "Who is this?" asked the puppeteer. "The devil," I guessed at the freaky looking creature with blueish horn-looking things before me. "No sir, it's Michael Jackson of Calcutta!" roared the puppeteer as he had him do the moon walk and remove his freakish head from his body in a popping break dance moves. BTW, everyone calls me "sir" in India. The puppets were gorgeous (except for the freaky looking Michael Jackson). I laughed and laughed. What do you know? The puppets were for sale.<br /><br />The three entrepeneurs then asked if I wanted the special one hour show on mughal history. "Why not?" I said. It's not as if I had anything else I could do since I was without a man at night, after all. And the Mughal influence is interesting, especially in Moghul influenced Rajastan. So, when it started raining after 30 minutes and the one song and dance never changed except to change the name of the historical figure killing another historical figure in a fit of homosexual gyrations on the floor that was a mix between Bollywood and the Castro, I requested that they shorten the show to the reign of Akbar and Shah Jahan (with his wife Mumtaz, for whom he built the Taj Mahal, and his evil son who imprisoned him in the Red Fort overlooking the Taj Mahal and took over the kingdom). As with everything, they said "yes" and did nothing of the sort.<br /><br />I finally escaped after promising to return if I found nothing better or cheaper the following day. I paid them 200 rupees for the show. They gave me a bunch of elephants hanging from a string. The main guy/singer/drummer/talker turned up the trunks and said "welcome," "welcome," "welcome," with each upturned trunk. These guys were hilarious. Was I unfairly duped into seeing this display of creative desperation to sell puppets? Not really. Did I receive a shock to my moral sensibilities? Not really. After all, I did run alongside freakier people at Bay to Breakers in San Francisco and hello, um, Burning Man??? So, what is so bad about meeting someone and seeing their show? The experience is one I'll never forget. We were perfectly safe on the hotel roof garden with people passing through. I'd have the common sense not to go to a private place for the show. So what is the Lonely Planet so freaked out about?<br /><br />I believe if you use your judgment, all will be well. But sometimes, not responding to anyone b/c you're a female and he's a male and this is India is just plain rude. And a bummer. I like people. I'll continue to use my intuition. My intuition tells me to ditch "freedom rock" and actually travel free. I'm sure I won't be alone for long. Travel companions are everywhere. But, do I want one? Perhaps this woman can take India on alone. Why not? Or perhaps I'll wake up tomorrow, go on the tour with Raymundo and decide not to be so judgmental. Quack, quack, quack...Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-41808299612519802482008-09-04T05:55:00.000-07:002008-09-04T06:11:49.191-07:00Delhi DazeThe first thing I noticed when I stepped off the plane was the heat. Heavy - too heavy - and it was only 7:50 a.m. The second thing I noticed was the yellowish brown fog resting on the airport runway and beyond. Leh was beautiful, clear, blue and refreshingly cold when I left. My, how things change quickly. My sunglasses broke as soon as I put them in my purse at baggage claim. A taxi driver charged to charge me twice the rate to get to the backpacker area and walked me all the way back to the airport lying about the rate. He said "you see, you go ask and you'll come back." I saw, I asked, I came back with a receipt for half the rate for another driver and he was nowhere to be found. The drive into town was stop and go with no air conditioning, plenty of horns and burps of exhaust through the windows. I checked into a nicer hotel with a/c and a television - I watched the drama of Bollywood and fell asleep only to be awoken from my sweet sleep by the sounds of Delhi - incessant honks, so many horns, non-stop horns, to greet my new afternoon. Welcome back to Delhi.<br />I feel very alone. I just bought a pair of sunglasses that are glamorous and impractical b/c I'm sick of all of my ragged clothes and wild hair. I tried to buy some clothes, but all of the material in this area of Delhi is cheap and tacky. I could walk to Connaught Place and do some western shopping, but that's not why I'm in India. When I was trekking in Zanskar, I dreamt one night of my supple leather skirt that is camel colored and my carmel colored suede boots and my soft mohair overcoat - I was so happy to have nice clothes again...then I woke up in a tent with a hat on my greasy head to keep from freezing or getting wet from the condensation of the tent, which was hardly long enough for my 5'9 1/2" frame. I am feeling the need for luxury right now. Or company. I don't know. Both, actually. I wish I had my girlfriends from San Francisco and we could go hiking or dining in whatever felt comfortable and looked great and clean to wear. I know this is a spiritual journey, but sometimes I just want luxury. Guess saddhuhood isn't for me.<br />I also started feeling really alone in Zanskar. I blogged about it a bit with "what is my place, et al." but now I see how people are together while travelling and wish I had someone. Now I see mothers on bollywood shows doting on their sons and I wish I had my mother or I actually would marry someone and have a fun. I wonder often if I should have married my first true love, RK. Did I make a mistake? Will I be alone forever? I just felt like wallowing on my blog b/c I'm so utterly depressed today and I figured I should capture it and share it with you all. It's real.<br />I bought a book on Egypt and am looking forward to my lonely five days at the beach before my two week tour with Intrepid. After, in Morocco, it's hard to tell whether I'll feel alone or not. After Morocco, where will I go? Why am I still travelling? What am I doing?<br />Today, I really don't know. I'm in a dirty city with a crumby attitude. Even still, at the hotel desk, I met two travellers who are looking to rent a car and drive around Rajastan. I'm supposed to meet them in 30 minutes to see how we get along and whether I can join them for two weeks. I'm in a really grumpy mood and am wondering if I'm weak to just grab on to the first people who came along. But then again, they're the ONLY people I've spoken to since I got here aside from service people. So, is this the universe once again providing me with exactly what I need? <br />If so, I am grateful. Yet, I just feel very, very, very alone today. Woe is me. Happy real birthday to my beloved sister Lisa - she is a beautiful human being and I wish I could hug her right now. Sometimes, she's lonely too. Family shouldn't be so far apart. Why am I so far away from everyone right now? It hurts.Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7620114386764443730.post-18334297676189117282008-09-03T00:59:00.000-07:002008-09-03T01:01:21.490-07:00Leaving Loving LadakhHappy (almost) Birthday, Lisa!!! Happy soon-birthday, Audrey!!!! I love you guys (sister and niece).<br />Today is my last day in Leh. I started the day admiring the bright blue skies, white fluffy clouds, golden fields of wheat billowing on the farmlands spreading out from my hotel window and overlooking the resplendent rainbow of colors in the Guesthouse vegetable and flower garden. I finished reading ‘The Prophet,’ saw a friend off onto the road of travels and taught a class eight people chakra yoga for two hours. And now, this.<br /><br />Today is the first full day of Ramadan. The Kashmiri shopkeepers are uncharacteristically quiet as they aren’t supposed to speak much to conserve their energy during the day while they fast. The streets of Leh are actually uncharacteristically quiet compared to the buzzing activity of July. Most of the tourists have gone and all shopkeepers will leave by Sept. 15. It’s nice to have the streets of this gorgeous valley so still and calm. I’m sure the shopkeepers agree on a certain level, while they surely disagree on a financial levely. They’re as amiable and calm as ever and I feel at home as we exchange our usual chats, occasionally sharing a cup of black tea.<br /><br />I haven’t written for a while because so much has been happening here that I can’t distill into words. Rather than drag on and forget so much, I’ll make an effort here on my trusty blog. Perhaps I’ll work backwards.<br /><br />For the past three days, the fellows who own La Pizzeria, Praful and Sunni, and I have been trying to sort out a trip to an and the paint shop. None of it has manifested and so La Pizzeria will remain unpainted and my story unspoken to me by the Oracle. I now have two incredible reasons to return to Leh. Since neither plan would work out, the lads invited me to go to Spituk monastery with them to see a Champa (a masked dance). As time passes in India, by the time we arrived, it was already over. Since I’d already seen Spituk (a la the fire puja with the head lama) and my Zanskar trekking partner Silvaine from France had also seen it, we decided on plan B – no plan. The lads took us on their favorite drive for making decisions. We drove through small villages with the noticeable change in building materials from mud bricks to cement bricks and tin roofs to accommodate the increasing amounts of rain from melting glaciers all around the valley. We drove past the Indus River, in parts with cows sloshing through it for no apparent reason and in other parts with two men relaxing alongside the shore in the sun and in other parts with 10 different vehicles being washed on (and in) its river banks – a natural car wash! We drove past the park where ‘’young Ladakhis go to be romantic and disappear into the brush’as Praful said. So, there is some sort of romantic tactility in this country…who knew? We continued on to the picnic grounds where they go to relax along the offshoot of the Indus. Where our picnics may last an afternoon, theirs often go from one week to two weeks! They just bring tents and provisions and stay as long as they last. What a pace.<br />As we lunched by the side of the river and discussed politics, materialism and spirituality, a cow walked across the creek to join us. We fed it small apples and eventually, I had the cow literally eating out of my hand. Another one joined and I found I have an uncanny ability to speak to cows. I’m not kidding. Initially, the cow wouldn’t let either man touch her, but literally walked up to me even though I didn’t have any apples. The other cow walked directly toward me while I whistling (or trying to whistle) and then posed for photographs with me. Every time I turned my head, it turned its head. When I told it to look at the camera, she did! It was a very sweet experience to connect with such a docile and revered creature. The eyes of a cow are like a deer’s eye – calm and beautiful. I felt like Leh was giving me a little lick of love to send me on my way.<br />The sun was shining and illuminating the entire brook and forests in glittering bastions of gold. We walked through the forest slowly – snapping photos and savoring the beauty of India. The valley was of course the snow-capped Himalayas on one side and the dilapidated stupas and fortress of Shey Palace on the other side. I felt warm and lucky in the embrace of nature and man-made spiritual history.<br /><br />We drove back through Chogsalmer, where I’d been invited to return to teach English and yoga. After notifying the headmaster that I’d be on a trek for a while, I haven’t contacted him since. There is a block in me that is not ready to return to classrooms of children and actually teach English or yoga. I feel bad about this block and will call the man today to say that I am leaving, but it just didn’t feel right. I made no promises to the man, but still realize that this was a beautiful opportunity offered to me that I did not take. Why not? I don’t know. This is something to look at. Maybe it’s okay if I don’t want to. But, I still feel bad about it. Bless the little children without my English or yoga.<br /><br />Last night, I walked up to Shanti Stupa at sunset – or actually just after sunset. The wisened old Kashmiri man with the crooked smile and soft brown eyes who sells tea at the bottom of the steps (“there are 600 steps!” beamed an enthusiastic German trekker as he descended the stairs past me) shook his head when he saw me approaching, solo per usual. “You are always late” he says, echoing numerous other greetings of the past such as ’’you’re too late” and “the sunset is gone already.’’ I raised my arms and said ‘that’s my nature’and for the first time since I’ve taken this journey, the man smiled at me and said ‘sometimes that is a better way.’ I shared with him a bit of the banana chocolate pie that I picked up from my favorite bakery, Babylon. I bought this pie to celebrate the beauty of Leh for one of my final evenings at Shanti Stupa. “Take a slow pace and enjoy”’ he called to me as I left on my ascent. Words to live by…<br /><br />At the top of the stupa, the tourists were gone, the sun was gone and everything sparkled silvery pink in the aftermath of the sunset. The empty platform spilled silver and inviting from the stupa to the valley and mountains below. I couldn’t resist the calling and started doing heart openers and downward dogs through yoga right there on the platform. It was beautiful and empowering. I rested and chanted a guidance song ‘’aum asatoma sat gamaya, tamasoma jyotir gamaya, mrityor ma amritam gamaya, auuuuuummm, hari aum.’’ This sweet song I’d sung many a times with Sarah and as Shanti Stupa was one of her favorite places, I though of her. Suddenly, two Tibetan men appeared (not monks) and sat down to chat with me. They complimented my yoga and we began a nice dialogue about breathing and God and Tibet and Leh. I realized that there I was alone on a high hill with two strange men. Yet, there was such a kind goodness to them that I felt no fear and only camaraderie in our joint appreciation of the universe and ways to feel it within. Everything happens in threes – sure enough, my Tibetan massage partner (I took a five-day course and am now certified to give a full body massage!) Tim showed up at the stupa and joined us. We gazed in silence for a while, then went onto the stupa to say goodbye to the beautiful figures within the stupa depicting the life of Buddha. We sat in front of the ‘Turning the Wheel of Dharma”and I sang some devotional songs. It was mixing religions, but Buddha surely didn’t care as I offered it up to the universe and Tim and me as I hoped that our dharma wheels would continue to unfurl as they should.<br /><br />I returned home from the stupa to a note from a San Francisco yoga instructor that I met here named Rani and a swiss cheese maker named Bhim. Bhim’s note included a lovely bouquet of flowers and some sweets. I placed them next to the card Tim had given me with two kit kats and a card quoting the Dalai Lama about friendship. I suddenly became aware that I had gathered an amazing array of friends and teachers here in Leh and they were very generous with their kindness and offers of friendship. Each note and card was given to me b/c all of us are taking off on our own paths and may or may not reconvene. Rani and I know many of the same people in San Francisco and Fairfax and actually dated the same man. Bhim is the last initiate of Swami Gitananda, who is the exact same Swami with whom my teacher David at Pyramid Yoga studied with. Thus, I studied in Thailand the science of yoga and the chakras, as taught by swami Gitananda and received by Bhim the cheesemaker who I just happened to meet in Leh (through Sarah). When I met Bhim, I liked him automatically and thought I would very much like to discuss yoga with him. What do you know? We literally speak the same language when it comes to yoga and it was a very fortuitous meeting, indeed. (Tim – well there is no connection – he’s a kind, gentle traveler on his own path and I wish him well. He has great hands and is a terrific masseuse. I hope he keeps it up.)<br /><br />Two days ago was the first day of the Leh festival. I watched the parade of Ladakhis from all the various villages that I’d visited in the past two months. They performed dances and songs as they paraded through the emptying streets of Leh and culminated in a giant stage in the polo field until evening time. Rani and I enjoyed the festival together as we sat side by side with Ladakhi men on a mud fence overlooking the polo grounds. We were, of course, the only women to be so brazen as to join the men on top of a fence – dirt and all. Who cares? That morning as I waited for the parade, I met a crystal shop owner who told me that he noticed my vibrant energy which was very powerful, but I had a blocked second and fifth chakra. He is a kashmiri muslim grandfather, who is also a crystal healer who has worked with Osho and is a disciple of Sai Baba. Only in India. We shared a delicious cup of chai as we discussed energy centers and his experiences with crystals. We were interrupted by a Frenchman who was an old friend of his - I left them to catch up. I think I’ll spend a bit of my last day with him to see what crystals are about and how they may help this blockage. Why not? The second chakra, by the way, is the covalent force of nature that brings two molecules together to create a new thing – such as H2O – water. It has to do with your ability to receive emotional energies from other people and to be fluid with their energies, take it in and enjoy it, learn from it, but don’t lose your own energy in the surge of another’s. Keep the balance, stay open, share discriminatingly or else you give too much of yourself and are depleted. The fifth chakra is the throat chakra – expression. I have this blog, but why didn’t I go to the Tibetan school to teach English and yoga? A block, perhaps. What else am I not saying???<br /><br />The prior night, I walked up to Shanti Stupa, bought tea from the Kashmiri man at the base that he says is good for chest pain. I don’t have any, but why not try some? I told him I could give it to the guesthouse owners and he ordered me to ‘take it home’and share it there. Okay, grandma, I hope you’ll like this tea. It’s for you. At the top of the stupa, I meditated on my girlfriend Marta Maria Marraccini who is marrying imminently a French man she met on a Mexican beach. His name is Phillipe and they are very much in love. I’m very, very sad to miss the wedding. So, I went to the top and meditated on their union. I opened my eyes and saw a rainbow arching over Leh Palace across the valley. A very auspicious symbol, indeed, for their union. I then closed my eyes and wished them the wisdom to compromise and learn from eachother and have compassion for their differences. I opened my eyes and looked to the Himalayan side of the valley. Half of the valley was a pink billowing fog and the other half was a heavy blue fog – just lingering together side by side over the Indus River and crowned by the snowy Himalayas. It was a perfect affirmation from nature, yet again, that the Himalayas bless their union. So…even if I’m not there in person, the Himalayas and I are there in nature and spirit 100%.<br /><br />At night, the dogs continue to howl with the Muslim call to prayer. Last night, for no reason at all, the dogs barked all around the valley for about an hour. They wouldn’t stop and the barks and howls came from all sides of the valley. Hundreds of dogs releasing their song and I contemplated the beauty of the wild dogs of Ladakh – in community through the vibrations of their barks, alone. I wished I could howl to my mom and hear her call in return to bridge our distance. Then I wondered if I was becoming a little crazy with such thoughts????<br /><br />As surely as the dogs howl around here, the flies have arrived in Leh to die, according to Praful. One day, I was receiving a massage from a Tibetan (the school where I learned Tibetan massage) and a fly was buzzing around and landing on me. He occasionally brushed it off of me. As I turned over, I asked if Buddhists didn’t believe in killing even one fly. He laughed, said a guard of the Dalai Lama’s had killed a fly in front of him and been told that was not good. Then he asked if I wanted to kill it – I lied and said ‘no.’ That night, when I returned to my hotel room, there were swarms of flies that magically appeared from the ceiling. Initially, I freaked out and thought it was too similar to Amityville Horror, then lauged at the lesson. So, okay, I want to kill a fly. I don’t, but I REALLY wanted to. That was just one. Now, my place of rest must be shared with hundreds of them. It was too cold for me to open a window – they were inside with me where it was warm and dry. So, I surrendered to the fact that I must be respectful of all creatures and went to bed covered as much as I could from their curious little legs and buzzes. I was surprised that they left me alone. We could all share the room without killing or irritating eachother. Who knew?<br /><br />That was the same day that I celebrated the completion of my course by doing the unthinkable…I ate ice cream. Tim wanted a beer and went off after our celebration lunch to find a place that would serve it. Very hard to find alcohol up here. I went to a clean, touristy place for vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce. It was good, but as I ate it, I cringed. Sure enough, one hour later as I’m listening to a Tibetan astrologer telling me that I was a dog in my past life, I felt that familiar bubble of gas swell up like a giant balloon inside me. The rest of the day was misery. I’ll never eat ice cream in India again. Ever. The astrologer told me to stick to the spiritual precepts and to stop thinking so much and my path will unfurl. I hoped that it wouldn’t unfurl too much in his presence. Ha ha. But really, there is a theme here of relenting, surrender, spiritual practice and a natural path. I’m living it now and it is beautiful. So, here goes a big ruff and a howl to the dharma wheel – it’s unfurling and yelping in just the right time and place and pace. Sweetness is everywhere and there’s no need to poison oneself with temptations that we know are bad for us, like ice cream in India. There are so many other sweet things to do and try instead. Wonderful…<br /><br />I spent some time in the garden of the guesthouse with the neighbor’s seven-year old daughter. We painted flowers and mountains and the sky. Hers was a celebration of everything within eye’s view, while mine focused more on a single flower. We brought our wet paintings into the sun and danced around with them as they dried. It was lovely to giggle by doing such a simple thing. I wish that all of us would spend even one hour with a child painting in a sunny garden. Everything is a celebration and it’s everywhere!<br />Even when a cow steps out of the dark shadows directly in front of me as I walk the roads at night, I am initially startled than just have to laugh at the reality of it – the cow is queen (and prolific).<br /><br />I’ve previously alluded to the flow within the chaos of India. It is here with all aspects of nature all the time – and rather than run from it, to simply observe it is a beautiful blend of feeling and experience. At La Pizzeria, a gale-force wind blew through Leh and we all simply stood and watched the force of nature as it howled across the valley in silence for about 30 minutes. While trekking, I avoided hale pummeling down on us at 4,000 meters, just by bending my head and enjoying the popcorn effects of the hale hitting the ground. As we walked through the sunny groves, it felt like golden nectar was bathing us in sweetness. When fording a river or a creek, you simply feel the curve of the river rock on which you’ve stepped so that you may move forward with firm footing in a flowing current. When the electricity went out during the Leh festival, everyone cheered and the performers kept singing and dancing until the power went on again – no beat was missed – but there was celebration at the fluctuation and power of nature. I love the way India celebrates nature. It is, like the cow, highly revered. And….it makes sense.<br /><br />These are some examples of what I mean when I say that I haven’t written b/c so much has been happening. Words can’t really capture the love, the peace, the celebration, the alignment of things. I feel very safe and peaceful and held in Leh. I think of heading to the next destination of the unknown and get nervous. Then I realize that India is safer than the USA and I have nothing to fear. As Rusty would say, courage not fear.<br /><br />I saw Obama’s acceptance speech at the Democratic Nat’l Convention and was almost moved to tears. The many erosions of civil rights and liberties inflicted upon the middle and lower classes was recognized, voiced and addressed. While listening to this articulate, grounded, charismatic man with a heart and a brain, I felt an infusion of hope for America. In listening to him, I realized how very disenchanted I had become with my country, with my job and with my life. Much of it was wrapped up in fighting the powers that be and go unchecked due to political corruption and consumer laziness. When Obama said that the change comes from within the moral structure of America, I hoped that this would be a wake-up call for Americans to learn, know and assert their rights again. Having the lawyers do it for them is too soul sucking for the lawyers – at least that’s how I feel. But, if Obama wins, will the people of America heed his call? Are they so fed up with debt and lies and war that they’ll vote for someone with vision, clarity, leadership and insight that has a heart? God, I hope so, I hope so, I hope so. And I hope Obama lives a very long time. God I hope so, I hope so, I hope so. This must be how people felt about Kennedy and his promise. I swell with hope at the prospect of a “changed”America. No one knows who will win. When I heard Bush wasn’t attending the Republican National Convention so he could go to New Orleans before the storm hit, I just felt sick. You know why…<br /><br />So, it’s lunch time and I think I’ll go to my family at La Pizzeria. I have been eating staff meals with them and tasting the “real Indian food,”including a delicious mutton rogan josh last night. I don’t eat meat, usually, but this was a kashmiri speciality and delicious!! The lads have invited me to join them in Goa – where they are opening a new restaurant and guest house facility. If I teach yoga for two hours a day, they will build me a bamboo hut of my own to live for free. I can help them design the place and paint a wall, finally. The chef will show me how to cook his delicious foods. Praful and I can continue to discuss Hinduism and Sunni can describe further aspects of Tibetan Buddhism to me. Vinny, the sleazy waiter, will continue to hit on me and act desperately wounded when nothing pans out for him again and again and again. It’s an option with a group I’ve become very close to. They are like my brothers and their insights are 100% India. As Alex told me at the Indian border, India will take care of you and then you’ll take care of India. We’ll see whether our paths will reunite in India and the men who have been so good to me in Leh can be taken care of by my yoga, wit, and calm presence. I alone have this invitation and they are sincere. Again, the universe just provides. My plan doesn’t at the moment include Goa. We will see…<br /><br />My current plan is to leave tomorrow on Lisa’s birthday and fly to Delhi. Perhaps I’ll spend one night in Amritsar at the Golden Temple to give due reverence to the Sikhs. Then, or otherwise, I’ll go straight to Rajastan and explore on my own for three weeks. This is the REAL India – gorgeous, colorful, zany, harassing and chaotic. After the peace of Leh, it will be a real shift. I’ll have to remember to breath, but what a gorgeous rainbow of energy and light swirling everywhere that will be. Wow. Courage not fear. After that, I fly to Europe on Sept. 27 for five days at the Red Sea and a two week tour through the pyramids and to luxor and Alexandria and a night in the desert. Thereafter, I reunite with Christian in Morocco for I hope a jeep ride through the sand dunes, a la his invitation. I depart to Morocco on October 16. I will likely return to Bombay on Nov. 1 when Christian leaves and explore Southern India. Goa is there. We will see…An ashram experience sounds pretty interesting, so perhaps Kerala or Tamil Nadu…or the Andaman Islands… or visit Bhim at his yoga hospital in Karnataka….who knows?<br /><br />The path continues to unfurl…thank you beautiful, beautiful Leh. I love you.<br />FarewLeaving LadakhKyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307012446235164517noreply@blogger.com0