Hari Om

That is the standard greeting used where I am staying. I have spent the last couple of days out in the thick of it with the people; eating street food and drinking Fanta (which is the nectar of the Gods as far as I'm concerned). My feet are dirty, I'm covered and dust and filled to the brim with the beauty and tragedy of India.

Ashram life is great, but there's something so blissful about surrounding yourself with the culture. I was out walking the streets last night until after 10pm, dipping into shops, talking to vendors, buying trinkets; the colors, sights and sounds settling into my being with the dust. There are no words to describe the experience accurately, I feel like anything I say would fall short so I will save that for the slide show when I get home.

Today I am off to Rishikesh again via motorized rickshaw. We are planning on finding the ashram where the Beatles wrote the White Album, this is pretty much the cat's ass to me. I also plan on spending the hot part of the day sitting in a bamboo covered cafe drinking delightful lemon and mint cold drinks while over looking the Ganga and writing poetry; I'm on fire with love for this place.

Within you, Without You by the Beatles:

We were talking-about the space between us all
And the people-who hide themselves behind a wall of illusion
Never glimpse the truth-then it's far too late-when they pass away.
We were talking-about the love we all could share-when we find it
To try our best to hold it there-with our love
With our love-we could save the world-if they only knew.
Try to realize it's all within yourself
No-one else can make you change
And to see you're really only very small,
And life flows ON within you and without you.
We were talking-about the love that's gone so cold and the people,
Who gain the world and lose their soul-
They don't know-they can't see-are you one of them?
When you've seen beyond yourself-then you may find, peace of mind,
Is waiting there-
And the time will come when you see
we're all one, and life flows on within you and without you.

Ashram Living

I decided that posting something about what actually transpires here on daily basis besides intestinal problems and sweating would be a good idea, especially since I have recovered and have adjusted to a normal sleep schedule.

The ashram is a quiet, restful place in the middle of the chaos of Mother India. This country is seemingly rife with contradictions and my orderly Western mind has trouble wrapping itself around them; the colors, sounds, noises, assault and delight the senses.

A conch shell is blown each morning around 4am and shortly thereafter a chorus of bells from the temple next door begin to ring. If you have ever seen the movie Baraka, you will know what I mean. The bells in the morning are currently my favorite part about being here. A fire ceremony is done in the morning called aarti. After that we have tea and watch the sun rise. Asana practice starts at 7am and last from 1-3 hours depending on who is leading it. I feel energy differently here and have had to recline back on my mat and get my bearings a few times during asana.

After asana we have more tea and sometimes fresh homemade bread, bananas or biscuits. Lunch is at 11am, which we eat silently. We also sing before we get our food to honor the person who cooked it and to bless the food since we cannot know what state of mind the cook was in.

After lunch there is a long break during the hottest part of the day, until class at 4pm. I usually take a nap at this time or read. I have finished three books this week already. It has been challenging for me to sit still in the afternoon, that darn stillness keeps coming up.

After the class, which currently is on Vedanta philosophy, is dinner which is again eaten silently. I have not yet attended a dinner. I seem to be only able to eat one meal a day since my arrival; it is far too hot to be full or even to eat.

After dinner is another ceremony which lasts for about one hour, then its off to bed.

I have been having many crazy dreams, a lot of them about death and still more about snakes, transformation keeps showing up as well.

I miss my pups and Darth. Thankfully there are two dogs here which patrol the ashram and demand to be taken down to the Ganga for a swim each morning after tea.

On Sunday we are traveling into Hardiwar to do some shopping. I hear there is a restaurant that serves pizza. We shall see!

Down the Toilet

Morning comes and I am peeing out of my butt. There is also blood in the toilet, thankfully it is just my period and not the Ebola virus. Kiki was up all night, sick as well. We are three or four days in and still adjusting as are our immune systems and innards. My muscles ache, I have the chills and I want my mommy.

I am continuing to try to surrender to this experience as there is no way of knowing what has made me sick. The water? The mango I pulled from its skin with my teeth? The whole milk straight from the cow?

Damn the western world and its over zealous cleanliness that has left my immune system weak and vulnerable!

Kiki moans from across the room,"I hate this! What retreat? This was a bad idea. No one will really know what we went through here, they will call us whiners. I have been sitting on the toilet sweating my ass off, pissing out of my butt and puking up yellow stuff at the same time, while smelling cow shit..I'm sicker than a dog..and earlier I felt like I was just going to get sucked down the toilet and die!"

Kiki's right. You don't know what to do first; puke, shit or cry.

Amidst the crying, shitting and puking we have retained our sense of humor. We are laughing and waxing philosophical poetics about our lives at home; how rich and full they are, and how free of violent bacteria.

We are unable to get out of bed. I don't know what day it is and I am fighting with my mind about how long I need to continue to lie there. Its daylight, I have questions, I feel like I am in prison and I don't want to miss anything. I share this with Kiki and she says in a serious tone, "I see you fighting with your mind, this is all in the hands of the Gods now. If we lay here for four weeks, that will be our experience." I lose it laughing and say, "This from the woman who almost got sucked down the toilet!" She laughs then to and says, "And in a half and hour when I change my mind I will need you to reassure me!" And here is a perfect illustration of why we are traveling together.

And then, in the middle of the hottest part of the day, in our darkest hour, the electricity went out and with it, our fan. We became completely immobilized, beads of sweat forming on our bodies. What karma had we incurred to suffer such pain? We were suffering so much we could only drool and murmur to each other between bouts of losing consciousness, and in between the murmuring, we laughed. We laughed at our predicament and at the fragile skin sacks we were seemingly trapped in.

At some point in the delirium, I awaken to footsteps and screaming. Kiki asks, "What is going on out there?" I peel back the curtain but see no one, only a banana peel on the ground. We would later find out that one of our fellow Yogi's had come to check on with us with bananas in hand only to be chased by a monkey who ended up stealing the fruit right out of her arms.

This strange day ended with Kiki getting a shot of antibiotics in the butt. I escaped with some German painkillers, total cost $5 and the Doctor even came to our room.

Mother India is having her way, that is all I can really say about it. There was no where to go, nothing to do, except be with myself. It was one of the hardest days of my life and I am only beginning to understand the lessons.

Satchitananda

...It means to be is to be blissful, to be in truth is to be blissful; there is no other way of being. If you are miserable, that only shows that you have lost contact with being.

On the second day, I stopped.

Like the chaos of Rishikesh petering out in the late afternoon heat, my drive "to do" vanished and as replaced by surrender. I don't think I have truly stopped since my dad died. Rested, yes. Taken moments of stillness, yes...but mostly moments punctuated by immense spans of doing, moving, pushing, fleeing.

One of my fears about coming here was that I would not be able to stop. Today when I lay down for a nap after a silent ayurvedic lunch, I collapsed on to my bed. I was planning what I was going to do in the afternoon; sweep for karma yoga, read a book, write in my journal. But as I lay there, surrender took over and months and months of weariness began to release from my body in waves. A voice said, "Listen to your IPOD." Another voice said, "Think about a, b, c..this is the perfect time to daydream." I could do neither. I could only surrender further into rest.

Perhaps it is sitting at the feet of a Guru, watching her, patterning my own stillness after hers.

Perhaps it is the ayurvedic food and tea, the organic goodness from the garden and sacred cows below my window.

Perhaps it is the asana practice; feeling relaxed and complete, in touch with my breath.

Perhaps it was simply just time to let go.

I slept and I slept. Kiki got up and went about her day while I missed class, dinner, evening aarti. It started to rain, a lovely break from the heat and still I slept...9 hours later I am up for a short minute to drink some tea and brush my teeth before I let go again into myself, into the sweet bliss of sleep.

"As you feel..," this is what Mandakini advises in relation to all things we are able to participate in here at the ashram. It is lovely to have the space to really listen to myself and to what my mind/body/spirit need. How would our society be different if the mantra was, "as you feel," instead of, "you will be defined by what you DO."

The body/mind/spirit desires to be in balance, in health and in happiness. Given the space and opportunity it will heal itself. It is the nature of connection..the nature of the Universe...when you can stop improving yourself..life naturally improves you.

Holy Ganga.

Well, it is Sunday here (11 hours ahead) and Kiki and I have made it to the ashram after 15 hours of flying and six hours by car. We spent the night driving here, witnessed a bus accident and came up on a bull that had just been hit by a transit truck which had flipped over as a result. I am tired and weary, we arrived around 5am, just in time for some butter tea and morning prayers. There were bells and drumming in the distance and monkeys shrieking in the trees; it was amazing and surreal.

Since it is Sunday, today is a free day. I am hoping to get some proper clothes, maybe an ayurvedic massage and to bathe in the Ganga, other than that there is a constant surrendering to the unknown; different culture, language, customs...and no formal Western routine to speak of.

It is hot today :) and I am tired so I have no metaphors or wit for you at the moment. Just wanted y'all to know that I'm in India...hasn't sunk in yet and I have a hard time believing I will be here for 34 days.

The ashram is beautiful, complete with fruit trees and a library. I am happy and feel blessed to be here. Sending all my love...

All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go.

Yesterday I drove down the Scenic Hwy with a bag full of prayer books as a passenger, laughing to myself, wondering how it had happened that I was about to bring that parcel to a Guru in India. It is seemingly just another wonderful surprise on this mysterious journey.

I'm sad. I'm excited. I'm afraid of the impending heat. I've got my mosquito net, Grandma's gingersnaps, one jar of peanut butter and one roll of precious toilet paper.

I am open to whatever happens in India and hope that I am able to allow her to do what she will with me as I surrender to the unfolding. I leave with mixed feelings, carrying pieces of all of you with me, carrying pieces of the Great Lake who's cool breezes I will surely miss. I hold it all in my heart with the upmost gratitude, baffled by the gifts I continue to receive on the wings of a flying pig and an open heart.

The River

Crevice, crook and cranny, digging in my toes for balance

The rock face illuminated by the sun lowering in the sky

Cedar bough chandeliers hang over head, the damp scent clears my mind

Perched on a ledge, I close my eyes

Starbursts shine through my eyelids, blindside, right side up

Warm wind, wet dogs, muddy riverbed, all soft breath and rushing water

Rib cage expands, contracts, back settles against stone in gratitude

Heart moves, open, a quiet receiving, a pulsing winding river.

Cleared for Landing

An end is the beginning is a cathartic journey rewinding through retrospect.

I could never have imagined the width and breadth of the events that would transpire when I walked into my first yoga class at 3 West Superior Street over three years ago. I wasn’t even sure what yoga was or even why I was there but I ended up finding myself transported on to a path that has ushered me into a new place of being and living in the world and my heart bursts with gratitude for it.

In the beginning it was if my eyes were seeing for the first time; the veil of morass, negativity and conditioning lifted with each chant, each posture, each breath.

The unfolding continued through deep valleys and ravines of sorrow, despair, rage, betrayal, sadness and finally joy, openness, surrender, serenity and awareness. I met myself many times on my path, in my teachers, in the students, in the community and in my bathroom mirror.

I came to have a minimal understanding of projection, assimilation and growth. I came to recognize that what I saw in someone else I also possessed; both greatness and weakness, strength and futility, positive and negative. It was not so shocking that I possessed the same debilitating negative character trait as someone else. It was shocking that I also possessed the greatness I recognized. Over time I realized it was true for many people; easy to accept the negative, hard to accept that which makes us great.

I also came to have a minor understanding of how to traverse both worlds, inner and outer. I now recognize the connection between all beings and events; spoken, seen, heard, invisible. I watch my mind and when I am present, understand that the stories I tell myself are not true; simply projections of a mind determined to live in the past and the future rather than RIGHT NOW.

I have had to say goodbye many times over the last few years and this to, has been an astounding dance of consciousness. I have said goodbye to homes, friends, relationships, my father, teachers and ways of living and being in the world that no longer serve me. The circle of birth, life and death is one that none can escape. Change is inevitable. The recognition of this cycle, this dance, is a gift that I deem invaluable as my path continues into uncharted territory.

In the end I found even the ability to surrender and let go to be another invaluable gift. Birth, life and death demand that it be so, it is only our own egos that get in the way of the natural flow of being in this world…

Going forward I hold it all in my heart. I hold the community and the connections that I made deep in my being; solid roots sinking into the fertile earth. Thank you to everyone who participated. The gratitude I feel for you and for the space at 3 West Superior Street is immeasurable and indescribable; thank you, Namaste, Sat Nam!

As Within, So Without.

My eyes barely blinking open, I register that the sun is about to come up. I am so comfortable and warm on my futon mattress, a body pillow wedged just so, the window slightly ajar letting in the sounds of chickadees and finches. Che is on my legs and I know that if he senses that I am awake he will begin his ritual food dance that will reach a crescendo culminating in slobbery licks to my face. I decide to surrender to the other realm and softly allow my eyes to close once more.

An hour or so later I awaken again and this time Che is on to my game and Darth is already running around the living room meowing and wailing. Then I’m up and the ritual commences; food for the animals, shoes for me and we are out the door.

The air is cool and the sky is not as overcast as yesterday. We hit the Superior Hiking Trail running, veering off onto a ski trail that meanders through a young pine grove. I stop and inhale, then smile.

We reach the hwy and I decide that today is the day we cross it to reach the next section of the trail. We make the transition smoothly and are soon headed towards an overlook on the spur trail. The air is damp and deer scat litters the flattened ground. As I walk, I notice the volume of broken twigs, decomposing leaves and tree branches. It dawns on me that this process is necessary for the survival of the forest, that this refuse is actually forming the top of layer of nutrients and soil for the surrounding undergrowth and trees. This cycle is slow and it takes its own time, affected by many different variables; moisture, animals, foot traffic, weather.

I began to think about this in relationship to my own processes and life. The cycles are inevitable and natural events that meld into one another with no real end or beginning; each one facilitating the next, shaping and growing who I am. Even grief and trauma in their own state of decomposition are renewing other pieces of my expanding self, creating fertile soil for the next process.

I lay back on a moss covered log over a small ravine pondering surrender. I look up through the tree branches that were reaching for the sunlight to the blue sky beyond and remember just how small I am. And not only small, but linked; the macrocosm within the microcosm, as within, so without.

Life is not static or linear, it is a circular chain of present moments, each one folding over onto the next.

Unfolding

My eyes blink open at the first sign of the new day; gray morning dawn peeking through the plants on my windowsill. The sun rises in the West and I roll out of my comfortable den, embedded with the dogs to greet it. There is space here, the space of being.

Following our morning routine, I feed the ravenous hordes and put on my trail running shoes. The three of us exit the house and head down towards the Marina, our destination, Knife River Beach.

Che and Stella are unleashed and flank my sides, never wandering too far ahead.
Grandfather is breaking through the clouds along the horizon now and the birds on the island are waking up. Seagulls dart through the sky, soaring into the great wide morning. Thirteen ducks come speeding into the bay for a water landing, sliding along the surface of the Great Lake, feet in front, wings extended. Crows in the trees greet each other signaling that a new day has arrived for all of us.

I land on a piece of milky white driftwood, squatting to observe the unfolding. The dogs are at my feet digging their ten thousandth hole; they live for this, competing, pawing the ground for a stick that keeps being pulled under into the quick sand beneath their frantic paws.

I am settling into a new life here; a life with less doing and simply, more being. The time of day, the day of the week, a list of tasks are all unimportant and far away; the remnants of an old way of living in the world.

I sleep when I am tired. I eat when I am hungry. I am content to be out in the dense forest or next to the pebble and sand covered shore line; in these places the subtleties of spring are everywhere, green shoots, leaves uncurling, flowing water. I am these places. I am uncurling, flowing. I am rooted, green. I am expanding and contracting; no longer subject to the minds predilection with externalities.

I observe the stories I tell myself in my mind and I laugh; they are fabricated by the most ingenious of imaginations, events that never happen, worry that never comes to fruition. They are not real.

Poem: Transitioning

Rough and tumble, pushed and propelled
Carried by turbulent lake winds
Drug forward almost against my will
Too tired and weary to protest
Paddled up stream by grief phantoms
Cajoled, coaxed and shepherded in
I am here now at rest in mind and body
We sit in spirit, in her enveloping embrace
A soul content, utterly satisfied
A center resolute
Having pushed up through the soil to greet the sun once more
Coming home, returning around the circle.

Sunday Morning

I am up with the sun.

Birds chirping, deer munching in the early morning; Che and Stella by my side meandering down the North Shore Scenic drive. There is a cool breeze and the sound of water rushing; the pup’s breath escaping from their panting mouths like fog outrunning the horizon.

We pass the smoked fish house, follow a river, traverse a water fall; I breathe in the fresh cool scent of the sun rise heightened by notes of dew and pine. This is my favorite smell and I snag a handful of needles and humus with my fingers and inhale a sharp breathe. An old man with a beard driving a pick-up truck passes us and waves. I love that old time village hospitality; it reminds me of my youth and dirt roads.

A cup of Chai, blueberry granola pancake mix, scrambled eggs with feta; I call mom over for breakfast, she is only 10 minutes away now.

Bree and baby sleep soundly on our first Sunday morning in Knife River. This is the most relaxed and at peace that I have felt in months. Who knew that rejuvenation was right up the shore of the Great Lake?

I look forward to mending, repairing, healing and birthing here. I planted pansies in the window boxes, they remind me of my Finnish great grandmother; she once lived in a similar village, husbandless and with an overflowing candy dish.

Last night I was so elated to be here that I didn’t want to go to bed. I decided it was time to return to the tried and true Oracle and pulled the goddess card Inanna which means embracing the shadow; journeying to those parts of yourself that have been lost or forgotten. The card invites you to explore the depths and tunnel like nature of those places and reminds you that the journey takes as long as it takes and can’t be fit into a schedule. “Take comfort in the fact that all journeys to the Underworld do end and that you will indeed return-much different from who you thought you were when you went.”

If this is the Underworld, I’m golden.