-Bon Iver
Before:
And so it is that I say adieu to my first Indian adventure...I would not change a thing (which is convenient...since I cant...its always nice when your desires correspond with the inevitable). This journey was everything I needed it to be...though the lessons didn't always take the form I expected them to take (well of course they didn't...who learns from something they expected or already knew).
I was gonna write a little now...but I head to the airport within the hour and I think it would be a better use of my time to sit for a bit and see where I am with myself and everything that has happened and is happening...it is a Sati (mindfulness) day after all. I'll talk to you from London.
After:
I am in London...sitting by the bed of the lovely Sir Geoffrey on his 93rd birthday...the Lady of the house is downstairs preparing our homemade souffle and ice cream for later this evening...and in the meanwhile I thought I would get a little bit down on here and say hello in my first blog entry from the west. Part of me was foolish enough to fall into that trap of placing some arbitrary boundary or border between east and west in terms of learning, but the lessons never stop if I am paying attention to what is happening in the present. And as I sit by this man who has been bed ridden for the past three plus months, who has been suffering from infections of the body and dementia in the mind, I am able to observe the profundity and continuity of a genuine good-heartedness and deeply founded satisfaction, the momentum of a million smiles and an inner peace that shine through the darkness of old age and sickness. There is some sadness and there have been some tears from those around...but not from Geoffrey...he is full of smiles and laughs and witty banter and a desire to listen to opera, to do little hand dances to his french music...and even when he's looking up and to the left, off into a realm which I cannot see, speaking to figures in his own private universe...he remains considerate and calm...saying "thank you" and "it'll be alright" in a tone gentle and reassuring. He told me earlier in the day, with a big smile, that "she is looking down on me"...I don't know exactly what he meant or who "she" is...but that's not really important is it? What is important is that he is happy...he has the momentum of all his past happiness and goodness which has continued into the present.
From what I understand, many of those who suffer from senile dementia exhibit a good deal anger and fear...an understandable reaction to that kind of disorientation, of course...but I have proof in front of me that anger and fear are not the universal or default human response to disorientation and physical weakness. Most of us shove our anger, shame, fear, anxiety, heartache, and longing down in a deep dark hole cause we believe that these emotions are bad and other emotions are good, accepting only half of ourselves and expecting a complete balance, and so when we inevitably become disoriented, weak, confused, sick, when we feel that our guard is down...we worry that all the bad stuff we've pushed down will rise back...and often it does, multiplied by repression, and so we freak out. It is not negative or pessimistic to acknowledge that deterioration, inconstancy and pain are inherent in this transient congregation of the psycho-physical aggregates...it is realistic, nothing more, nothing less. This is the first noble truth. And because we know that these states of weakness, sickness, confusion, etc. are inevitable in our own existence, isn't it worthwhile to invest time into learning and training in a way that produces a healthier response to these situations than anger? I am fortunate enough to have before me a living example of what can be achieved when one does live and practice in such a way.
Geoffrey's natural response to things or people unknown, that is to say, the response which is natural to him at this point in his life due to repetition and a lifetime of practice, looks to me to be little less than open acceptance and pure kindness...even if you are in his room and he doesn't know you...or if he doesn't know exactly where he is...he is always ready to greet the present with a smile. His lifetime of practice has dug grooves so deep that this aspect of his awareness cannot be derailed, though the vehicles through which it interacts with the world as we know it deteriorate. And it is also a great gift to see a man through the eyes of a woman who he loves and who loves him very much...I am very grateful to be here.
Peace in the long mind
Achieved by kind moments, stacked
Sweet repetition
So...my last week in India was spent between Reshikesh and Amritsar. I spent most of everyday in Reshikesh (from my walk into town to my last afternoon there) with a pair of Israelis: Odea and Adir. If it hadn't been for them I probably wouldn't have been there for more than a couple days, but I ended up there for four nights and five days (of course you never know what would have happened...besides "what happened happened and couldn't have happened any other way" -Morpheus). I was not a big fan of the town for various reasons. It was just one of those places where everyone was wearing the uniform of a "spiritual type"...but it was all caught up in the massive haze of pot smoke and big-talk-little-walk...it all felt more than a little hollow...but I realize that this is my perspective and many biases shape that view (not to mention the feeling of being locked in myself by the allergies that were attacking me in my last week in India)...I don't mean to pass judgment on the people there, I just didn't really resonate with the vibration of the place I guess...until my last afternoon, more on that in a sec. I did a couple of yoga classes with a good teacher at the Ashram to which I took the Israelis on our arrival (and where they got a room but I didn't haha)...they were as enjoyable as any yoga classes I've taken. The Israelis and I spent an afternoon at a waterfall a couple kilometers away from Laxmanjhula (the part of town in which we were staying, Laxman is the god Ram's younger brother...the next neighborhood over was Ramjhula) and swam and talked about meditation in the Jewish tradition (apparently I really need to read Rabbi Nachman), family, money, politics (which I realized quickly was not a conversation I wanted to have with these Israelis or any others for that matter, at least none that I've met so far...and there were a lot of them in India, and specifically Pushkar and Reshikesh since pot is legal in both places as it has religious use). We ate a lot of ice cream together and they took me to Chabad for Shabbat (I was the only person there...out of 50 or so people who did not speak Hebrew). I hope to see them both when I am in Israel this summer (yes, I finally got accepted by Taglit woohoo!).
Ok, so back to our last afternoon together...Reshikesh, specifically the Maharishi Mahesh Ashram, is where the Beatles stayed and practice transcendental meditation and yoga (and probably dropped a lot of acid) in their later years, before writing the White Album I guess. We visited this old abandoned ashram shortly before I was to leave for the train station to catch my train to Amritsar (which I would miss due to staying at the ashram a little longer than I should have...or due to any of the number of things that took an extra minute or two on the way out of town). The ashram was attended by a soft spoken middle aged Indian man with one leg notably shorter than the other, more than slightly turned out, which made his walk down the stairs toward the gate and us, a rather long one..."Yes, this Beatles Ashram."
We weren't expecting much...but as we continued through the massive property I became more and more entranced by the quiet, the overgrown trees and bushes and roots, the soft rush of the Ganga half a kilometer away, just the vibration of the place...it was so totally different than the rest of the town. We wandered through a couple of the scattered yurts (structures shaped like the top half of en egg for doing yoga and solitary meditation) and found out that our voices echoed back at us in this powerful way due to the acoustics of the little room...probably done purposefully to help with mantra practice...I found myself wondering whether George Harrison had been in this one or that one...(I mean, I'm always thinking about John somewhere in my mind but I let George have a few moments at the front, especially since I think that he's the one most known for spending time with TM) and just took in the surroundings. We wandered through a few abandoned buildings...to the roof of one...they did their smoking thing while I tried to be observant of what was going on in and around me...there was an air of sadness due to our parting after hanging out so regularly for the past five days. And as we made out way back down from the roof of the building we had been on...we found a room with a wall painted brightly with Beatles' lyrics..."she loves you ya, ya, ya with a love like that you know you should be glad", "blackbird", "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" (that's where Adir found out what that song was about due to the painter exaggerating the size of the L, S and D haha)...and many others..."number 9, number 9" and "happiness is a warm gun" on a little wall in the hallway...the room brought "Across the Universe" to mind and was a burst of color and joy in a buildilng filled with rubbish and painted in that sterile beige and we could just as easily have missed that wall as found it seeing as there were many a stairway back down...I was very grateful that we didn't miss it.
We wandered some more and sat in a great big hallway with all the windows knocked out and the walls scribbled with notes in different languages...the three of us sat crosslegged, Odea up on the stage on a little concrete block and Adir and I sat on the floor and together we said the little Hari OM mantra we had learned in class until a couple of other tourists came into the hall and we scooted out. There was much more exploring to do...and I think when I return to India I will go back to Reshikesh just to further explore and sit in that Ashram...but I bid my new friends farewell and walked in the direction of the gate and the train station while they continued in.
Ok...moving ahead...I missed my train to Amritsar by a few minutes and was put on the waiting list for a train that night. I met four Spanish girls at the station who were also on the waiting list, though, due to the language barrier didn't really understand the concept of waiting list and so for the next few hours I did the best I could in my lousy Spanish and getting pretty lousy Italian to help them out and so together we managed to get on the night train. One of the girls and I were offered the two extra beds in a car reserved by a very kind Indian man and so we had it notably easier than two of the other three who had to share for the night...(we did find out that those beds came with a cost though as we were asked to take a multitude of pictures with their children in various poses and combinations haha).
We arrived in Amritsar, Punjab (a region in the far NW of India) in the morning around 7:30...only two hours later than our scheduled arrival time. I bid farewell to the Spaniards as I headed for the golden temple and they for their guest house.
I arrived at the Golden Temple, the first and most holy of the Sikh pilgrimage sites, by cycles rickshaw and was guided to the dormitory. I could see the beautiful temple through the archway a few hundred yards from my dormitory and could hear the din from the volunteers cleaning the eating trays next to the Lungar hall ("Lungar" is the word given to the Sikh tradition of a community meal, the hall, the temple complex for that matter is open 24 hours a day and serves anyone and everyone...it was pretty amazing to be in a place where no one goes hungry). The Golden Temple offers a free bed and free food to anyone who requests. I slept in a big room with what was essentially a 30ft bed on which 15 or 20 foreign traveler's slept. I met Suji, a south korean girl who offered to let me use a lock and helped me find my way around and was just all around very sweet and helpful, and then made my way into the temple complex, turned in my shoes at the desk, covered my head, washed my feet and got in the rather long line to enter the Golden Temple itself. The complex is about the size of three football fields of water, "the sacred pool of nectar,"and one on the far side of the complex is a 20ft wide walkway that connects the outer ring to the Golden Temple, located in the center of the pool. The whole complex is filled with then chants of the priests and readers inside the temple which are broadcast out over speakers. I stood in line with thousands of Sikh men, women and children carrying offerings of a sweet pudding/oatmeal thing, chanting along with the priest...one of which had a beautiful simple tune and sounded like "Sata guru mitiyallah" (which I'm pretty sure translated to "God is the true guru [teacher]")...many of the men in those bright orange and dark blue uniforms, carrying their little silver daggers, wearing their turbans and giant beards (Sikh men are supposed to have 5 things on them at all times [the five K's since they all start with a K in hindi]: a silver bracelet, a wooden comb in the hair, a silver dagger/sword, a long pant underwear, and the turban) and together we made our way closer and closer to the holy of holies. Each of the three stories of the temple has one reader reading from the Guru Granth, the holy book of the Sikhs compiled by (I believe) the fifth Nanak...there are many similarities between the Sikh treatment of the Guru Granth and the Jewish treatment of the Torah (I am speaking of the text in physical form)...there are many parallels between the two traditions in terms of their ceremonies and rituals, in the emphasis on family and community service, and even between the role that they fill in their respective societies socio-economically and in that they are both minority religions which have their roots in a specific geographical location. More on that another time perhaps. It was an experience. As was eating in the Lungar hall (they served rice pudding...bottomless rice pudding with coconut slices in it...for those of you who know my relationship to rice pudding...you know how amazing this was for me) and sitting in the basement section of another temple in the outer ring later that night with a group of Sikhs who were far more meditationally oriented it seemed to me...and there was a tree growing out of a stone...it was wrapped in cloth...hard to explain...but it was quiet and still down there...I find that I am much more amenable to worshiping trees and plants than people or anthropomorphic deities or any kind haha.
Alright, there's always more but Syvia is back now and I have to do a few things before I head to the airport and to New York to see the Peanut and the Signore Tony and a few others...
I hope everyone is doing well...I will not be missing you for much longer...:)
Before:
And so it is that I say adieu to my first Indian adventure...I would not change a thing (which is convenient...since I cant...its always nice when your desires correspond with the inevitable). This journey was everything I needed it to be...though the lessons didn't always take the form I expected them to take (well of course they didn't...who learns from something they expected or already knew).
I was gonna write a little now...but I head to the airport within the hour and I think it would be a better use of my time to sit for a bit and see where I am with myself and everything that has happened and is happening...it is a Sati (mindfulness) day after all. I'll talk to you from London.
After:
I am in London...sitting by the bed of the lovely Sir Geoffrey on his 93rd birthday...the Lady of the house is downstairs preparing our homemade souffle and ice cream for later this evening...and in the meanwhile I thought I would get a little bit down on here and say hello in my first blog entry from the west. Part of me was foolish enough to fall into that trap of placing some arbitrary boundary or border between east and west in terms of learning, but the lessons never stop if I am paying attention to what is happening in the present. And as I sit by this man who has been bed ridden for the past three plus months, who has been suffering from infections of the body and dementia in the mind, I am able to observe the profundity and continuity of a genuine good-heartedness and deeply founded satisfaction, the momentum of a million smiles and an inner peace that shine through the darkness of old age and sickness. There is some sadness and there have been some tears from those around...but not from Geoffrey...he is full of smiles and laughs and witty banter and a desire to listen to opera, to do little hand dances to his french music...and even when he's looking up and to the left, off into a realm which I cannot see, speaking to figures in his own private universe...he remains considerate and calm...saying "thank you" and "it'll be alright" in a tone gentle and reassuring. He told me earlier in the day, with a big smile, that "she is looking down on me"...I don't know exactly what he meant or who "she" is...but that's not really important is it? What is important is that he is happy...he has the momentum of all his past happiness and goodness which has continued into the present.
From what I understand, many of those who suffer from senile dementia exhibit a good deal anger and fear...an understandable reaction to that kind of disorientation, of course...but I have proof in front of me that anger and fear are not the universal or default human response to disorientation and physical weakness. Most of us shove our anger, shame, fear, anxiety, heartache, and longing down in a deep dark hole cause we believe that these emotions are bad and other emotions are good, accepting only half of ourselves and expecting a complete balance, and so when we inevitably become disoriented, weak, confused, sick, when we feel that our guard is down...we worry that all the bad stuff we've pushed down will rise back...and often it does, multiplied by repression, and so we freak out. It is not negative or pessimistic to acknowledge that deterioration, inconstancy and pain are inherent in this transient congregation of the psycho-physical aggregates...it is realistic, nothing more, nothing less. This is the first noble truth. And because we know that these states of weakness, sickness, confusion, etc. are inevitable in our own existence, isn't it worthwhile to invest time into learning and training in a way that produces a healthier response to these situations than anger? I am fortunate enough to have before me a living example of what can be achieved when one does live and practice in such a way.
Geoffrey's natural response to things or people unknown, that is to say, the response which is natural to him at this point in his life due to repetition and a lifetime of practice, looks to me to be little less than open acceptance and pure kindness...even if you are in his room and he doesn't know you...or if he doesn't know exactly where he is...he is always ready to greet the present with a smile. His lifetime of practice has dug grooves so deep that this aspect of his awareness cannot be derailed, though the vehicles through which it interacts with the world as we know it deteriorate. And it is also a great gift to see a man through the eyes of a woman who he loves and who loves him very much...I am very grateful to be here.
Peace in the long mind
Achieved by kind moments, stacked
Sweet repetition
So...my last week in India was spent between Reshikesh and Amritsar. I spent most of everyday in Reshikesh (from my walk into town to my last afternoon there) with a pair of Israelis: Odea and Adir. If it hadn't been for them I probably wouldn't have been there for more than a couple days, but I ended up there for four nights and five days (of course you never know what would have happened...besides "what happened happened and couldn't have happened any other way" -Morpheus). I was not a big fan of the town for various reasons. It was just one of those places where everyone was wearing the uniform of a "spiritual type"...but it was all caught up in the massive haze of pot smoke and big-talk-little-walk...it all felt more than a little hollow...but I realize that this is my perspective and many biases shape that view (not to mention the feeling of being locked in myself by the allergies that were attacking me in my last week in India)...I don't mean to pass judgment on the people there, I just didn't really resonate with the vibration of the place I guess...until my last afternoon, more on that in a sec. I did a couple of yoga classes with a good teacher at the Ashram to which I took the Israelis on our arrival (and where they got a room but I didn't haha)...they were as enjoyable as any yoga classes I've taken. The Israelis and I spent an afternoon at a waterfall a couple kilometers away from Laxmanjhula (the part of town in which we were staying, Laxman is the god Ram's younger brother...the next neighborhood over was Ramjhula) and swam and talked about meditation in the Jewish tradition (apparently I really need to read Rabbi Nachman), family, money, politics (which I realized quickly was not a conversation I wanted to have with these Israelis or any others for that matter, at least none that I've met so far...and there were a lot of them in India, and specifically Pushkar and Reshikesh since pot is legal in both places as it has religious use). We ate a lot of ice cream together and they took me to Chabad for Shabbat (I was the only person there...out of 50 or so people who did not speak Hebrew). I hope to see them both when I am in Israel this summer (yes, I finally got accepted by Taglit woohoo!).
Ok, so back to our last afternoon together...Reshikesh, specifically the Maharishi Mahesh Ashram, is where the Beatles stayed and practice transcendental meditation and yoga (and probably dropped a lot of acid) in their later years, before writing the White Album I guess. We visited this old abandoned ashram shortly before I was to leave for the train station to catch my train to Amritsar (which I would miss due to staying at the ashram a little longer than I should have...or due to any of the number of things that took an extra minute or two on the way out of town). The ashram was attended by a soft spoken middle aged Indian man with one leg notably shorter than the other, more than slightly turned out, which made his walk down the stairs toward the gate and us, a rather long one..."Yes, this Beatles Ashram."
We weren't expecting much...but as we continued through the massive property I became more and more entranced by the quiet, the overgrown trees and bushes and roots, the soft rush of the Ganga half a kilometer away, just the vibration of the place...it was so totally different than the rest of the town. We wandered through a couple of the scattered yurts (structures shaped like the top half of en egg for doing yoga and solitary meditation) and found out that our voices echoed back at us in this powerful way due to the acoustics of the little room...probably done purposefully to help with mantra practice...I found myself wondering whether George Harrison had been in this one or that one...(I mean, I'm always thinking about John somewhere in my mind but I let George have a few moments at the front, especially since I think that he's the one most known for spending time with TM) and just took in the surroundings. We wandered through a few abandoned buildings...to the roof of one...they did their smoking thing while I tried to be observant of what was going on in and around me...there was an air of sadness due to our parting after hanging out so regularly for the past five days. And as we made out way back down from the roof of the building we had been on...we found a room with a wall painted brightly with Beatles' lyrics..."she loves you ya, ya, ya with a love like that you know you should be glad", "blackbird", "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" (that's where Adir found out what that song was about due to the painter exaggerating the size of the L, S and D haha)...and many others..."number 9, number 9" and "happiness is a warm gun" on a little wall in the hallway...the room brought "Across the Universe" to mind and was a burst of color and joy in a buildilng filled with rubbish and painted in that sterile beige and we could just as easily have missed that wall as found it seeing as there were many a stairway back down...I was very grateful that we didn't miss it.
We wandered some more and sat in a great big hallway with all the windows knocked out and the walls scribbled with notes in different languages...the three of us sat crosslegged, Odea up on the stage on a little concrete block and Adir and I sat on the floor and together we said the little Hari OM mantra we had learned in class until a couple of other tourists came into the hall and we scooted out. There was much more exploring to do...and I think when I return to India I will go back to Reshikesh just to further explore and sit in that Ashram...but I bid my new friends farewell and walked in the direction of the gate and the train station while they continued in.
Ok...moving ahead...I missed my train to Amritsar by a few minutes and was put on the waiting list for a train that night. I met four Spanish girls at the station who were also on the waiting list, though, due to the language barrier didn't really understand the concept of waiting list and so for the next few hours I did the best I could in my lousy Spanish and getting pretty lousy Italian to help them out and so together we managed to get on the night train. One of the girls and I were offered the two extra beds in a car reserved by a very kind Indian man and so we had it notably easier than two of the other three who had to share for the night...(we did find out that those beds came with a cost though as we were asked to take a multitude of pictures with their children in various poses and combinations haha).
We arrived in Amritsar, Punjab (a region in the far NW of India) in the morning around 7:30...only two hours later than our scheduled arrival time. I bid farewell to the Spaniards as I headed for the golden temple and they for their guest house.
I arrived at the Golden Temple, the first and most holy of the Sikh pilgrimage sites, by cycles rickshaw and was guided to the dormitory. I could see the beautiful temple through the archway a few hundred yards from my dormitory and could hear the din from the volunteers cleaning the eating trays next to the Lungar hall ("Lungar" is the word given to the Sikh tradition of a community meal, the hall, the temple complex for that matter is open 24 hours a day and serves anyone and everyone...it was pretty amazing to be in a place where no one goes hungry). The Golden Temple offers a free bed and free food to anyone who requests. I slept in a big room with what was essentially a 30ft bed on which 15 or 20 foreign traveler's slept. I met Suji, a south korean girl who offered to let me use a lock and helped me find my way around and was just all around very sweet and helpful, and then made my way into the temple complex, turned in my shoes at the desk, covered my head, washed my feet and got in the rather long line to enter the Golden Temple itself. The complex is about the size of three football fields of water, "the sacred pool of nectar,"and one on the far side of the complex is a 20ft wide walkway that connects the outer ring to the Golden Temple, located in the center of the pool. The whole complex is filled with then chants of the priests and readers inside the temple which are broadcast out over speakers. I stood in line with thousands of Sikh men, women and children carrying offerings of a sweet pudding/oatmeal thing, chanting along with the priest...one of which had a beautiful simple tune and sounded like "Sata guru mitiyallah" (which I'm pretty sure translated to "God is the true guru [teacher]")...many of the men in those bright orange and dark blue uniforms, carrying their little silver daggers, wearing their turbans and giant beards (Sikh men are supposed to have 5 things on them at all times [the five K's since they all start with a K in hindi]: a silver bracelet, a wooden comb in the hair, a silver dagger/sword, a long pant underwear, and the turban) and together we made our way closer and closer to the holy of holies. Each of the three stories of the temple has one reader reading from the Guru Granth, the holy book of the Sikhs compiled by (I believe) the fifth Nanak...there are many similarities between the Sikh treatment of the Guru Granth and the Jewish treatment of the Torah (I am speaking of the text in physical form)...there are many parallels between the two traditions in terms of their ceremonies and rituals, in the emphasis on family and community service, and even between the role that they fill in their respective societies socio-economically and in that they are both minority religions which have their roots in a specific geographical location. More on that another time perhaps. It was an experience. As was eating in the Lungar hall (they served rice pudding...bottomless rice pudding with coconut slices in it...for those of you who know my relationship to rice pudding...you know how amazing this was for me) and sitting in the basement section of another temple in the outer ring later that night with a group of Sikhs who were far more meditationally oriented it seemed to me...and there was a tree growing out of a stone...it was wrapped in cloth...hard to explain...but it was quiet and still down there...I find that I am much more amenable to worshiping trees and plants than people or anthropomorphic deities or any kind haha.
Alright, there's always more but Syvia is back now and I have to do a few things before I head to the airport and to New York to see the Peanut and the Signore Tony and a few others...
I hope everyone is doing well...I will not be missing you for much longer...:)
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