red dot little duck

Here it is… Christmas. Quite a different experience this year. Wasn’t sure what to expect or even what I wanted to do. Maybe a little dinner here at the house? Perhaps a walk-about in the evening? I mean, who really celebrates Christmas in India? After some deliberation about what to do, Lars and I decided to go out for some evening Dosa – quite good – and afterwards walk to the Ramakrishna Ashram to experience some chanting.

So, after dinner we walk to the Ashram. We get to the hall; everyone is sitting patiently. I turn to Lars and say, “Are we really allowed in here?” All these Indian people look at us like, “really?” Lars assures me it’s all good and motions for me to enter… men on the right, women on the left. I go sit with the women. Glancing around, I try to get a sense for how people are holding themselves. See if there are any special rules. Most are just sitting there, slouched. Such poor posture! So, I’m good. Sitting. Done.

At the front of the room there is a Christmas tree like shrine. Representing images of Jesus and… wait for it… Santa. Yes, Santa Clause, floating in the branches. Twinkling lights. Tinsel and decorations. Offerings of cakes and oils arranged in front of it among several candles brightly burning. So awesome.

The chanting started and the energy was brilliant! Tablas, bells, harmonium and voice. Everyone knew the words. I had no idea what they were saying. They bellowed it out with devotion and love. It was beautiful. Proceedings continued with tithing, blessings, and ceremonial traditions. Then, I heard organ music. I believe one of the men in the front had a keyboard, and the tune of Silent night started echoing off the walls. I couldn’t stop smiling as this man, with his Indian accent, started to sing. Of course, I tear up a bit. Then – Oh Come all Ye Faithfull and Joy to the World and so on… just perfect. At one point in the celebration another man got up and started reading from the bible. I don’t think I have ever seen someone look so bored! Could barely contain the laughter. Lastly, during some more singing, everyone received a piece of sweet bread and some candy. With a bow of gratitude we left and started home.

It was a good feeling in that room and it carried us all the way back to the house. We lit a candle and went to the roof to indulge in our sweets; including a slice of chocolate, Christmas cake we picked up earlier. We laughed, talked about Christmas’ past and enjoyed the last bits of Christmas Eve.

A lot of things go along with the holidays: family, friends, dinners, drinks, games, gifts and hopefully, if we’re lucky, a lot of love and laughter. I feel pretty lucky.

Merry Christmas.

There is no missing it: on the ground, in the ditch, in empty lots. Garbage. If one can afford it, there is a pick up service. People leave small bags hanging from their gates and someone in a little truck comes by to grab it. Very little truck. I don’t know what happens to it after that. (hmmm…)

This is the garbage truck.

If someone doesn’t have a gate they put it outside their door. In which case, it seems, that animals often come by and grab it; tear it open to find goodies inside. Yummm. Another scenario… chuck it into an empty lot or better yet burn it; plastic and all. I have seen dogs eating garbage, cows, birds, pigs and goats eating garbage. I’ve seen people sort through the garbage. Looking for anything useful. A whole different level of dumpster diving. People don’t seem to mind it either. It’s simply part of things.

The other day as I was walking to the Shala, I noticed a couple women cleaning up the street. It was so beautiful to me – to see people cleaning up random garbage – in this place. I don’t know if that was their job or if they were just doing it outside of their homes or what but, they were smiling and talking to each other just picking up garbage. It seems such an endless, impossible task.

That’s just one example of how people can be. Doing things because that is what needs to be done. No problem. You do. So even though I look out at the street and see garbage everywhere… people do care. That’s what is so damn beautiful!! Homes are well taken care of. Large prestigious homes and makeshift shanties constructed of scraps. There’s a morning ritual here. Puja. Women washing off the driveway or entryway to their homes and drawing fresh rangolis (a pattern, usually drawn with chalk on entryways to homes or businesses), watering plants, doing laundry; colorful fabrics out to dry over clotheslines and balconies. Fresh flowers hang above the doorways and sometimes, the sweet sound of drums, bells and chanting echo through the air. Shoes off at the door. Respect.

I get to the Shala nearly fourty-five minutes early so I can be sure to get a spot in the main room. (vs – the changing room or entry way, which happens.) There are at least ten people there already waiting. I sit. The steps fill up quickly. More and more people file into the waiting area just outside the Shala door… we wait. I can hear Sharath counting, “one… two… three…” We wait.

People start to chatter. I get a little anxious as I am more and more surrounded. Am I going to have to shove my way into the door? How close will our mats be? Am I supposed to stop at Supta Kurmasana? (Yes.) Then it comes, resonating through the walls; OM – echoing from inside.

I was stunned at the sheer magnitude of the sound! And in that instant everyone around me stood up, like geysers shooting out of the ground. Soon everyone is pressing up on each other. Squeezing to get in the door – pouring through one at a time. We probably looked like ants escaping a water-doused anthill. Everyone finds a place. We stand at the head of our mats. OM.

Again – the intensity of the vibration, sent chills through my limbs. We begin… “Ekam… Dve…” In unison we move through the Primary Series. One breath. People begin to stop at their respective places/various posses. I, at Supta Kurmasana, sit and breathe. Closing my eyes I listen to the rhythm. Counting… movement… breathing. Often getting lost in my thoughts, trying to break through the wall. Emotions pour through the cracks. Focus – breathe.

Soon Sharath is standing in front of me, “Urdhva Dhanurasana, you do. OK?” Perhaps he saw I was a bit lost inside. “OK.” I do my backbends. Focus. I move through closing and find myself once again standing in Samastithi. Focus – breathe. Closing mantra. Savasana. Since it was the last led class of the day I was able to lay there for a time. Waiting for others to get up and get their stuff together. The first led class in Mysore. Check.

It will never cease to amaze me how this practice can tear one apart in such an intense way and somehow emanate such glorious beauty. Om namah Shivaya.

Above my mat, above the Shala rugs, heart and palms face the chandelier hanging from the ceiling… Savasana. A slight breeze brushing over me cools the beads of perspiration gathered across my limbs. My breath; slow, subtle. Eyes closed.

I can hear the breathing; the breath of the room surrounds me. Its strength swallows me whole, sucking me inside some vast expanse of space… a shadow filled with the lightness of rhythm. No sight, only sound. As if no one is really there. No people, no other bodies. Only Breath. Breathing.

I woke up at 5am, determined to keep vigilant at being productively occupied with myself. Edited some photos and wrote. At 9am I walked to the Shala, unsure of what to expect. Anxious. The entryway was full of others waiting for their turn. Watching through the open door as people moved through their practice. “One more.” Sharath called, and someone would jump up and hustle inside.

Eventually it was my turn. I got up put my mat down and tip toed to the changing room to put my stuff down. There were ladies everywhere closing out their practice. I was so nervous! What was I supposed to do? Ok, don’t panic. Just put your crap down and go start. One woman in the changing room noticed the look on my face and told me to relax and enjoy my practice. Good advice.

I started like I normally would. Opening prayer. Sun Salutation A. Sun Salutation B. All the while trying not to notice everyone still in the entryway watching, waiting. Somewhere around Tiriang Mukha, he told me to move up to the front. Crap. I’m thinking he wants to keep a close watch on me. I’m certain this is true. Marichyasana  D was just around the corner.

I kept going, caught a bind in Marichyasana D (wasn’t sure that was going to happen) and then kept going… Garbha Pindasana.

“Wait.” He says from a few mats over. Coming closer he asks, “You bind Marichyasana D?”

“Yes.” I replied, thinking barely.

He looked like he didn’t believe me. “I must see it. Sorry. Tomorrow. You stop here.” He paused. “You bind Supta Kurmasana?”

“No.” I said feeling a bit embarrassed.

“You stop.” He said knowingly. “Slowly you go. Backbends.” So I stopped and moved into backbends.

Was afraid that would happen. It was humbling. Started Reminding myself that I wasn’t good enough. That I used to be able to do more. I was better before.

“Joanna, no coming up. Don’t move your feet. Three backbends then you fold forward. You go slow.” He said.

“No coming up?”

“No.” he said.

“Ok.” Dropping more deeply into a place of believing I’m not worthy.

I did my best to limit the tears. Embarrassing. Crying at the Shala. Come on!

As I left, I stopped to thank Sharath for class. I put my hands together and dropped my head with a slight bow; he did the same. His smile – beautifully genuine. Something in his face, his eyes said to me, slowly it will come.

It seems I may have to remind myself a few times that there is no actual evidence supporting the belief that I am not good enough. That statement is just not true. Things have changed. This is true. My practice has changed and so perhaps it comes from a different place than it did before. I am here to learn more about that. That is exactly why I am here. Slow down and learn.

Our driver, Vali, dropped us off at our house #15, 3^rd Stage, Contour Rd, Gokulam, Mysore. It was 6:30am. The sun was just coming up; a modestly lit sky. We talked with our landlords, dumped our stuff off and headed out. Breakfast and a walk-about… get the lay of the land.

We walked a lot that day. Not sure where all the energy came from. Excitement. We went to a couple restaurants eager to try the local fair. Found some ATMs. Picked up some supplies for the house. Had my first coconut from the coconut stand. Saw more poverty and garbage. This time, unlike the dark drive through Bangalore, I could see the beauty among the poverty. Brilliantly colored Saris, vibrant flowers hanging in doorways, smiling faces, patterns drawn on entryways… tradition; it was both magnificently beautiful and crazy humbling.

It was an early night and I slept hard.

Next day I woke at 5am and took practice in my room. It was amazing. No heater needed. The sound of morning prayers floating through the windows accompanied my solo breath. Beautiful. Grounding. Later, after wondering down into a particularly poor part of town and getting pointed at several times we hopped in a rickshaw that took us downtown – the market – Mysore. We stopped for lunch and apparently it is customary to just sit at a table even if there are others there. So we sat and ate with two Indian men across from us. A little weird: also, oddly awesome. Good food too. Masala Dosa. Yum! We never actually make it into the market. We ended up leaving shortly after being led down a shady path by a Muslim stranger, Salim, and our jet leg caught up to us.

Short rest then to the Shala: register for class. I was the second person there. Waiting patiently. We started getting called in around 3:30pm. Conference was to start at 4pm. There where a lot of us and as it turns out it doesn’t much matter who got there first. So I ended up being there for Conference. I wasn’t really prepared for that and franticly searched for a pen. Which, I did not find. It was a good foundational talk about the Yamas and Niyamas. Questions were asked towards the end and in response to a question regarding ahimsa in our own practice Sharath said, “Enjoy your asana.” Simple. I will be referring to that many times over the next few months.

After conference, I registered, handed over a pile of rupees for a month’s tuition and a chanting class (that I didn’t know about) and got my start time. 9:30am. … Man.

We left Spokane at 6am Thursday, December 8, 2012 on a journey to Bangalore. It was a short flight, not a lot to report on; read a book… Siddhartha. I think I will be reading that again…

We had a long layover in the Denver airport. A campout. We watched the plane pull up that would take us to Frankfurt, Germany and waited. No problem. 7.5 hours. Gave us plenty of time to walk the entire airport in search of soup. Which, we never found.

Man… lets go already!

Plane number two: fairly uneventful flight. This is a good thing. I watched three movies, dozed off a few times, ate airline meals (a story in themselves) – even had a beer. Good beer too. Something German. The Frankfurt airport was insane. It seemed extremely unorganized and super slow. And there we were, in another airport. Camped out. Watching the plane we were about to board that would take us to Bangalore.

Plane number three: another 8 hours on board. I slept, chatted a bit with the Indian woman next to me, slept some more, ate airline meals – skipped the beer.

Finally, we get off the plane in Bangalore, get in line and wait. Immigration. I think we got into the slowest line imaginable. After two hours we got through and our driver was there to pick us up. Vali – a very nice man. It was about 3am Saturday, December 10, 2012. Things were still pretty surreal at this point.

It was dark but the moon was full. Shadows cast across billboards and construction sites. Piles of garbage, everywhere. Cows. Dogs. More garbage. People sleeping on the street or in small tent like huts. Most constructed directly next to a business or house. Poverty next to plenty. Surreal. This was Bangalore… first sight. I was both thrilled and saddened. I will see Bangalore again, perhaps after my time here in Mysore it will be with new eyes and a better understanding of things.

Through dazed eyes we continued the 3.5 hour drive to Mysore.

I’ve been running around with a certain sense – need – to say goodbye to everyone.

Bye. See ya. Going to miss you. It’ll be a while. Take care… I love you.

Perhaps it’s because it’s the first time in my life I have not had a plan. I mean I do have a plan, right? Learn, study, practice… travel deep into the heart of my existence. All that. But what’s after that? People asking? What are you going to do? Well SHIT, man! I don’t know!

I do know that the amount of support has been overwhelmingly amazing. I do know that I will be back… eventually. And I also know that this is a big deal and it’s glorious!

6 days.

Filmed at the Spokane Yoga Shala.