Namasté from Rishikesh

I’ve been in India over a month and this is my first blog post. I haven’t felt like writing about it for some reason, which is quite unusual for me. The three week River of Sound Tour with Gina Salá was an amazing experience for me. I’ve never felt completely accepted and respected in a group setting before. India is just as bizarrely wonderful and intense as I remembered, yet it isn’t as mind blowing. I am not the same person that was here before.

I bonded deeply with everyone on the tour and made lifelong friendships. Unfortunately, a relationship ended with a partner that was also on the tour. I think hearing about my path was not the same as seeing me on my path and it became apparent to both of us that we are on different journeys with different needs and expectations. It was handled with love and respect and grace on both of our parts. I really value that.

I suspect I'll be writing retrospectively about the tour as different aspects become integrated into my consciousness, so stay tuned for that. After the tour, I spent 16 days in Varanasi. I had originally planned 3 weeks there, then I revised the plan to 1 week so I could spend more time in Rishikesh, then I finally let God decide. I was immersed in classical North Indian vocal lessons and Kundalini Yoga sessions. It was intense, to say the least. Ginaji was also there and we had some time to hang out a bit some days. One day we took an auto rickshaw into Sarnath and had a walking meditation and satsang with Thich Nhat Hanh. We arrived the same time he did and we walked mindfully with him to the Stupa where he was holding satsang. We were never more than two people away from him. He is a wonderful Presence. He just radiates peace. We did a walking meditation after satsang, in the dark, all around the grounds. It was quite mystical.

It’s been 11 days since I got my new name: Devi Bhaktananda. It’s been 9 days since I shaved my head; part of my process for integrating the outer with the inner and fully embodying my new identity. Ginaji gave me my name and helped shave my head. I’m so very blessed to have her Presence in my life, mirroring back the divinity that is in me and in all of us. Ginaji left Varanasi 7 days ahead of me and I’ve been on my own for 9 days. Except, I have so many dear people here that I consider family, I don’t feel alone, yet. Once I venture out to cities I’ve never visited, I’ll feel alone, but only as long as it takes to make new friends who may become family. In reality, I'm never alone.

India, even with all her wildness, feels so normal to me. I guess that’s why I don’t feel like posting. It just feels natural and why would anyone want to read about such normality? Except, I realized today, this is far from normal. Today alone I’ve climbed up a hill so steep that I was using my hands and feet and was almost standing upright while doing it, swam in Ganga Ma, growled at monkeys to back them off and stared over a sheer cliff while riding up a winding mountain road in the dark in an old ambulance. This is not quite normal.

I’ve been in Rishikesh for not quite two days and I’ve been hanging out with Swami Bhodichitananda-ji in his quest to find and build a new home for himself, a kutir, on the banks of Ganga Ma. It’s getting increasingly difficult for sannyasins (holy men) to find land to live on. Commercialism is fast eating up all the riverfront sites with resorts and trekking and such. It’s very sad, the name of the city is Rishikesh, for heaven’s sake. It’s for the rishis, or holy men, not the commercial interests.

Hanging with Swamiji is like hanging with my best bud when I was 12. We’ve been scampering over boulder fields, crawling up cliffs, walking a path on a steep hillside that was only as wide as one of my feet, walking on concrete walls, driving up questionable roads in the dark in an old ambulance, sitting silently by the river in the daylight and after dark, swimming, joking, teasing, laughing, eating, drinking, and generally just living and loving life. I was so sore after yesterday, I slept until two after getting up and chanting a mala of Gayatri at sunrise. Oh the sun coming up over the ridge here, pure heaven!

Today’s adventures were more physical than yesterday’s. I was already achy today from a tumble I took walking along a flat, wide road last night. All the precarious balancing and climbing I was doing yesterday and I was fine. Walking alone along a wide, mostly flat road last night and I trip on a step up that I didn’t expect. Luckily, I somehow went down so slowly that I didn’t break any skin other than a bit of road rash on my 2nd toe of one foot. I was walking very fast and felt held up on the way down. I had a heavy backpack on and my center of gravity was off, and I even hit my chin on the road. It was all very gentle, though. I tried to keep my chin from hitting, but the momentum was too much. I have no idea how I didn’t break the skin on my knees, hands or chin. I’m quite fortunate that I didn’t face plant in a cow pie, as that stretch is quite covered with them. One knee is pretty bruised up and sore. It was interesting climbing up stairs that hit me about mid thigh. Again on all fours. I’m hoping a 2nd day of intense physical activity will ease the stiffness and soreness. Either that, or I’m spending another day in bed.

Some local young men are helping Swamiji with his quest for a new kutir. They can’t quite figure me out. Here I am with a shaved head and dressing in shades of orange usually associated with Swamis and going everywhere with Swamiji. “Are you a Swamiji?”
“No.”
“Do you live at Sivananda Ashram?”
“No.”
Are you a disciple of Swamiji’s?”
“No, just a friend.”
Perplexed look. “Are you Hindi?”
“No.”
Smile. “Yes, you are. I think you are a little bit Hindi.”
“Yes, maybe you’re right, I’m a little bit Hindi. I’m a little bit Everything.” Big smile.

OK, that’s enough for this post. I’m saving the story of careening around hairpin turns on the side of a mountain in an old ambulance cum mobile kutir for my book. As one of the locals sitting in the back was calling out “Use brakes, USE BRAKES!”, I smiled nervously and thought to myself, “This is exactly the type of thing my family is afraid of me doing here...” It’s all good. God was driving.