Weather patterns have changed around the globe and India is not immune. As I sit here by the window, sipping my chai and looking out at a shrouded Mt. Arunachala, I cannot tell if this is monsoon rain or not. It has been raining relentlessly since early yesterday evening. My braided rug just inside my front door is soaking wet. The thick wooden door was no match for the driving wind and rain.
I planned on going to the Internet café at 9am when they opened and sending off some email and uploading some musings I wrote last night. It is now 2:12pm and there is no sign of the rain stopping, so I content myself to stay in and peer out of my window through the bars. I contemplate what prison might feel like, looking through bars all the time. In the rain, my temple is indeed a cell, albeit a nice one.
So far today, I’ve practiced the 32 Names of Durgaa, listened to the story of the Gayathri Mantra and chanted it, and transcribed the Shanti Mantras. I have also sailed the maiden voyage with my pressure cooker. Wow, that pot is a bizarre contraption. Steam explodes from the valve when it gets to max pressure. The manual calls it a whistle. That’s no freakin’ whistle, that’s a wet belch! The top gets all icky with the contents of the pot mixed with the steam. Not sure if it’s defective or it’s just messy. The rice turned out edible, if not quite delicious. I misread the instructions about the quantity of water and I got scared and turned it off after the first belch. I re-read the instructions a few times, figured it was safe, and fired it back up for about four more belches, all the while fearing for my head. I must remember to get salt and milk to make butter.
I’m about to load the 32 Names of Durgaa into Audacity and slow it down to facilitate memorization. I understand the benefits of learning at full speed, and I also need to hear the syllables clearly. Once I get the syllables and meter down, I’ll practice it at full speed.
I find it amusing that I have a table and chairs for eating here and I have not had that luxury in my last six years in Seattle. I like eating at a table! I hereby resolve to resolve that issue in my next US abode.
My ashram is on the outskirts of civilization here, as it were. I suppose you could say I’m in the suburbs, but I prefer to think I’m on the fringe. There are large houses going up on two sides, but mostly there are fields and I love hearing the voices of the children echoing as they call to each other in the rain. I can hear the traffic from the main road, but it’s much quieter when it rains. Most people just stay in. I can see from my window perch that my path is underwater and the grass looks like a rice paddy. There are actual rice paddies on the back way between Sara’s flat and mine. They are a beautiful shade of green.
One of my new friends, Mark, just took Sara’s flat for the rest of the season. As soon as he described the lovely energy of the place, I knew it was hers. He’s one of the blokes keen on developing the farm and community and I’m glad he’s in there.
I’m feeling called both to Mysore and to Varanasi to study. One of the things I was going to do today was to investigate transport to both locations and weather in Varanasi. I think it gets to the 90’s in December in Varanasi, so it should be warm enough. I suspect, like usual, where I go next will depend on whether or not I can obtain transport. The rain is Arunachala’s way of telling me to sit tight for a while. It’s not time for me to venture out yet.
~ Break for Audacity ~
Now the 32 Names of Durgaa have been sliced out of the broader talk, then diced into files of their own, two for each of the three separate meters. There is a full speed version and a slowed down version of each. The rain seems to have stopped for the moment, but the mountain is still shrouded in mist. It’s almost 4pm, time for the afternoon two hour power cut. The 10am two hour power cut didn’t materialize today, but we had a short, 20 minute one at noon. Never can tell around here. Yes, there goes the power. I think the rain is coming again...
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