The Dirty Truth - 2 November 2008

Two nights before I left Varanasi, I got chak (a delicious potato cake with a spicy sauce of some sort) from a street vendor for dinner. It gets so dusty on the streets in Varanasi that often I have to breathe through my scarf. I watched him wipe the metal plate off with a very soiled rag and then serve my food on it. I felt within, silently asking my question. It felt safe. I ate.

The first 3 hours of the overnight train from Varanasi, I had the compartment to myself. Then a very loud extended family moved in and brought a picnic dinner. I watched the younger of the two children, a boy of 10, play with all the Styrofoam plates before they were used. He used his hands to draw imaginary figures on them. He lay the spoons down on the seat. This is the same train that I watched a mouse run down the aisle only an hour earlier. Of course, they offered me food. It’s what is done here. Of course, I accepted. It’s extremely rude not to. I inwardly cringed as I watched her scoop the dal and rice onto one of the plates her son had played with and handed me a spoon that had touched the seat. I felt within, silently asking my question. It felt safe. I ate.

My fingernails have perma crud under them. No matter how often I clean them, it’s black under there. I’ve cut them as short as I can stand, still black. I have a favourite local eatery here in Rishikesh. I am always the only Westerner in there. As I watched the flies buzzing around and the various surfaces in the place, I chuckled and realized that they must not have such a thing as a health department in India.

I watched a baby last night, perhaps 18 months old, playing in the chai bin. The same chai bin I watched a woman scoop the dry tea out of to make the cup of chai I was sipping. The baby put the scoop in, pulled the scoop out, put the scoop down on the filthy concrete “floor”, picked the scoop back up, put the scoop back in, pulled the scoop back out, put the scoop to its mouth and then started the cycle all over again. It was dark, but it was clear the place was very dirty. It’s on the side of the road on the sie of a mountain and doesn’t have any walls. Dinner was being cooked above a wood fire in a metal frame sitting on the ground. All of a sudden, my heart melted. This is Life. This is Love made manifest.

We have so many rules in the West. We try to sanitize everything. Sure, the rules were made with the best of intentions. Health is definitely important, but I think we go overboard and it’s spiraling out of control. It’s clear to me that our bodies are miraculous in adapting to conditions and keeping us safe. I think we’re obsessed with rules and it’s contributing in a big way to our culture of fear. I think living here is good for me. It’s allowing me to relax and trust Divine Wisdom and Order. There is no other way, really. It’s either relax, or explode. I prefer relaxing.

We Did IT!!!

I'm so proud of my country! We looked past racial prejudice and elected a statesman! w00t!!! I am sitting in an Internet cafe, just got the news, and tears are streaming down my face. I had little faith in the process and was concerned the election would be stolen again. I'm so happy to find my fears unfounded. I give thanks for the opportunity to again become a shining example to the rest of the world of how to conduct ourselves as a nation. I look forward to healing the deep wounds the last eight years have wrought on our economy and collective worldwide psyche.

Oh Thank God!

Oh Thank GOD!!

OH THANK GOD!!!

My definition of God – 5 November 2008

My current definition of God (as if any of us could define something of that magnitude) is that It is the One Cause of all the effects in the known and unknown realms of existence. All the names and forms we give It is just a place holder or focal point for an aspect of that One that is beyond all names and forms. So, when I say Goddess, Ganga Ma, God, Shiva, Shakti, Hanuman, Kali, Durga, Mataji, Jesus, Mother Mary or whatever, I mean that One Source of All. I don’t think these are isolated entities, merely aspects of the One.

I believe that God is omnipresent, which means there is nowhere God is not. Therefore, It’s in everything, seen and unseen. Since the mind can’t comprehend all that at the same time, there is duality and separateness, so that different facets can come to the forefront and be interacted with. To borrow from Ginaji’s cosmology, just as I am sister, daughter, mother, cook, professional, student, friend, cousin, geek, musician, lover, etc and still just one person, God is also multifaceted and we can interact with one or more of those facets at the same time, depending on the nature of the relationship and information being communicated.

I know my audience spans a wide range of spiritual beliefs and paths and I honour all of them. I have no intent to offend anyone or dismiss their path. I believe there are so many paths because people are vastly different and need different ways to access the Divine. I believe that the underlying motivation of all paths is Love. How do we experience Reunification with the Divine? The expression of that Love and Longing for Reunification is manifest as a spiritual path.

That’s my take on it as of this writing. I’m sure it will grow and change as I do. That’s one of the beauties of being alive on this plane of existence. Constant change.

Impermanence and Restlessness

November 5, 2008 (Written before the election results were in from the US.)

Nothing has convinced me more of the impermanence of thoughts and feelings than writing journal entries offline for posting later. By the time I get to the Internet to post them, they feel irrelevant. When I’m in the midst of them, they seem so huge and permanent. I’m resisting the urge to not post them, because they will act as a trail of breadcrumbs on my spiritual journey. If for no other reason, they are important for that.

I’m struggling today. I don’t know why I’m here. It feels like taking the time to write is taking time away from living. But, I lived the first five weeks of this trip without writing much and it feels like it has evaporated without a trace. At least writing leaves a trace. I suspect, like most things, there is a balance to be found.

I just extended my stay here two more days. That will take me to six days. I think I need to start booking reservations to Dharamsala if I’m going. Two weeks ago it was already cold there. I don’t have much in the way of cold weather gear, just a long sleeved chambray shirt, a windbreaker and some cotton sweat pants. I suppose I can layer three or four shirts under them for warmth. I have an abundance of scarves to wrap around this shorn head of mine.

I’m restless. I don’t know why I’m here. I’m just now getting to a place where I can entertain the thought of listening to my Kundalini Yoga sessions. That whole experience is the topic for another post, but let’s just say I got in my own way and leave it at that for now. If I delve into them, it’s going to take a lot of time. There are ten sessions of at least an hour, and some went almost two hours. There’s the stopping and taking notes that I didn’t have time to do while the sessions were going on and then there’s the actual practices. This is going to take a long time. Besides, do I really want to awaken the Kundalini energy when I’m traveling alone? I think that’s what’s holding me back the most.

I don’t know if I’m supposed to do all that here or somewhere else. I don’t know if I’m supposed to circumambulate Mt. Aranachula on the full moon or not. I don’t know if I’m supposed to meet friends in Amritsar or go alone to Dharamsala. I’m even wavering on Ammachi’s ashram, Amitapuri, in December. I vacillate between thinking I need to stay in one place so I can go deep and thinking I should make use of this time to see as many places and facets of the culture here that I can. I realize this is one of the ebb days, where I’m still gathering energy for the next surge. I’m trying to be patient with myself and this process. I haven’t seen Swamiji for two days, so I’m going there to spend some time in the forest with him today while he hangs his door. If I can transfer the Kundalini sessions to my voice recorder, I can listen and take notes and practice some of the asanas and pranayamas. I didn’t swim in Ganga Ma yesterday and I feel the need strongly. If I leave here, I leave her and that thought makes me sad.

Had a nice meditation after my mala of Gayatri on the ghat this morning. God told me I would always be supported and I looked down and saw a rupee coin half buried in the sand under the water. I smiled and fished it out of the river and put it in my pocket. I feel so greedy, even with all these tangible demonstrations, I want more. It’s like I’m never satisfied and it’s never enough. I’d love to fill the void that is always wanting more evidence. I think that’s what I was looking for out of this trip and it’s not happening. I think that’s the cause of my restlessness. So much for the cycle of doubt being over. *sigh*.

This all stems from a scarcity consciousness. I know how to treat for that. I don’t want to skip over the feeling it part though, because I think it carries my humanity within it. Immediately skipping to the treating stage sometimes feels like transcending the experience of being alive, which I’ve already decided I don’t want to do. So I’ll feel the restlessness and bring love to the one who feels it.

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.

Home Again

I'm home again. Sorry about the abrupt cessation of posting, but I just couldn't write about it any more. I was in the middle of a post explaining that I couldn't post any more and the power went out and ate the post. I figured the Universe agreed and left it at that.

It was both too big to condense down into words and as mundane as breathing at the same time. How does one describe the indescribable? How does one post about breathing?

I'm in unfamiliar inner terrain and am in the process of reintegrating my life. Thanks for reading along, you're all very dear to me.

Namasté,
Becky

India in a nutshell

One moment, I was napping in my corner window bed and five minutes later I was riding an elephant around the neighbourhood. I can't explain how this came about or my lack of surpise that it did

This is India. Surrender is inevitable. Resistance is futile.