Perspective

It's like briefly looking at the sun, then turning your gaze down to your hand and not seeing a bee that has landed upon it. Perspective has a way of creeping up on you when you least expect it, and always stays just out of your reach if you want it too much. This is one of the first shots I took of Mysore up on Chamundi Hill. There are 1,000 steps to reach the top, and no two are alike. It's not like climbing stairs at home. It's not like the stairwell at the Sheridan. It turned out to be unlike anything I had imagined- not un-attainable, just not what I had at first imagined. Even this shot, about 3/4 up, was taken on the way down. I didn't see it before. I didn't know my legs would burn like that coming down. I didn't know. Now when I look at this picture I am reminded that I found out. Step by step I began to see things differently. Unfortunately, I can only tell you about it. And show you this picture. Now I look at this picture and I know down there I went to the zoo. I took a rickshaw to a nearby lake. Across town there was a music concert. And somewhere in the top-left corner is a suburb we spent 90+ days getting some perspective. I re-read the "Travels" quote and know that I will still be on this journey for some time, even when I return my body to Olympia. We have been packing and making plans for next time- and that is a concept worthy of it's whole own blog- and who we will be when we return? Who are we while at home? It is good to ask so many questions. Seek for an answer and you will certainly find two more questions. As for answers, we have only few. Shiva has arranged a ride out of town Thursday at 5pm. That much is certain. We will have our final led practice that morning, say our goodbyes, and then---
And then we will have another perspective, that of world travellers returning to the tribe with dirt and tales of far off lands. And then our perspective will shift again. I am looking forward to looking forward with my lessons here, to perpetuate this for myself and to share and inspire others with what blessings I have been given. I hope to share from the perspective of student, from the view of a teacher, with the eye of an artist, through the gaze of a saddhu, all through the rose-tinted peepers of the human experience.

aeryk

Ten Days

Ten days.

In ten days my sandals will come off, and my first footfall out of the house won't be on Guruji's doorstep. In ten days Mysore will heat up to 85*, and won't drop below 65*, just as the Groundhog plays Mother Nature and gambles on an early spring. In ten days I will not rise at 3am and walk through the bats' breakfast obstacle course to get to yoga. I will not have a coconut waiting for me after practice. I will not be paying for my after-yoga snack with rupees. In ten days I will not be thinking about the next ten days.

I will be home.

January has been packed. At the first led class of the new year, I was up front hearing that the count topped 100 and more poeple were still coming in. Both bathrooms were packed on both levels, as was the main foyer. Last week they handed out time-cards to let us know(and them) what our start time was. The numbers only went to 208. After that, students need to try Saraswathi or Sharath's classes, or find somewhere else. Tough. Today I met another new-to-town yogi from Australia. Another first-timer. At conference last Sunday, Guruji said that 60% of students right now are new. This is good, he says. On teaching, he says students should not teach what they don't know. Many students want to be teachers, before they are even students. Study. Study, then go teach with blessing. Go teach it right. OK, I'm paraphrasing, and I didn't hear everything clearly, but that is the basic idea. So that's where we are at. Ten days left to process our lives, plan for our future, live in the current and try to survive ourselves enough to see this thing through. I want to say that this is the glorious end to a successful adventure, but this isn't a comic book. For one thing, I'd have better tights, and a cape. But we are struggling to find a balance with being open to experience and people, and needing to shut down, pack up and not feel loss. The good thing about our timing is that we got set up at the shala and Mysore before the crowds. Many are turned away each day to make other arrangements for practice, homes, and living supplies. We are so greatful still for all the generousities given to us along the way. We also balance how much of ourselves we are able to give. There is no end to need and poverty here, and it can be overwhelming. We decided early on that we would try to not let it bother us, that we would give a bit when we can, and make greater attempts as we near our departure date. So our visits to neighborhood kids has increased. Yarrow gives food daily to a girl her age who takes care of her toddler brother. It is good for her to have this experience, and have it be a positive interaction instead of just another street-begging moment. Today we also took a cat to the vet. That is the blur in photo #2. She lives at a nearby bakery living on cake. She developed an abcess so an vet appointment was made. We spent the day with the calico kitten, or "becu" and will give it back with medicines and instructions, with follow-ups to be planned. There are several who will help take care of this, but it feels weird to start this process and leave town. This is difficult because I really want to help, but it's hard to be so open and expend energy when I question If I even have enough for myself. The other side is that there are fewer cats in India, so I haven't been around them and that is hard for me. Dogs, yes. Everywhere dogs. Cats? Skittish and hidden. In ten days I will be able to spend time with cats. I will wear converse. I will drink Batdorf Coffee. (OH, GOD YES!!!) In ten days I will be in my country of origin; my experiences, my shadows, my triumphs, my bon mots- but part of me will not be coming back. Part of me will stay right here, wrapped in the reality-turned-fantasy. Just as it took time to integrate here, I anticipate a re-integration period. The difference is that we only had to survive and seek out experiences, decide on where to have lunch or which Sutra classes to take. When I get back, I feel like I need to hit the ground running. Vivian has classes starting up the next week, I have some theatre stuff, and we have the massive ordeal of our lives we left behind and all the question marks to be answered. As much as I'd like to believe that everything will be ok, I've learned that that simply isn't so. I've been told by rickshaw drivers that they know where the place is and that the meter is broken, when both are false. I've also been told that I would have work waiting for me when I return, and I'm once again 'less than employed.' I'm not being told much, so I'm not sure what all is going on, and I don't think that I will ever be told the truth. I got a raise, but lost all seniority and won't be scheduled. I just know that in ten days I will not bask in my experiences but rewrite my resume and remind myself that this was always a possibility with this lifestyle. I try to be open with myself and others and go after the things that inspire me, hopefully at no one's expense, but I feel like I'm stepping on toes trying to do right for myself and family. All I want is to do what I love, do it well, and share it with others until they are passionate about it too. This is hard to do. For me right now this obviously requires several jobs and lots of caffeine. The coffee I can get anywhere, but the work is different. I AM looking forward to sinking myself into work, I just wasn't expecting to start over somewhere else. And now I feel that I've got ten days to figure it out. And say goodbye to a Nation.

In ten days I will be surrounded by English. In ten days I will unpack tomorrows memories. In ten days I will be looking at the want ads on my living room floor.

In ten days I will be home.

*** aeryk ***

Thirteenth Day of Christmas?

Today is Sunday January 7, 2007. New Year's Eve came and went on an unprecedented uneventful evening. We paid this week for our last month of study at the shala, and guruji either didn't hear or didn't understand when we tried to ask about the credit for ten days that the shala was closed. Sharath is now back as of today, and it was announced that we are to come in at 4:30pm to officially get our start time based on time in Mysore. Having been here for two months, we are in the 5am batch and didn't change our schedule. Yarrow took this picture today out front of the place. Above Guruji's address plate is one of my favorite examples of Indian resourcefullness. To deter trespassers, many walls are topped with shards of glass. Students pile up in front of the gate where we are standing, and when we get there at 4:30am we can't see the gate until it is opened. Then the crowd filters up the steps and into the door. Manju has been in town and today is his last day. it was wonderful to have him in the shala and even more wonderful to connect with him off the mat too. We met up with Julie and stopped by the shala last week to check in with Manju, and as surreal as standing with Manju sounds, Sharath and Saraswathi were also talking with students on the steps. Then David Swenson walks by and I know this is the time and place for everything. The next days with Manju are wonderful. We never saw David again, he was off to Goa shortly afterwards. But if one is asked out for coffee by Munju, one goes. So we did. Nine of us shared a lovely breakfast of idli, dosa, and coffee, some from America, Japan, Argentina, and Mysore residents of long standing. Further conversation led to promises of attending his May teacher intensive in Oregon (who's up for a road trip?), and a spark of inspiration to have him come to Olympia in 2008. Tomorrow I will try to find a way to get the rest out- all the bits as promised, plus Kirtan at our place. Many new faces, a few old, and many more to see tomorrow at 5am.

Four Feet

Two feet.
Two feet, Three eyes,
One path.

Two feet.
Two feet, Three eyes,
One path.

Four feet.
Four feet, Two hearts,
Six eyes.
One path.

Yarrow's What's Up Page

This is me. I started doing more yoga when I got here, but I could already do this pose. This picture was taken in our house. In this pose I'm trying to touch my nose. It's getting really full here in Mysore and I'm really glad that we're going soon because it is so packed. Outside the shala with my mom and Aeryk, I had a Molly Moon book and a lady said that she knew the author Georgia Byng and even babysitted her kids. she knew about the books and went on India trips with the author while she was writing them. I asked to get an autograph and she said she would try. I'm really excited about that. That's all for now I guess.

Yarrow

Mamallapuram, Dec 21-27

Mahabalapuram as known by many, this area features 1400 year old bas relief and cut-rock temples and monuments, including the recovered shore temple, not pictured. We spent six wonderful days wandering through the sites, walking along the shore (Bay of Bengal), and poolside ordering food from our hotel attendant. The way to the beach is lined with harkers offering clothing, toys, jewelry, shells, brass items, crystals, and stone. Lots and lots of stone. No, really. This town is not just representing a documentation of a long ago culture, the Dravidian art represented is one of the oldest lines of Indian history and is very much alive. This town is still in the sculpting business, in some ways on a smaller scale, in other ways not. Soapstone, alabaster, jet, and marble are the most common mediums for these craftsmen. Most of the designs are Hindu devotionals of most Gods and Goddesses, with tourist overtones of kama sutra, pot leaves, yin-yang, and Om's. Okay, that one IS Indian, but still. It's only the hippies back home who REALLY wear them. Amazing work. We got a few samples to bring back, small ones as this is stone. It was actually fun and weird to stay there. I had never stayed in a hotel for that long before. And we had room service because it was the same price as dinner downstairs. And marble floors to do the best hotel-room-yoga ever. No, really. Two of us even. one is difficuly enough, and we were side by side! The hotel even arranged a driver to meet our train at Chennai Central, an hour away, and we got a ride back at 4am at the end of our stay. It was a 15-minute rickshaw drive to and from the station in Mysore, and that much could not have been better. Now here is what didn't work. Making reservations the week before Christmas. Our original plan was to go to Pondicherry and Auroville for most of our stay, and we were trying to cram in our stay in Mamallapuram as well. We purchased train tickets for Chennai, intending to get to points south by car, bus, or train. We got first class for the ride over, executive for the ride back. Getting bumped to a lower class is never an encouraging sign. The next phase involved many rupees, many minds, many books, many hours of grief, many , many, too many phone calls. PHONE CALLS TO FIND OUT HOW TO MAKE A PHONE CALL !!! Sorry. No, really. I tried not to yell at the phone booths too. We tried calling at our regular place, only to find out that out-of-state phone calls use a different system, and that's why my calls won't go through. On the right phones they won't work either. The numbers are repeatedly checked with travel books, online sources, even the ever friendly phone booth attendant. They pour through ancient tomes looking up the prefix, because that is obviously my problem. their problem is that the books are in English and their alphabetizing skills are not the best. They tell me the number doesn't exist. I flip further back in the book, find the town listings, and try to make my calls. Numbers are either not in service, offline, or otherwise not connecting. India's version of directory assistance is consulted several times and finally, it is revealed that Chennai has swallowed up the nearby area with it's zip and area codes, and I am given the secret information. What is frustrating but understandable is that this is a situation of people running to catch up with technology. If I hadn't needed to call the East coast these phone representatives would never have known, never have updated their books. Nobody told them. Actually, they didn't update the changes, and I guess there is probably little call for calls to Chennai in their minds. I estimate that seventy calls (attenpted and otherwise) were required for this part of the journey. Many more followed as we found out that every hotel in and around Pondicherry and Auroville is booked solid through the new year. Ouch. I had emailed at some point to the Hotel Bhavan in Mamallapuram and arranged for our first night. After freaking out about the rest of the trip, I played e-tag and phone tag confirming our stay. Finally Vivian gets an actual hotel desk attendant. We are able to confirm the one night the email thought I wanted. We actually needed six, and they countered with maybe two, with attitude. By the end of the conversation Vivian has secured three nights, no more, but there may be a chance to push when we get there. More calls are made, no luck in P & A, we call back begging for more time, we have a child, we're pathetic Americans, the trains are booked up,... We get the lodging, the car at 9pm, the room service, the pool... aaaaahhhh. Five days of bliss. Christmas at the beach, temples almost to ourselves at times, fruit on the buffet for breakfast, cable TV. Every morning at 5am the nearest Temple blasts devotional music. Five days. When I check in downstairs about our car for the return trip and about payment for the remaining balance, I find they thought I was leaving in the morning and there may not be lodging for us tomorrow night as this is the busy season. It did work out in the end, and I will let one of the girls relate for you the unfortunate events of Yarrow's digestive system on the ride back. The long, long, stinky, bumpy ride back. The trip was a trip in time, a trip in language (Kannada for Tamil), and a trip for the soul. It was challenging in ways we didn't expect, and wonderful in ways we couldn't have recreated.

Yoga Plus One

There is a phrase that captures an aspect of yoga culture in Mysore.
Yoga plus one.
Briefly- life here is an adjustment. Some take a bit to gather themselves before immersion into the town at large. Having already immersed, others need a break from the often hectic pace if daily life in India. The sight and heat of the sun in the winter months can confuse Northwesterners and cause summer-like catatonia resulting in frequent naps and fruit breaks. To give your all at 5am practice and still accomplish ONE other thing in the whole day is a victory. After all, one can only see so many shrines in a day, each taking time and energy. One weekend is fine but three months requires pacing. Pictured is some our evening activities: laying around doing crossword puzzles, self-photography and other arts, starting but not finishing a great book. That last one was of the girls sacked out at 7pm in our first week. Today's 'plus one' consisted of my unsuccessful attempt to rent a scooter, Yarrow's unsuccessful attempt to plan a dog-sitting date for tomorrow, and Vivian's unsuccessful attempt to get peanut butter at the Green Hotel Market. You may also find a posting two posts ago that got misplaced, then added out of sequence. We did accomplish having a last lunch with some new friends from London area. They had the seven year old Yarrow met up with, and leave for home in a few hours. After that, I locked my keys in my room and found out it only takes a screwdriver-and not even a good one- to take the lock off the door. And now I am waiting to download a batch of pictures onto a disc, but I need the other computer and it has been and still is in use. I guess that project will wait. Maybe I can get credit for it on tomorrow's 'Plus One.'

Bound to Freedom

A certain feeling came over me as I sat upright, bound in Marichiasana-D for the first time. This was not something I achieved right away, in fact it took me almost a year to do it by myself. In that time I whittled away my waist through a strong diet and stronger practice and trained my body to follow the breath into and through the asanas. Deep in M-D I realized that this is the most bound that I could be and still breathe. I had broke through the layers of discomfort and through the panic that used to set in whenever my breath was about to be cut off. With no use of my legs, arms, or torso the only option was to stretch upwards, sprouting out of my lower half like a lotus rising above the water's surface. Now the breath was genuinely earned and savored, and seemed endless in it's supply. How was I not able to breathe like this before? In the epiphany I flashed on what the feeling reminded me of: skydiving. I was suddenly free of my body and mind falling two miles above the planet with nothing I could do about it but enjoy the ride, and breathe. Jivanmuktih; liberation while still in the body. I carry that memory in a mental pocket and pull it out when I need to be reminded of benchmarks with this practice. Today was also such a benchmark.
When I last spoke of our practice, we were unsure where we stood with Guruji and second series. In fact, I got quite embarassed with myself over the whole thing and decided that I would not seek out Saraswathi or Guruji for clarification, nor would I start adding poses until stopped. I had a good week of thinking and settled into my primary practice. 'This is good' I told myself, 'all advanced people start this way' I rationalized. I have talked with others having come multiple times and have had mixed progression. It is the way it is. Just when I aquiesced and actually started enjoying the simplicity of my practice and the opportunity to focus on things I've put aside in my charge through other asanas, Sharath came back. I had heard that he may be back, but I didn't see him for a couple of days. Yesterday he worked the shala. In his absence many people had begun second series with and without anyone's approval, and some pushed through primary when they had been stopped before. But with Sharath back, many a practice got cut short. I feel vindicated a bit that we didn't add stuff in his absence. Around backbend time he asked Vivian and myself if we just took Pashasana and we told him that we hadn't started second series yet. He said to start tomorrow and then helped us with our backbends. A little aside here about how backbends work at the shala: first off it depends on whom is adjusting you. Standing at the front of your mat with arms crossed sarcophagus-style three quick half-backs are taken; exhale down, inhale up. If Saraswathi is adjusting Vivian, she sometimes gets put onto her head before the first half-back. The fourth is taken then arms extend to the floor for a full backbend. Whomever is adjusting you may say 'walk your hands' 'breathe ' 'take your heels' or some less encouraging phrase such as 'straighten you arms' 'don't bend knees' or simply 'why?' Furtunately for us, we did get a few drop-backs before Sharath was on our mats. While Vivian didn't go the furthest ever, it was still an impressive showing. I got the firmest support ever, and nearly touched my heels unassisted. After receiving my first pose I wasn't about to look like a wimp. The conversation around the breakfast table was about the victories and setbacks seen, heard, and felt around the shala. Another interesting encounter I overheard was of Sharath cracking-down on a friend's attire. Her jogging shorts were too short and she was asked not to wear them again. He said that she was not being singled out and that there was to be a new 'rule' about pants extending to the knee. I guess this will go in the rulebook we all don't get when we sign up, right next to the chapter that doesn't detail when to enter the shala or where and when to set up your mat. Mostly everything here is best learned through trial and error. That way they can spot the new people. I guess that's the thing that is most tangible here, that there is a shift in learning styles. I knew coming here that I wasn't going to really learn tons of Yoga, that I wasn't going to come back with many new poses and routines, but I would have the greater experience of making the pilgrimage and learning about the culture in which this practice arose. Figuring out how the structure works with returning students, seniority, and that sort of thing was also an important facet of our long term goals. It's kind of like college: many come from all over to learn, maybe for the first time away from home. We start as Freshmen, all of us, and progress is acknowledged based more on time served than ability. Can one really start an entry-level job and expect to rise up several job classifications in only a few short months? They really want to see long-term committment, to see that this is a lifestyle choice and not just an athletic program for the season.
And that's what I thought about today, bound in M-D, wondering how many more breaths will I get to take in this beautiful space. What will next trip bring? I hope to find myself looking back on this moment, no longer a Freshman but still in class, binding deeper, rising higher out of my core, breathing Jivanmuktih.

--- The thing with life here is that it doesn't go quite as scheduled or expected. And that these things can be magnified. Today is now Dec. 20th, full moon, the shala is now closed and we hace just celebrated our Solstice. This entry was started sometime early LAST week, I still haven't attached a picture to it, and it may appear out of order chronologically, but it will get done. There is always so much more to say I feel overwhelmed and can't bring myself to walk to the internet cafe and wring out some more satya. So here's the compromise: I will post a few posts in progress and you dear readers can check them periodically to see if they have been updated. I'm only talking about the next few, after that I will have my act together. No, really.
Here's what I want to talk about in future entries:
Rickshaws-- rules, rates, races
Trains-- times, tricks, thalis
Kolams-- sidewalks, sands, symbols
Coconut Culture-- what happens to yogis off the mat
Indian Christmas, kirtans, missing friends, puppies, mentors, translation errors and more!
We are soon leaving for the coast for a week. The planning was an adventure in itself, and may also require it's own entry. Until then---

Animals (not Pink Floyd)

Nothing amuses a bored, homesick, overstimulated 8-year-old like an animal. Unless it's several. Our neighborhood is full of animals. There are packs of feral dogs running the streets of Olympia, and the same is seen here. There are many pet dogs too, and they are easy to spot. They are the ones with all their fur, and they are fat. Not just recently or well fed, but actually fat. Most animals no matter how revered or cared for show the the signs of living in a harsh environment. Skin diseases run rampant and most non-pets suffer from malnutrition. The pig in the picture appears well off, though. That's the thing- the pigs look great, in the 'does my ass look big in this sty' kind of way and not in a back-bacon sort of way. The pigs live off the streets literally. As far as I can tell people have cows, sheep, goats, chickens, cats, dogs, horses, rabbits, ducks and fish around the house, but no pig as a pet or livestock. And why should they? Pig-milk is not widely used and this is still a predominately vegetarian society. The pigs seem to live off the many lots and sidewalks full of garbage. This specimen was spotted on our way to breakfast on a trash heap. Also digging into the pile were grey-knecked crows (also pictured) more pigs, dogs, chickens and humans. I have seen herders also take their flock of goats through neighborhoods to feast on bushes and grasses of the many unused plots of land around. The picture above shows an important safety traffic rule here in India: largest vehicle always has the right of way, except in the case of livestock. This pack of a dozen or so goats crossed at a busy intersection but received little attention. All in a day's work. There are a few neighborhood dogs that we visit on our daily rounds. Some live at our favorite breakfast spot and enjoy eating Yarrow's leftover pancakes. there is another little one who lives on the streetcorner. All this is fine practice for our return. Yarrow is getting a Miniature Pincer when we return. Until then, these doggy placebos will have to do. And the dogs outnumber the cats, or so it appears. I have snapped a few pictures of the slow ones and they are all beautiful, but shyier than the ones back home. Of course, calling them 'kitty' in English is probably not the best way to begin Indian feline communication.
aeryk

Quote For All Seasons

From 'Travels' by Michael Crichton-

Often I feel I go to some distant region of the world to be reminded of who I really am. There is no mystery about why this should be so. Stripped of your ordinary surroundings, your friends, your daily routines, your refrigerator full of your food, your closet full of your clothes- with all this taken away, you are forced into direct experience. Such direct experience inevitably makes you aware of who it is that is having the experience. That's not always comfortable, but it is always invigorating. I eventually realized that direct experience is the most valuable experience I can have. Western man is so surrounded by ideas, so bombarded with opinions, concepts, and information structures of all sorts, that it becomes difficult to experience anything without the intervening filter of these structures. And the natural world- our traditional source of direct insights- is rapidly disappearing. Modern city-dwellers cannot even see the stars at night. This humbling reminder of man's place in the greater scheme of things, which human beings formerly saw once every twenty-four hours, is denied them. It's no wonder that people lose their bearings, that they lose track of who they really are, and what their lives are really about. So travel has helped me to have direct experiences. and to know more about myself.