Monday, May 25, 2009

Farewell, India

Really, do I have to leave?

I feel so many things as I write this on my final night in this amazing country.  A lot of sadness in saying goodbye, yet so much joy in thinking about all the wonderful experiences I’ve had, and all the new friendships I’ve made.  Even in the past 3 days as I’m getting ready to go, I’ve met people who’ve inspired me and  gently nudged their way into my heart.  With the itinerary I’ve had over the past 5 months you’d think I would be used to this by now. But alas, no.  It seems that my routine all over India has been the following:  Get to a new place, feel uncomfortable, not really like it, want to leave…exhale…decide I can deal with it, start to like it, meet amazing people, fall in love with it,  develop lasting friendships,  and feel sad about leaving. 

There’s a Ruth Draper  monologue reference that comes to mind, that most of you want get and it would be too lengthy to explain here.  But  in short, I feel like the children she once took to a party.  They were crying at being forced to leave.  And in Ms. Draper’s hysterical, exasperated delivery, she states: “Well, you didn’t want to come, you didn’t want to stay, and now you don’t want to go.”  That about sums up my experience in many of the places I’ve visited here in India.  One would reason then, that it’s simply UNreasonable to listen to my feelings/mind, right. Unfortunately, I’m still listening, but at least I’m not taking them quite so seriously.

I’ve spent the past 5 days back at  Sivananda where I began this journey, reacquainting myself with the yoga I practiced when I arrived here.  It’s been so nice to complete the circle and end up where I started. I didn’t fully understand what happened that first month here in Kerala,  nor how I felt about it really.  But after Varkala, Goa, Varanasi, Bodh Gaya, Delhi, Rishikesh, Dharamsala, Bangalore, Mysore, Madurai, and finally back to Kerala, it’s much clearer.  All those questions, wondering, worrying, seem like nothing more than a distant memory.   It just goes to show me, once again that the answers don’t always accompany the questions. In fact they rarely do. But in time, with patient acceptance, a smile and a sense of humor, they come. Or they don’t, but their presence begins to matter less and less. That is what I’m taking away from Mother India. That and so very much more.   For years I’ve heard people talk about her gifts and her grip. Never could I have imagined their magnitude.

In closing, I want to thank all of you so much for the many many encouraging comments and emails that you sent during the past 7 months of blogging. Your words have been like  sweet nectar, and I’ve cherished them all.  I even saved them in a folder to take out when I get a little discouraged.   So thank you thank you thank you. You have no idea how much more special friendships are 10, 000 miles away.  Most likely I will continue to blog as it has been such a therapeutic experience for me.  However, I will not send out any more email notifications. So feel free to keep checking the site if you ‘d like. I’m really looking forward to reshaping my life when I return to LA. Who knows, I may be back in India sooner that I think.

OM SHANTI, 

Tim

 

 

Saturday, May 16, 2009

Time to Go

Well, it’s about that time. Time to do what I’ve tried 3 times already to do. Leave India.  I guess it helps that my visa is expiring because otherwise I think I would be 2nd guessing my 4th attempt.  This country has done to me what it seems to do to everyone—firmly embed itself deep in the hearts and minds of all who cross its borders for a life changing journey.

I had such a wonderful surprise today as one of my former colleagues at Merck drove over from Bangalore to spend the day with me.   Her visit came at such an opportune time.  It was so thrilling to hear of her impressions of India and to be able to relate mine to her.  I know now that I’m ready to leave.  For now at least. Talking to Miriam helped me to see the importance of giving continual life to this journey by sharing it with others.

So when I return to LA June 6th, I hit the ground running. I’ve agreed to teach a Sivananda yoga workshop at the end of June in my hometown of Tupelo, Mississippi.  Nothing could make me happier than to have my first “out of ashram” teaching experience in the place where I grew up. 

When I spoke to the owner of the studio a few weeks ago I suggested a class. She suggested a weekend workshop.  Why not, I thought.  Actually, I feel like I could teach an entire course with all that I’ve learned in the past 5 months.  So I’m ready, I’m really ready to go home. Not because I want to leave this magnificent country and all its richness.  And not because I’m homesick.  But because I know that I’m ready to teach. Finally ready to formally give to others what so many have given to me.  I’ve realized how incredibly fortunate I am to have received so many teachings and guidance over the past many years, that it would be irresponsible and selfish of me not to share it.   The image of the Michelin Man comes to mind when I think about receiving years of instruction and teachings without giving back.  I know that I could continue to inflate myself with more and more classes for the rest of my life, but I don’t want to spontaneously combust by holding all this knowledge inside.  There just comes a time when you have to give others the opportunity of benefiting from your experiences.  So for me, that time is now.

This bit of clarity really helps as I make my travel plans and say my good byes.  It’s going to be brutal leaving the kids at the orphanage tomorrow.  Anand, Krishna, Ulas, Vikshita, and especially Sundar, the 11 year old with Cerebral Palsy, such a beautiful gift he has been to me. This experience, along with many others, has been such an unexpected delight. I really thought I knew how this whole Indian thing was going to go when I first arrived here in December.  I would complete my yoga teacher training in February, tour India for 2 weeks, go back to LA, get a job, and maybe teach yoga somewhere, some time in the future. Oh, that makes me laugh.  How small of me.  How limiting. I’m so grateful that I have met  many people along the way who challenged and inspired me to think and dream bigger. What is it that you want with your life?  What would mean the most to you? And what if you could do anything that you wanted to do? Now all these wonderfully stimulating questions are starting not to seem so scary.  That actually excite me.  Mostly because now I know how to answer them.

 

Saturday, May 2, 2009

Mysore, month 2

That seems hard to imagine. Being in one place for almost 2 months. But what a difference it has made to be settled, to have a routine, to feel part of the community. So much that as I see my time here coming to a close, I’m starting to feel a bit attached.  A lot attached actually. And not quite sure I want to return to the States. However, since I don’t have a choice really(my visa expires in a few weeks),  I know I have to start making re entry plans. But not just yet.

My 2nd month here in Mysore has been a bit different and I’ve shifted my focus a bit. I really pushed myself in the yoga practice for 4 weeks and almost got a bit carried away.  Ashtanga is quite a rigorous practice, and I’ve seen that it can  bring out that old  familiar competitive, ego based nature.  It can be quite addictive. All the sweating, the focus,  the group energy,  the mind/body changes, etc.  But,  as yoga teaches, it’s about balance.  I just wanted to keep going and going, but my back had other ideas.  The soreness after 4 weeks forced me to take a few days off.  And how fortuitous those few days turned out to be.

There are 4 types of yoga taught in the scriptures that are often overlooked in the west: Raja yoga, which involves traditional yoga postures, Bhakti Yoga, which is more devotional in nature(singing, chanting), Jnana yoga involves philosophy, and Karma yoga, which is selfless service.  I figured this break was an opportunity to build on these other aspects of yoga. 

So I began volunteering at an orphanage about 5 minutes from my apartment, and taking chanting lessons from Indian music teacher. What a difference this has made in my experience here. Firstly, the kids are absolutely amazing. They range in age from 2-16 and all of them have been left by their parents in a field, on the side of the street,  or on a doorstep somewhere.   The stories are incredible. And when you see their faces, it’s impossible to understand how it could happen.   As soon as I drive up on my motor scooter(more on that later), they start screaming and running to greet me at the gate.  Suddenly, my back pain or sore wrists don’t seem to matter anymore.  My yoga becomes the kids.   I try to teach them a little bit of English as we play,  and surprisingly they pick it up pretty quickly.  But my favorite thing is saying Namaste to them. The 2 and 3 year olds place their hands at their hearts, smile,  and say Namaste back. We do this over and over again.  I just melt.

Secondly, I thought I was taking Harmonium lessons from this  wonderfully sweet Indian music teacher, but it turns out I’m taking voice lessons.  I told her I want to lead pujas( chanting) and I need to learn to play the Harmonium.  She had other ideas. So she’s been teaching me how to lead singing and be confident in my voice. When I got over the fact that I wasn’t going to get what I thought I came there for, I started enjoying it more.  Just another typical Indian experience.   It never really turns out the way you imagine.  Sometimes that’s good,  sometimes not so good.  But in this case it’s great.

One final note, the motor scooter.  I remember when I first arrived in India I was intrigued, or freaked out, as I recall about crossing the street in this insane traffic. My oh my how far I’ve come. Not only am I crossing the street, but I’m driving in it.  I think it’s actually improving my concentration and mindfulness though. It pretty much has to or  you won’t make it.  I never thought I would have the courage to attempt it, but I’m finding I quite like it now.  There’s the occasional Ox that you can’t get around. And you can’t really blow your horn when a cow makes a sudden right turn without signaling.   But other than that, everyone seems to have a mutual understanding of the controlled chaos of Indian traffic.