Sunset prayers on the Ganga























Day Care at its Finest

As the weeks turn quickly to months, my understanding of why I am in Rishikesh is slowly taking shape. Seems that during an intense experience, we are at first only capable of watching it unfold. When questions remain, Impatience rears its ugly head and confusion decends. I am only just now emerging from another period of uncertainty to understand, once again, that all is right with the universe, that I am in exactly the right place, and that I (are you ready for this?) must increase my patience and self-discipline.

My daily regimen has not been as regimented as it could be. Rishikesh is a powerful place with energy that is constantly shifting. No one is immune to this environment, from the animals to the babas and all the western and Indian tourists. I am personally deeply affected by the moon (in the west, too), and my descent into confusion and second-guessing coincided with its prolonged disappearance two weeks and four days ago.

I live at Ved Niketan, a dilapidated ashram (place of spiritual practice) that is more like camp for westerners. Earlier this week I moved rooms, from a relatively noisy room at the back corner of the ashram to an extremely quiet one on the courtyard. I hadn't planned on it, but I was in the right place at the right time. My new room is lovely; it has a beautiful painting of Lord Shiva and Parvati, a nice ceiling fan, a separate kitchen, shower (water comes out above my head!) and toilet. My patio is enclosed, cage style, to ensure my safety from bad monkeys, and I have a bed both inside and out. (Indeed, my seemingly exaggerated good fortune continues, and many of those who know me are compelled to comment about it. For my part, I know I am well taken care of and often feel guided in the simplest of things. Why I am deserving of such guidance I cannot understand, but happily I do not need to.)

Swami Dharmananda is the resident teacher at Ved Niketan and I have been attending his class for two weeks. He gives his daily, two hour lecture in a dank underground meditation hall, talking about all aspects of yogic philosophy (the eight elements of Raja Yoga including what is right and wrong (Yama), what are our duties in life, how to evolve spiritually, proper practice of yogasanas, pranayama (breathing exercises) and meditation, as well as Indian traditions and their meanings and "how to be a yogi mother" (i.e. never, EVER, contemplate the abortion of your baby after conception...this will produce lifelong feelings of rejection in your child), to all kinds of admonishments on proper living and plenty of stories with morals and meanings...

Swamiji is a grumpy man in his mid-fifties. He does not like to be bothered and he does not like many people. In my very first class, I angered him by daring to attempt a reclining position, and I have not yet recovered. Swamiji is intimidating. It is impossible to hide from him. The other day I woke up with an old Santa Claus song in my head..."he knows when you are sleeping, he knows when you're awake...he knows if you've been bad or good..." This is Swamiji. He looks in your eyes and you know he has penetrated; you feel that he knows you better than you do. It is remarkably uncomfortable, and I have been feeling uncomfortable since I began his course. Sometime last week, Swami looked around the room and settled his penetrating gaze on me. Then came the most dreaded question: "Where are you from?" How is it that Swamiji knows this is the one question I am always loathe to answer, let alone in front of a large group of people? I managed a weak "U.S."

As it turns out, my new room faces the Swami's quarters at the opposite end of the courtyard. I feel his presence at all times. I have no idea why Swamiji is part of my life, nor what he will have to teach me, but the simple fact that he makes me so uncomfortable tells me that I have much to learn. So I've resigned myself to another month is this singular place called Rishikesh, for the sole purpose of putting up with Swamiji.

In other news, I have decided against Ayurvedic treatment at this time; the extreme heat is already posing challenges (as far as how to remain hydrated, strong, and mentally grounded) and I don't want to unnecessarily provoke weakness. I will pursue treatment later in the year, after the monsoon, likely in the state of Kerala in the south of India. For now I will try other kinds of cleansing techniques, starting with neti (nasal flushing!) and Basti (enemas!). Does it get any better than this?????

In the meantime, thank you Lord for this opportunity to evolve into a stronger, more peaceful soul.

with greatest affection,
love and light,

LMA