Devi

My dad has a ritual with his friend of 60 years, Hugh McVeigh. They go to the Big Boy every month for breakfast and discuss their thoughts on northern Michigan cabin repairs-- they share family highs and lows, and sometimes they analyze the Tiger baseball stats. I have a similar but younger routine with my friend of 5 years Chris Pieper---we meet at Loka Cafe for coffee and have spiritual chit chat. The last time I met with Chris he told me "You will feel embraced by the mother/goddess energy of India when you arrive."

I had hoped Chris was right as most of my spiritual inquiry has been more intellectual, and less devotional in nature. At times my search has felt empty-- lacking that universal feeling of love that people express when their faith is sewn to their soul.

Quite frankly, for all the great adventures and magical experiences I've had in India, I couldn't say that the trip felt as Chris had described-- full of love and light. I had a tough time seeing the compassionate goddess in the trash heaps blowing across railway platforms, or in the slums that have made dirty, impoverished children, and the city of Mumbai so momentarily popular. It's quite impossible to see the divine through the thick brown wall of pollution that greets you when you step out of any air conditioned hotel or airport baggage claim. She is elusive when it comes to dead dogs in the streets and the scrawny hands that bang on taxi windows at rare red traffic lights.
So where exactly is this holy mother?
In the final days of my trip, should I have been surprised to find her?

Though they say she has infinite form, I found her on an unassuming altar of a small family temple in a fishing village outside of Alleppey, Kerala. Mini refers to her as her Devi-da (primary goddess), but she's also known at the temple as Shiva's wife Parvati. She's a small black stone statue who sits in front of a butter lamp. Devi is adorned each morning with fresh jasmine and incense ---- a simple gold chain, purchased by her congregation, hangs around her neck. The villagers--including Muslim worshippers down in the mosque on the canal, Christians that pray at the church near the boat jetty, and the Hindus of this modest temple, all respect this Parvati, Mother of Lord Ganesh.

The three religious groups live in harmony on this lake--- the fishermen's lips whisper her name as they tie their net knots----the elderly women who weave coir door mats for export give thanks to Parvati when their mat cooperative meeting starts each Monday night.. Mini's husband checks in with Parvati, and asks for her blessing before the family heads out for a journey. Mini seeks the goddess's guidance each time she starts a treatment with a patient. The children sit with her on Fridays as the Brahmin lights a fire of coconut shells and offers Parvati honey and ghee in the flames. When times are good, and times are not so good---the villagers smile---they trust their mother, and believe that everything is ok...

not that it is "going to be" ok--but rather that it already is ok.

I saw it on Mini's face as she took me to the airport in her best pink sari. My stress appeared in the wrinkle where my third eye was covered with kukum powder from the 6am temple visit (blessing for a safe flight). Dodging cows, bicycles and local buses on the highway, I continually asked the driver how much further it was to the airport---we had gotten a late start with final good-byes to the fish monger, and Radha--Mini's right hand in the house...I took too much time explaining to Mini's husband, Joy, how to use the digital camera I left with them. As a result, I was flushed with old western anxiety--- I shifted in the backseat, sad to finish my trip, concerned to miss my flight, and broken hearted to leave my dear new guru and friend. Mini on the other hand, smiling as she enjoyed the passing sights she sees every day, couldn't understand why I was "tensed".
"Eileen, why are you so sad?
Don't be tensed! Instead of thinking about leaving--know that you are coming back.....instead of feeling sad to say good-bye, feel how much 'full-ness' you feel in your heart." She held my spot-free hand in her cinnamon palm and asked if I packed the lemon pickles, coconuts, and chicu, to bring home.... I wish I could have taken a picture of her in her in her pink sari, but instead, I held her hand, and we talked about the healing properties of chick peas. Thank you Mini, thank you Devi, thank you India.

Dream Dots

"Eileen, you OK?" Mini asked me with concern as my body slumped and my face flushed white in a crowded sea of brown people attending the temple festival. I shook my head and the smiling woman between us scooted on the sand to make space for me next to the doctor. I crawled over to Mini---"Here, lie down on me." Unashamed, feeling faint and childlike, I put my head on her lap and closed my eyes. Five days of panchakarma treatment, very little food and the detoxification process absorbing much of my energy--the festivities were stimulation overload. A little delirious, with Mini rubbing my back-while coffee, peanut, and balloon vendors stepped around us to push their goods on the crowds attending this grand finale event of the the tenth day of holy celebration. In the middle of the madness, slipping from consciousness, I remembered the powerful dream I'd had while at the orphanage in December.

I dreamt of a bright cold morning in mountains that felt like home. In the scene, I was two people, one of me standing 100 feet below the snow blowing across the ridgeline, and the second me watching this movie from the 3rd row of an empty theatre. The first me couldn't take my eyes off the ridge--the sun rising behind it;the second me couldn't take my eyes off the firs me. In that sleep, my body was light and expectant as an elephant crested the ridge with the sun. It lumbered toward me, dancing in slow motion as it shook glistening snow from its back. The first me was awestruck, and unable to move and the second me was shoveling popcorn into my mouth. I don't recall how the dream ended other than I woke energized and determined to see an elephant in my waking state.

In slipping in and out of dream-state while lying in Mini's arms, the dream dots connected and the fragments of the orphanage dream became scrambled in front of me at this Keralan Temple Festival....6 elephants danced for the crowd where I watched from a supine position. They swayed in their regal red costumes as horns blew and drums blasted a tribal rhythm---They were covered in shards of light from the setting sun, fire-lit torches, and the surrounding neon lights strung along the temple's roofs. I was neither the me of the mountain, or the me in the 3rd row----instead I was the buttered popcorn.

5 days of "Snehapana" (cleansing) means waking at 5am, meditating with Mini in the dark on her balcony as the cock crows, praying to the photo on the treatment room altar of "rishi" who founded Ayurveda, and sitting blindfolded as Mini pours medicated ghee down my throat (each day, the amount ghee increasing by 50-100ml). Now, my body sweats the sweet smell of oily butter and my stomach aches with the heavy nausea of detox--- the only reprieve from the slick constant taste on my tongue came when Mini brought me home from the festival.

"Eileen, you must eat a little something." I sat at the table as she served up rice porridge, a glass of rice porridge water, and a side of pickled lemon---relief. As she tucked me in, and kissed my forehead, she said, "You will sleep well now."
My vulnerability dissolving, I replied, "Yes, Mini, I feel better now----sweet dreams."
She laughed..."Yes, Eileen, sweet dreams."

Proper

Proper breathing, proper relaxation, proper diet, proper meditation, and positive attitude.
These are the 5 principles of yoga according to Swami Sivananda. Two weeks of living these points, via asana practice, chant sessions, silent meals, pre-dawn wake ups, and community living, one craves experiencing these virtues in the life outside of the ashram.....

This opportunity came during a Friday off mid- yoga vacation. Along with 34 other yogis, I boarded a bus for a jam-packed journey to the tippy toe of India for sight seeing, temple visits, and a break from structure and sanctuary. Heading to Kalimat, where the Indian Ocean and the Bay of Bengal meet, we enjoyed the bus ride where silence was replaced with chatting, and roadside sugar loaded-chai was tossed back as a happy alternative to several days of ayurvedic tea.... We absorbed the peace and real world practice of daily temple worship at the Siva, Vishnu and Kanykumari temples by day, and the Hanuman temple by night.

It was extraordinary to feel the different prakriti (nature) of each temple and how it matched its namesake. The Siva (God of purification, transformation, and destruction) temple rippled with courtyard light illuminating flower petals fallen from shady branches---Vishnu temple (god of stability and preservation)carried a weighty granite feel as its 3000 year old pillars protected the resting 30 foot statue its sleeping master.....The Kanykumari temple (Goddess bride left behind by Shiva) welcomed young Hindu women making light offerings to the Goddess in hopes of a matrimonial future. And the Hanuman (monkey god of devotion and courage)temple hosted a festival where reincarnated chants danced though Brahmins who carried bamboo stretchers transporting important aspects of the divine through the thick chambers and corridors of the jungle walled home of a very tall primate. We joined the masses in lighting butter lamps, and marching through the alleys of the monkey's maze. Musical pillars were played in our honor, and ghee was ingested for luck---

With each forray into the Hindu culture, one gains a visceral experience of the thin veil between the gods, their aspects, and how they manifest in human form.
Many people misunderstand this country for its seemingly blind devotion to its infinite gods----- but that is sophmoric if one hasn't felt the manifestation of the mythical aspects as expressed in the actions and deeds of the people on the streets. Lakshmi,the appreciative Goddess of Prosperity finds her way into the hands of the boy on the bus collecting fares..... Ganesha, Elephant God who removes obstacles and helps create abundance can be seen in the big bellies of fruit merchants and chai masters. The sweet loving nature of Durga, Mother Goddess, shows up in the deliberate and gentle service of the ice cream man as he counts back change to a 5 year old patron....
A "proper" understanding of the grace of India, along with the ancient breathing, meditating, diet, mental attitude, and exercise practices it teaches us, is to see that the Gods are not separate from the people...It's divine to be back on road...

In the jungle the mighty jungle....

The lion sleeps....but the yogis don't. One week into the Yoga Vacation, and I spend my limited free moments dreaming of downtime and protein! The busy schedule has been good for the opening of body and mind and a feeling of restoration washes over the spirit...The mind begins to tune into the next leg of the journey, and in a few days, I'll leave the ringing bells and early sun salutations, replacing them with lakeside classwork and ayurvedic treatment and study.
My camera stopped functioning on the "field trip" to the tippy toe of India. So while I have little time to post words, and no ability to share images, I thought I'd post the ashram website and the website for the Dr. Mini, the Ayurvedic guru I will study with when I leave the Yoga at the end of the week.
I will post again when I get urban.
http://www.sivananda.org/neyyardam/
http://www.houseofayurveda.com

Jaya Ganesha!

Jaya Ganesha, Jaya Ganesha, Jaya Ganeshapahenam.
Shree Ganesha, Shree Ganesha, Shree Ganesha Rakshamam (and on and on and on...)
We wake up early and chant this 20 minute mantra, a salute to the "remover of obstacles" and about 100 other gods, starts and ends the day of yoga "Vacation".....
Life at the Sivananda Ashram, is yet again, another unique slice of India.

I arrived after winding down the Bengali coast of Tamil Nadu- carried by a screaming bus that scattered children and cows off the small town roads. I took the "express" bus, as I was concerned that i might not make my train from Villapuram to Trivandrum. I arrived to the station a good 3 hours before departure. Well ahead of time, and no one in sight.....Little did I know, the holiday was Pongal----harvest festival, where rituals are performed in fertile fields, fire ceremonies swirl through small roadside temples, and bulls are painted and captured by brave and foolish competitors. The women cook sweet rice dishes to serve in their family homes. Chalk mandalas read "Happy Pongal!" and trains are quiet and uncrowded...Rituals are not public, but I was guided to a small Ganesh (elephant god/remover of obstacles) by a kind man who wanted me to see the offerings---crowds were singing, incense and fruit were offered, smiles on everyone's faces, and a fourth of july like firework display in the backdrop....a sweet last taste of India, before turning inward...

My travels led me to Neyyar Dam where the Sivananda Ashram sits above the lake surrounded by forest and jade rolling mountains. Elephants rustle in the wilderness, lions can be heard mating, and stories of "lake crocodiles" keep the timid from swimming.
This being the "halfway" point of my journey, I planned to give myself two weeks of yoga practice, time for reflection, and detoxification---an opportunity to recharge my batteries for the remainder of the journey.
It is quite nice to drop the dusty bags and follow a rigid routine after days of logistics, decision making, and unknown experiences around every corner.
Here, at the ashram, life is safe, predictable, and affords one the opportunity to synthesize the adventures preceding arrival---or so i thought...actually, the schedule allows for little down time or reflection. This "Groundhog Day" reality follows an exacting schedule:
5:20am Wake up bell
6am-7am Meditation, chanting
7:30 chai break
8:00-10:00 yoga
10am brunch
10-30-12pm karma yoga---selfless service (yes, I'm cleaning toilets)
1:30 pm tea time
2:00 lecture
3:30-5:30pm yoga
6pm dinner
8pm-10am lecture/satsang/aarati
10:30pm lights out

Three days in, I feel lighter, well rested, and ready for the next adventures.
No access to internet, except one "off day" a week, and the connections are so slow, there's no time for uploading photos....

Fog to Sea

It was clear to me that I was more than ready to leave the cold, rugged north when a beggar approached the car i was sitting in, just before my 3am departure from the Bodhgaya train station. The familiar, troubled soul had put his palm in my face at my 3am arrival just days before--I gave him ten Rupees. This time, generosity was nowhere to be found--- a harder heart, ragged nerves, my bones tired of the constant damp chill and the middle of the night journeys..... There's nothing like wearing a dirty orange down jacket around the clock for several weeks to make you crave the sun. As the boy knocked on my window, it took all I could muster to not open the car door to shove him away. The begging is non-stop, and while everyone finds their own way to contribute or put up a personal shield against the constant requests, there are moments when you lose your cool. This is when you know you need to take a break.
Skipping like a stone through Calcutta, Mamallapurum, and now Pondicherry, the softness of southern India has washed over me and I am again able to shed some rupees to the less frequent palms as I make my way toward Trivandrum. Here in the south, temples tops are dotted with crosses, mud chai cups are replaced by coffee joints, holy robes are switched to longis and sarongs, palms replace pines, Goan fish dishes replace vegetable curries, crowds are replaced by space, Hindi language by French and English, cafe au lait choked skies change to salty blue ocean views, slow service is replaced by slower, but more efficient, service----welcome mats are replaced by colorful chalk mandalas on store front stoops--metal roofs turn into thatched ones, Ambassador taxis changed from white to yellow, pujas on the Ganges are replaced by fishing nets in the Bay of Bengal----punjab pot bellies melt and stretch into long, lanky trunks----and rickshaw honking is replaced by clown horn squeaking------the shifts seem like I've crossed an environmental, cultural, and psychic border, but the head wiggles, soul searing eyes, and contagious smiles confirm my visa's still valid----"same-same" only different.

pilgrims and angels

I've left the intensity of Varanasi and found a different energy on the soil where the Buddha lives. Buddhists converge here in early January to recite a world prayer for peace led by the 17th Karmapa. The Karmapa is to the Kagyu lineage what the Dalai Lama is to the Geluka lineage in Tibet. The reincarnated Karmapa is young-- 20, or so, years old, with a sweet face, and a bit of western attitude----The town swarmed with maroon and mustard robes from all over Asia to hear his reincarnated insights and enjoy some global prayer----An incredible sight and a nice shift from the frenetic vibe of Hindu India....

After another foggy train ride and a 3am arrival, I found some peace under the same tree where the Buddha became enlightened. Many people walked (and rested) by the tree hoping for a connection to the Buddha's liberating message of non-attachment and impermanence. Many visitors seemed far from the message as they talked in the "respect for silence" zone, snapped photos, and grasped at leaves dropping from the branches. I sat next to 2 Vietnamese nuns quietly praying. They smiled at me, as I found my breath and settled into some internal silence. I was awakened by the subtle sound of a Bodhi leaf falling on the ground in front of me. A big grin came across my neighboring nun's face---as she said "Buddha wanted you to have it!" Feeling the good fortune, I took the leaf and meditated some more.

I woke from my concentration to find a pilgrim in traditional Tibetan dress and braids standing in front of me. He had been circumambulating the stupa in front of me, his well-worn socks barely covering his weary feet----Taking a break from his circles, he smiled and put his hands over his heart. I felt something holy in his kindness and smiled back----a wordless connection...He reached his brown-boned hands toward mine--warm palms pressed for a moment, then he padded away. He circled again, and this time, stopped and gave me an apple out of his black and maroon shoulder bag-then he moved on. He circled again and this time joined me on the bench where the nuns and I sat--- Another offering--- he pushed his orange plastic mug of warm yak milk at me and a white roll and cheese sandwich to share. With no food to exchange, I placed the auspicious and treasured bodhi leaf in his lap. He smiled, put his arm around my shoulder, and pulled me in close to recite the mantra in the nun's chant book. We chimed in with 1,000's of Buddhists unified in prayer and then he left. I saw him later performing non-stop prostrations on the other side of the tree.