As always, it takes a while to match your footsteps to the same pace as the locals, as they sup steaming mugs of chai and stare out onto the water, letting the long and wide hours of life wash over them gently. I wonder sometimes if that is all any of us are really doing; simply passing time in this life until death. If this is the case, if our jobs and the lull of our daily routine are merely things to keep us entertained, then surely none of it really matters, and we ought to pass our days and waste our time in whichever way we choose? Or perhaps that is a selfish way of looking at the world.
Life here consists of scrambling up the sides of mountains to reach fairytale waterfalls, being wary of the elephants and panthers lurking in the darkness. Mountains have a quality I have found in no other form on earth, simultaneously imposing, humbling and frightening yet also watchful, gentle, almost motherly. They symbolize the power of nature over the human race for mountains are dangerous terrain for many of us, although some men have conquered them, an interesting paradox. We watch thunderstorms wrapped up in knitted ponchos and clutching glasses heavy with the sweet secret of lemon and ginger tea. We sit cross-legged for hours on the floor listening to a classical Indian sitar, as the music twists and curls above our heads like coloured smoke and a tiny Indian prince dressed up in sequins and beads twirls in the ash clouds and everything seems beautiful. My austere little room is draped with brightly coloured salwar kameez and ethereal scarves, washed with love and drying in the gentle breath of the afternoon sun. I race along the beach feeling the ragged breath in my chest and I look up at the Himalayas and I remember that I am alive. We sit at the feet of holy men in enchanted gardens as they hand us rosary beads made from the dried fruit of trees and stare deep into our seeking souls invite us to ask them the meaning of life. We exchange worn pennies for exquisite reams of fabric and are led into family houses consisting of only one room, to have our measurements recorded to be blessed with creation on a foot-powered Singer sewing machine.
I love the decorative aspect of India - everything is colourful and sparkles in the most unnecessary way. Ancient cars are strewn with garlands of fresh flowers, motorbikes are tangled up in tinsel, even the donkeys wear beaded necklaces and women dress in full saris to clamber up the sides of mountains. Gruff looking men have mysterious gem stones rammed onto every stout finger and teenage boys cram friendship bracelets onto their thin arms. Everything is bejeweled and the most mundane items glitter in the sun. The crumbling buildings are painted with delicious pastel blooms and even the temples have strips of gold foil hung from the ceiling, dazzling in the light. This attention to detail is representative of an attitude to life: things are beautiful simply for the sake of being beautiful. To bring joy and light and laughter to the eye. In a world of wilderness and darkness and danger and despair I think that this trivial decoration is such a brilliant and absolutely human trait. The art of doing something just because. If all the world is illusion which will fade and change, why not dress it up and enjoy it, before it is gone?
We were graced with the presence of a real life guru in our yoga class this week. Rain poured from the balconies and onto the heads of the giant Shiva statues standing guard over the lush ashram vegetation as she sang vedic mantras to us. We sat in the darkness like crumpled lotus flowers blossoming against all the odds as this wizened brown owl spat pure gems of wisdom into the air. Rubies and sapphires tumbled from her lips, disappearing beyond the reaches of our hungry fingers, teasing the egos we are trying to leave behind.
She made a distinction between what we perceive to be the 'I': our history, experiences, family, job, personality etc. and the real self that goes beyond all of these things to which we try to listen during mediation: pure consciousness, evidence of the divine within all of us. This is why we ought to learn to control our minds, in order to actualize the real and eternal self. Although this idea seems intrinsically tangled with the concept of reincarnation and the idea of the soul coming to earth in a variety of forms, I cannot help but think that perhaps that perhaps here Eastern philosophy has touched upon something of incredible importance.
It is that feeling that is deep inside many, if not all of us, that thing that we can see in the eyes of wild men and women, that glint we try to make Other with stories of gypsies and vagabonds and runaways. We condemn drop outs and hermits we push those without permanent addresses or bank details or facebook accounts to the fringes of society because we fear them. We are scared because they are brave, because they listen to that ripple of discontent that glimmers in all of us.It is the feeling that makes us want to stay curled up in bed in the mornings, the reckless impulse that makes us want to tread on the grass, to stay up all night, to run through the wilderness and get drunk on stars and feel dandelion clocks in our hair. The temptation to leave it all behind, to burn our money and to give away our possessions, to scream on an empty beach and dive naked into the ocean, to turn our backs on civilisation and be reunited with this wild, wonderful insatiable earth.
Is this feeling evidence for what the guru was talking about? Is it the revolt of the eternal self, crying out deeply from the dark caverns of our bodies, begging us to break free from the shackles and the constraints and the conventions of society to be allowed to dance freely in the balmy air, the true essence of what we really are?
We practiced our asanas outside one afternoon and when I was breathing in time with the mountains and smelling the blades of grass between my feet and feeling the gentle sun soaking my skin like a hot bath I felt the most golden sense of peace. As I listened to the wind and peered through half-closed lashes at the cornflower sky I felt so in tune with my surroundings, so light and so free and vibrating with life.
How do we take all of these elements of philosophy and yoga and inherent feelings about life and these golden moments of perfect peace and incorporate them into our daily lives? Which is most important? All of this talk of moksha and enlightenment is very well, but I also derive pleasure from inane and meaningless things like cups of coffee and wearing pretty dresses - surely these are valuable if not important parts of life too?
Before I came here, I was despairing over the idea that there is nothing more to life, that we are born and that we die and that the rest is merely make believe. The idea of this was overwhelming me, permeating every aspect of my existence and making me weep into my morning museli. So far, instead of answers to my big questions I have made a list of even bigger questions, however the one thing I think that I have found is reassurance. Here people believe so wholeheartedly that they see meaning and destiny everywhere and in everything. They are desperately aware of the spiritual apsect of the human psyche, and I think that is what draws seekers here. I am yet to find answers, but I am finding reassurance in the fact that perhaps we don't have all the answers, but that something, somewhere does and all of our energy and our hopes and dreams and disasters are not in vain.
Life here consists of scrambling up the sides of mountains to reach fairytale waterfalls, being wary of the elephants and panthers lurking in the darkness. Mountains have a quality I have found in no other form on earth, simultaneously imposing, humbling and frightening yet also watchful, gentle, almost motherly. They symbolize the power of nature over the human race for mountains are dangerous terrain for many of us, although some men have conquered them, an interesting paradox. We watch thunderstorms wrapped up in knitted ponchos and clutching glasses heavy with the sweet secret of lemon and ginger tea. We sit cross-legged for hours on the floor listening to a classical Indian sitar, as the music twists and curls above our heads like coloured smoke and a tiny Indian prince dressed up in sequins and beads twirls in the ash clouds and everything seems beautiful. My austere little room is draped with brightly coloured salwar kameez and ethereal scarves, washed with love and drying in the gentle breath of the afternoon sun. I race along the beach feeling the ragged breath in my chest and I look up at the Himalayas and I remember that I am alive. We sit at the feet of holy men in enchanted gardens as they hand us rosary beads made from the dried fruit of trees and stare deep into our seeking souls invite us to ask them the meaning of life. We exchange worn pennies for exquisite reams of fabric and are led into family houses consisting of only one room, to have our measurements recorded to be blessed with creation on a foot-powered Singer sewing machine.
I love the decorative aspect of India - everything is colourful and sparkles in the most unnecessary way. Ancient cars are strewn with garlands of fresh flowers, motorbikes are tangled up in tinsel, even the donkeys wear beaded necklaces and women dress in full saris to clamber up the sides of mountains. Gruff looking men have mysterious gem stones rammed onto every stout finger and teenage boys cram friendship bracelets onto their thin arms. Everything is bejeweled and the most mundane items glitter in the sun. The crumbling buildings are painted with delicious pastel blooms and even the temples have strips of gold foil hung from the ceiling, dazzling in the light. This attention to detail is representative of an attitude to life: things are beautiful simply for the sake of being beautiful. To bring joy and light and laughter to the eye. In a world of wilderness and darkness and danger and despair I think that this trivial decoration is such a brilliant and absolutely human trait. The art of doing something just because. If all the world is illusion which will fade and change, why not dress it up and enjoy it, before it is gone?
We were graced with the presence of a real life guru in our yoga class this week. Rain poured from the balconies and onto the heads of the giant Shiva statues standing guard over the lush ashram vegetation as she sang vedic mantras to us. We sat in the darkness like crumpled lotus flowers blossoming against all the odds as this wizened brown owl spat pure gems of wisdom into the air. Rubies and sapphires tumbled from her lips, disappearing beyond the reaches of our hungry fingers, teasing the egos we are trying to leave behind.
She made a distinction between what we perceive to be the 'I': our history, experiences, family, job, personality etc. and the real self that goes beyond all of these things to which we try to listen during mediation: pure consciousness, evidence of the divine within all of us. This is why we ought to learn to control our minds, in order to actualize the real and eternal self. Although this idea seems intrinsically tangled with the concept of reincarnation and the idea of the soul coming to earth in a variety of forms, I cannot help but think that perhaps that perhaps here Eastern philosophy has touched upon something of incredible importance.
It is that feeling that is deep inside many, if not all of us, that thing that we can see in the eyes of wild men and women, that glint we try to make Other with stories of gypsies and vagabonds and runaways. We condemn drop outs and hermits we push those without permanent addresses or bank details or facebook accounts to the fringes of society because we fear them. We are scared because they are brave, because they listen to that ripple of discontent that glimmers in all of us.It is the feeling that makes us want to stay curled up in bed in the mornings, the reckless impulse that makes us want to tread on the grass, to stay up all night, to run through the wilderness and get drunk on stars and feel dandelion clocks in our hair. The temptation to leave it all behind, to burn our money and to give away our possessions, to scream on an empty beach and dive naked into the ocean, to turn our backs on civilisation and be reunited with this wild, wonderful insatiable earth.
Is this feeling evidence for what the guru was talking about? Is it the revolt of the eternal self, crying out deeply from the dark caverns of our bodies, begging us to break free from the shackles and the constraints and the conventions of society to be allowed to dance freely in the balmy air, the true essence of what we really are?
We practiced our asanas outside one afternoon and when I was breathing in time with the mountains and smelling the blades of grass between my feet and feeling the gentle sun soaking my skin like a hot bath I felt the most golden sense of peace. As I listened to the wind and peered through half-closed lashes at the cornflower sky I felt so in tune with my surroundings, so light and so free and vibrating with life.
How do we take all of these elements of philosophy and yoga and inherent feelings about life and these golden moments of perfect peace and incorporate them into our daily lives? Which is most important? All of this talk of moksha and enlightenment is very well, but I also derive pleasure from inane and meaningless things like cups of coffee and wearing pretty dresses - surely these are valuable if not important parts of life too?
Before I came here, I was despairing over the idea that there is nothing more to life, that we are born and that we die and that the rest is merely make believe. The idea of this was overwhelming me, permeating every aspect of my existence and making me weep into my morning museli. So far, instead of answers to my big questions I have made a list of even bigger questions, however the one thing I think that I have found is reassurance. Here people believe so wholeheartedly that they see meaning and destiny everywhere and in everything. They are desperately aware of the spiritual apsect of the human psyche, and I think that is what draws seekers here. I am yet to find answers, but I am finding reassurance in the fact that perhaps we don't have all the answers, but that something, somewhere does and all of our energy and our hopes and dreams and disasters are not in vain.
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