First Impressions

Early morning chai pit-stop en route to Mysore.

It’s been three days since I arrived in Mysore and it’s slowly beginning to sink in that I’m here. Like I tell friends back home: it’s as if I’m waiting for my mind to catch up with the body in time and space, which seems to exist on a whole other continuum when you’re in India. Since my practice has been delayed for a few more days I thought I’d start with some initial observations which will hopefully help me process this place:

1. Everything here simply takes longer than you expect it to be, from recharging your phone’s SIM card to withdrawing money from the ATM. People who arrive after you at a shop may – and probably will be – attended to before you. It is just how it works and if you observe carefully, you’ll find that this is probably derived from the shopkeeper’s drive for efficiency, attending to quick and easy requests before tackling ones that require a smidge more focus.

2. There are no rules of the road, and every split-second decision made while you’re on the street is an act of faith. I’ve crossed streets in Vietnam, notorious enough for their heart-stopping road-crossing moments, but it wasn’t enough to prepare me for an Indian intersection. Or maybe I’m just out of practice.

3. There is a palpable atmosphere of sincerity and kindness here. I don’t know if it’s the effect of having a concentration of yoga students, or because I’m a foreigner, but the hospitality here is earnest and everyone seems always ready with a smile. People are curious, and they stare. But when you catch their eye and smile, the chances are pretty high that they return the gesture. Before I left a friend told me to “go with no fear and love and all will be ok”. I’ve found that to ring true so far.

4. Security guards take their jobs pretty seriously. I visited the Jaganmohan palace in Mysore today, which is essentially an art gallery housed in the old palace. Apart from a couple of gems from Indian artists (like B.C. Gue and Gaganendranath Tagore), the selection of artifacts is a little eclectic (paintings, furniture, wall brackets, ornaments, etc), and after the first of two floors, you’re ready to head for the exit. But no. There’s a guard there to instruct errant tourists to head upstairs before leaving. And another at the final exit telling you to retrace your steps, so that you can appreciate the marble replica of the Mysore palace, before taking that definitive step out the door.

5. From the moment I wrote about my intention for this trip, everything has fallen into place in a way that I couldn’t have anticipated. Whether it’s a confluence of coincidences or some higher power at work, I’ll let you choose, but for me, I’ve started to realize (albeit a little late) that this journey has a life all of its own and that I’m just in it for the ride.

“No fear and love, and all will be ok”

There’s always time for chai. Deveraja market, Mysore.

India

After Maria’s comment on my last post, it occurred to me that I’ve never actually done more than hint about my upcoming trip to Mysore.

I leave in three weeks – the day after the US Presidential Elections, so I have the added benefit of having the entire nation counting down on my behalf. Tickets are booked. The Indian visa is safe in my passport. I’ve got my vaccines, accommodation, a spot at the shala, ride to/from the airport all settled. The only thing I have left to do is pack and get on the plane. Yet, every aspect of this trip still feels hypothetical. In a “yea, I’m going to India (in a long long time from now)” kinda way. To the non-Ashtangis in my social circle, I’m surprisingly nonchalant for a trip of this “magnitude” – i.e., single woman travelling to the Indian subcontinent on her own for her first trip. Some responses I’ve received are:

“You’re going there voluntarily?”

“Why?”

“For six weeks?!?!?!”

“What’s going to happen to your husband?”

All this has been more than entertaining, because while I’m going there on my own, not knowing a single soul to meet or hang out with, I feel like anything but a solitary traveller. And that’s the beauty of this international Ashtanga community. I have shalamates who’ve just returned and have been prepping me with tips. My yoga teacher sat down with me to share stories and prime my expectations for what practice will be like in Sharath’s room. Another teacher’s connecting me with the folks she knows who are already in Mysore. A shalamate’s sister lives in Mysore and I’m getting connected to her as well. Above all, huge thanks to Kevin for the hat tip on a lovely room for my stay.

With all this support flowing in, how can I feel anxious??

Of course, anxiety and excitement are the same chemical responses in the body, so it’s all a matter of perspective.

I am excited to go. I am excited about practicing in that room. That’s what this is all about really – practicing in that room. Everything else is secondary*.

Three Wednesdays from now I will be on my way there. Unbelievable.

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*Although one of my wishlist items is to go to the movies while I’m there. I’ve heard that it’s one big party!

 

I Need Perspective

Behold, this is my lizard brain at its primitive best.

Browsing through the New York Times’ headlines on my phone this morning, this article about stray dogs in India caught my eye. Since I’m headed to Mysore this November, any mention of the subcontinent has taken on a new significance, except for their performance in cricket or the Olympics. Actually, both.

What followed after a horrified reading of this article – of which the facts, may or may not be blown out of proportion – was 20 minutes of web reading about what rabies is (fatal), how to avoid being attacked (still figuring that one out) and what else can kill me while in India (lots, apparently). A friend who spent two years in a village at the foothills of the Himalayas gave me a list of vaccines to get before leaving: yellow fever, Japanese encephalitis and typhoid, as well as the ‘must-have’ items in my medical stash, like malaria pills, Cipro and some anti-worming medicine.

Now, I’m fully prepared to spend a few days (i.e., less than a week) limp and lifeless in bed, puking (or dispensing by other means) my guts out and all the afflictions that come with a first-timer’s trip to India. But I’m not quite prepared to contract some fatal bug and die! Although, come to think of it, that would make everything alot more efficient – attain samadhi at KPJAYI, get sick, die. Boom!

Not to be overly dramatic or anything but I am worried!!!!! So if you’ve been to India in the past couple of years please help restore my sanity by sharing your stories and tips on how to avoid fatal bugs and viruses while in the subcontinent, apart from bringing hand sanitizer, not drinking tap water, etc etc etc. Your generosity is greatly appreciated.

Seven

That’s the number of breaths I could muster in a headstand today. Of course, I still rely on the wall for going up, but this is the longest I’ve held the asana without playing “one-two” with my feet against the wall, every breath a surprise, a certain element of wonder, thinking “wow is this really happening?” by which time my shoulders start to groan, the core wobbles and I fall back down.

Seven. A small number, but a pretty nice start I should say.

Practice today was creaky, as is to be expected for the first practice after LH, but generally good. The usual stiffness in the hamstrings, and now my back, from all those hours spent in front of the computer screen – the big black hole of the 21st century. I’ve started to notice how this thing called the Internet really sucks us in if you’re not careful. From one blog to the next, before you know it a few hours have gone, and what do you have to show for it?

Thank you all for sharing your thoughts and insights about India in the previous post. The prospect of making a trip to Mysore, or Goa, or some ashram in India both thrills and scares me, which is what life is about isn’t it? A trip like that doesn’t look possible this year as we have my mother-in-law’s 70th birthday in December. In France. Considering that’s halfway to India (from the US), perhaps impossibility is just a frame of mind? I dare not answer that question, because of what it would require of me: a full, 110% commitment. Perhaps, to use Globie’s visual, the seed is just starting to take hold, and the opportunity to travel to ‘the source’ will present itself when the time is right.

The more likely realities for 2011 are to attend Dena and Jack’s week-long intensive in July and/or a couple of sessions at Tim Miller’s shala in Encinitas. Either (or both) of these will keep me plenty busy for the year I would think.

India

Has been on my mind a lot lately. Thoughts like:

• What would it be like to practice, at 4am, at AYRI?
• Can I deal with leaving my husband for a month (or more?) to do this?
• Will I go crazy with the assault on my senses, at all levels?
• Do I have to be a vegetarian the whole time I am there? Will it matter?

And finally:

Am I just stressed right now?

When about half (or more?) of the Ashtangi bloggers I read regularly went to Mysore earlier this year, I found myself intrigued by the prospect, eagerly following their updates, insights, struggles and joys. India is a fascinating world to me, one I’m quite content to appreciate from the comfort of my wooden desk and computer screen. As someone who appreciates her modern comforts, the stories and pictures I’ve seen of the continent remind me that it might be a place better savored through words and images, rather than experienced for oneself.

The strange thing though, is that this interest in India – Mysore specifically – has not gone away since the 2010-2011 winter season. I find myself wondering about it, what it would be like to practice with someone as experienced as Sharath or Saraswati. A curiosity about chanting has started to take hold as well, and now that plans to practice with Sharath in Encinitas have fallen through, the prospect of travelling to Mysore is more appealing than ever.

Quite frankly, I’m surprised by this inclination. Up until February 2011, I viewed the ‘Mysore pilgrimage’ as something that would be nice to experience, but not absolutely necessary to the practice. I’m still trying to figure out the change in perspective. It could be stress – life has been good but crazy busy the past month – which would turn India into an escapist dream, or the state of my relationship with the current teacher. I don’t know. Time will tell.