Mini-confessions

I've given up trying to make this post cleverly concise--seems counterproductive to the blatant honesty I'm attempting to relay (lucky for you however, I am by nature fairly witty, so I'm hoping you'll still be entertained). At a loss as to how to describe this hilarious, exhausting, spiritual, entertaining, lazy, mega-detailed and nuanced journey in one simple blog, I'm doing my best to remember what I can. So bear with me, and when it gets choppy or off kilter, consider it a genuine extension of my spontaneously free spirit.

With the exception of my yoga practice (which is large and life-changingly transformative ), I love that everything here is mini-sized. Mini spoons, mini bananas, mini cars, mini trucks, mini cups of chai, mini rickshaws, mini markets.... If you smoke cigarettes, you have the option of buying them one at a time. Same goes for band-aids (of which we bought five). Mini wrists for most Indian women meant that I had to request to see the "large" bangle bracelets when I purchased some (for 50 rupees, or one mini-American dollar). I regularly see ponies, but no actual horse-sized horses. At band practice, mini-Martin is making some great big sounds. Hot water for showers comes in mini-doses, about which I wrote a mini-song (and if I can get my mini-video camera to work, I'll post it for you). In recent months, a recurring theme in my life seems to have been that good things come in small packages, and I find it continuously the case here in India.

To do that non-witty honest thing, I feel it only right that I post some initial confessions (beginning with the hope that you're still finding this cleverly amusing). First, I like that every band-practice ends with Tim and I strumming aimlessly on our guitars, while Liz inevitably ends up planning or budgeting for our future travels (here, for our return to the States, and for our next trip to India. And I might as well confess that I'm already planning my second trip to continue studying with Ajay next summer...but I digress). I love that we have 9 covers and 5 originals--some of which we've never actually attempted to play or create/memorize lyrics for. I admit that I like going to bed at 830pm and waking up at 4am, and now officially consider myself a morning person. I like that I make my coffee in a rusty old tin with a strainer and tongs, and hope to continue doing so when I return to the States. I like that I'm coexisting peacefully with bugs, that my toothpaste is brown, and that I sleep on a 2" thick, hard-as-shit mattress. I like that my feet are perpetually dirty, that I buy milk in baggies, and that it only stays good for 2 days. I love that I went out for lunch today and ended up eating with five friends in a stranger's bedroom. I admit that the first time I rinsed my toothbrush with sink water instead of bottled I was terrified, and that I had the same scare when I once stood in the shower, water hitting my face, and realized my mouth was open. I confess to rarely knowing how many days it's been between showers even though I sweat profusely during each yoga practice (and most other times of day). I confess that I sometimes cannot tell the difference between the smell of incense or trash burning, though they are both now oddly comforting and familiar. I've found that doing nothing (literally) comes extraordinarily easy to me, and I've no desire to change it. I admit that leaving grad school was one of the best decisions I've ever made. I admit confess to being highly aroused during my Aryuvedic massage yesterday, and while I won't go into detail here (though it does involve a loin cloth and being drenched in hot oils), let's just say that what those women did to me would NOT be legal in the US. I also admit that in a pinch, I no longer mind the hose or bucket when I have to use the bathroom. I love that I can have the most intensely peaceful meditation and/or yoga practice with dogs barking, election trucks passing, rickshaws and scooters zooming, horns honking, neighbors conversing, and radios, fans, and construction blaring in the background. I admit that I rather like not having air conditioning.

Aside from coconuts, yoga, befri's, and everything else, my favorite thing about India is the color. My God, the color! It's the most colorful place I've ever seen--puts that 64-box of Crayola's to shame. The buildings (new, old, abandoned or dilapidated) change from one to the next; no boring, sleek, or cookie-cutter repetition as is often found in the States. So it's a little dirty...it's also brilliant, vibrant, and full of character. Women adorned in sari's and jewels, strands of jasmin flowers in their hair--it's as if their tailors were born from rainbows. Markets of fruits, dyes, fabrics, vegetables and random goods...it's heaven for my eyeballs everywhere I turn. I can't stop myself from taking pictures. I want to post some, but my mini-internet connection is taking time with the video, so they may have to wait.

I'm trying to figure out how to update you on my yoga practice, but the enormity of it all is hard to describe. I'm just...in it. Deeply, gratefully, amazingly, in it. Learning to ease through the struggle, I'm prouder of myself than I've ever been. My endurance and will are strong, my mind and muscles are fierce. I had no idea I could ever be pushed--more accurately, guided--to this place. I am eternally grateful to Ajay for calling me out on every weakness, and not allowing me to hide (from him or myself). Whether he is standing on my back, pressing my chest towards the floor, guiding me through drop backs/lifting out of backbends, stretching my legs and hamstrings further than I ever thought they were meant to go...he always reminds me that it is my body--not his adjustments--that are getting me to these places. He tells me when I do a good job, and tells me where I need work. He reminds me to relax. His adjustments are harsh, but his smile and soul are kind and compassionate. In trusting him, I am learning to better trust myself. The power of my mind and spirit is taking me to places I've never been, and I am...wow...just blissfully speechless. (So yeah, yoga is good. Really, really, good.)

And PS....I'll get some pics and my mini-song up for you soon. For now the mini-Indian-internet connection runs too slow, and I've lost everything I tried to post. I'm gonna save myself the mini-frustration and get outta here for now. Until then, sending peace, love and beautiful things always. And laughter, always laughter.

Band practice and coconuts

Coconuts. So far the coconut stand is one of my favorite things. For ten rupees, they cut the top off of a coconut and give you it with a straw to drink the juice (though its more fun without the straw). When you're done, the coconut man cuts it open and peels the fruit flesh for you to eat. So simple, so perfect.

Getting here. If you're ever in Heathrow Airport in London and find yourself moved by the beauty of airport architecture, don't photograph it. I was enamored by the metal and windows and giant claws that held up the extravagant "international wing"...these things cleverly designed that somehow made me feel as if I was larger than the planes outside. I was only 3 pics in when I was caught on the surveillance camera and bombarded by security. Turns out, "pretty" is the new "terrorist threat."


Cows, rickshaws, and scooters. These also share the road with horses, goats, buses, bikers, walkers, and whoever else dares to enter the streets. The only rule drivers are asked to follow is on the occasional sign that says, "Follow Lane Discipline." This rule is entirely subjective and open to several variations of interpretation. I've come to read it as "trust in your driver, and try not to die." So far, so good.

Coffee and chai. What can I say? Starbucks be damned. The best stuff you'll ever try is right here. And in my apartment, nonetheless. This city has the best food you'll ever eat. There's a chocolate man on the corner who puts Godiva to shame...he also makes coconut cookies that melt in your mouth. The breakfast at Santosha has the world's best baker, and my dinners and lunches have been among the most delicious I've ever eaten. There was no such thing as "curry" until I got here. Liz was right. It is possible to eat your way through India. Oh, and did I mention the fruit? Mangos, papayas and bananas, oh my! And of course, the coconut. God bless the coconuts.

Sun and rain. It is possible to walk, scooter, dance, and rickshaw through both of these. Rooftop dancing and scooter-ride downpours (3 to a scooter of course) are absolute musts here. Yes it's hot as hell. No, I don't care, because I love it that much. My skirts are airy and heart is happy. I've fallen asleep to the rain a few times. It's like heaven. But that's in part due to my befri...we are sharing the best bachelor pad that's ever existed. Roofs, balconies, fabulous colors, and a two-foot Ganesh incense holder adorn our world. All around perfection.

Band practice! Aside from yoga, Liz and coconuts, this is my other favorite thing. Each day for at least three hours, Tim and I play our guitars while Natalie and Liz sing, and Liz makes us chai (she's currently on a "quest for the perfect chai," which might end up being the name of our band). We've also acquired an occasional beatboxer (Hamaan), a potential harmonica player (Lee) and incredibly talented triangle lead (Simone). Eventually, Liz will find a cowbell to complete the set up. I fuckin' love this place.



Befri's and yoga. I mean, do I really have to say much about either of these? You can check my last post to get a feel for my yoga practice (truthfully it's a little intense to talk about at the moment so I'm gonna wait before posting more). But Liz. Wow. It's just...right. In that perfect kind of way. Our place, our practice, our hearts, this journey...life for us is exactly as happy as it can be. She's saved my life more than once, and I've returned the favor several times. This time though, we get to just be--no saving needed. One of the most incredible gifts I've ever gotten is this time with her. Bucket laundry, apartment dancing, quiet night talks and hugs, coffee on the balcony, muesli and fruit breakfasts. Love you girl. Thank you for my life.

To the rest of you......I'll see you soon. Until then, find yourself a coconut and a band. And maybe a hug. Everybody loves hugs.

Connectedness

It was day 3 that I began my practice. I grabbed Ajay's leg (the teacher I was meant to find here) as he told me to exhale. My back twisted farther, and I felt my ribs and spine lengthen. I gave in. Trust...breathe...trust...breathe...

Ashtanga scares me. The twists, binds, vigor, flow and breath make my body shake and constrict my breath. In this practice, I am weak, vulnerable, anxious. The more I fight it, the more I know it is this that I must practice... for it is here that I also become powerful and serene. Give in, Rebecca. Trust. Let go. You don't have to hold your breath, just send it somewhere else. As I dance with my flow, my eyes swell with tears. My body heated, dripping with sweat that stings my eyes, he comes back for another adjustment. I smile and relax. I just reached a place I'd never gone. My body is strong and healthy. My spirit is vibrant. In this small, unexpected shala, I have found my new teacher and new home. This is not the shala I expected to come study in. Liz and I opted to study with Ajay after meeting him instead of attending the original Ashtanga Institute. Something told me it was right. Though I fight this practice and routine, though my fears and anxieties rear their head and raise their voice, I am finding strength by giving in. When each day is said and done, I leave drenched, exhausted--and more excited than ever to return tomorrow.

Hours after my arrival in Mysore, Liz and I learned that Gurugi (Pattabhi Jois, founder of Ashtanga and the Institute) had passed. We had already decided to switch our practice to Ajay's, but the rest of this post will be dedicated to Guruji (and indirectly, to my friends, family, fellow yogis, teachers, students...).

We walked into the shala, the Guruji's lifeless body on the floor. Surrounded by family and friends, this Brahman was here so that we could honor him. By the dozens, members of the community and yogi's from around the world came to bow to him and cover him with flowers and offerrings of peace and thanks. In those moments, the tears in my eyes swelled not through sadness, but through gratitude. A momentary pause of whether or not I was worthy of participating in this moment passed as the my feeling of connection to him and my yogi family grew. This body, this shell before me once housed the great spirit and mind that passed on the teachings and peace that transformed my life. He brought us this practice, this struggle, this love. Through yoga, I came to know and love myself. I began to see myself--body, mind and spirit--as strong and capable. I honor him for his gift he has given to my teachers, who passed it to me. He made this world better, safer, more loving. To share this space with him, his family and community, I remembered the way in which we are all connected on this earth...and I grew thankful. I found solice in my best friend at my side, and thanks to Guruji for bringing us here together to heal and grow and climb and search...and laugh and love.

Here in India, in those first three days, I found a new home, my best friend, a new family and circle of friends. I found, so quickly, that love does not care about time or length of care. It is just here--so we should take it. We all share this life, potential for peace, happiness, and connections. This world--full of love and beauty--is possible because we all exist in it; every breath and moment contains it, we just have to remember to grab it and feel it. What we do, how we live, and what we extend to others matters. We can never know how far our actions and behaviors reach beyond us, but they always will. Go forth with the awareness that you matter. Your life and smile is meaningful and necessary in this world. It means everything to me. Be kind. Spread peace. Honor your connection with each other and this earth.

Namaste, Guruji.

"Lokah samastah sukino bavantu."
(May all beings everywhere be happy and free."

Holy shitballs!

In recent years, I find myself saying more and more goodbyes to people I’ve come to adore and cherish so very much. But depending on how you look at it, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Do you know how many amazing people I have to say goodbye—and thus, hello!—to? The glass is overflowingly full, my loves.

For those of you I haven’t spoken to in a while, turns out I’m not cut out to be a Sociologist (although here’s a shout out to my magnificent friends who are!). Instead, I’ve decided to embark on the journey less traveled…(which is basically a more eloquent way of stating that I have no idea of what I'm going to do, but I'm excited just the same). Apparently, this journey is also meant to start in India. I fly out in less than 24 hours (hence, the holy shitballs!), to join my best friend, the extraordinary Lizard Queen, in Mysore, India. There I’ll begin a summer of traveling, yoga practices, meditations, worldly explorations, laughing, monsoons, attaining enlightenment, and whatever else comes my way. Equipped with a new fancy travel pack, my yoga mat, some wrap skirts, and my Martin backpacker guitar (aka “Martin”), I’ve been fortunate to have been wished well by so many in the last few weeks. Blessed with loving friends and family in every corner of my life, it turns out that these “goodbyes” are nothing more than “can’t wait to see you agains!”

So then.... from my newest nearests and dearests in CT to my dad and brother in NY, from my extraordinary Jax Beach crew to my old USF buddies, from my indescribably dynamic mom n’ P to the insanely loud and funny Rosenbaum/Four/Falk collective, from old high school friends to the one who is my most recent unexpected happy....

I can’t wait to see you again! And until I do, you can find details about my travels, including pics, videos, virtual love, ramblings and other goodies here.

From across the universe, with much love and peace always,

The girl with kaleidoscope I’s :)