The real world

This post is for you.... Just in case you were curious, or just in case you felt the need to know. Just in case you're inclined to ask the second I step off the plane, or in the first five minutes of seeing you again, the answers are, "yes, I've thought about it, and no, I have no idea."

The real world. Responsibility. The future. Make a plan, and follow a path. Figure out what you want to do. Get back to reality. Work. Gotta make a living somehow. Move forward. Set some goals. Have fun, but get it together. You can't do this forever. Happiness doesn't pay the bills.

Fuckin' balls.

The world I exist in today is not separate from other worlds. Happiness, laughter, joy, and hardship follow me wherever I go. Feelings of wonder, confusion, loss, excitement, love, and anticipation happen on different days for different reasons, and never seem to be expected. I've not come to understand the world as a place I can ever know for sure. As I see it thus far, we are rarely sure of much at all, but are lucky to find contentment, love, and safety among the uncertainty.

Forgive me if this post seems overly optimistic or somewhat naive. Actually, on second thought... Don't. For I don't find the need to offer apologies.

In this world, which is far too real to exist in just one way, sense, ethic, or emotion, my responsibility is first and foremost to myself. The goals I long to achieve have less to do with monetary fulfillment and everything to do with finding love, feeling and extending joy, and offering kindness and compassion to a world that so desperately needs it. The path upon which I begin my "next chapter" is not yet known, and though it may not appear directly related, it is entirely grounded in each of the chapters that came before--including the one taking place here in India.

If anyone has fears and concerns about what comes next for me--it's me. Having left graduate school to follow my heart, instinct, and to travel has come loaded with uncertainty and confusion. I'm not ignoring this life by being where I am, I'm seizing it. The only thing I'm sure of today is that I'm exactly where I need to be, and though that may not seem like much for many of you out there, it means everything to me. Knowing this I realize, will not pay the bills. But as my savings has dwindled, my heart and spirit has grown--and to me, these things are far more valuable.

This trip, full of love, laughter, and laziness, has also brought me face to face with some of my deepest, darkest fears. In the midst of these colorful explorations, I've had head on collisions with insecurities, vulnerabilities, and the things that terrify me most. I've learned that no matter how joyfully I attempt to move through this life, that facing myself and my fears always has the power to knock me down and bring me to my knees. The moments and emotions I've confronted on this trip have reminded me of what I already knew--that nothing is harder than feeling sadness, loneliness, and isolation. I've again learned that the real "work" in this world comes from confrontations with our hearts and minds, not from activities that put cash in our wallets. To suggest that my time here has been a holiday or vacation would be inaccurate, for the work I've done as of late has been far harder than bartending, teaching, or shelving books ever was.

Yoga practices, day trips, laughter, good food, my best friend...all of this has been incredible. I've learned about a part of the world I hadn't anticipated I'd be lucky enough to discover. But I've also come to understand that "reality" extends farther than my homes in Florida or Connecticut. "Reality" doesn't stop happening just because we change plans from time to time. My trip to India, this country, the people, these experiences--they are all very real and very much a part of who I am now. My future goals from this point on have less to do with separating my time here from the times that await me ahead. I've learned and seen and felt too much, and I've no intention of letting the work that I've done here fall away so easily.

Of course I'll have to find a job. Of course I'd prefer one that's fulfililng over one that will just help me pay the rent for a couple of months. Of course I want a path that appears safe and financially and emotionally beneficial over one that is fleeting and temporarily useful. But I'm prepared to embrace either one. Following my heart, traveling, and doing what makes me happy has not misplaced my understanding of the real world--it has rather enhanced it. In recent months, I've become more comfortable with this so called "reality" that awaits me when I get back to the States. More and more everyday, I am becoming more sure of what matters to me, what I am thankful for, what makes my heart happy, and what will keep my spirit safe. I am also becoming more aware of the fact that I will soon have to make a living and pay the rent. And while I can't be sure of how that will happen, I am utterly connected to what truly matters in this life, and I am working my ass off to make sure I don't lose that.

In this very real place, I will never stop working first and foremost to be happy. I will never stop making my heart and spirit my first priority. I hope to never trade my present moments for the future ones I can never really be sure of. I will never stop preferring beauty and love to dollars, or peace and contentment to pensions and retirement plans. I'll never stop worrying about how I'm going to pay the bills, and I'll never stop laughing even when I can't.

Like this world, I will never be sure of where I will end up or how things will turn out. I'll only know that the tides and ways of the world will change and grow and evolve, and that I'll do everything I can to keep up with it.

So then, I have no idea what will come next for me--and I'm in no rush to find out. Someone very wise recently suggested that perhaps, these next few months or years are meant to be more about appreciating where I am instead of worrying about where I'm going--and that like my yoga practice, what matters is not what happens next. Instead, what truly matters is where I am. Remembering to breathe, and allowing myself to just...be. Presence and time and patience are here with me today, and I've worked hard to have faith in them. I am proud of where I am today and of who I have become. I am proud to know that trusting myself above and beyond anything or anyone else has to be the approach through which I live this life. Another very wise person once told me that no one will ever look out for me the way that I will look out for me. And so I am doing this the only way I know how to--with trust, faith, and a smile. I know that I will stumble along this path, and will not always trip and fall with grace. But I do know that I will always pick myself back up. And that's not something I take lightly.

I can't tell you what to expect from me when I get back, other than a bunch of random stories about odd Indian events, people, and animals. I will still be laughing and smiling and loving. But rest assured that beneath the "I don't knows" are layers of confidence, strength, fears, and patience. My next job might not be a very noble one, but I will pay the bills. I might not change the world tomorrow, but For now, this is enough for me.

Just as we all attempt to lead our lives one day at a time, I am trying to do the same. And I'm doing it at my pace and in my time. No matter where I go, I will always be ok. Today, knowing this is a giant feat, and I am certain it will help me figure out the rest.

Peace and happiness are already ours. Reach out and take them whenever you can, for no matter what comes your way, no one can ever take them from you.

With all the love in the world,
Rebecca:)

Let it be

As my trip begins to wind down, I'm faced with a potpourri of thoughts I want to share, but don't seem to make sense grouped together in written form. From the deepest of emotional spaces to the most surface-based observations, I have seen it all--and then nothing at all--and I don't really know where to begin. Some of the things I want to tell you about are nothing but random observations that occurred in random moments at random places with random people while having random conversations and seeing random things. Others are far more sentimental and emotional, which are difficult to put "out there" anyway; these have more to do with leaving India, fearing going home (to what?), moments of intense bliss or extreme sadness, spiritual discoveries, and what it's like to face yourself so intensely for nearly three months. Coupling paragraphs about the times "we yelled at the petrol and the rickshaw guys because they tried to charge us too much and we are not the stupid white girls we may appear to be!" with "I didn't know I'd come to India to find a second home, comfort, love, kindness--all while sharing these days with the greatest and most amazing friend I've ever had," just doesn't seem to jive well. But I suppose as usual, I'll do my best to work it out and see what happens.

First of course, this trip has been about yoga. I may have named myself a grateful yogi before, but I had no idea how deeply this gratitude could extend. My practice has led me to find new (and old) reasons to be thankful for my life, the people in it, and this world. I could spend at least an hour describing how it feels to have found strength and appreciation for a practice that I struggled so deeply with the first month I was here. I could spend another several hours rehashing the various emotions, awakenings, struggles, challenges, and feats I've faced on my mat in my shala. I now turn to my practice not just to connect to my breath and asana, but for guidance about gaining equanimity, embracing humility, and finding ways to build a greater sense of peace in my heart. Recently, I began practicing the intermediate (also known as "second") series of Ashtanga; Ajay started both Liz and I on it about two weeks ago, and as begin, I am forced to re-embrace a beginner's mindset, and am feeling new parts of my body, finding intense challenges, and even missing the primary series more than I ever imagined. I have fallen in love with Ashtanga more than I ever thought possible (though that has less to do with starting the intermediate sequence, and more to with the confidence and strength I've discovered in my mind and body). On a related note, as I find myself more and more grateful each day, I realize how lucky and blessed I am to have fallen in love with so much this year...

On a slightly lighter note, I wish I had the time to tell you all about our overnight trip to Sravanabelagola, a Jain pilgrimage site, where we climbed a hill to see one of the most beautiful temples and sights that we've seen since coming to India. At the top of the hill, a woman shared a holy coconut with us, and I think I actually saw heaven come up with the sun that morning.

Ancient temples made of stone and sand housed a giant sculpture of the God Gomatheswar, at the foot of which people meditated, recited prayers, and were blessed by holy men. Some men cleaned the feet of the statue, while a naked man with a feather duster brushed the ants off of the feet to help the God maintain purity and cleanliness. It was quite the trip, full of laughter, bliss, and odd occurrences: had chai on an old woman's stoop with her and watched as the town woke up with Hindi/Jain music blaring. We continued our tradition of being famous and met lots of people, kids (who kept asking for "school pens"), and women who helped maintain the local park-area. We shared a bus with a few sacks of chickens that clucked and balked for three hours--one rooster in fact, sat under our feet for the three hour ride. We tasted pista burfi (an Indian pistachio-flavored sweet) at various sweet-shop stands until we found our favorite. Once again we laughed our way through another trip, spending next to nothing for the guest house, food, treats, and amazing sights. God, I love it here.

To completely change the subject again, I figured it would be appropriate to note some other random Indian observations I've made and actually remembered to tell you. First has to do with timing of events: I know now that in Indian time, waiting for things for "5 minutes" or until "tomorrow" are entirely subjective and open to interpretation (5-minutes can be anywhere from "now" to 10 hours, and "tomorrow" often includes next week). I also realize that much of Indian signage, menus, banners, and billboards are printed or go up without having ever been spell checked, though rather than see this as a printer/creator's oversight, I find it more accurately non-wasteful and see it as a way to utilize what you have--why change something unnecessarily (I mean, we all know that "ladies tialars" is the ladies tailors and that the "sweet shoop and bakary" is a shop and bakery)? I will miss Babo hitting himself on the head and laughing at us when we do something silly or funny to him--which appears to not take much effort on our part--usually we just have to pull up on the scooty in the rain or eat breakfast with spoons. I don't think I'll ever fully be satisfied with another cup of coffee or cookie until I can return to the Chocolate Man's stand next year. I like that we take our shoes off to go into any building, business or home, even though I hardly ever wash my feet. Similarly, I've gotten better at handing things to people with my "clean" hand (the right hand) but think it's funny that this hand is also the one I eat with and therefore often have my fingers in my mouth. I'll miss Indian queueing, which, in the states, we would consider "skipping" but here makes perfect sense, for when you are ready to go to the front of the line, you simply do. I've also adopted a strange accent that kind of comes out as an odd British-Indian-slang with backwards verb tenses and odd inflections for emphasis (inflection changes upon asking/answering questions, making statements, jokes or greeting friends). Since coming here I've also surprised myself with certain things: it turns out that I do like beets, sesame seed candy, bats, ants, being a morning person, eating extraordinarily large lunches, wearing shawls even when it's hot as nuts, and driving on the left side of the road. I have come to see the sugar ants in my sugar as friends and merely scoop them out when I find them back again (silly ants), while the larger ants have become somewhat comforting--I don't mind that they crawl upon my bed, sink, and bathroom walls, for they are almost cute at this point, and I find that I'll actually miss them when I leave. Also, pulling little hairs out of my food is a small price to pay when it's always so tasty. I got excited when we had a mini-scooty accident the other day (don't worry we're ok, and it was so not my fault!) in front of a large group of people waiting for the neighborhood cow to be milked--it made me feel more Indian and I've even got a scrape and bruise to carry as a reminder. I like wearing bindis, loud colors, and shawls even when it's hot as balls. I love that we don't have air conditioning and miss that the power stays on longer these days. I love showering without curtains, though the hot water is still a little tricky. I enjoy sleeping under a mosquito net because it makes me feel like I am in a fort. And speaking of the fort, there is video to follow of that one....but alas, the Indian internet will not comply, so you'll have to wait on that one until I'm back in the US.

I'll do what I can to get you one more post before I leave, though the trip will shortly be coming to a close, and my final post might have not come up until I'm home. In the meantime, to you out there in your various countries and worlds, thank you for taking this journey with me in your own ways. To India, thank you for sharing your homes and communities and days with me and my best friend. I don't think either of us knew how much we needed this, and I know I can speak for both of us when I say that we will always love you, and will soon miss you with all our hearts.

All the random and sentimental love in the world,
Namaste,
R:)

And viola.... Just like that, my practice has taken off. Free and alive, I again learn the potential of giving into time and patience. Giving up the fight, I found space to let moments and body parts unfold (or I suppose, in some instances, fold) without attempting to control them all. My brush with death-by-Ashtanga has healed itself into a balanced sea of strength and agility. Finding a slice of equanimity amidst the frustration, I grabbed a hold of the calm and come-what-may-attitude and came back to myself--or rather, the self that I knew was still there. Certainly there are days where my asana flow isn't quite--well, flowy--but a couple of surprisingly good practices and strong posture holds have reminded me that nothing is permanent, and that good things are always waiting for us. I'm beginning to get used to the cycle of ups and downs with my practice, and no longer get so frustrated from "bad" practices, for I know the "good" is eventually around the corner. This of course is bound to happen when we stop searching so much and give in (kind of like meeting someone special or falling in love, huh?). Letting go of expectations and allowing moments to find me free of anticipation has been a difficult but productive lesson (which I will, no doubt, have to continue relearning for the rest of my days here on this earth). So productive in fact, for both Liz and myself, that we've decided to finish out our last weeks in India here in Mysore. (Mysore, for many of us has become a vortex that sucks you in without letting you leave--I myself equate it to a blissfully happy Hotel California). We are more in love with this place and practice than either of us ever imagined, and don't want to leave our teacher and shala until we absolutely must. So with the exception of our last two days, we are going to stay here and practice with Ajay (and yes, the first photo here is of us with the man who stole our hearts). On July 21st--my birthday!--we will head to Bangalore where we will celebrate our last two days until we begin our journey back to the states on the 23rd.

In other news...well, I'm not quite sure about other news. I wanted to write about everything we've been doing besides yoga, but I admit that I'm having a hard time figuring out what to say. Writing about "nothing" isn't really exciting, but that's pretty much what we do most days. Actually though, this week is pretty busy--so busy in fact that last night, Liz had to make a list of what we have to do this week! Of course when I reviewed the list, I laughed (and then thanked all gods, energies, people and the universe for my life), for our list contains the following appointments: astrologer, massage, acupuncture, Tue night dinner, another massage, day trip, Wed lunch. Yes indeed, this week is super-busy, hence the list (and hence, my love affair India).

On days where we get out, various run-ins with animals is common as you can see by my photo with the cow, but that's hardly a rare event, as the cows (and goats, sheep, monkeys, ox, dogs, etc) are everywhere--in this picture we were merely walking to the market. The other day, as I was peeing behind a tree, I noticed a family of monkeys directly in front of me and laughed--not because I was peeing with monkeys, but because I realized how normal it felt. When we're not marketing or using the bathroom with animals, we spend a lot of time reading, writing, laughing, doing bucket wash, planning meals, playing guitar, singing songs, and sitting on the balcony. I must say however, that since getting our Scooty, getting out is more of an option--and I'm a natural at driving here (helmet picture for the fans) even though I started off somewhat intimidated. Still, I'm getting quite good at it and am enjoying it a lot. The main idea is to not hesitate and go for it; it's a good thing that India is so full of various religions and gods to which one can pray, because on these roads, a girl needs all the help she can get. I also count on Liz, as she is the best passenger a Scooty driver could have, and wears many hats: a hand-signaler, direction giver, and pep-talker. But I'm doing good--especially since learning the rules of the road: the key to driving here is knowing who has the right-of-way...and she who has the right-of-way is she who takes it.

When we're not helmeted and driving around, we spend most of our nothing-doing on the porch. Liz and I have become the 227 women of the neighborhood. For those of you who missed this most entertaining of 1980s US sitcoms, 227 was a show about a group of women who sat on a stoop while watching and gossiping about their neighbors while making horribly false speculations about everyone's lives, with a few bad jokes scattered about. Essentially, this is what we have become. Its fun though. One of our neighbors has a man come to iron his clothes once per week, and the iron-man does this with a coal-filled iron on top of a wagon. The mysterious (but incredibly attractive) woman across the street who leaves her house every morning at 445am never says hello and we have several theories as to why. Last week a monkey tried to get in her window which helped to explain why we all have bars on the windows. Another neighbor across the street changes his clothes quite often, but doesn't seem to have a regular schedule, though he averages about 3-changes per day. It keeps him looking sharp, though neither Liz nor myself care for his new mustache. The vine he and his wife attempted to grow on the roof is blooming quite nicely, and we are happy for them, as it took them some time to situate it so that it wouldn't keep blowing away.

So that's the big news on 7th cross (our street) in Gokulum (the town where we're living in Mysore). What's nice about "nothing" though is that you don't really have to do "something" in order to feel like you have a productive day. In fairness, lots of quiet, very little distractions, lots of power outages and "nothingness" makes for a whole lot of up-in-your-head time, which is far more difficult than one could ever imagine. In some ways, my most productive pastime is getting over myself and getting out of my head, and learning to sit in silence (or as is often the case with Liz, in laughter), with peace and contentment. Most days I do a pretty good job. During acupuncture the other day, my friend Sean pointed out that in India we all basically have one meal and one plan, and that about covers our day (again, hence the list for this week--so much to do!). Any more than one plan per day is a big day out. Like today for instance: internet, acupuncture, dinner and beers later tonight with friends. Since tomorrow is moon-day (we don't practice on full moon or new moon mornings) tonight is essentially a holiday for us and the big beer/dinner event is a rare but exciting occurrence. In some ways, this turns our big day into a rather extravagant one. If there is power for hot water, we may even shower and head downtown early to stop at the market or bookstore (here is a pic at the market with a guy showing me how he makes incense). We are busy, busy kids I tell ya.

I suppose though, that we did have some other big days. Our Saturday day trips are always exciting and when I have more time (again, big day so I'm crunched for now), I'll post some videos of this for you. Last week, Liz and I took a trip to Nagarhole National Park, where, it turns out, that out of one billion people in India, we were the only two to have any desire to go. After searching for our bus, which consists of briskly wandering around the bus stand asking random drivers, "Nagarhole? Nagarhole?" and them waving you on to the next platform (read: other end of the big parking lot), we took a three hour ride to the national park. Thinking we'd find a place to eat when we arrived, we were literally dropped off in the middle of nowhere, where we were eventually fed by some nice strangers in a small mess hall, and joined by a deer (they fed the deer a thali as you can see). We then spent most of the day sitting quietly--and surprisingly, doing nothing--under a canopy. Because we were the only two people to show, our plans for a safari didn't quite turn out (a minimum of ten was needed), but we did get befriended by the thali-eating deer, which protected us from a pack of wild monkeys, and had some wild elephant and spotted deer sightings.

Yesterday we took a trip to MM Hills to visit a temple on top of a mountain. We assumed we were going to the Sandalwood Forrest, but have given up any notion that when we plan a trip that it will turn out as initially planned. Still, the temple was incredible and the ride through the mountains was well worth the trip. We began this journey from the "private bus stand" instead of our usual "city bus stand," so the experience was somewhat different. It was easier to find the bus this time, and upon our connection, we ended up on a raver-style-Hindu-music thumping bus that eventually showed Bollywood films during the drive. It was the bounciest, speediest bus we've taken so far, which was fun, except for the fact that we ended up flying up and down the mountains for quite some time. For someone who gets a little nervous driving on high bridges or next to steep cliffs, this was an intense lesson in trust. But how does one learn to trust if there is nothing to fear, right? We got seats next to the front window on our way down the mountain which somewhat doubled the scary, but also made for fabulous scenery, and a bus full of Indian eyes that got to stare without us having to interact.

Oh right...the staring. Indeed, we are famous here. No, really, we are. We draw crowds wherever we go, and are regularly followed around by children or teens who want to practice speaking English with us. We're regularly asked to take pictures with people (as you can see here), and though we're not exactly sure why this happens, from time to time its rather entertaining and in my mind I sometimes secretly pretend I'm the rockstar I always wanted to be. Sometimes of course, it's a tad bit awkward (and the politics behind this are somewhat unnerving but that's another blog all together, and I'm on holiday damnit!), but overall allows us to interact with and meet a lot of people. Questions and conversations often begin with, "What country you from?", "What is your good name?", "How long you stay?", and "How do you like India?" and end with a little awkward silence and some head wobbling. A favorite topic of conversation is in regards to the "sticker" or "painting" on my arm which makes me doubly famous. When we mention that we're from the US, people often mention Michael Jackson or start singing Bruce Springsteen's, "Born in the USA." On occasion they respond with, "Obama!" at which point I realize that I have no idea what is going on in American political culture right now and am happily content with remaining that way for as long as possible.

All in all, it appears that lots of nothing gives me plenty to say. In other random news, since Tim left, band practice hasn't been quite the same, and Martin is a bit lonely. We did make some videos before he left and I will do my best to get them up in the coming week or two, as well as videos from our various day trips (the one with Liz and the deer is just too great to not share, and I've also got some from the infamous puja-rave-mountain-bus ride). If you're lucky, I'll attempt to put up a 227 moment, but I'm not sure that I'll get to that--one plan per day is all I can muster at this point, and I don't want to get ahead of myself. In the meantime, I enjoy that people here don't need to constantly ask, "whatcha doin?" because it's not assumed that we have to be doing much at all, and I like that if someone was to ask, that saying "nothin'" would finally become an a truthfully valid response.

From your famous, cow-lovin, nothin'-doin', Ashtangi,
Sending you peace, love and all things good.