Donna Farhi on yoga

My blogging time here is growing shorter. Thirty-three more days and I step on the plane for a yoga adventure of a lifetime (and yes, this woman of a certain age still feels blessed to be able to do this.)

I'm starting out in Chennai, my second home, at the Krishnamacharya Yoga Mandiram. Taught by Desikachar's senior teachers, I will have four private classes a day in meditation, pranayama, the Hatha Yoga Pradipika, and vedic chanting (which will be my favorite class to attend.) I will also have a yoga therapy consultation and a yoga therapy program designed for me -- I will then do two asana classes with a KYM therapist. For me this is yoga heaven, and of course, I will spend time with the friends I made on my first trip to Chennai.

I am spending the least amount of time in Chennai this trip. I usually stay a month, but this time I will only be there for two weeks when my friend meets me and we fly to Kolkata....my first time outside of South India.

However, before she arrives I am spending a weekend at the holy city of Thiruvannaamalai to climb the holy hill Arunachala and visit once again (I was there in 2006) the ashram of the great Advaita Vedanta sage Ramana Maharshi. He said, "enquiry in the form 'Who am I' alone is the principal means. To make the mind subside, there is no adequate means other than self-enquiry. If controlled by other means, mind will remain as if subsided, but will rise again." He considered his own guru to be the Self, in the form of the sacred mountain Arunachala.

I am blessed to be able to climb the holy hill.

I am beginning to turn inward more and more the closer I get to leaving, a deep knowing is coming to fruition. After Arunachala, I will be blessed with Kali shakti in Kolkata at her temples and visit the Temple of the 64 Yoginis in Bhubaneswar.

Finally at the Maha Kumbh Mela in Haridwar I will dip my toes in the Ganges on MahaShivaratri and witness the tantric yoga rituals of the ultimate yogis. Me and 50 million of my closest friends.

After India, even more amazing to me is that I WILL TEACH YOGA IN AFRICA. I am bringing a style of yoga (yin) to yogis who have never experienced it before. It amazes and overwhelms me. My weekend is sold out, the spaces bought by the small yoga community of Tanzania, and I am blessed to do this. Paul Grilley told me "YOU GO, GIRL!" YES!

Sounds like a good idea for a movie...another Enlighten Up!, only better.

So with my death and rebirth looming before me in India (as has been told to me for more than a few years by various spiritual adepts), I will be blogging less and less. There will be another guest blogger in the near future, one of my college yogis who, I am happy to say, has totally drunk the yoga kool-aid. She will be writing about the true purpose of yoga: healing and transformation -- how yoga has helped with her ulcerative colitis.

In my blogging laziness I give you a conversation with Donna Farhi, Svasti's guest posts being good segues into her conversation about yoga. Years ago I did a workshop with Farhi and she was another teacher that made a lightbulb go off over my head when I was a newbie teacher. Everything she said made sense to me. Here is an excerpt:

Q: How do you differentiate between "good" and "bad" yoga?

Donna Farhi: Good yoga cultivates a deep sense of self-acceptance and tolerance for others. When I witness someone practicing and living yoga well, they have developed clear perception, concentration, and the skill to respond to any situation with a presence of mind. In my yoga classes that means that the form of the postures is not the goal - you can be as stiff as an ironing board and much less flexible than your compadres in a yoga class and still be practicing beautiful yoga if your practice is fostering that respect and care for yourself.

In this sense the greater and greater emphasis on the form of postures in the West has been a two edged sword. The refinement has allowed us to make the postures much more beneficial, but Westerners are so caught up in external image and the meaning they attribute to those images, that for many Westerners good yoga means touching their toes. The trend in the U.S. in the last ten years has been to judge people's yoga almost purely from their physical adeptness. We attribute some kind of spiritually advanced state to someone who can put their feet on the back of their head. That is we've started to mistake the map for the territory. Quite often this supposedly good yoga is fostering a sense of superiority and judgment towards others who practice any other form of yoga. To me, any yoga that fosters those qualities is bad yoga.

Talk amongst yourselves.

Ma India, take me home

As I've mentioned time and again on this blog, ever since I returned from my first trip to India in 2005 there has never been a day that I do not think of India. it can be a child's face that flashes through my mind, or something I learned in my yoga classes there, or a smell that makes me remember where I was when I first smelled that smell. a soap or a spice will bring me back. even the clothes that I bought in India still smell "like India." I brought back a supply of my favorite shampoo and sometimes I sit on my bathroom floor, open up a bottle and sniff...sometimes I cry on my bathroom floor.

I came across the blog of a professional photographer -- the photographs of India and Indians are beautiful, so I've posted this video he took in Chennai in 2006. I've been to Chennai three times and I've never visited Marina Beach. I've been on the beach in Pondicherry and Rameswaram but never Chennai....next time.

I want to, need to, return to India so badly. now that I am going through some rough emotional times I think even more about being in India, maybe for 6 months out of the year. India is the only place that heals my soul. an Indian friend told me that my heart is calling me to India because I am missing something here that I need very badly.

a regular reader of this blog and his wife will study yoga at the Krishnamacharya Yoga Mandiram for one month later this year and then travel to my favorite temple towns. email discussions of their itinerary make my heart ache -- I was in Tamil Nadu in January and I can still feel the temple ground beneath my bare feet, the sun on my bare arms, the smell of jasmine in my hair, and the touch of shakti all around me as I sat in temples. even though I returned from India this year sicker than a mangy Indian street dog, I was home less than a week when I started dreaming those Tamil Nadu dreams.

I want to go home. jai Kali ma, take me home.

on the road again

adios, y'all.

this is my last post for 2007. no blogging for almost a month. the new year will dawn for me in chennai, india.

I started this blog in 2005 before my first trip to India. I had been around the sun over 50 times and had never been overseas in my life. I went to India alone, not knowing what to expect but having an open mind to everything. I wanted to chronicle my yoga studies and my travels but as it turned out, it took a long time for my india experiences to marinate me. I returned to india only 6 months later for another training and more travels.

so now this is my third trip for more yoga and more travels to different cities, even to another sea. now people think I'm the well-seasoned india traveler and they tell me they want to go to india with me. a former yoga student of mine and his girlfriend are meeting me there and neither one have ever been to india. frankly, I'm not so sure how the girlfriend is going to handle india, but they both know that I won't hold anyone's hand and baby them. I told them that they needed to be independent travelers and go with the flow.

no one babied me in 2005, but that's the way it's been most of my life anyway. So far I've stood up to what life has thrown at me on my own strengths, so a 17 hour train ride through the Indian countryside doesn't phase me too much. I like the people I will be with, but I can't wait to be alone and traveling. as jerry jeff walker sings, fast freights make me wonder and that full moon still drives me wild.

they say that once you've been to india you are never the same. india either hardens your heart or opens you up completely. either way, you never look at life, especially your own life, the same way again once you get back. people always ask me about the culture shock of india...my culture shock is when I come back to the US of A.

I know I will have the same experience as I did last year - as I laid in bed tossing and turning in the very early morning when I arrived, I realized what india means to me. it is yin and yang, the Tao, and as I thought about Ma India, I literally felt both halves melting into One, the One that makes me whole.

jai bhagwan

soon

Crows
cows
painted elephants
starving pups that won’t live the week

begging children
laughing children
in just pressed clothes
run to touch you
giggling girls and
one pen boys

mango eaters
stone cutters
coconut choppers
bucket sellers
tout screamers

traffic
chaos
walk
run
jump out of the way
of the family on the scooter
baby on the gas tank

beggars with one eye
beggars with no legs
women dressed in gold
and rainbow saris
gliding in the streets
unbroken
straight
cool

dust
dirt
sweat
mixed with jasmine flowers
scenting my hair

music of the people
for the people
cars honk all day
every day
every night
laughing
crying
spitting
fighting
chanting
om kali ma
om muruga
temple music wakes me
temple music to sleep by

healing
yoga
ayurveda
pure yoga
from the heart
this is the heart
of yoga

birth
life
death
on the streets
go with the flow
or you go crazy
I’ve seen the
dead men walking

my india
ma india
home

like father, like son

I'm going through some of my previous photos of India and the yoga school to get me in the mood to travel next week (yeah, right...like I need to get in the mood to go to India!), and I found this one of Desikachar (we only call him "Sir") chanting for us in our vedic chant class. You can see the portrait of his father, Krishnamacharya, behind him.

Krishnamacharya was the grandfather of modern hatha yoga. His students were Iyengar, Pattabhi Jois, and his son, Desikachar, and others such as Indra Devi, AG Mohan, and my teacher, Srivatsa Ramaswami. Ramaswami studied with his guru for over 30 years. So from Krishnamacharya three major yoga styles flowed: Iyengar, astanga, and viniyoga (although Desikachar no longer calls it viniyoga.)

If you are a "yoga therapist" you owe a huge debt to Krishnamacharya because he believed that you teach to the individual, you do not make the individual fit your style of yoga. Although I study at KYM, I do not want to be "certified" in yoga therapy. No one called Krishnamacharya a "yoga therapist." I believe all yoga is therapy if it's applied in the proper way.

In the 1920s, Krishnamacharya walked from Mysore to Tibet to study with his guru.

mmmmm...6 more days and I'll be in the arms of Ma India.....

the official transportation of this blog

I always give credit where credit is due so I will admit that I stole this post from Fran.

She's right when she says that in the talk shows' credits they always have "transportation for guests provided by Fast Eddie's Limo Service..." or someone like that.

So I decided the official transportation of Linda's Yoga Journey is the always lovely AUTORICKSHAW!



Exactly two months from today I will be back home in Ma India in Chennai which is in Tamil Nadu in South India. One of the things I love about Chennai is the traffic -- yes, really! -- because I've realized that it operates on Chaos Theory. It took me about two days during my first trip to figure out how the chicken crosses an Indian road -- basically you walk into it, because if you hesitate, you'll really screw things up. Or you sneak into a crowd of people on a street corner and walk with them in relative safety in one fast moving glob of humanity, the idea being that if you're surrounded by people, chances are someone else will get hit by a bus. And if you are a really lucky, the bus will stop. Hopefully not on top of you.

The video below was shot in Hyderabad, but it's close enough to show you what Chennai's traffic is like. Actually it has less traffic than on a typical Chennai street. Watch it and you'll see lots of 'ricks...THE OFFICIAL TRANSPORT OF LINDA'S YOGA JOURNEY!

I've only been in one minor accident while riding in a 'rick, have run out of petrol once, and have only seen a few roll over, so don't worry -- we'll get you where you want to go...eventually. Just sit back and relax!





view from an autorickshaw, Chennai, 2005

100 days

One hundred more days and I lose myself in Ma India for the third time. These pictures are only three out of the 500+ pictures I took during my first two trips...

the vibrant colors of flowers from a flower seller's cart in Pondicherry...



the joy of a man dropping flowers onto another man in a flower warehouse in Chennai...



and finally the children...children that have nothing compared to many American children, yet they have everything that is important...



These are some of the images that are burned into my mind ever since I returned from my first trip in 2005. There is not a day that goes by that I do not think about Ma India, the good and the bad and the ugly. Some days I wake up thinking about her, and some nights I go to sleep thinking about her. I can't explain it, it's just the way it is. For those of you who have been to India, and love it as I do, you know exactly what I'm talking about, there is no need for explanation. As Louis Armstrong said about jazz, "if you have to ask what it is, you’ll never know.”

I long for that very early morning in Chennai at the end of December when I take my first step outside the airport, and hesitate, stopping to drink everything in with all my senses, the sights, the sounds, and yes, even the smell of South India -- a damp, cloying smell mixed with a bit of green and smoke and diesel fuel that attaches to my skin like wet cloth -- and then step into my freedom.

Yes, freedom, because I feel free and light in India. I've just read the book Down the Nile: Alone in a Fisherman's Skiff by Rosemary Mahoney and she describes for me how I feel when I go to India, a solo woman traveler of a certain age...

I was alone, finally, with no one to protect me. I wanted to sing for happiness -- a rare, raw, immediate sort of happiness that was directly related to my physical situation, to my surroundings, to independence, and to solitude. The happiness I felt that morning had nothing to do with the future or the past, with abstractions or with my relationships to other people. It was the happiness of entering into something new, of taking the moments simply for what they were, of motion, of freedom, and of free will. I loved not knowing what would happen next, loved that no one here knew me. I felt coordinated and strong, and the world seemed huge and vibrant. It was a relief to be alone...

My happiness was a feeling of physical lightness, of weightlessness, like drifting on air...

To prepare for her trip up the Nile, Mahoney read the Egypt travel journals of Gustave Flaubert and Florence Nightingale. She writes that she recognized in Flaubert's notes (written about 1850) the same kind of happiness she felt. She quotes Flaubert as he witnesses the Nile:

I felt a surge of solemn happiness that reached out towards what I was seeing and I thanked God in my heart for having made me capable of such joy; I felt fortunate at the thought, and yet it seemed to me that I was thinking about nothing: it was a sensuous pleasure that pervaded my entire being.

Mahoney quotes Florence Nightingale's reaction to a Nile sunrise:

It looks. . .so transparent and pure, that one really believes one's self looking into a heaven beyond, and feels a little shy of penetrating into the mysteries of God's throne...

This is the sunset taken from the top of a temple in Rameswaram and just beyond the horizon is Sri Lanka. That night, as I stood at the top of that temple and stared into the limitless expanse of ocean, I began to cry as I imagined the monkey god Hanuman leaping from rock to rock to rescue Sita. Like Flaubert, I also thanked God. . .and Buddha and Shiva and Kali and Tara that I was "capable of such joy." Such profound joy and pleasure that it indeed pervaded my entire being.

Finally Mahoney describes Flaubert and Nightingale as neither having "any desire to fit the tediously cliched expectations that society had slated for them"; that they both "prized solitude"; and both traveled Egypt during periods of "considerable personal uncertainty and self-doubt", agonizing "over how they would use their talents and answer their natural impulses."

I am a woman of a certain age who travels alone, relishing my aloneness. After traveling around the sun over 50 times, India was the first country overseas that I visited and it will be my last. I also do not suffer tediously cliched expectations gladly.

Ma India, I'm coming home.

good blogs and good laughs

Taking a break from writing about serious things, I want to highlight some good stuff I've read lately:

Flower Girl's Rural India
Flower Girl's blog is "all about Indian culture and customs, religion and rituals". Her latest post is about the boat races in Kerala. Kerala is a state in India that's on the Arabian Sea completely on the opposite side of south India from where I always go, and where I will spend 5 days in January doing yoga, getting ayurvedic massages, and hopefully ride an elephant!

Flower Girl also has her other blogs linked to this one, one of which is a blog with all types of Indian food recipes, some of which are to die for!

India Outside My Window is all about "the colors, sights, and sounds of South India." What is nice about this blog is that there are sound clips where you can listen to the sounds of India. The one clip I listened to was the train -- I closed my eyes and listened and it took me back to my train ride from Rameswaram to Chennai, when we stopped in the stations and I heard the chai and food vendors calling out what they had for sale.

Shirley Two Feathers' blog Mandala Madness is "an eclectic mixture of mandala art, poetry, and inspirational quotes to expand, enrich, and enliven your experience in the now moment."



Images like this one can be downloaded to use as your computer's wallpaper and you can also buy mandala prints.




I've written before about Scott Carney's blog "Trailing Technology" (see blog links in the sidebar) and his latest post is about singing. In that post you'll find this link to his story on NPR radio: A culture of song in India's Tamil Nadu.

Scott says, "I love the radio in Chennai. When I'm driving around the city I always tune into FM rainbow and listen to a daily game show called Aantakshri. The game is really simple. One caller starts singing a few bars of a song. They stop and then repeat the last sound from the last line of the song. The second caller starts singing some other song that starts with that last sound. It's sort of like musical chairs, but with singing."

It's very true that if you stop and listen hard enough, you'll hear someone's voice singing somewhere amongst the cacophony of the dogs barking, the car horns blaring, and the temple music on the Chennai streets.

Home is where the heart is and my heart is in India.

If you like MadTV watch this episode . Michael McDonald's character, the rotund and always hilarious, Marvin Tikva, takes a yoga class. I laughed so hard I almost fell out of my chair.

For those of you who know The Jamie Kennedy Experiment, this video needs no explanation. Jamie plays a substitute yoga teacher and most of the students in the class get "X-ed" -- watch the expressions on the students' faces!



Finally, scroll all the way to the bottom of this blog and you'll see my Meez 3D ID. It's not animated here, but if you want your own little animated version of you -- and who wouldn't? -- click on the link and get your own. It's free and enter my code "lindias" so we both can get some "coinz".

Enjoy!

leaving rameswaram

March 2006

I returned to my hotel after the bucket ceremony and lounged around for a few hours thinking about my past three days in Rameswaram. I sat on my little balcony staring out into the ocean wishing that I did not have to leave this place. Of course I was not under any delusion that if Fate decreed that I stay here that Rameswaram would be peaches and cream. I’m sure it would be just like when you meet a man and have a wild weekend love affair only to discover when you do try to make it work that he really hates your cats and he farts all night. I packed my bag.

Kannen returned in plenty of time to take me to the train station. I had to pay him for his three days of being my guide. When we met he told me that I should pay him what I think he’s worth, that it was totally up to me, he never asked for any money during our time together.

When he arrived he said, “Kannen wants to talk to you,” referring to himself in the third person, which I thought was quaint. He came into my room without asking. I thought that was rather bold and I left the door open as I stood close to it. He sat down on my bed. I thought that was even bolder remembering again what I had been told about South Indian culture and men. “What do you think of Kannen?,” he asked. I thought I should be careful in what I say, my guard was up. I told him that I thought he was a good and kind man, and also a quietly spiritual one. He began to tell me how he felt a connection to me these past few days, that he knows I am a spiritual woman. But then he told me that his wife did not understand him and that they always fight, that he has his life and she has hers. I groaned inwardly and I bit my lips to keep from smiling. Are men truly the same all over the world?!? Is there a Universal Male Playbook that contains these lines?

I looked at him and slowly shook my head. “You are married, and so am I,” I said very seriously. Then I said something I thought he would understand even more...”and I have a dear friend. Understand? ‘dear friend?’," and I pointed to my heart. “He is always in here.” Kannen nodded that he understood.

We walked out and he asked me for $40. This was over and above the rupees I had given him for his guide services. I raised an eyebrow, squinted, and looked sideways at him. Then he asked me if I would buy him a cellphone when I got back home and send it to him. One would think that this conversation immediately after telling me that I'm a spiritual woman would infuriate me, but it didn’t. I actually thought it was hilarious and tried very hard to keep from laughing. For some reason it did not phase me at all.

I explained to him that there was no way I was going to buy him a cellphone and send it to him when he lives in a country where even the Shiva babas own cellphones. I told him that Indian cellphones are much cheaper than American ones. However, I did break down and give him an extra $20 in American money. His guide services were definitely worth it, and besides....his wife didn’t understand him, how could I refuse?

I gave him a bandana covered with OM symbols that was still wet from the temple water. I told him he could remember me by it. He put it in his shirt pocket telling me it would keep me close to his heart. Quaint. A smooth operator.

We said goodbye at the train station and he told me that when (not if) I return to Rameswaram, he will always be there to help me, to “please call Kannen.” Of course I will. How can I not?

I sat in non-air-conditioned First Class for my 17 hour train ride back to Chennai. My compartment mate was a businessman going home to the state of Andhra Pradesh. Compared to my first compartment mates on the train to Madurai which was a long two weeks ago, this man was very polite and talkative, and spoke perfect English. We talked about yoga and meditation, about Gandhi, and the politics in India. He told me that there are many Indians who hate Gandhi and this surprised me very much.

I loved the train ride because since it was not air-conditioned, there was no window glass, the windows had bars across them. In every station we came to along the way I heard the cries of the chai merchants or food sellers and they would hand me my purchases through the window. A magazine seller walked by and seeing the feringhee woman, he pushed English magazines through the window at me, telling me to “buy, madam, buy! Look! English!” I kept telling him “no” in Tamil as the train pulled away.

We pulled into Chennai at about 8 am and my compartment mate made sure that I knew where I was going. I did, and Suresh picked me up in his rickshaw to drive me back to my hotel. Although I loved my travels, I had missed the cacophony that was Chennai. I spent the next two days chillin’ in Chennai, and did a day trip to Tiruvannamalai, another famous temple town.

My month in India was finally over and I cried the night I had to leave. But I knew I would be back. I can not stay away from My India.

The Banyan

The Banyan

my visit to The Banyan

Ideas are percolating to start my own line of yoga clothes...renewable resources regarding the cloth, fair trade, empowering women, giving back...one day I know this will happen...just as The Banyan started as a seed and grew into a beautiful tree....

I vow that a percentage of my sales will go to The Banyan...please watch this video and listen with your heart...these are the faces of your sisters and mothers and daughters and grandmothers...they are us.

People ask me why I would want to help people outside the United States when there are so many needy people here. That is very true, there are thousands (probably millions) of people who need help in the United States. Many Native Americans live in what are considered third-world conditions which is why I donate to Native American causes. But the difference is that there are hundreds if not thousands of social service agencies in the United States, many of which receive federal funds. That concept is unheard of in places like India or Africa or any other place in the world where people literally earn $1 a day or who are still sold into a type of slavery -- please visit the website Global March Against Child Labor. You can also check out 50 Million Missing: An International Campaign or my post about the campaign.

Poor Americans have opportunities that many people in the rest of the world do not have -- scholarships or grants to go to college, small business loans to start their own businesses, among other things. It may be paltry but there is also public aid and food stamps, two things that I did not hesitate to take. I ate plenty of government cheese back in the day.

Despite the fact that the United States does not have any form of national health care, I would rather live in poverty in America than anywhere else in the world.

That's why.

cool countdown to India

As you can see over at the sidebar, I've installed a countdown clock -- my countdown for my third trip to India in days, hours, minutes, and seconds! But who's counting?...:)

I booked my flight today -- leave for Chennai in December and will spend most of January in 2008 in Tamil Nadu. First week, yoga school in Chennai for private lessons, then travel by train to Thanjavur area and Kerala. This time definitely one and maybe two of my yoga students will come with me, taking the classes with me. I've also been invited to a wedding in Chennai where I will wear a sari! I've always wanted to see how I would look in a beautiful sari...

AAARGH! I haven't even finished blogging about my SECOND trip!

The wave of feeling that I felt when I clicked "book flight" on the Lufthansa website could only be described as "I'm going home..."

Also in the sidebar is a little award graphic announcing that this blog has been selected as Coolpick.com's Cool Site of the Day! Coolpick says that every day they pick "one extremely high cool factor web site worthy of your esteemed clickage" so that's me!

Woo-hoo! I'm cool in cyberspace! And at my age!

shanti!

crosstown traffic

here's another video for y'all to check out -- I love embedding these videos!

this is called "crosstown traffic" -- turn on your speakers and you'll hear the Jimi Hendrix song as a soundtrack while you check out the Chennai traffic and the street scenes that I experienced everyday...note the women construction workers helping with excavating dirt from the huge hole in the street -- the dirt is carried on top of their heads...and we westerners throw our backs out making the bed...hmmmmmm....

this was shot in the back of Suresh's rickshaw by Scott, who was a student at the Krishnamacharya Yoga Mandiram in 2005 before I was there. Scott gave me Suresh's telephone number and the rest is history.

Funny how life is all about the connections we make...
I "met" Scott online before I got to India when I was googling around looking for information on KYM and I came across his first blog In Search of Darshan. His second blog, Scott's Thotts, is posted in the links, so check him out. Maybe one day we'll meet in person. He quit his real job to teach yoga full-time.....FOOL! only kidding, Scott...by the way, thanks for Suresh's number and this video!

I can see from this video that I picked the wrong month to go to KYM -- the guys in my class weren't as good-looking as the ones in the back of this rickshaw...

so click play and enjoy!

be free, be free!

March, 2006

The day I left for Madurai, I went to the beauty parlor across from my hotel (The Hotel "Gimme" Shelter in Mylapore) to get mehendi on my feet. When I went there to make the appointment, the ladies were fascinated by my tattoos -- I have one on each ankle, flowers with OM symbol on my right wrist, plus big ones on my left shoulder and lower back. They only saw my wrist tattoo when I made the appointment.

I went for the mehendi and while I was waiting, all the customers and employees gathered around me to look at my ankles and wrist. Then the owner walked in with her entourage -- she wore a beautiful sari, was loaded down with gold jewelery, and had a "big" personality to match. I loved her loudness! She shoved her way through the crowd, "I want to see everything!" She announced, "I want to learn this!", as if learning the art of tattooing is the easiest thing in the world!

I said I had a tattoo on my shoulder, which of course they all wanted to see. I was not planning on taking off my clothes in the reception area of a beauty salon, but the owner said "take off top, BE FREE, BE FREE!!" -- how could I resist? I had a skimpy camisole on underneath, but I removed the top of my salwar kameez. The women ooohed and aahed at my tattoo -- it's a flower vine with a butterfly that has a yin/yang symbol, very bright and colorful.

Then they caught a glimpse of my lower back and two women began to pull down my salwar! By this time, there were about 15 women gathered around -- workers and customers and no work was getting done. The tattoo on my lower back is a large sun/moon combo (representing hatha yoga) with a Tibetan OM symbol. A beauty instructor who was from Nepal loved it so much, she kissed her fingers and touched it -- the moon has eyes and she kept saying "the eyes is talking to me (KISS-TOUCH), the eyes is talking to me (KISS-TOUCH), the eyes is talking to me..."

After about 30 minutes of this inspection -- they took pictures of all my tattoos -- I finally got the mehendi started, and the Nepalese lady started to draw my tattoos in a sketchbook. She told me that she loves tattoos and wants to become a tattoo artist, but there is no good place in Chennai to learn and/or get a tattoo, maybe in Bangalore she told me. They asked if I wanted to get my nose or navel pierced, so we started discussing that, and the Nepalese lady said Indian women get their nipples pierced. "But only married ladies after one baby," she said very seriously. I thought it was great that she would tell me that, a westerner, it was no big deal...

I loved the commaraderie I felt in that salon and the owner's command to "BE FREE, BE FREE!"

...and I love my mehendi.

remember to be free...

ayurveda and me

The Eco Cafe, my sanctuary from the dust and grime of the Chennai streets....




3/18/06

yoga school is over and now my India adventure really begins...I will travel, solo, for two weeks, taking trains and buses, going to Madurai, Kodaikanal, Rameswaram, and Tiruvannamallai -- all temple cities, except for Kodai....

I am back at the hotel where I stayed last year and I leave Monday night for my first stop, Madurai, the town with the famous temple to Meenakshi (Meenakski means "Fish-Eyed"), Shiva's consort, otherwise known as Parvati or Uma -- Shakti power, without whom Shiva would be half a man....

today I had an authentic ayurvedic oil massage with shiro dhara. shiro dhara is where sesame oil is dripped onto your forehead -- it was heaven! In fact, the whole experience was heaven.

I did not go to a spa or a fancy retreat -- it was an authentic Indian ayurvedic place (but the owner lives in New Jersey, figure that one out!). Definitely nothing fancy, the real deal. Massage done by a little Indian woman. I won't go into the details, but imagine being on a table that looked like a doctor's exam table from the 1950s with a thick plastic "sheet" on top and me n#ked as the day I was born, all greased up with sesame oil like a Thanksgiving turkey. Instead of a fancy brass funnel for shiro dhara like they have in spas, she dripped the oil from a clay pot held up by a rope attached to the ceiling. Might not be a pretty picture but I assure you it was authentic and more than wonderful. forget the fancy Shiva Rea yoga retreats at an ayurvedic spa, I'll take this anytime!

After the 90 minute oil massage, with acupressure, she did the shiro dhara, then I had a 10 minute steam, then a shower -- actually an "Indian shower" which is out of a bucket. I sat on a stool as Vesanthi washed off all the oil and shampooed my hair. I was incredibly nurtured by this little Indian woman who barely spoke English, and I felt like a rubber chicken when I left. A two hour ayurvedic massage for 1000Rs, about $23.00. I gave her 200Rs for a tip, almost $5-- nothing to an American, to Vesanthi, it means a lot. She had told me that she works because her husband drinks, he's not a reliable wage-earner. When I gave her the tip, she kissed her fingers and touched her forehead...then we hugged each other....

I scheduled another massage for the day I leave. She said I had hair "like an Indian", which I took as a compliment because Indian women have beautiful hair...

I spent the weekend after yoga school in Chennai, just hanging out, shopping, and one of my favorite places to chill is the Eco Cafe, located on an "upscale" street. It's a place for Westerners and Indian yuppies to hang out. I love the "Indian" places, but I can relax here with my tea and read the international version of the New York Times, away from the cacaphony of the Chennai traffic. It's green and peaceful, and I can spend hours there. They even have a mean basil pesto that's not bad...

on to Madurai soon...nine hours on the overnight train...

Pondicherry revisited

temple elephant going to work on Sunday morning....

fuschia vine on steroids on Pondicherry house....

OM GUM GANA PATAYAI NAMAHA....





March, 2006

My first weekend in India, outside of Chennai, left me with a very different feeling this time as compared to last year. I told my friends that India is different this time, there can never be another "first time in India".

This time I feel a bit jaded. Last year I thought everything was wonderful -- this time I can see the shit on the streets, notice all the starving dogs and the beggar girls. But that is reality, all things change, nothing remains the same.

Just like last year, my first trip outside Chennai was to Pondicherry, the city where the French tried to get their teeth into India before the Brits kicked them out. I tried to get a room at the Park Guesthouse, where I stayed last year, which is run by Auroville, the ashram of the late Sri Aurobindo and The Mother. Was told "no rooms", yet the couple who came in behind me got a room. I was told later by a woman from New York who now lives in Pondy that the Park is "funny" about a solo woman showing up asking for a room. Ended up at the Hotel Soorya...for only one night, it was fine....500Rs, a little over $10.....

Spent lots of time at the Ganesha temple this morning, saw the puja with the temple elephant. Yet the people in the stalls outside.....people asked me for pens, pens, pens besides money, money, money. The temple's shoe man (who watches your shoes when you go into the temple) told me his daughter studies in Chennai, he wants my "best pen". I gave him a pen I had. Later on, as I came out of the temple he tells me "pen no write". I told him "your karma, boss. Chennai man give me sandlewood pen last year, fell apart, cheap. karma is karma.....om gum gana patayai namaha...."

Something about Pondy this time just seems so.....mean and hard, can't describe it. I've been walking around for hours now and I keep thinking, why does everyone look so pissed off? No smiles. I stopped at a chai bar on the beach and told the clerk how great I thought the chai was (it was! all for 3 rupees!) and the look on his face would have melted glass. Walked around the market streets, and all I saw was....America. American clothes, American plastic shit, American money-grubbing.

On the bus to Pondy I sat next to a Muslim man who kept offering me candy, he was great, so open so friendly. On the other side was an Indian woman who spoke excellent English so we talked about spirituality when she found out I teach yoga. She said she had done yoga a long time ago and wants to get into it again. I said, but you have the best yoga schools here, Westerners come here to study yoga but Indians don't do yoga here. She said that's because we don't appreciate it. She said it was her karma that she sat next to me because I have given her inspiration to start doing yoga again.

Then she started talking about America and Bush. I am sick of people asking me "do you support George Bush?" I said, no, you can't blame me for him, because I did not vote for him, twice! I told her not to judge America or Americans by George Bush. I told her, if you do that, you are no better than Americans who judge India and Indian people by the pictures of filth, poverty, and beggars that they see, they think all of India is like that. So how can you judge America by George Bush? I told her, you talk about spirituality, but you have one opinion only about America because of what you see in the press? She apologized to me, said I had opened her eyes about her own closed mind.

aaaah......all that in a 3 hour bus ride to Pondy.....

Unless anyone think I am dissing Pondy, I'm not. It was just different this time. I stood on the rocks by the sea this morning looking down at all the garbage as I drank my chai. Last year I thought "this is India, it is what it is." This morning it disgusted me -- I thought, doesn't anyone care what they are doing to the ocean, to the environment? Then a man walked up next to me with a plastic bag with something long and oval looking in it. He made sure that when he threw it, it landed in the ocean. He walked away without a second thought. I thought about what it might be: garbage, or a cat, a puppy, a baby, maybe a girl baby? It did not float, it sank immediately.

I would not be a clear-eyed Buddhist if I did not see things as they are, not as I wish them to be, without the garbage and the starving pups and the big-eyed beggar girls. It is what it is. And I absolutely believe that the people are friendlier in Chennai than they are in Pondy! Even the Westerners in Pondy all looked like they were pissed off....

On the bus trip back to Chennai two men helped get me to the right city bus stop to get me back to my hotel and I did not have to ask them for help....they only asked if "American madam" needs help....

Ah yes..... while my fellow students were lounging all weekend at Ideal Resort, a beach resort in Mahabalipuram, I was watching men shit and piss next to the road on the way back from Pondy.....the "naughty stop"!.

On the return trip from Pondy, the bus made a "rest stop" between Mahabalipuram and Chennai. The bus stopped at a grove of what looked like pine trees, lots of space in between each tree. Also lots of garbage, crows, dogs, and a few cows. Most of the men got off the bus, and started to shit and piss in plain view. Too bad for any women on the bus who had to relieve themselves! I watched this unphased, I did not look away. The man next to me, who I noticed was dressed all in white, looked embarrassed that I was witnessing this. He clucked his tongue a few times, waved his hand toward these two legged dogs, and said "naughty stop". "Sorry?", I said. More tongue clucking....."naughty stop" he repeated and shook his head. He looked mortified that I was seeing all this, and that we were in plain view of the road, with cars, buses, and rickshaws speeding by....

this is India, darling.....

last day in Chennai

the story sequence is out of order, but so it goes...
above pic taken on my last afternoon in Chennai, September 2005, at the flower warehouse

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September 2005

My last day in India was the best day I experienced in Chennai.

On my last night in India I met one of the yoga students (Pat from Tanzania) at the Eco Cafe for our goodbyes and she told me that I was probably the only one who was not in the group picture. She also said that a tea was given for the students at the end of the day. But frankly, a group picture, a tea, and teary goodbyes to people I only knew for a month and probably will never see again, mean nothing to me compared to what I experienced that last afternoon.

The Banyan is a women's organization that is about 60 minutes from where I stayed in Mylapore. I wanted to donate money and also clothes and toiletries that I would not be bringing back with me. Suresh got lost a few times, but we finally found it. I was amused that he never asked women for directions to a women's shelter, he only asked men for directions.

Visiting Banyan was an overwhelming experience for me because I teach yoga in a shelter similar to this one. There are approximately 300 women there, and not just from Chennai.

I almost started crying when I walked through the gates -- two dogs came running up to me, barking loudly, protecting their home. One dog had a bad rear leg so he was running on three legs. The other dog, was dragging her back end, pulling herself with her front legs, she must have had a broken pelvis. But she was still fierce, trying to protect her place, her paralysis did not stop her. I watched her as she dragged herself all over, with old crusted sores on her back legs from dragging herself around. But when she laid down exhausted, she looked up at me and seemed to smile!

I was greeted by a young Finnish woman. She came to volunteer after the tsunami and stayed on in Chennai, learning the Tamil language. I asked her about the dogs and she said "oh, we adopt them too..." It did my heart good when she told me that they also have yoga classes for the women.

I was given a tour and I talked with tsunami survivors, to an ex-movie actress who was rescued from the streets, to a woman from Mumbai who has the same curly hair as I do -- she hugged me because we had something so mundane in common, our hair. She did not speak English, but she came up to me smiling, pointing to her hair, and then touching mine.

I lost it -- I started crying because I thought about the women in the shelter back home where I teach yoga. The woman who was the ex-actress came up to me and told me in perfect English, "don't cry, madam, we love it here, we are happy here." They have nothing and yet they have everything.

I left and Suresh took me to the warehouse district where we walked through huge warehouses filled with fruit and veggies and flowers. I was the only Westerner and Suresh made sure no one crowded me too much. I took my best and most favorite pics of India at these warehouses. I was mobbed everywhere I went, people wanting me to take their pictures, then crowding around me to see their pic on the camera. Surrounded by 20 men and never hassled once -- would that happen in NYC or Chicago? They yelled their thanks to me and kissed their hands and touched my cheeks, some bowed and made anjali mudra to the OM tattoo on my wrist.

Attend final classes that afternoon? Scheduling classes after our "graduation" ceremony in the morning was an anti-climax. I never would have given up the experiences I had that afternoon for anyone or anything. The best part was experiencing it alone, on my own terms, deliciously secure as only a woman of a certain age can be.

emails home

Unfortunately, during my first trip to India in September, 2005, I did not keep the emails I sent home. Y'all will have to be satisfied with my musings and rants from my second trip in March, 2006, including those I wrote for IndiaMike.com, where I am now a moderator...

enjoy!

the first pic is me with Suresh's three darling daughters, his nephew, and a neighbor boy....such a simply sweet and beautiful day.....

the picture of me and my very large friend was taken in September 2005 in front the temple in Pondicherry....the blessing only cost me 1 rupee! definitely the money shot!
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3/6/06

...the intensive is going to be awesome, of course! this time we have Desikachar's senior senior teachers teaching us and....Desikachar himself is teaching the meditation class and his son, Kausthub, is teaching the class on how the Sutras teach us how to transform ourselves.

This is a yoga teacher's dream -- at least for a teacher who believes that this is the heart of yoga. We chanted with Desikachar this morning, and he told us we sounded "fantastic"....

Once again, being here confirms for me that yoga is not about the body, but about transforming the mind. And once again it confirms that no one can put their own name on a 5000 year old tradition -- not John Friend, not Ana Forrest, not Bikram....

This morning they talked about how true personal transformation, on a deeper level, can not come from a group class, it can only be done on an individual level, one-on-one, like Krishnamacharya taught. It can start in a group yoga class, but can only reach culmination, one-on-one.

As I laid in bed this morning in the throes of jet lag, I realized what coming here does for me -- India integrates me, takes the yin and yang and pulls it together into the One that gives me peace. It is hard to describe, but when I realized it, it literally felt like two halves melting into one.

mmmmmmm......my India .....
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3/11/2006
first weekend of traveling...

woke up this morning in Pondicherry . Starting walking at 7 am -- to beach on the Bay of Bengal , taking my time..... stopped to make "happy birthday" call to hubby while I was drinking REAL indian chai for 3 rupees a cup -- had 3 cups. 44 rupees to $1 so figure it out!

There is a Ganesh temple in Pondicherry -- the temple where the elephant blessed me last year. On my way back from the beach, they were walking the temple elephant thru the streets to the temple, her face decorated, her "ankles" wearing bracelets. They took the real Ganesha into the temple and walked her around. Following her were the priests beating drums, blowing horns, and pulling a movable altar with a statue of Ganesh covered in garlands. They walked her around the temple about 5 times or so, then took her outside. Every time she passed me I said OM GUM GANA PATAYAI NAMAHA, Ganesh's mantra. The whole experience was awesome. And yes, Ganesha blessed me again.....when I gave her a rupee. The elephant is 15 years old by the way, still a young temple elephant.

I had breakfast on the beach in a tiny restaurant, 30 rupees. Idly with chutneys and a sweet lassi, of course.....

My trip is a bit different this year -- I realized that now that I see the underbelly of India , last year, I saw only the good thru rose colored glasses. Now I see everything more clearly, the garbage, the shit -- dog, cow, and human -- on the streets, the starving dogs, the beggars holding puppies or babies to get your sympathy. There were two little girls, one holding a little puppy not more than 2 months old, so of course I gave them all my rupee coins and 30 rupees in paper money, how could I resist? I told them to feed themselves and the puppy. Who knows if they will feed the puppy?

But in spite of this, I love it here. I am a true buddhist when I can see reality as it really is, not as I wish it to be with no starving puppies and little beggar girls and no shit on the streets! This morning I called from the beach on my cell phone to Madurai , the temple town I will visit in two weeks, called 2 places to reserve a room. I have a reservation at a 1000 rupee hotel and a 118 rupee guesthouse next to the temple.....guess which one I will stay at??

well, think I will go back to hotel now, to shower, and go out for another walk. Will head back to Chennai about 3 pm or so.....

bye for now -- and think about elephant blessings.... and all the other blessings you have in your lives.....
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3/16/2006

...it was a great theory class today, all about the bandhas, so interesting!! once again, being here re-confirms for me how this is the pure, traditional yoga, the heart, anything else is just faking it.....and anyone who puts their own name on yoga...
PUH-LEEEEEEZE!

the teachers keep emphasizing how personal transformation is the true goal of yoga, not getting the yoga butt or abs, but personal transformation, changing our states of mind, replacing negative tendencies with positive ones, and connecting to the True Self, how ultimately this can not be done in a group yoga class, it can only be done one-on-one with a teacher, as Krishnamacharya taught.

They showed us the sequence on how to teach the bandhas, starting with jalandhara going down to mulabandha, and how people should be able to inhale and exhale at least to a count of 10 or 12, before even attempting to work with the bandhas. Also told us about contraindications. Again, once more this emphasized for me, what NOT to teach in a group class, because everyone is different and everyone will have a different reaction to it -- uddiyana bandha aggravates vata for example.

We were told that Krishnamacharya did not believe in kriyas. He said pranayama practice -- properly done -- was effective enough to cleanse the body of impurities. Desikachar was with us last night and he told us stories of his father, about how Krishnamacharya stopped his own heart for 2 minutes -- it was only then that Desikachar took up the practice of yoga, when he saw the power of it. Until then he was not interested in it. This was in 1962 or so.

I've have gotten pretty good at chanting the Gayatri mantra....I don't sound too much like a howling dog anymore!

other than that, was in a very minor rickshaw accident the other night, but was not hurt. Went out with a South African student to a bookstore and in search of sweet lassis. A Muslim woman on a scooter turned into us, her front wheel ended up underneath the rickshaw and she fell off. no one stopped to help, but the guy I was with got out to help her up. She just got on the scooter and took off like nothing was. We were lucky -- two other students were in a rickshaw accident where the rickshaw rolled over. Lucky for them that they escaped with only bruises and scrapes, nothing broken.

This is India....
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3/20/2006

I just got back from another beautiful day in Chennai, thanks to my rickshaw driver, Suresh. I used his services last September. He usually hangs out at The Woodlands Hotel (a hangout for Westerners in Chennai) but is available for hire for the "American madam". Thanks to Suresh I got my best photos last year, when he took me on my last day to Chennai's veg/fruit/flower warehouses....

Suresh does not speak the best English, but we communicate. At the beginning of this week he invited me to his house for Sunday (today), and kept reminding me about it -- "wife make fish, good, Madam..." with a big smile. He said he would buy a fish, and his wife would use a little oil (because he knows I don't like "grease") and some spices, and his wife will cook us a feast! He picked me up and I knew it would be a traditional South Indian meal when he stopped to get some banana leaves (banana leaves are used for plates.)

I kept thinking about how our relationship has changed since last year. He invited me to his house so he must think I will not be judgmental of him as a poor rickshaw driver. Many people I know would scoff at the idea of sitting on a concrete floor eating a wonderful meal with a rickshaw driver and his wife and kids (none of whom speak English!). Many higher caste Indian would not even consider it....

The fish was great, with steamed rice and a veg salad, and a dish of mutton besides. I hoped that his wife would not be insulted that I could not eat all that she gave me -- I don't eat much, and after a few slices of fish, I was full. The funny thing was that they gave me utensils and I said, no, I will eat with my right hand, south Indian style. The kids tried to use the spoons -- they sat up nice and straight looking proper, and I motioned for them to forget the spoons, just eat Indian style, which they gladly did, immediately. It was a good laugh....

It amazes me how Indian women, no matter how poor they are, always look beautiful in their saris and gold jewelery, and we Westerners always look like refugees. With many there is a certain elegance as they glide through the dirtiest and dustiest of streets, seemingly without a drop of sweat on their brows....

We got to his house (two rooms, and the Indian squat toilet is outside in another room of the building, clothes washing is done in a bucket, and pounded against the ground), and of course the neighbors had to come to see the American (I don't think too many westerners visit this part of Chennai.) His place costs 1500 rupees per month, the one across the way costs 3000 rupees/month -- for "rich people" he says (44 R = $1)

He told everyone I am the American yoga teacher he drives around. They were all interested in my tattoos, especially the kids. Suresh has three daughters (which is a curse for a poor Indian man, he must come up with a dowry for each one when they marry), and I also met his nephew. After lunch, we went up on the roof where the laundry was blowing in the breeze, and the kids started posing for pictures. I took a ton of pics of the kids and some neighbors. It was a beautiful way to spend an afternoon, to me, the "real India". I felt honored to be there, on the roof, running around with the kids, showing them the pics on the camera, it made me want to cry. These Indians I was with, none of whom speak English, treated me like family, someone who they will never see again....how many of us would do that?? It was a day I will never forget.

I heard the kids calling me auntyji, which is a term of respect for the older "aunty" in the family.....

this is my India ....tomorrow night on to Madurai, and more Indian adventures....