Buggin' Out

The monsoon rains have arrived at the ashram, and with them came bugs. Lots of bugs.  The rains have been a welcome respite from the heat and humidity, but I would happily bear the heat over the insect invasion any day. 


In the beginning of the course, there were flies and some mosquitoes. Mostly they were just an annoyance during yoga class - Shavasana Pete, as I call him, is the fly who lands on your nose during relaxation (he has a brother - Meditation Maury). The peaceful quiet of morning yoga class is always punctuated by the sound of people slapping away mosquitoes. 


Since the rains, though, the mosquito population has mushroomed. There are a lot of them, and they are ravenous. Today during afternoon yoga class, I got three bites. During dinner, two. By now, I am the Bruce Lee of mosquito swatting, so those are the lucky ones who managed to get a bite in. I have given up any reservations about chemicals and cover myself in DEET whenever I leave my room, and still, I am covered in bites.


In addition to the mosquito plague, the monsoon has brought cockroaches. I live in New York, so I have seen my share of cockroaches. These aren't your garden variety NYC cockroach. These are small-bird-sized monsters who descended from the Himalayas on WINGS. Yes! Enormous, winged cockroaches! My roommate and I had the ill fortune of having one visit our room the other night. After our subsequent freak-out, our teacher, Krish, assured us there was nothing to worry about because they don't bite. WHO CARES IF THEY BITE! Just the look of them is the stuff of nightmares.


I had been very proud of myself because I hadn't had any major freak-outs over the spiders. The spiders here aren't very big, but they jump. *Shudder* I have mentioned on here before that I am not fond of spiders. This is a vast understatement. My Australian classmates think it's hilarious when I scoot myself across the floor during class to avoid the path of a nickel-sized spider. What they don't realize is, that scoot is an exercise in restraint for me. Usually a spider sighting means a full-on spaz attack from yours truly. The Australians can roll their eyes all they want - the huntsman spider is the sole reason I may never visit that continent.


It's not all bugs and rain, though. It's mostly pretty fun. Our days are jam packed, and there's always something new going on. In the evenings, we sometimes gather around for bijans, which are songs in Sanskrit. It's usually during those times that I take a moment to look around and appreciate how lucky I am to be right here, right now.

Consciousness + 4: An Education in Yoga

I'm well into the third week of Yoga Teacher Training, and it's been quite a ride so far. Much like India itself, it's completely different from what I expected, in a mostly good way.

We begin each day with 40 minutes of meditation. This doesn't sound like much, but for me, it's a lot. My instructor, Krish, likens the mind (when you're trying to meditate) to a monkey that's eaten a chili and then been stung by a scorpion. This is very accurate. I do like the practice, though, and plan to continue the daily battle to pacify my mind when I go home. At least 10 minutes a day seems reasonable.

After meditation, I find myself staring out at the adjacent farm's verdant pastures. The Himalayas rise up behind it, and the sun is usually just starting to crest over the distant peaks. In this bucolic setting, we perform our daily kriyas, or cleansing rituals. This is a decidedly un-beautiful, un-glamorous process that involves neti pots and lots of nose blowing.

I wasn't expecting our education to be so heavy on the philosophy. I am enjoying it very much, and that is mostly thanks to the excellent instruction of Swami. Swami has been studying philosophy (and the Yoga Sutras in particular) for 15 years and usually doesn't teach beginners. He is a disciple of logic and dismissed Descartes with a wave of his hand. In between cracking us (and himself) up with jokes, he has opened my mind wide open about what yoga is, exactly. 

Life here is very busy, and always full of surprises. There's a surly monkey named Randall that lurks around whenever we have our afternoon snack (usually someone tosses him a banana). The other night we did an evening dancing meditation, which is something I never thought I'd ever do.  On our last day off, they offered a class in Reiki healing, so I took it and now have my certification. 

I'm off to class in a minute, but I'll close with a Swami joke: An old woman looked in the mirror one morning and saw she had only 3 hairs left on her head. She thought for a moment, and then pleated the hairs into a braid.

The next morning, she looked in the mirror and saw she had only 2 hairs left. "I guess today it's a center part!" she said.

The next morning, she only had 1 hair left. "Ponytail today!" she thought.

The fourth morning, she looked in the mirror and saw she had no hair left on her head. "Thank goodness," she exclaimed, "I don't have to fix my hair today!"

:)

Mountains and Mantras: Life in the Himalayas

We left Delhi around 7 AM on Friday morning. There were three vans full of us - prospective yoga students from all around the world. We had congregated in the hotel lobby before the vans loaded up, making small talk and taking in the new faces that would soon be so familiar. As the vans lurched through the smog and heavy traffic, I felt a huge sense of relief. I was finally headed to the place I would be calling home for the next month.
The trip took about 12 hours. I noted with some satisfaction that the scenery was nowhere near as dramatic and diverse as I had encountered in Rajasthan. That is, until we reached the base of the Himalayas. 
I had dozed off, and woke up to the van careening around a hairpin curve in the road. The small towns and farms had given way to hilly forests. As we climbed and climbed, we passed through towns that seemed to dangle off the hillsides. About two or three hours into our ascent, I noticed a strange cloud formation in the distance. When I focused my attention on it, I realized it was not clouds. It was a vast, snow-capped range of mountains. We had reached the Himalayas.
Our ashram is situated between small farms at the base of the mountains. Every morning, I wake up to cows lowing in the pasture and the Himalayas stretching gloriously up to meet the sky. The farmers work the fields while we meditate, and at night when class is done, the sky is littered with stars. The beauty is beyond compare.
My days are now filled to the brim. A typical day goes as such: 
5 AM - Wake up, take a shower (usually the end of which is cold, but I'm used to it now - it's a more effective wake-up than coffee!)
6 AM - Meditation
7 AM - Yoga class
9:30 AM - Brunch
10:30 AM - Yoga Theory and History
12:30 PM - Break
1 PM - Yoga or chanting workshop
2:30 PM - Snack/lunch (usually fruit)
3 PM - Yoga Sutras (philosophy)
5 PM - Teacher workshop
7:30 PM - Dinner
8:30 PM - Chanting class
It doesn't leave much time for, well, anything. We have reading and other assignments to complete during our scant free time. 
I do feel that I am getting my money's worth here. My teachers are all Indian and have studied traditional Hatha yoga for many years. Our philosophy teacher, Swami G, is a bona fide monk. The fancy yoga centers in New York and other places have many wonderful qualities, I'm sure, but this feels like I am getting an authentic education by instructors who are the Real Deal. I mean, who would you rather learn Sanskrit from, a Lululemon-clad white lady in New York, or an actual monk in India? 
I'm off to class now, but will post as I have time! :)