Reflections on my time at the Isha ashram, Velliangiri Hills--September 30-October 3. Writing after the downpour. A lot to think about.
I am blown away by the staggering beauty of this place. The mountains rise up sharply from the plain, you can see waterfalls descending hundreds of feet--white cuts in the lush green. It is so quiet here. The air smells so fresh--everything seems both calm and alive, vibrant. The drum wakes us at 6 to begin our practice, but I feel so rested despite finishing at 10 the night before and of course then talking with friends and my roommate for at least another hour or two about all that we've thought and experienced during the day before turning out the light. The food has been amazing--fresh, local, made by volunteers. My appetite is voracious and I relish each meal of Keralan dishes and Southern Indian classics. One meal was served on the floor, banana leaves set before us. Sublime. I began to not even miss my daily dose of filter kappi (the delightful strong and milky filter coffee of Chennai). The volunteers strike me as truly remarkable--they do everything here with such care, happiness and selflessness. Every time I go up for another plate of food I'm met with a smile. If I have a question they are present and listen. On the last night, our feet were bathed in hot water infused with flowers. They carried bucket after bucket of very hot water to refill our tubs filled with flower petals and river stones. Cheerfulness the whole while. I know that a several day retreat cannot change the world but I do see some changes in me and I certainly have learned things--even if they are not the explicit topics covered by our instructor. I don't think that I ever want to go back to Chennai. Part of this is completely understandable--no work here, no responsibility except to learn, do yoga, be pampered and take in the scenery. However, maybe I need to listen to what my heart is saying, maybe I'm still a country boy--as silly as that may sound. I really like the Cities and the roots we've set down, but I do feel so much more at peace with the world and my self when I'm in these natural settings.
So what to make of all of this? Good question--and it will take a bit to get my head around this. I'm sure as I continue my meditation and yoga practice I'll perhaps have a better sense. Initially here, the delivery really got to me--can't turn the ToK brain off. I have a difficult time with yes and no, either-or types of statements. I prefer a conversation--let me see the reasoning or thinking before I accept. The Latin root of conversation is conversarii--which means to turn around in one's mind. This is my preferred method and I know I get hung-up when I am just presented material. I know that I bucked a lot of what was being presented--I wanted to know more, wanted to talk about how it fit with other traditions if only for the basis of comparison (my own brain kept coming back to Zen, the Dalai Lama, my own experience as an athlete or having to wrestle with concepts of identity and truth. This internal questioning and curiosity--which I could shut off when I was in session, but kept coming back when I was out--finally seemed to evaporate on the last day during the last session. Up to this point, I sometimes felt like I was missing something--seeing Nivas in his revelry I felt like such an outsider beyond my obvious outward appearance, culture and traditions. During that last session I think I finally got it. The dots connected, I was ready to let it in and just be. No divisions, just existence in the moment. It felt wonderful. I'm still a skeptic and a seeker, but I can't discount this experience, the conversations and my experience here. Theres' been such a common thread to it all--a unity of thinking. One reader will certainly want to talk about this issue I know, I don't know if I buy into gurus, but I really thinking about this unity, the oneness and the now. I see the limits of a world that is all reason or one that is all emotion and I see how yoga combines the experience them. Like meditation, this brings you into the present, into consciousness. The other thing I take away is how seriously the concept of self-knowledge is taken here. So many people look inward for meaning, connection and the capacity to act with integrity not just to themselves but to the human family.
I think that the retreat was valuable for a lot more than the curriculum and practice--they intertwine but they were not the sum of the experience. We trekked into the hills one morning to a waterfall that we could see from the terrace at the ashram. The trek would take most of the day and the volunteers packed lunch for us. Before we left out we were warned about wild elephants and what to do if we see them and, of course, to watch out for snakes. Thousands of miles from home, heading into the forests with cobras, kraits and vipers--elephants took a distinct backseat in my worries. What was I thinking?
We head out from the ashram gate along a road and make it to our first river crossing. My thoughts start to be less about what might be under my feet and I can't help but look at the granduer all around me--my photos don't do it justice. I get talking to a couple of the kids on the hike--they and their parents are part of the retreat. They are talking about Justin Bieber (one hates him, the other thinks he's brilliant). It's just my curiosity as a teacher but I have to ask about the music they listen to. They look at me weirdly and I tell them I'm a teacher working in Chennai and I am interested what they listen to compared to my students in the States. We have a brief conversation, but now I'm an object of curiosity. As the retreat continues, the kids announce any sighting of me with "Helllooooo, Mr. Kennedy!"--it's every meal, every time I'm spotted walking to my room. My friends get named as well--Nivas becomes "Best Friend" and Pravin is named "Bad Boy." The attention is adorable mostly, and they made a very nice going away card for me on the last evening of the retreat complete with flowers. For me the interesting thing happens on the hike, though. The kids are skittish about everything that moves--everything to them is a snake. After our initial conversation they've placed themselves with me for the duration of the hike and a transformation takes place in my mind. My fear disappears--it's immediate responsibility mode, the parent mode, the teacher mode. My whole being relaxes. I become the calm "re-assurer" or the role model--I have no choice but to be brave and put my own fears aside for the kids. Think I got some awareness of my self on this hike. It's easy to gripe about teaching--there are alot of things that can be so frustrating--but it does feel right. Maybe I had to come to the other side of the world to get that. Maybe I needed to throw off the baggage of my current setting to really get what I'm about. Once the noise settles, you can really listen.
One last piece and it came in the way of a challenge. We talked alot about responsibility at the retreat--your response that you are able to do. After the trek a friend asked point-blank, ok now you've seen all this, the poverty, the poor living conditions and the kids, what will you do? Will you turn your back on it and forget it? These questions ate at me all the way back to Chennai--in my bunk on the train, I couldn't help but think about it. In a few months I go back to my quiet street and suburban home, my comfortable life with expensive sports gear, gourmet food, Costco, pure-bred dogs, etc., etc. Can I just take what I learned here and leave it? This is not to say that I need to impose my own values or standard of living on anyone. Who am I to say that my own life is superior to anyone else's or what makes anyone happy? However, I can think about preventable causes child and female mortality, educational opportunities, medical care and improved agricultural techniques that don't destroy the soil or harm those that are working in the fields. This is within my ability and I can respond to it. I can't shake the question--I can't go home and turn my back. Call this ethics, call it personality, call it what you will but it feels right and clear.
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