India Journal: From Resistance to Revolution
In the last India Journal: The People That You Meet, I shared the story of a random meeting with an unknown uncle. The chance encounter gave me a new frame of reference for my adventure in India, and opened my heart and mind to the possibilities around me.
I loved being in Rishikesh. For a month I woke up early in the morning went to a meditation group, followed up with a yoga class and had breakfast. In the afternoon I would meet with an ayurvedic doctor, take an additional yoga class or two, wander into Laksman Jula, rest and have lunch. The evening was filled with conversation, song, quiet reading, chanting, aarti or a lecture, dinner and sleep.
Almost none of these activities had a place in my New York life. Even when I took a yoga class, I usually rushed in and scurried back to the pounding beat of my life. Conversations, which I love, more often than not ,were rife with complaints (mine or others). But in Rishikesh, the rhythm was gentle and healing. Every aspect gave me space to unwind all the tension and chaos in my being. I arrived early to classes and allowed myself to be absorbed into each posture. Conversations were engaging, curious and joyful (even those they existed only in my own head).
And then one morning, I woke up and was met by a familiar feeling: resistance. The feeling stayed with me all morning, lifting only as I walked back from class with the sun shining on my face. A few more days passed before the feeling resurfaced. This time it was evening, the sun had set and I was reading in my room when my mood shifted. I went to bed early and woke with a sense of frustration and sadness. I missed meditation that morning and carried the cloud with me well into the day.
Unencumbered by the distractions and busyness of my regular life, I caught on to the shift and decided to pay closer attention to my mood and what was happening to my cheery disposition. It didn’t take long to figure out the culprit. A week of noticing, and I quickly realized that I was reacting to the change in weather. Now on the surface, that might seem both obvious and trivial, however it was neither. I knew I didn’t like cold weather, but I had not realized how much of an impact it had on my temperament, my behavior, my outlook and my energy.
Think about it, when we are unhappy with our surroundings or circumstances we may recognize our discontent, but think no one else notices. Our frustration comes out in different ways, perhaps we are short with those we love, or overly critical of those around us, or simply carrying a negative mood. We are so busy with all we have to do, we don’t take the time to notice what is happening, never mind think of an alternative.
In the flow of Rishikesh, I was able to take notice and determine, that while I thought I would be there longer, it was time for a change. Noticing didn’t make it easy. I didn’t know where to go, I hadn’t made alternative plans, but I knew this adventure would not be all it could be if I stayed on the same path. I began to research and ask questions. I thought about what I required and who might be able to help. I considered my constraints and acknowledged my fears – and then I moved into action. I found my next destination – a little fishing village in Kerala, India.
When I called to make arrangements, I was informed there were no vacancies. Undeterred, I continued to call each afternoon, only to be told the same thing. I don’t know if was the tenacity of my New York upbringing, the stubbornness of my Sicilian side, the intuition of my feminine being or simply Karma – but after a week and a half the young man on the other end of the phone informed me I was welcome to come for a stay. I was elated and began making plans.
When the plane landed in sunny Kochin, I still had hours of travel ahead of me, yet I felt buoyant, joyful and calm. Over the next five months of my stay, I learn again and again how easy it was to navigate to a place that allowed me to thrive if I simply took the time to notice.
If You Really Love Me, Tell Me Tomorrow
I really don’t like Valentine’s Day. I hate to admit it, but it’s true. I don’t have a problem with roses in bloom, sweet confections or declarations of love. I would simply rather receive them on any day other than February 14th.
I don’t want to sound like a curmudgeon. I can appreciate the expression of love as much as the next person. In fact, some of my fondest childhood memories are of seeing my father dance my mother around the kitchen or leave love notes for her in the mailbox. Even today, after more than 40 years of marriage, they hold hands when they walk down the street.
Perhaps all of this has spoiled me, but I’d prefer to whirl around the kitchen dance floor on a random Wednesday night than eat an overpriced meal in a dimly lit restaurant with 100 other chattering couples tonight. And I’d rather find a note taped to the bathroom mirror that reads, “you make me happy” than a forced, overwrought declaration of undying love.
We have bought into such a hyped up image of love. It isn’t always candlelight dinners, roses and diamonds. For me, the most beautiful love is as simple as choosing to be with someone who sees you as the person you are and who chooses to be with you too.
So, if you really love, tell me on February 15th!
[Updated from February 2008]
India Journal: The People That You Meet
India Journal is back and this week, I am particularly excited to share one of my favorite memories.
If you have taken one of my classes or workshops you have probably heard this story, and if you are someone who hates making decisions you may find some meaning in it.
One evening, after I had been in India for a few weeks, a new friend, Anita was sharing the events of her day, including that earlier in the day she had encountered an elderly Italian man. Later, walking along a passageway toward my room something caught my eye. Nearing the door, I realized someone had written a name in black magic marker on the door frame. It was strange enough to see writing on the wall, but when I saw the name that was written, I was floored. I was standing with my mouth agape when a gray haired gentleman exited the room and smiled. He turned to lock his door, and with his back to me said, “Ciao, signorina, sei Italiana? /Hello miss, are you Italian?” As he shifted his attention from the door to me, I quickly glanced up and I nodded my head. He smiled, offered me his arm and asked me to walk with him to dinner. I took his arm and we slowly shuffled forward. I asked him where he was from and in traditional form, he revealed what I already knew, bit by bit. Italy…Puglia…Bari, and quite matter of fact, Palo del Colle.
Pascuale Centrone’s Business Card
Palo del Colle is a town of approximately 20,000 people in southern Italy. And while I have never been to there, both of my maternal great grandparents called Palo home.
Oronzo and Benedetta Savino
and to make matters more interesting, the name the man had written on his door frame is my maternal grandparents last name, Centrone.
Sylvester and Nicoletta (Savino) Centrone
While I was quite stunned, somehow this coincidence did not seem to phase my dinner companion in the least! He told me about Palo and stories about my grandfather, uncles and cousins. And while only had a few hours together before his left Rishikesh, I felt a profound sense of peace and satisfaction at the calm, crazy synchronicity of such a random possibility. I had traveled from New York to this place in India, meeting a distant relative from Italy who now lived in South America!
It isn’t always as clear as black magic marker on a wall, however, wherever we find ourselves, opening our eyes we can see the signs that all paths hold a few secrets, some answers and unexpected surprises to help us along the way.
In the words of Paolo Coelho from The Alchemist,
…when you want something, all the universe conspires
in helping you to achieve it.
That evening, I walked into town after dinner, found a phone in the back of a shop and called my maternal grandmother, Nicoletta (Savino) Centrone. When she answered the phone, she was quite surprised to hear from me. I was beaming when I said, “Gram, sit down, I have a story for you!”.
Revolution Me! Flashback: Time to Plan a Resolution Revolution
It’s that time of year again when the excitement of the holiday season and a turkey hangover results in the annual tradition of resolution making. You already know my thoughts about resolutions, so, I’m bringing back a favorite from last year, Time to Plan a Resolution Revolution!
Check back next week for the next India Journal and don’t forget to mark your calendar for the last RevUp 2009 on Tuesday, December 1st at the Darlington House in Washington, DC from 6:00 pm – 8:30 pm.
We’ll celebrate successes of 2009 and get energized for 2010. Come by for a cup of cheer and a dose of inspiration!
Compass Point Celebration! – Are You Ready to RevUp
Rev Up 2009
Join the Compass Point community of
DC creatives, entrepreneurs, and professionals
for an evening of
Celebration
We will toast the success of
and
RevUp for 2010
on
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
6:00 pm – 8:30 pm
at
Darlington House
1610 20th Street, NW (upstairs)
North of Dupont Circle Metro
…and if you are looking for unique holiday gifts,
swing by for a shopping preview at 4:00 pm!
Vibrant, Vital and Valued
I recently picked up The Time Paradox by Philip Zimbardo and John Boyd. It has been an fascinating read that builds nicely on the theme of the last India Journal: We’re Not In Kansas Anymore and explores our attitudes about time.
Dr. Zimbardo is well-known for the infamous Stamford Prison experiment in the early 70s, which investigated the power that social situations have in influencing behavior of ordinary people. Of the experiment, Zimbardo says:
…even though the student-prisoners knew they would be part of this experiment for only a limited time, they didn’t behave that way. They behaved as if they were trapped. Although the prisoners cold have escaped their dismal daily grind by sharing with other prisoners their past identities and future hopes for when the experiment would be over, they rarely did so. …these mock prisoners had quickly imprisoned themselves in despair by focusing on very recent negative experiences of only days in a mock prison.
Dr. Boyd joined Dr. Zimbardo in ‘94 and together the duo has expanded our understanding of time perspective and its power to influence how we navigate our lives. In a part of the book that discusses Making Time Matter, they write: (more…)
India Journal: We’re Not In Kansas Anymore!
In crafting my sabbatical I purposefully opted not to plan very much. Against my nature, I organized only my flight, a pick up at the airport in Delhi, and a hotel for the first two nights. Upon my arrival (at 2:00 am), I was greeted by what seemed like 5,000 animated Indians speaking dozens of dialects, waving signs, grabbing bags and offering rides. The sights, sounds and scents were all loud, chaotic and unfamiliar, yet somehow not frightening. To call it sensory overload would be an understatement, yet it was the perfect introduction to the duality that epitomizes the country.
My driver was not there, however I quickly made change, found a phone and called him, only to find he thought my flight arrived the next morning. He was picking up other passengers but could get to me within the hour. After a harrowing trip through the streets of Delhi we arrived at the hotel.
I spent the day touring around and quickly realized, amazing as it was, I was ready to move on. I arranged a ride to Rishikesh for the following morning. (more…)
India Journal: Facing the Fear
As the years have passed, it has become easier to find the humor, but as you can imagine, laughter was in short supply in the days leading up to my departure. With each step closer to my adventure tensions grew. Why would I sell my charming apartment? How much was it costing to store my belongings? Why would I take a leave from my job? To my friends, family and colleagues my decision seemed increasing out of character…and, I believe called into question decisions each individual had made in their own lives.
While uncomfortable, the conversations that ensued were the deepest, most real and honest exchanges I have ever had in my life. Nothing was left unsaid, as I sought to clarify for myself and others why I was going. I was stepping outside of my life to get quiet enough to hear myself; to take away the comfort and distraction that allowed me to avoid listening; to become a student of myself; to bring ‘me’ into my life. To learn who I wanted to become and to start building her.
The more I talked about it, the more things started to fall into place. I found cohorts in the most unlikely of places. (more…)
India Journal: You’re Killing Your Mother
My family is something of a toned down version of My Big Fat Greek Wedding (well, not really toned down), so I knew my decision to trade in my comfortable existence in New York for India was going be difficult to understand. True to form, after announcing my intent I received incredulous stares, curious whispers, strong admonitions, even outright criticism. There was speculation that love was the driving force in my decision making. Others claimed I was “looking for myself” or “having a life crisis.” But most were simply stumped, a break like this was outside the realm of possibility – Your doing what? Going Where? Why?
As news spread I found myself at family functions receiving uncomfortable glances. An aunt leaned close to my father and in a hushed voice asked, “Is she really going?” A cousin cornered my sister to inquire, “What is this really about?” Hardly anyone approached me directly, except my mother’s friend Ellen who dramatically announced, “You are killing your mother!”
I engaged in long conversations with family and friends, giving them time to ask questions and grow accustomed to my thinking, if not comfortable with my decision. In fact, a question my mother offered remains with me all these years later. “What if this isn’t the right road? What if it is a mistake?” My response (more…)
India Journal: Don’t Worry, Be Happy
Because of our routines we forget that life is an ongoing adventure. ~Maya Angelou
In the first installment of India Journal, Where No One Knows Your Name, I mentioned the roles we play in life. By roles, I refer to more than the traditional – daughter, mother, father, executive, significant other. In each of our roles, there is a thread – a pattern of behavior we have honed over years. These behaviors may be comfortable, but often have little bearing on the person we are presently, rather they are a legacy from other stages of our lives.
When I decided to take my sabbatical to India I was confronting my legacy roles. While my life looked great from the outside, I felt less than fulfilled. Without a clear new direction, I continue on my same path.
Then one day as I arrived in LA for a meeting my Blackberry went into overdrive, screaming urgent messages. I hung up a frantic call and was furiously scanning incoming messages when my driver, calm as can be, turned around and said, “Miss, I don’t mean to overstep, but whatever is going on really isn’t worth it.”
In a different phase in my life, being called upon in time of crisis might have made me feel important (even if frustrated), but in this moment it was clear my driver was right. On the ride to the hotel, I found my resolve. Something had to change. The time had come. I was ready.
After the meeting, (more…)
