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.
