1000 STEPS HEAVENWARD

Chamundi Hill

One of the things to do in Mysore is to climb Chamundi Hill in the countryside. 1000 steps to the top of a mountain and at the 1062 m summit- a temple. There is a 7 story gateway tower at the bottom of the steps and a lady in a candy stand with a baby monkey on her shoulder, sucking its thumb.

I arrive after taking a rickshaw by myself. I ask the driver if it is safe to climb alone...he assures me it is. I ask him to wait 10 minutes for me to scope out the action. There are no white people, only local men sitting and hanging on the steps. I am hesitant to go alone. I see a white, German tourist with a backpack descend and I ask her if she speaks English...yes...and how it is on the trail. She says a little lonely as no one is up there. Even scarier for me! I start climbing and feel breathless and panicky, as I see the bushes of the mountside wrapping around the rock stairs. More Indian men loiter and stare. I think of the motto "Do one thing a day that scares you" but I am still unnerved. I keep climbing. Its hot and noon. I decide today is not the day and turn around back to catch my waiting rickshaw. Monkeys crawl over the house and fence at base. Get in rickshaw and go to Mysore Temple.

Later that night Yashoda gives me crap for going to Chamundi alone. Apparently there were cheetah sightings...

ONLNE:
"Cheetah warning in Mysore (Chamundi Hill)

---

The locals in Mysore are strongly advising that people do not walk from Mysore to Chamundi Hill as suggested in the latest edition of the Lonely Planet. In the last few years the cheetah population on the hill has gone from 0 to about 20 and there have been over a dozen attacks on people in the last year alone. Check the newspapers as the attacks have been reported there. No one has died but several people have been seriously injured, including a few foreigners (no details, sorry - I tried to find and talk with someone who was attacked but I ran out of time). Take the bus (3 -/ Rs) or an autorickshaw or whatever, just don't walk.
The government has started actively capturing the cheetahs and relocating them to Bandipur National Park but it will take up to a year before the last cheetah is gone.
I noticed how unusually quiet the roads were going up the hill (I was on a motorbike); many locals used to walk up the road but no longer due to the attacks.
Apparently the cheetahs had easy prey with the farmer's livestock at the base of the hill, that is until the farmers started protecting their animals and the cheetahs (now over-populated and quite hungry) have turned to people. Be warned.
(Incidentally, I found this out by accident, I had been planning to walk to Chamundi Hill the following day.) Happy travels otherwise.

I invite Elise from NY , my roomie, to join me another day to climb so it is safer. We take a rickshaw there and lo and behold...apparently, Friday is holy day and the hill is mobbed with locals celebrating their religion. They bend over and dot each step with a dot of red powder and a dot of saffron.

They carry them in little baggies and climb each stair bent over. We ascend the stairs together and are harassed by brown teenage boys laughing and chiding us. Indian women want to take their picture with us. People stare at Elise wondering if she is Indian or a Bollywood star. We stopped at the man who lives in the cave halfway up and he handed out sugar. 2/3rds of the way up a solid rock statue of Nandi- Shiva's giant bull, carved in 1659.

people offer food and flowers to the priest. People drape it with flowers. We each got a red dot on our forehead. At the top, there is a massive line of people, thousands long to get into the temple. Policemen are on horses controlling the crowd. We overlook the city and sit on the edge of a stone ledge.

We descend the hill and my legs are shaky. At the bottom, I see a woman spinning with her hands in prayer. So I make a wish, pray my hands and spin 3 times, not knowing what it means. An Indian man laughs and says: "Good prayer!"

To make your life count, do the things that count.

My girlfriend Carrie died of breast cancer 2 years ago. At her funeral they played "Live like you were dying" by Tim McGraw. She has been my inspiration in life. Knowing not to waste time and to seize the moment. Carpe Diem.
"In 1902, as he lay dying at the age of 48, Cecil Rhodes could look back on a not undistinguished career. He had made a vast fortune in gold and diamonds. He had built railroads through the wilderness and become one of the century's great rulers. He had created an empire, which is more than your average 48-year-old has on his rsum. But Rhodes was not going gentle into any good night. On his deathbed he was heard muttering, "So little done, so much to do."
~(Forbes magazine 10 things to do before you die)

The following is taken from the list of:
John Tierney, 09.18.00 (I erased meaningless ones to me and added 'done' to those I've done!) Feel free to copy or add your own!!!! Damian and I made a list of 100 things to do a few years ago...I just can't find where I put it! So here is a new start...it may end up being a 1000!!!!

1. Go skydiving.

2. Go backpacking in Europe.

3. Go to the top of the Eiffel Tower.

4. Eat cheese in Paris.

5. Tour the Louvre.

6. See the Mona Lisa.

7. See Africa.

8. Visit China

9. Make a pilgrimage. The destination might be a traditional one such as Jerusalem or Rome or Mecca. It might be a site of prehistoric rituals, like Stonehenge or Machu Picchu. For nature-worshippers it could be an African savanna or Amazonian rain forest; for music-lovers it could be La Scala or Bayreuth. The goal is a cathedral you hold sacred, a place where you can feel part of something larger. The reward is a moment, whether it's hearing the "Gloria" at St. Peter's or watching a gazelle take its first step, that you won't need a video camera to capture. (Forbes)

10. Climb the Himalayas

11. See the remains of the Berlin Wall.

12. Learn to surf well enough to surf. (Half done)

13. Memorize a poem and pass it on.

14. Read a poem at a poetry reading.

15. Self-publish a book of poetry.

16. Let someone else have the chance you missed. Maybe it will be one of the things on this list, like a trip you always meant to take but which eventually becomes impossible. With age come limitations. But with age also come wisdom and money. When it's too late for you, give someone younger what you always wanted. (Forbes)

17. Go to Tibet.

18. Plant a tree.

19. Learn to ballroom dance properly.

20. Learn how to salsa.

22. Live and work in LA

23. Teach someone to read.

24. Learn Chinese

25. Do 3 series of Ashtanga yoga

26. Go bungee jumping.

27. Learn to play the stock market.

28. Get a black belt in Kung fu

29. Learn jujitsu.

30. Go on a Vision Quest.

31. Send an inspiring message in a bottle.

32.

33. Start a Pay It Forward movement.

34. Create passive income.

35. Get a scuba diving license.

36. Publish a novel.

37. Save a life.

38. Write a personal mission statement, follow it, and revise it from time to time.

39.

40. Run a marathon. (Done)

41.

42. Participate in a protest.

43. See a lunar eclipse.

44. Give a large anonymous donation to the charity of your choice.

45. Rent out a penthouse suite and throw a party.

46. Fly first class. (Done)

47. Save a life.

48. Take a trip in a hot air balloon.

49. Learn to fly a plane.

50. Learn to hang-glide.

51.

52. Give $1000 to a stranger in need.

53. Start a real estate investment business.

54. Experience weightlessness.

55. Learn to ride a horse (done)

56. Go see Stonehenge.

57. Bungee jump from a helicopter. (Yes, you can really do this, but you have to do your homework to find a company that offers it. If you have about $10,000 to spend and think you have what it takes, these guys will let you heli-jump into the mouth of a volcano!)

58.

59. Watch the launch of a space shuttle.

60. Spend three months to a year living in Hawaii.

61. Travel around the world for six months to a year.

62. Ride a camel. (Done)

63. See gorillas in the wild.

64. Look for sunken treasure ships.

65.

66.

67. Ride the Trans-Siberian Express across Asia.

68. Go on a cruise.

69.

70. Spend St. Patrick’s Day in Ireland.

71. Spend New Year’s Eve at New York Times Square.

72.

73.

74. Go wild in Rio during Carnival.

75. Drive the Autobahn.

76. Spend Christmas on the beach drinking mai-tais. (Done)

77. Raft through the Grand Canyon

78. Scuba dive off Australia’s Great Barrier Reef.

79. See the aurora borealis. (Done)

80. Kiss the Blarney Stone.

81. Go deep sea fishing in the middle of the ocean.

82. Visit a concentration camp.

83. Run to the top of the Statue of Liberty.

84. Go to Mardis Gras.

85.

86.

87. Do volunteer work in a third world country. (Done)

88. Walk the Great Wall of China.

89. See all 7 Wonders of the World.

90. See Niagara Falls.

100. Spend a night north of the Arctic Circle during summer solstice in a hot tub, watching the sun circle above the horizon, proving once and for all to myself that the world is round.

101. Para-glide off the Baba Dag in Southern Turkey.

102. Climb a palm tree and pick a coconut.

103. See the Tour de France in person.

104. Sleep in an igloo.

105. See a polar bear in the wild before they go extinct.

106. Go to Burning man.

107.

108. Visit a Buddhist monastery. (Done)

109.

110. Build/design a house. (Done)

111. Swim with dolphins. (Done)

112. Become fluent in another language and use it. (D0ne)

113. Tour the Galapagos Islands.

114. Write your life story.

THE UNCONDITIONED MIND

If you are wondering why I haven't written lately, its because I've been tied up with a Tim Miller workshop here in Edmonton. Five episodes of yoga, sutras, Sanskrit chanting and other wisdoms. I had never heard of Tim Miller. It wasn't until Harmony and Jeff from Calgary's Yoga Shala recommended I go while when we were in India.

Check out his California studio: www.ashtangayogacenter.com

"Tim Miller has been studying and teaching Ashtanga Yoga for over 25 years and was the first American certified to teach by Pattabhi Jois at the Ashtanga Yoga Research Institute in Mysore, India. Tim has a thorough knowledge of this ancient system, which he imparts in a dynamic, yet compassionate and playful manner. "My goal as a teacher is to inspire a passion for practice. The practice itself, done consistently and accurately, is the real teacher." Tim teaches workshops and retreats throughout the United States and abroad."

I am so glad I went! My jaw is still on the ground after seeing his range of pose-ability! Plus all of the Sanskrit memorization/ reciting...wow. It was very reminiscent of my recent trip to the shala in Mysore this summer, or as I call it: The yoga Olympics!

One of the classes was the Asana Doctor. I had asked a question about the difference between injuries vs. openings. There were a few laughs and comments like "pain" from the other yogis. Sharath called my experience an 'opening'. When Tim said it was "...re-framing it so you are not emotionally attached to the trauma", it was brilliant! It was very helpful for me to see the body/ mind connection and not allow for it to be the self-created mental obstacle.

I practiced under Sharath for 5 weeks and an 'opening' occurred during Supta Karmasana when Saraswati and Sharath both grabbed each of my limbs and put me in the pose. When Sharath said: "Now lift up onto your hands" , I did obeying, breathing & praying. I never knew I could get my feet behind my head, never mind lift unto my hands. All I could say was "Wow".

Afterwards I was ready to crack coconuts open with my bare hands! However, later...right hamstring PAIN and it was on strike!

If the body's cells regenerate every few years, how can an injury persist? Is it the mind hanging onto the emotional trauma and continually recreating the pain/ dysfunction? Re-framing an overstretched muscle as an opening means to me that I am moving forward. If I call it an injury, its holding me back and I am living in the past...wow!

“If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.”

~Wayne Dyer

Tim says the best way to heal an overstretched muscle is to strengthen it. Resting it will make it worse, as will continuing to stretch it. Doing the things that avoid pain and it never gets better, equaling chronic weakness. We have to go through the fire to be refined and purified. "Remove a thorn with a thorn." (Indian proverb)

So I guess I will continue to work through the opening until it expands.

As Tim says, the practice is the impetus to let go into a greater reality.

PERSPIRATION NOT PERFECTION...

A group of the yogi guys went with Tim and my beloved Damian to a Native sweat after the class. A taste of aboriginal Alberta ...

More advice from Tim: True yoga begins when class ends.

HOPE FLOATS 101

For an untold number of years, boats were always made of wood. Why? Because wood floats, while materials like lead sink. By observing what floats became the measure of the elements that boats could be made from. With new discoveries, we now see that it is possible to float an infinite number of substances:

"At any depth in a fluid there is an upward force due to the effect of gravity on the fluid. This results in a pressure applied over an area. If the density of an object in the fluid is greater than the density of the fluid, the object will sink. If the density is less than that of the fluid, the object will float upward due to the buoyancy from the fluid. An object of lower density will float to the top and only be submerged by an amount according to the ratio of the densities." ~Ron Kurtus /www.school-for-champions.com

Thinking outside of the way we normally view things, boats could then be made of lead, or any other 'sinkable' item. (Except of course on Gilligan's Island...If they were to finally be rescued, there would be no humor- nor TV show!)

You can't defy certain laws. Gravity for instance. My Dad's ongoing brainteaser is: Is gravity push or pull? Regardless, there is gravity. Micheal Beckwith of the movie the 'Secret', comments that whether you are a good person or a bad person, if you fall off a building, you're going to hit the ground. But what about bungee jumping?

Thinking beyond the perceived laws we have been taught or believe, is how we become better in our simple everyday. A broad foundation, enlightenment and rising above the old ways and habits that no longer serve us, is how we become unsinkable. Ingenious and resourceful people are unlimited. After all, isn't 'necessity the mother of invention'?

"I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge -- myth is more potent than history -- dreams are more powerful than facts -- hope always triumphs over experience -- laughter is the cure for grief -- love is stronger than death."

~Robert Fulgham

SLOW DANCE

This poem was written by a terminally ill young girl in a New York Hospital .



SLOW DANCE

Have you ever watched kids

On a merry-go-round?

Or listened to the rain

Slapping on the ground?

Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight?

Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?

You better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.

Time is short.

The music won't last.

Do you run through each day

On the fly?

When you ask How are you?

Do you hear the reply?

When the day is done

Do you lie in your bed

With the next hundred chores

Running through your head?

You'd better slow down

Don't dance so fast.

Time is short.

The music won't last

Ever told your child,

We'll do it tomorrow?

And in your haste,

Not see his

sorrow?

Ever lost touch,

Let a good friendship die

Cause you never had time

To call and say,"Hi"

You'd better slow down.

Don't dance so fast.

Time is short.

The music won't last.

When you run so fast to get somewhere

You miss half the fun of getting there.

When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift....
Thrown away.

Life is not a race.
Do take it slower
Hear the music

Before the song is over.

------------ --------


This young girl has 6 months left to live, and as her dying wish, she wanted to send a letter telling everyone to live their life to the fullest, since she never will.

She'll never make it to prom, graduate from high school, or get married and have a family of her own.

MAJORING IN MINOR THINGS

Singing in the rain

There is a guy here in Edmonton who dances joyously on the corner of heavy traffic on 178 Street, to the beat of his iPod. I admit he is a bit of a nut, as he wildly dances and sings, as though he was a star on stage for all to applaud. He was even on the news once. People love him because of his carefree and upbeat attitude, a reminder to all our sour driving faces to lighten up.

There he was the other day, singing in the rain, happy as can be, oblivious to the wars raging around the planet, or in homes across the city. I tried taking a picture, but when I rolled down the window, he suddenly stopped and stared directly at me. I ruined his fun, so I couldn't do it!
(Check out http://blog.360.yahoo.com/blog-4DB7pd8zd6ls2BZWxlb1T_Wp9s_yd3M-?cq=1&p=1493 for a video!!!)

"A man is what he thinks all day long."
~Emerson

Rule Number Six

I've been alot lighter in attitude since being back from India. The kids and I call it 'Rule Number Six'. There is a story of an executive who sat in his office. People would storm in, yell and freak out and he would calmly remind them of rule number 6. They would instantly calm down and leave the office. A curious witness asked what rule number 6 was. It translated to: 'Don't take yourself so G'***m seriously!' And what are the other rules he asked? There aren't any the boss replied!

I used this once with my daughter's teacher. She asked my daughter and her friend to write an apology letter for looking at another girl 'funny' and making her upset. I wrote on the back of the note I was supposed to sign; Rule Number 6. I think the teacher was horrified at first, but later had my daughter announce it to the class. A good lesson for all. I remember to ask myself, "Am I majoring in minor things?"


“Life is change. Growth is optional. Choose wisely.”


For any of you who read my orange meditation, it reminds me of another analogy; that we are all like oranges. When we are 'squeezed' by life's pressures, what is inside comes out. "If I have truly cultivated serenity, kindness and self control, only those wonderful qualities will appear. If negative qualities come out, I still have some work to do on my journey to personal mastery." (Robin Sharma)

Events are learning experiences, with no right nor wrong. Many times we need to 'win', with someone being right or wrong. Funny enough, Damian and I had this debate... I admit there may be good and evil in this world, however, I look at what is learned from a sour event, rather than who is right. I am finding that it becomes a growth experience on life's journey, rather than a hindrance to peace. Another Robin Sharma gem: It's not the snake bite that kills, its the poisonous venom that circulates afterwards in the blood stream that is fatal.

“It's not what we eat but what we digest that makes us strong; not what we gain but what we save that makes us rich; not what we read but what we remember that makes us learned; and not what we profess but what we practice that gives us integrity.”
~Francis Bacon, Sr.

CREDIT CARD SWIPE

(Archived from my journal July 19-07)

The Ayurvedic massage...

Since I am missing physical touch and my hamstrings and hips moan from yoga and air travel, I decide to hit the Indian massage parlour. By luck, an appointment is available- 500 rupees for 1.5 hours = $15 CDN? Sold!

Its a business house a few blocks from Anu's Bamboo Hut restaurant. Open and breezy with flowing curtains on the arched doorways. The doors are carved wood and the floors are white marble, like everywhere in India. I ask to use the loo and do the squat and hover method with my pants rolled over my knees. My pashmina and purse are strung around my neck as there is no hook nor counter and the floor is wet with who knows what! I am in bare feet. Yuck!

They call for my massage. "Lady to lady, or man to man." The male receptionist says. In the room, two young Indian girls who look 16 politely ask me to disrobe. They stand a foot away from me, staring as I hesitantly undress. "Everything?" I ask. "Yes Madam." As I get down to nothingness, one lady wraps a cheesecloth loincloth G-string around my waist and crotch. So Tarzan! They stare at my white skin and bare breasts with wide eyes, unashamed of staring. They whisper to each other in their language throughout the session. They sit me on a stool and begin the head massage. The other girl stands in front of me watching. They are tiny, maybe four foot ten. I sit in my loincloth which doesn't cover much and wonder what they think of the Canadian girl with the Asian tattoo and the lasered bikini line. I sit proudly, unconcerned by their judgments, amused, as I know I will never see them again.

I am asked to get on the wooden lacquered antique carved table. I am kneeling on all fours, in my loincloth, trying to maneuver with my butt on display, as I crawl on my hands and knees. "No Madam- on back," they direct. I flip over and they drizzle me with hot oil, like a Christmas turkey being basted. They begin their work in tandem fashion, with a 'mirror image' massage.



With light fingertip pressure, they massage my knees and I giggle as it tickles, and squirm with laughter. The bast part is when they swirled their fingers in a rough motion in clockwise circles around my belly button. Then up the arms and cracking my fingers. I love the foot massage, but remember them on the dirty bathroom floor and having it spread over my body!

They flip me over and put dirty sponges under my pressure points, against the hardness of the table. My hipbones and ankles still dig into the wood. The oil smells of coffee, coconut and mint, almost as though someone was baking. I ask the ingredients and they just say, "Medicated oil."

The one girl's fingers keep finding their way up between my legs in uncomfortable folds. I call it the 'credit card swipe' because they are running their hands up and down my body, head to toe, rapidly. I try to release myself from the moment and not make it anything more, dwelling on her wandering fingers. I think how gross it is how they rubbed my feet, dirty from the bathroom and the outdoors, and then my body and face. Asian music plays in the background, as I flip over again, trying to manage the oily, soggy G-string now dangling uselessly between my legs.

Next, is the sit up steam box. The room now smells of cooking vegetables, perhaps squash or another muddy garden aroma. I sit on a metal stool, on a dirty dishtowel, in my strip of saturated muslin. The door shuts guillotine style with a hole around my neck. Another grayed and oily tea towel is wrapped around my neck to hold in the steam. I don't even entertain the idea of whether they have been washed between multiple clients. This is India I smile to myself.

Ten minutes of hot steam wafts around my body. I try to chat with the girls. "Your English is pretty good...where did you learn? School?" I inquire, impressed.

"Yes Madam." They have soft voices and flirtatious brown eyes. They glance up daintily, batting their lashes. It is their demeanor, nothing more. I ask how old they are, they look so young. They say twenty-one. I talk about Canada; the snow, the clean air, the low population. I ask if they are married. No, they say. They talk about the importance of dowry, in gold. I ask about nose piercings, which all the women have in India (piercings are done at the hospital). "If you like it , you do it. If you don't like, you don't do." I ask about bindis. "You do if you like?" I ask and they giggle.

Time is up and I am dripping with sweat. I step out and get toweled off like a queen but with dirty towels. My hair is wrapped in an oily bun from the Indian head massage. One girl tried to take it out, but I say no. I don't want oil all over my clothes. She adds more oil and a brown powder to my part. (This is traditional here for ladies to put a coloured powder down their part.)

I am dressed and done and pay. Am I missing some 500 rupees? Not worth the fuss. I chat with the Ayurvedic Doctor and they give me murky warm tea to cleanse my system further. I drink and he wants to give me another. I'm feeling groggy, have I been drugged? I decline the 2nd as I start to get suspicious (OK paranoid!)

The Doctor talks to me about treatment packages to support the yoga. I don't feel it necessary. I leave and expect to collapse on the street, delirious from the sedative I delusionally suspect they put in my tea.

I get home safe and secure without passing out. I shower the oil from my body and hair and wonder what is next on my adventure list? I think body waxing. (See August 6 'KAIZEN' blog of mine) It has grown a week and needs to be ripped from its follicles. I feel prettier now that I have been molested by two 21 year old Indian chicks. I'm nice and clean with my hair in a braid like an Indian woman. I keep reminding myself: "I'm in India!!!"

A few weeks later, Rachel and I run into the Ayurvedic Doctor on the street. He asks why I have not been back for more rub downs.

"Did you not receive satisfaction?" He queries in his staccato Indian accent.

I look at him like he grew two heads. "Satisfaction???" What kind of satisfaction are we talking about? Was there more to the story? What did I miss? I am not that desperate!

Rachel still laughs at the ambiguity, repeating in perfect Indian accent..."Did you not receive satisfaction?"

For more ayurvedic info:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ayurveda

OM SWEET OM

I'm trying to find my India in Canada. I still wear my bindi around and its pretty cute for Indian women to do a double take and smile a secret smile when they see a white girl in Edmonton donning the Indian tradition. I hope its not sacrilege or an insult, but I find it a good keepsake or souvenir from my wonderful trip. ***(See Bindi definition below)

Its also a reminder about not eating meat anymore, for some strange reason, the desire has left me. When I understand it in the terms of not causing suffering, it has more meaning. Anyone who has seen "Fast Food Nation" showing cows slaughtered at the meat packing plant, know what I mean. The worst was when Damian and I were in Cuba last winter. We witnessed 2 pigs being tortured, as they were hauled off on the back of bicycles, dehydrated and screaming like human babies, going to be roasted for a party.

Since being home, I have noticed a few other changes. Gratitude is very apparent in my mind. I cherish being with Damian once again, as well as stopping and hugging my kids as often as I can.

“God gave you a gift of 86,400 seconds today. Have you used one to say "thank you?"
~William Arthur Ward

Stopping to 'bless' my food and giving thanks before I eat is also important to me. Savouring the art of eating; tastes, smells, textures, and temperature. It reminds me of a dear yogi friend who captivated me with a simple meditation technique:

Holding an orange, feel it's texture, shape and skin. Feel the weight of the orange in your hand, as you stop and think about where the orange has been. The country, town or orchard it is conceived in, sprouting on a tree in the sunshine. Growing larger everyday amongst the wind, rain and leaves, ripening on the branch. Think about the person who picked the orange and packed it on a truck to travel the thousands of miles to get to you in that moment. Now in your hands, focus your intent as you peel the orange. Juice runs down your fingers, as you section the orange. Tasting the orange, it bursts in your mouth with sweet citrus tang. Savouring each chew on your tongue, aware of swallowing the flesh.

And so on! You can do it with anything, but the idea is to be thankful and enjoy!

...and thats what I am doing at home. Chelsie, my good friend and mother of 3 boys, said how envious she was of me having Lexi as a daughter. She said she longs for a daughter who wants to sit and have tea with her. I never realized how someone else who 'appears to have it all', longs for something that I take for granted. Sometimes it takes the absence of that beloved thing to make the heart grow fonder...

We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures. ~Thornton Wilder

***"Why Bindi? Bindi is derived from the Sanskrit word "Bindu" or a drop, it is supposed to signify the mystic third eye of a person and therefore, when properly marked, becomes the central point of the base of the creation itself. It is a symbol of auspiciousness, good fortune and festivity.

The very positioning of the bindi is significant. The area between the eyebrows is the seat of latent wisdom. This area is known as the "Agna" (6th chakra) meaning "command". It is said to control various levels of concentration attained through meditation. The central point of this area is the "Bindu" wherein all experience is gathered in total concentration. Tantric tradition has it that during meditation, the "kundalini" - the latent energy that lies at the base of the spine is awakened and rises to the point of sahasrara (7th chakra) situated in the head or brain. The central point, the bindu, becomes therefore a possible outlet for this potent energy. It is believed that the red kumkum lies between the eyebrows to retain energy in the human body.

Myths and Significance - The color red
The colour red is significant. Red represents Shakti (strength). Red, it is believed, symbolizes love. Some scholars have seen the red colour as a symbolism for blood. We are told that in ancient times, in Aryan society, a groom used to apply his blood, on his bride's forehead as recognition of wedlock.

It denotes the woman's married status in most of the North Indian communities but in South India it is a prerogative of all girls to wear a bindi.

The bindi, today is a fashion statement. Bindi, on the beloved's forehead is supposed to mesmerise her lover. The bindi still attracts a lot of attention, as it is the first thing that catches our eye. This little dot has always received a place of importance in Indian customs. The bindi carries with it a wealth of meaning and is an on-going link with a very ancient tradition and past." (Shaadi.com)

INVOLUTION

The inner quest for growth and evolution.

On my first morning in Mysore, the cook serves me chai tea and Yashoda, my house mom and I sit and chat about activities in town. Ayurvedic clinics, Chamundi hill and Mysore temple.

Yashoda also comes to my room every night to chat. She talks to me in the mornings and when I arrive home. I think she likes to see what is going on in the room I'm renting, snooping in a loving way. She will even peek into my shopping bags to see what I have purchased. One night she asks if I had a good day and if I have made any friends. I say "No I am not here to make friends" and smile. She scolds me in her sweet insistence and says it takes time but it is important to make friends.

My intention was to journey alone. To get away from the personal and business demands and chaos with people at home. I wanted an inward journey to find that relationship within myself that has disintegrated throughout the years; dissolved into the lives of others through a sort of 'loving others osmosis'. To force myself to endure coming face to face with any fears or other character flaws that are so easily acquired in Western life.

I set new intentions on meeting a new friend...a kindred yoga sister spirit. Thankfully, the universe spilled over and I did discover a few of those wonderful like minded hearts and spirits that I was able to connect with.

One of these comrades profoundly commented on how easily we reach for the phone, reach for the TV, or reach for friends and family when life is boring or a struggle. In India, one has to reach inside themselves. To that deeper part that is so easily forgotten or abandoned, in favour of the easy things that feel good. Sometimes whats inside is not a pretty sight, and we avoid at all costs from briefly glancing into that mirror of our souls. Other distractions include alcohol, eating, socializing, exercise...there are many ways to evade reality!

Many times, I just sat back and observed myself in 'the situation'. (Very interesting if you have ever done this, if not try it!) I was at the local coffee stand, or what I call the Mysore Starbucks, tongue-in-cheek. In reality, it is a fly-infested hole in the wall with a patio out front, where I would sit and have my morning masala chai tea, with foul smelling mud, litter and dogs at my feet. Groups of Indian richshaw drivers and local men folk, loudly chatter and visit. I drink in the sights and the scalding sourish milk concoction, from a small shot glass. Sometimes I take 2 to-go and return the tiny glasses later in the day.

One morning a large group of Western yogis sat and animately converse on the patio. The Indian boy set my 2 chais on a table beside the group. I went with the moment, sat by myself and observed. I was fascinated, as I consciously viewed my emotions as they floated through my body. Not being part of the group felt odd, but good in a way. I was awakened to the awareness of all that was going on around me and in me. I thought- How would I react if they invited me over? How would I feel if they didn't? Normally, I would walk over and join in, being the socializer I am known to be. But it was all about being in the moment without being caught up in it. Sitting back, I calmly contemplated and recognized those needs and fears that link us as humans. I highly recommend it sometime!

Other times, I observed the conversations around me. The empty prattle, I was very familiar with as I myself have felt the need to talk just to fill the void air. Overhearing meaningless conversations, I begins to wonder, Why, as I take in whole discussions about useless nothingness.

In Kerela, Rachel and I had a meditative quiet moment on the beach. We faced the sea, closed our eyes with hands in prayer position, reflecting on the moment and being grateful. We are both standing there in complete stillness for about 15 minutes, when a 'snap' stirs my attention. I look beside me and an Indian man is putting away his camera and walking away. I think, hey I've just been 'karma-lized'! Since I had taken so many pictures of the locals, one snapped a picture of the two praying white girls on the beach.

Friends in Mysore comment on how I am so inquisitive, always asking questions and taking notes. Deep questions like, what would you do if you had six months to live? Or, what would you do if you won a million dollars? I find it fascinating as you really tap into what a person is really about. What lights their fire- passions, interests and treasures. "I get it!" One friend comments. She figures out since I am a writer and in media and TV that I am used to digging and prying and many people are not comfortable with that. Another says I am inquisitive and expect things from people. Hmmm...I have found though that some are dying to be heard and have a story to tell. And I get my pen out...


"The teacher points the way, but we must do our own traveling."
~Buddha

MAHENDI

(Archived from my journal August 9,07)

Puttie is giving me a 'Mahendi' /henna tattoo on my feet. When she picks me up on her scooter at my house, she looks 14. I find out later she is 23. Everyone here looks so young!

We arrive at her house and she offers for her brother to go get me some take out food. Declining, I sit on her bed like a teenage friend and put my feet on her henna stool. On a laptop, a Bollywood movie soundtrack plays as Puttie sings along happily in a confidence not normally seen in the West. As I look around I ask why all the windows have bars in India. She is perplexed and asks "Do they not have bars in Canada? Just plain glass?" Apparantly it is for security...I laugh and inquire if it is to keep the snakes out. She said yes! She has seen them as big as my ankle!


My house in India...bars everywhere

I ask her about life and boys and I am surprised about how open she is as she goes into detail about falling in love. What a drama! Puttie explains how she met a boy of another caste in college and when her parents found out, they made her quit school and forbid her to see the boy again. She says her brother also is having an 'affair', meaning a girlfriend from another caste. The parents know and are trying to force him to break up but he refuses. Puttie supports him: "I help all lovers who love and don't believe in castes. I loved a man for 4 years but my parents didn't allow. We may have promised not to meet but he is still in my mind."

Puttie's parents are still looking for a husband. They have tried to force her already and she flat out refused, saying that she will live at home forever and never marry. If she moves out alone, she can only afford an ashram or hostel and that would embarrass her parents as they are responsible and if anyone sees her there it is bad. I ask if others run away and marry and she says, yes, but that is no respect for parents...she'll be happy alone. Her mother knows what they have done is wrong, but the Dad is strict about the caste.

Typically, the boy comes to meet the selected bride, and if he likes and all the parents like, they marry, despite what the girl thinks. She has no choice- its the parents choice, but sometimes the man is given the choice by the parents. Some men ask for a dowry. Her cousin's husband didn't ask for a dowry...she says he is a good man.

"I don't think I'll love again- I missed one and my heart is full of him. I have alot of sweet memories. Now, my parents think I'm happy and have forgotten him, but I'm not.

I ask her if she thinks about Western ways of love and she says yes, but it too may still fail. There are few divorces in Southern India she assures me. Puttie asks how we marry in Canada and I say whomever we want. She asks, "No problem with parents?" I laugh and say no, they really don't care, but maybe they should. After all don't your parents know you best and what is best for you? I wonder how my life would be different if it was an arranged marriage. No sex before marriage in India and Puttie is shocked when I ask. She looks at me in horror and asks if they do in Canada?

Her mother brings me a hot tea and I wonder if she is listening to our candid conversation. With working from 5:30 am to 2 pm, tutoring students in the evenings, plus henna tattoos, Puttie's schedule is too full for men. When speaking of her students, she says not all kids can go to school here. The school may be free but the parents can't afford the other fees and uniforms associated with going to school. This explains all the children I see selling flowers on the street, working in stores and begging.


Puttie at work

She scrolls on the thin tube of henna paste and explains that if the design gets really dark it means your husband will love you lots and he is a good man.

"Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care.
But for another give it's ease
And builds a heaven in hell's despair."
~William Blake

Three hours later, her brother walks us to my house. I am barefoot waiting for the henna to dry. Puttie is scared to walk at night, maybe its the snakes, or maybe the boys. I think about the snakes too, but more about my barefeet on Indian streets.

Everything beautiful has to be worked for...

On the flight from India to Dubai, I chat with an Indian man. He talks about his wife and their arranged marriage. He says it took him 7 months to fall in love with her.

LANDING IN INDIA

(Archived from my journal July 15-07)

The clouds break as my plane prepares to land in India. The earth is rusty red just like my dream! Random patches and gridded squares of sand and rock are penetrated by random mountains. I see a heart shaped field amid a forest of palm trees and what looks like a granite quarry. I must admit I am feeling much better now about my decision. Throughout the trip I was having anxiety about what I had been thinking and what was I doing.

The madness erupts when I get off the plane. People pushing and shoved up against the baggage carousel as I try to get my luggage. It is 6:30 pm India time (7 am Edmonton time) and I am exhausted. I come out of the airport and see Indians crammed up against bar rails, many with signs and names. A man comes up and asks to take my bags and I say no repeatedly, as he insists. Another asks if I need a taxi and is shooed away by another. I see my name on a card and feel like a celebrity! Relief. I nod and the small brown man looks as though he won the lottery. As I ask him who sent him, our language barrier is choppy and I see it is difficult for him to understand. We are both frustrated.

He takes my suitcase and I attempt to have him write his name, address of where we are going and license number down for me as security. He does not understand. I call over the airport policeman, dressed in beige and carrying a baton, and he asks if everything is OK. I request for him to take the driver's information down for my protection, as the driver panics and calls Murthy, my travel agent who sent him. We finally translate that it is for my safety I am doing this, not to get him in trouble. The policeman must have seen this before, as he tries to make small talk, asking me about Canada and how I like Bangalore. I finally hop in the car and we are off on the 4 hour drive to Mysore.



First thoughts:

I love it! India is an assault on the senses. It's polluted and loud; busy with traffic and people. Litter and motorized rickshaws are everywhere, set against beautiful architecture in decaying opulence. I realize at this moment that I care more about decorating my passport than houses. Cows and dogs wander the streets, horns incessantly honk in the chaos, weaving in and out like a well-habited system. Right hand drive mini cars, drive on the right side, beside the scooters and crammed buses that share the road with truck loads of people. Colourfully carved ashrams, fruit stands and women in flowing saris embellish the streets. A blur of teal, mint green, fuschia and purple goes by, against Christmas lights and Indian music.

Night falls and the drowsiness overtakes me as I fall asleep in the back of the car. I keep bolting up randomly with the sound of car horns, then fall back down heavily, burdened by 3 days travel. we arrive at my house and I meet my house mother and her mother. The place is beautiful with a heavy, carved wooden door and floors in white marble tile. She hands me a large, old fashioned key and then tells me to 'take rest'.

INDIA CALLING

The following paper was written in June 07 for a writing course I was taking at the University of Alberta. The other students chided me for being in 'crisis', lovingly criticizing me for being an uncaring mother...



THE HOMELESS INTERIOR DESIGNER

REHABITAT




The word ‘alone’, broken down is ‘all in one’, meaning there is no more division. In my dreams, I’ve flown over India, solitary in an airplane, in awe of the sprawling land below. I see mountain ranges in amber, and the sunset sands of a nation I long to visit. Villages and buildings so removed from the urban landscape of the Canadian prairies. I’ve walked beside a river in these dreams, quite possibly the Ganges, along a path, speaking with locals of a different culture and experience. People float by in yoga ‘asanas’, in beautiful poses. As ridiculous as dreams may be, they are a hybrid or an illusion of what we experience in everyday life. For never even being to the sub-continental part of the world, I see it vividly in my mind’s eye. India is calling and the voice, perhaps it is my own inner one, is becoming stronger everyday.

In my land and reality, I live in a booming oil economy, with Alberta’s construction industry bursting at the seams with soaring real estate prices and population increases. As a local interior design consultant I have cashed in on the explosion by providing the homeowner services of beautifying residences with all of the lavish luxuries that a surging income brings to the average Edmontonian. As a very social person, I have always been surrounded by people; friends, clients, my children or various partners in life. The desire to be isolated in this experience is a conundrum.

With four children of my own, running in all directions with society’s expectations of music lessons and sports activities, my passion for yoga has brought me to a new self-awareness and a minimalist lifestyle. Realizing a false sense of living, the fake nails were the first to go. I was in downward dog, and was staring down at these ridiculous plastic fingernails one day and it occurred to me how absurd life had become. Everything was so phony and the fake nails were the first sign. Now, I’m proud now of what have been called my ‘lesbian’ finger nails or that of a hard working woman. It’s real. People comment all the time about how I need to get my nails done for TV or work…I just laugh! Now, my vision is to look at how ninety percent of the rest of the world lives; extreme poverty and pain, while we ponder for a week about what colour of granite counter tops to put in our kitchen.

My dream takes shape as I plan to give away belongings, sell the family home and send the kids to live with Dad for a few weeks, as the first steps to realizing this aspiration. Traveling to India to practice yoga and research homes is just a glimpse into how most of the world lives in a third world country. I long to peer inside the lives, the ghettos, the orphanages, the granite factories and all of the other unseen realities we have turned a blind eye to in climbing the ladder to the illusion of success. Going undercover, I visualize child labour camps where Persian rugs are handmade in child sweat shops and then adorn the floors of the affluent.

With Oprah as my biggest muse, I have been enlightened with the ambition of one day being a guest on her show, revealing my adventures as the homeless interior designer. There have been many times when I’ve stopped what I was doing, staring glued to the television with tears streaming down my face, as I listen to the atrocities brought into human suffering. Female circumcisions, women being stoned to death for adultery and child prostitution, are just the tip of the iceberg. I picture myself being a vigilante and saving all of the poor souls afflicted by the world’s woes. I imagine environmental issues in other nations will also be brought to light, and I can share my experiences with those around me.

During the exploration into other cultural lifestyles, I anticipate being homesick surviving the trials and tribulations of culture shock, revealed through journaling, tears and confessions during this process of self-discovery. Traveling through many towns and villages, discovering the splendor of historical places like Jaipur, the ‘Pink City’, Bombay and the tropical beaches of the Arabian Sea, my journal and camera capture the beauty of ancient architecture and artifacts. Through the ultimate sacrifice of family and a financially secure lifestyle, I anticipate discovering the true meaning of life through my travels, taking myself and my readers on a trip of a lifetime.

The first step begins. My house is officially for sale and the process begins. It’s interesting how easy it is to let go of the attachments. Clothes and toys are donated with joy, as I feel I am blessing others with the ‘stuff’ that no longer serves me. I think about the money I have made on this house and think I could easily live comfortably for six years or so. What about when I return? Will it be foolish to squander the investment and start from scratch again? The promise of riches and reward remind me with the proceeds of a book, to sustain me, as I let go once again of any fear of lack.

Tonight, I return from a trip in the mountains with my life partner and soul mate. Although we are officially broken up, we are still madly in love and the best of friends. Our relationship has never been better. Perhaps this was the catalyst after almost four years of ups and downs and heartache, to finally let go and find that relationship deep within myself.

As I arrive home, I realize that there is no place like home. It is so nice to have a place to come home to, with all of the familiar belongings to greet me, and two cats that bring life to an otherwise quiet space. One cat, Scout, my baby whom I watched being born, loves me with incredible affection. I feel sad in knowing that I will have to find homes for both of these two little souls. Paris, my other kitty has no desire for human contact. My daughter quips that she treats our house like a hotel. Only coming home to eat and sleep. Then there is my old faithful black lab Justus, who has been through it all in the last eight years, and thinks he is a triplet to my twin boys. He was a puppy when they were just ten months old and they loved to love him with all of the roughness that little boys are known for. The kids are at their Dad’s tonight, a relief in knowing there will be less stress in the morning rush of Mondays. Still, my home is just another thing or belonging that needs to be maintained, paid for and cleaned. After staying in a hotel, luxury life, with other people who serve, clean and cook for you, it is easy to get accustomed to. Now in my own home, I contemplate what it will be like to be homeless, as I nestle into the soft down depths of my king sized bed.

Pet update: Scout ran away from the sitter's and Paris' new owner had to put her down due to illness. She now resides on the great scratching post in the sky. Justus, the lab runs free on a farm and is welcome to come home whenever we decide:)

KEEP SHINING

“Solid like a mountain,
Soft like a cloud.
I sit and await the unfolding.”

~ Bai Yuen ~


Getting back into the groove of work and life has been a difficult transition. I decided to just run away from the looming work load of the fall design rush ahead of me. I have been avoiding returning phone calls and establishing the business mindset once again. I am really thinking now I want to be a yoga teacher...allowing to escape back into the seductive lifestyle of India with the shala being the focal point of the day. I fantasize about living a modest life in India with my hippie kids and boyfriend enjoying the leisurely, simple lifestyle alongside me.

Damian and I took the kids to Canmore in the mountains for the weekend for a vacation from my summer vacation. The smell of autumn is already in the air, while the leaves have become golden in some areas. School and winter will be around the corner sooner than I hope.

As easy as it has been to slip back into the familiarity of Canada, India has definitely had an impact. A group of people started fighting with a waitress in a restaurant we were dining in. Their negative energies started to escalate, feeding from each other, as the waitress and the two other ladies irrationally defended their egos. Damian and I just laughed and appreciated our awareness of the silliness of why people get so worked up over being right, and about winning. Also, about our needs 'needing' to be catered to.

I also noticed that wherever I get away to, we are still creatures of habit. I go on a holiday and still seek out the familiarity of 'creature comforts'. We want to travel to foreign places, while still habituating and patronizing mindsets. My sweet tooth shamelessly sucked back Starbucks Tazo Chais, to my chagrin, scoping out other chain stores on the scenic drive. The bottom line at the end of the day, is we all want the same things...our pattern and penchants. When we don't get them in the manner or timing we demand, we fight absurdly with other humans sharing the earth to get our way.

Oxymoronic...Another thing I noticed is our method of 'credit card living'. Enjoy now, pay later, because we deserve it. Or at least that is what the advertisers have told and sold us. Delayed gratification seems no longer a virtue. Even though enjoying now comes with high interest rates, we are too busy enraptured by the abundance of choice. Its about loving what you have not having what you love:)

I awoke in the middle of the night with this poem of sorts...


Talk less, eat less,

sleep less, drive less,

shop less, plan less,

want less, use less.



Read more, hug more,

love more, cry more,

see more, give more,

walk more, think more,

share more, breath more.

Be more.





"On the planet today over 1 billion people will go to bed hungry tonight. There are children without food. People are being locked up and being tortured in prisons. Others, imprisoned in hospital rooms struggling to survive...

"Wisdom without execution is worthless." ~Robin Sharma

I hope to teach my children the significance of everything that I've experienced over the last few weeks.

TYPE 'A' TO TYPE 'Z'

My blog has been a great daily writing discipline. It was one of my goals to set aside time everyday to write, and India was an excellent awakening influence. Friends and family are also asking me if I will continue as it has become a bit of a soap opera! And so the sprouting sage saga continues...

I went to yoga last night for the first time back. Despite jet lag, travel tightness and a hamstring 'on strike', I thought I should continue with my India inspired daily practice. Before, I was soooo impatient and would push myself into poses. This time, I gently just went into the poses with grace and ease, not minding how far and deep I could go. I actually felt more flexible in certain poses and blissful at the end. Finally a savasana that I fell deeply into. Not like the 2 minute savasana at the shala...

I copied this beautiful excerpt from Tara Bray, Shambhala Sun, July 2003:

"I've finished my two-hour ashtanga practice, and my hair is soaked in sweat. Every inch of my body is exhausted. I lie down on my mat, open my palms for the final position, let the bandhas go. My body feels completely alive, yet growing cool, the muscles gone lax with something more powerful than sleep.There are no words for the space I enter. It is not death, but I am still. It is not a dream, but I am lying down, my eyes closed. There is a certain vividness.

Savasana. Which translates into "corpse pose." Dead still. This is the final posture. Practice your yoga, then lie flat on the floor and die to what you've done, feet falling open, hands turned palms up. The body should grow long and still and should become weightless. The bones should sink to the ground as the torn heart opens so the sky dwellers may look down and see this world as it is, bloody and rhythmic. The breath should move without effort. The skin should open its tiny, hidden mouths and let the air stream through in small, silent gasps.

Savasana is a position we know well, stretched out and lying on our backs as if sleeping, but it is said to be one of the most difficult of the poses. A perfect savasana needs perfect discipline. It is not only very uncomfortable to the brain, but it makes the body feel like a piece of dry dead wood.

Consider some of the guidelines for entering savasana:
Imagine a straight line running from your chin to your sternum to your pubic bone. Allow your bottom teeth to drop away from the top ones. When each toe grows limp, quiet your sacrum. Make each nostril wide. Let your head be the last thing to plunge like a stone. Remember, a stone is mute. The path downward can feel like a perfect dream. It is not real until everything shuts down into nothingness. The ground is a friend to the spine. Be there.

And maybe savasana is like coming to the edge, the border between one world and another so you can remember what it means to be alive. The truth is, there's just so much I'll never know. For now, I am tired. My breath is slowing down, and I am thankful to have been allowed my practice one more day. Another day: it is enough."
Beautiful!

I finally relented and picked up a book in India that kept drawing me in. "Jesus lived in India". I thought it may be sacrilege. Then Rachel told me she was reading it, and I saw it as a sign. She explained the theory of Jesus being a yogi, which he studied during his youth, accounting for the lost years in the Bible. One of the explanations for His ability to heal others, surviving the crucifixion and walking on water. At the London airport, the flight agent saw my book and laughed. In his British accent he quipped, "Jesus lived in India? I don't think sooo!"

There are so many mind blowing acts that advanced yogis are capable of doing. Levitating while in a trance and other miracles that defy the laws of nature. Like Jesus' lightness to walk on water. "The ancient yogis worshiped lightness. There are stories of them becoming so light that when they ran across the earth, their bodies lifted off the ground. Some had to attach iron chains to their ankles to keep them earthbound. Even in Westernized asana classes, we are instructed to be light-to float from pose to pose." (Another quote I found interesting from the above article)

Well I did get get lighter doing yoga 6 times a week. I was cuddling Damian and he remarked, "I see you sharpened your hip bones while in India!"

Great site: http://www.shivarea.com
See an amazing video of yoga moves...

PICTURE ALBUM

Rachel and I at Calicut beach



Indian squatting toilets




White parrot at Windflower Spa



Shoba and I in Bangalore



Sahida at temple



Bapuji orphans




Gurujii and I at his 92nd birthday party



Sharath and I



Elise, Rachel and I




"Mahendi" foot henna

FAREWELL INDIA

Overlooking the Arabian Sea.

"Do not wait for life. Do not long for it. Be aware, always and at every moment, that the miracle is in the here and now." ~ Marcel Proust

My solo trip of self growth and renewal was over. For my last day in India, I bought an orange flower garland for my hair. I then had to try the 'Pon' that Rachel told me about. At a street stand, a large green leaf is smeared with some mystery sauces and many secret things from steel canisters are sprinkled over top. It was an act of faith to eat the cultural delicacy, as the man rolled it in his left hand. It is supposed to aid in digestion. The good news is that I am healthy and fine!

Most of the foods I ate in India:

Nuts, seeds, figs, masala chai tea, dried banana chips (yummy with black pepper), candied ginger, dried peas, lots of cashew/ sesame seed bars with jaggery (brown sugar), ghee (clarified butter) is on everything, spinach, lentils, and fruit salad (papaya/ pomegranate/ pomello/ figs/ banana/ pineapple).

The fruit is too expensive for many of the locals to buy. A lady was trying to sell me a lice comb on the street one day, and instead, I gave her an apple. Folks share food and drinks here, even the yogis. It really surprised me! At Mysore palace, a young Indian lady came up and asked for my water bottle. Strange, yes, but I gave it to her in a curious manner. She guzzled it, shared it with her friend, and then gave the rest back to me! Shocked, I said "No, keep it!"

Thinking about coming home to my real world was scary. The first 2 weeks I was there, I had to keep saying to myself, "I'm in India!", convincing myself that I was really there. Its hard to believe how centered I became in such chaos. Orderly chaos, as the babies don't cry, children are very well behaved, all are very polite (like calling women 'Madam'), no one fights/ peaceful, and even the traffic was a fluid flow despite the rules seeming blurry and the perceived chaos from this Westerner. A family of four is frequently seen on one motorbike, sometimes kids even asleep...and no helmets!

My only regrets this trip were: Not riding and experiencing the famous train and not getting to Kovolam. Next time!

Big shocker at the airport: Emirates Airlines charged me 1400 rupees per kilogram of extra baggage weight. You are allowed 20 kg, and I had 47! So I ended up having to pay over $600 Canadian (23,562 rps)to keep it on the flight. For those yogis in India...mail your stuff home!

When I went through security, there was a separate line for women. We were frisked in a booth with a curtain by a female. Must be because of the many layers of sari fabric. I saw some interesting face masks worn by the Muslim women. I didn't want to stare, but they looked like leather chastity belts for the face. Bizarre! My watched stopped as I was leaving India at 5:21pm. Adds up to 8, I thought it must be good luck!

In Dubai, I already feel the culture shock. First it was like a hot sauna, secondly, I saw women again in makeup, stilettos,and Gucci bags. Dubai is a consumerist society, based around shopping. Most women wear all black garb to the floor and veils over their heads. The mean wear white dresses to the ground with dishtowels on their heads. Africans in their traditional garb were also seen. At the airport, I buy Damian apple tobacco and an Arab 'Sheesha'(he laughs and says its a bong).

Each time the plane takes off, I am reminded of how a space shuttle uses more fuel during its 3 minute take off than it requires during the remainder orbit around the earth. There is a great pull exerted by the world that takes great energy to overcome. I will keep this in my head as a reminder of the energy I need to stay centered and focused.

"You don't find diamonds in storehouses, sandal trees in rows, lions in flocks and holy men in herds." ~Kabir

"Here I am in London town.." White people everywhere and everyone seems so much taller. People speak English and it feels so civilized. I had my make up done at the Giorgio Armani counter.

I am safe and sound and back in Canada now. Damian picked me up from the airport with flowers and it is sooooo amazing to see him again! He says I look emaciated. I thought my clothes got baggy from being washed on the rocks. We came home, straight to bed and slept. We got up at 11 pm, went for dinner and slept again until noon, despite the kids arriving home at 10 am and the phone ringing off the hook. CHAOS!!!!!

I downed 2 Starbucks chai lattes already today and went to get groceries...everything my heart desired at a real store! Funny, I ended up buying all of my Indian favourites! I notice I am in sloooooow motion. Being in the moment and listening to people talk seems so strange here. It is so fast and the topics and words seem so unnecessary.

I just breath.

Did you hear about the Zen master who ordered a hot dog?

He said he'll have One with everything.

LOST IN TRANSLATION

"The words of the tongue should have 3 gatekeepers." ~Arabian Proverb

1- Is it true?
2- Is it kind?
3- Is it necessary?

Many times we are seduced into idle chatter. It is refreshing when two kindred spirits can connect and brainstorm in creative co-conspiracy, as Rachel and I did this weekend.

Getting out of Mysore into the countryside was a good refresher before my trip home. The mountains were breathtaking. Jungle covered in brilliant greens of bamboo, banana and rubber trees. We passed water falls that ran under the road which snaked precariously around the height of the mountains. The edge dropped off thousands of feet below with monkeys perched on the guard rail. We saw tea plantations, rice patties and lush jungle. It was humid and reminded me of Hawaii.
We stopped at one spot for a picture and a monkey approached. "Don't worry Madam, I fight the monkey!" Says Lokash our driver- totally serious.

In Kerelah state, there is even a different language. The streets were cleaner and it appeared to have a more affluent and Arab influence, less honking and cows wandering the streets (maybe because they serve meat and seafood here) We stopped at a store and they were pushing the meat on us, thinking because we were white! They didn't understand why we kept saying 'no'.

We arrived in Calicut and I asked Lokash where he recommends for a hotel. He says, "we'll drive to the beach and go from there." Its exactly what I've been doing the last few months! Listening to life and letting it lead- surrendering to whatever is unfolding: Destiny. Trusting that life will carry me exactly where I'm meant to be.

We randomly arrived at the Beach Hotel, highly recommended by the Lonely Planet. It overlooked the Arabian Sea and our room was gorgeous in plantation style. Wide plank espresso hardwood floors and furniture, shutters and our own private balcony terrace. The palm trees swayed as we overlooked the manicured lawn and tropical bushes. We fell asleep to the sound of waves crashing.

We were the only tourists around as we went for a midnight walk along the tiled boardwalk. Rats a foot long came running out. We nearly even stepped on a snake! Lokash, our big brother protector had been following us in the dark. "Game over, times up!" He scolded us and sent us back to our room, after all it was his duty he said. We laugh at his broken English.

In the morning, some of the locals were excercising on the beach. A first sight in India! Fitness is a sign of wealth, as it means you have enough time because you don't have to work and second, because you have enough food to eat.

Kumar the hotel manager had promised us a complimentary ayervedic massage service to arrive in the morning. As we were sipping our masala chai teas, instead, he arrived and said he would get started on my head massage, and did I have any oil? I was shocked and said, "No, no no!" He said, "Okay, I'll use water then!" I was about to burst out laughing and offered for Rachel to go first. She was equally shocked and horrified at this creepy old man. We cancelled our alleged massages and sent him away. Unspoken rules and unproprietal social codes between cultures can sometimes get blurred but this was unbelievably unprofessional. Much more than lost in translation...we knew he was a pervert!

Thats when we went for our ocean dunk.- The Arabian Sea salt cleanse! I was adrenalized as the waves were rough and I don't like to swim, period!

"Courage is not the absence of fear, but the willingness to walk through your fear in pursuit of a goal that is important to you" ~Anon.

My face broke out in red bumps after. Significant since one can get acne, as the body pushes out toxins during purification and other types of cleanses.

We chatted with some old fishermen on the pier who were throwing crabs and fish on the dock. It was sad to see them flopping around gasping for breath. I could no longer look at their suffering. They were dying a tortured death! But then would the fisherman suffer if I took a stand and threw them back in? Would it be considered kind and necessary? Now I don't want to even eat seafood anymore...

"Suffering comes to deepen us- comes to help us- causes us to know who we truly are- cracks us open- forces us to let go- surrender what we've clung to." (Excerpts from the many books I'm reading right now...) And another favourite:

"Death is only one of the many ways to lose your life." ~Alvah Simon