Heaven and hedonism in Incredible India

Colourful blessings for a safe passage

I take a daily walk into the forest that is starting earlier and earlier. I used to set out around four pm, returning as the sun begins to set. Then it was after lunch, then mid-morning.

Tomorrow I plan to get going immediately after breakfast. It’s that good. Walking in nature restores me on all levels. I always return feeling calmer, centred and uplifted.

There is a specialness to this landscape that seems to be healing and nourishing me and I relish every moment.

This walk takes about an hour. I timed myself  using the clock in the Himalaya Tea Shop in Dharamkot where the auto-rickshaw drivers drink chai while waiting for business. This is the start of the walk. Take the level path to the left of the water reservoir and keep going. 

The path begins broad and smooth and from time to time I have to step aside to allow tourist vehicles to pass, mostly mini-buses containing Indian families, who seem to prefer to be bussed about rather than walk.

Today I passed a pair of maroon robed monks who had stopped to enjoy the view and were sharing tea from a flask. A little further along an ageless brown skinned Gaddi shepherd in hand knitted sweater and woollen cap was skillfully herding his goats.

Furry forest guides

I received the blessing of a tortoiseshell butterfly dancing ahead of me in the warm, bright sunshine. Above, a stunning blue feathered bird with exquisite long tail feathers sang to his mate who responded from across the valley. 

You can’t get far on four wheels, paved concrete yields to lumpy stones and the path narrows and bends.  As you penetrate the forest you will notice basic dwellings where  Buddhist monks retreat intosilence  solitude to meditate for days, weeks and months at a time. Neatly printed signs request ‘Quiet Please’. 

An abundance of coloured prayer flags decorate the passes, impossibly strung between sturdy pines.  I was told that they carry blessings and good wishes for travellers, which is a beautiful thought.  Below on the forest floor, meticulously arranged stones and rocks form rudimentary stupa that have a peaceful quality. 

As I headed deeper into the forest, I passed a stone-cutter working with hand tools, Namaste was our mutual greeting. At the weekend, this patch is busy with noisy laughing school boys undetaking a supervised litterpick.

A little further along I was joined by a friendly pair of doggy guides who bounded ahead joyfully, disappearing finally up a steep bank to pursue an irresistible scent.

My special place in the mountains

Finally the view I had come for revealed itself: snowy peaks across a plunging valley and a scattering of rocks to sit on and absorb the panorama.

I bring myself here to meet the mountains, their presence so powerful speaks to me and fills me with something... beyond words.

I sit here a good while, tilting my face into the sunshine and sighing deeply as relaxation and bliss flow through me.

This is Dev Bhoomi, land of the Gods. Himachal Pradesh is Shiva and Parvati’s lovers’s spot, they meet here, they marry each other, they have sons, all in this area, explained Raju. Quick minded, energetic and charismatic, Raju manages the day to day running of Paul’s Guest House where I have taken a room.

I was showing him photographs taken on my walk and speaking of my rapture: I feel so peaceful and happy, I just have to take that walk every day to sit with the mountains.

Raju nodded and gave a broad smile, You feel something spiritual when you come, and your feelings come like WOW! I am happy now! 

Raju tells it as it is

He continued enthusiastically: People recognize special place. Some people stay for two months, three months, a lot of people come longterm, because they want peace, they want to think about himself, they want to be happy, they want to ponder his way.

Despite his obvious passion for Dharamkot, Raju was preparing to relocate in the coming days. He had been summoned south to spend the winter (November – March) tending bar in Goa. Party season was about to begin.

How do you like Goa? I asked.

Raju’s answer was blunt; In Goa you can’t hear your soul. The peoples who come Goa they want to enjoy, they don’t know what is real peace. They dance, they smoke, they drink beer, listen to noisiest music, girls in bikinis, girls in no bikinis. Goa is a totally crazy place.

Maybe such people should think about visiting Dharmashala, I suggest.

Raju laughed loudly, shaking his head firmly in disagreement: People from Goa cannot come here! Just you call them, ‘Come here, it’s a nice place, No drinking, no smoking, no music, nothing! Just sitting on a chair, watching the hills, come come!’ Just imagine!

I appreciated Raju’s honesty and sense of humour and that he was speaking without judgement. I know Goa well and admired his versatility at being able to move so easily between two such different worlds and told him so.

He was stoical about his circumstances: This is not my personal choice, I have to earn, I want to spend most of my time here, I love here, this is my place!

I could easily picture Raju serving drinks to pleasure seekers in sunny Goa as trance music thumped from dawn to dusk. Once again I was amazed by the diversity of experiences on offer in this magical country. Open and generous enough to accept and embrace the hippies and the Tibetan refugees and to allow these communities room to grow and flourish and integrate with traditional Indian culture.

Raju's final word, borrowing the official slogan of the Indian Ministry of Tourism: This is called Incredible India, we have everything here. 

Blessings

Jennifer

India awaits... And remembering my first ever visit

Bharat mata ki jai!

I'm flying to Delhi on Wednesday and travelling onwards to the Himalaya. I have had the good fortune to visit India on several occasions. It has only been a few short months since I returned from spending the  winter in Goa; the resonance of India is still alive within me.

This will be my first trip to the north. While I'm excited and nervous about venturing somewhere new; I know that it will be amazing.

I can't resist pausing to enjoy a moment of nostalgia and recall my first ever visit to India, back in 2002. On the surface it was quite unremarkable, yet  it was during this trip that the seeds of my spiritual awakening were sown.

When I returned to the UK, my life began to change rapidly and dramatically. And my love affair with India had clearly only just begun.

I had booked a two week holiday in Goa, flight only. It was Easter, the end of the tourist season. At that time I had no knowledge of yoga, hinduism or spirituality in any form. I was the archetypal material girl, with an adventurous spirit.

I had no specific expectations, just an open curiosity and wanting to have a pleasant time on the beaches. In my early thirties I was carefree, enjoying the adventure and tried out a selection of beaches: Anjuna, Vagator, Colva, Benaulim.

I remember that I paid far too much for a sarong, tasted a highly memorable prawn biryani and almost succumbed to a holiday romance with a guy from Milton Keynes who belonged to a wedding party.  I travelled as a stone skimming the ocean, kissing the surface of each place before moving on.

Happy days at Palolem Beach Resort

Then I reached Palolem, a beach village in the far south and everything changed. My taxi discharged me where the dirt road ended, in front of Palolem Beach Resort.

I loved playing the hippy, although I had ample funds and money was not a consideration in my choices. So I made a large canvas tent my a temporary domicile and stayed for six or seven days.


I was so very happy: the compound felt like home with a fairly decent restaurant and a super quaint beauty salon, really a hut. I remember getting my hair washed and dried, it took forever as there wasn't really enough power for the blow dryer, which kept stopping, then we would wait a few minutes and try again.

I was charmed and delighted. Palolem beach is utterly gorgeous with stunning natural scenery. Although I haven't returned, I  gather that it is currently popular with honeymooners and couples (ahh!) and that prices have increased and inevitably, development has taken place. I'm pretty sure too that it would still be magical.

I lucked out with two fantastic neighbours: Josh from Leeds and Aaron from Israel. I developed an instant crush on Josh: a northern accent always makes me go weak at the knees.

Josh was handsome with floppy dark hair that played around his eyes. He was tall. Most of all he was relaxed, confident and came to Palolem for THREE WHOLE WEEKS EVERY YEAR.

Palolem beach at sunset

This was mindblowing to me and extremely seductive: imagining hanging out in Paradise for THREE WHOLE WEEKS with nothing to do except relax!

I was living a very tightly contained existence of career, mortage and zero flexibility. My time was most definitely not my own. Josh was living the dream!

Aaron was thoughtful, sensitive and deeply passionate about ecology and conservation. He definitely had a tight budget; I remember him counting rupees in his palm and making tough decisions about what and where he could eat.

We hung out together as a three. Josh smoked dope, so he was going nowhere fast. Because of my sentiments towards him (unexpressed!) I was happy to hang out too, in plastic bucket chairs in front of my tent, making my way through Vanity Fair (the novel).

Then one day, a key event. The resort was being extended and labourers were constructing huge concrete slabs upon which the tents were erected. I watched, mesmerised as a slender, dark skinned local wearing only a lunghi transported sand to be mixed into cement. He was carrying the sand in a small woven basket on his head. This made no sense to me!

I called over to Josh, Hey look at that guy! He should get a wheelbarrow, it would be so much quicker. It was Aaron who answered me, You've missed the point totally. So he gets a wheelbarrow and works ten times faster. Then what?  I couldn't follow his line of reasoning and so, somewhat baffled returned my attention to the frivolous escapades of Becky Sharpe.

I taxied out of Palolem with great sadness, so much so that a powerful surge of emotion erupted from within. I had never felt anything quite like it and was terrified.  I was out of control! Crying and sobbing violently, my tears and grief could not be suppressed.  

I believe that this first visit to Goa catalyzed the great shift that was to follow: an emotional breakdown, the irrevocable dissolution of my seemingly perfect existence. Part of me had awakened and my life would never be the same again.

Thank you for reading.  I have enjoyed revisiting my past.  I am looking forward to blogging the next chapter in my Indian odyssey as time and technologies permit. I hope that you will keep me company as I travel.

Peaceful blessings

Jennifer

Road to nowhere...

I am renting a beautiful lilac bicycle for 30 rupees a day from Gupi, a young Indian girl who lives in the village. It thrills me that all money will go to her and she will be accumulating something of a small fortune during my stay here. Her brother undertook a number of technical checks and inflated the tyres with great vigour and dedication. Gupi set about cleaning fastidiously, evacuating the dust from every possible crevice with a small paintbrush. We agreed that I would pass by every Saturday to pay my fees and allow for servicing and maintenance.

I took a long ride out this morning intending to visit Mandrem, a small beach village a little way along the coast. I fantasised a peaceful village of well mannered yogis and spiritual seekers. Here, I would experience and express peace, serenity and holistic living, in contrast to chaotic and boisterous rough edged Arambol, where beer and spliff for breakfast is completely normal and tribes of tourist rock the beach from dawn ‘til dusk.

Liberated from ‘town’ I enjoyed my peaceful meanderings along quiet back roads. revelling in the psychedelic Goan colourscape of candy painted houses and bling bling temples. After a good while I realised that I was well out of range, I was lost. It was ok, I was rather enjoying the mild adventure of it all. Noticing an auto rickshaw resting in front of a grand double fronted home, I thanked the Universe for placing it there and headed eagerly inside to locate the driver.
‘ Hallo!’ I announced myself brightly, slipping off sandals and stepping into the hallway. A dog materialised from nowhere, snarling and gnashing with an aggression incompatible with its diminutive size and lapdog looks. I took a sharp bite to the ankle, Ouch! Snatching up my sandals I made for the gate. The owner duly appeared and organised my driver who obediently lashed ‘Miss India’ to his auto and thus we buzzed and bumped slowly along the road to Mandrem.

We doubled back almost the entire distance I had travelled. Pausing at the cliff top Mandrem beach lay below; rows of coconut huts fronting the shoreline. The driver suggested a return to Arambol to drop off the bicycle. I could then walk into Mandrem later. I surrendered. It was hot, I was hungry and as it was approaching midday my main concern was avoiding sunburn and sunstroke. A return to Arambol it was to be. A circular journey of this kind is a classic Indian experience. From a certain point of view is quite normal to have cycled 10km and be transported home in order to subsequently retake the journey on foot.

Arambol in its now familiarity was comforting and welcoming. I headed straight for the coconut stall I have been frequenting daily since my arrival. The vendor seemed impressed by the bicycle, he spun the pedals admiringly. Commenting that the chain was dry, he reached for a grubby can of oil and lubricated the chain with characteristic Indian attentiveness. It was a heart melt moment of spontaneous caring and that felt good! In that instant I committed myself to a long season stay in Arambol, for better or for worse; a leap of faith. Now I would need somewhere to live...

From Goa: Brahmani yoga centre

For the past 3 weeks I have been practising at the Brahmani Yoga Shala, here in Anjuna. Formerly known as the Purple Valley Yoga Centre, specializing in ashtanga vinyasa, now under the directorship of Julie Martin, the range of classes and activities has diversified to include restorative yoga, acro yoga, pranayama & meditation making this a good place to loosen the strings of your practice and try something new.

Sessions are suitable for all levels of experience and commitment, from daily drop-in classes to workshops and advanced teacher training. I have been working on my personal yoga with Liz Warrington, who is guest teacher here during March offering the Scaravelli approach.

In addition to the high quality teaching, what I find engaging and enjoyable about Brahmani is that it operates as a mini yoga hub, attracting an international set of yoga pilgrims from the South Indian yoga circuit (Mysore, Kerala, Tamil Nadu)and beyond. Hence a great place to connect with other yogis and share experiences.

Last week I met Jennifer, a young athletic New Yorker who much as one might imagine has students answering Blackberries and cell phones during class. I was moved by Elizabeth's story, from the US, she is currently living in Namibia and is planning to introduce yoga to the stressed executive ex-pat community there. Yesterday I breakfasted with James and Beccy, a formidable pair of travelling Tantrikas; researching the metaphysics of sacred sexuality as they move around the globe.

Brahmani is located within the grounds of Hotel Bougainvillea, also known as Granpa's Inn. This means that a whole selection of useful amenities are on hand. It is a great spot for post-yoga brunch and one can take a cooling dip in the outdoor pool for a small fee.

Visit the Brahmani website:www.brahmaniyoga.com

From Goa: Practising with Liz Warrington

I've been practising out in India for two weeks now and really enjoying being a student again! Letting go of the role of teacher is a real break and a reminder of what it is to be a student; absorbed in one's personal practice, receiving instruction, guidance and adjustment.
My teacher is Liz Warrington, an established teacher of the Scaravelli method with a strong reputation. Liz brings a warm, joyful approach to the work and has a lightness of body and spirit that is reassuring and inspirational. I love the lyrical, poetic commentary that Liz offers as she guides us through the sessions. Toda, she spoke of getting, "...the whole body to sing the same song." Wonderful.
We work in a slow, focussed way, with relatively few poses, tuning in deeply to the body and breath. My body is responding well to Liz's gentle suggestions and with the warm, steady heat of India I find myself opening, softening and feeling incredibly alive! Happily, Liz has been giving extended sessions at weekends so I am being thoroughly replenished and will have plenty to share with students upon my return.
Liz holds workshops in the UK and abroad. She seems keen to visit to Glastonbury and we have discussed the possibility of her coming to give workshops, watch this space!
You can visit Liz' website here www.lizwarringtonyoga.com

Mudra workshop with Emil Wendel in Goa

My first meeting with Emil, four years ago, was quite memorable - he lay a vibrant red hibiscus bloom beside my yoga mat. At that time, he was taking a regular pranayama and meditation class at what was then the Purple Valley Yoga Centre in Goa.

These days Emil mainly teaches workshops and contributes to Yoga teacher training courses. He concerns himself with the inner aspects of yoga: mantra, pranayama, meditation and philosophy.

I've just participated in a with Emil exploring mudra, symbolic hand gestures that can be employed to enhance and enrich one's yoga practice. Mudras are an ancient form with roots in Tibetan Buddhism, Tantrika and classical Indian dance.

Emil delivered the session with thoughtful insight, revealing the depth of his knowledge, accumulated during many years studying and teaching in India and Nepal.We explored the form and benefit of the mudras most commonly encountered in a contemporary yoga practice, adding in Emil's words, "a few drops of beauty". There seems to be a powerful connection between mudra and breath, which I will be exploring in my personal practice.

I look forward to sharing these insights with students upon my return. Emil also presented the group with a flowing sequence to assist one in life's creative process, essentially a moving meditation of the hands. This is an elegant and sacred practice which we preformed as a ritual and I am very pleased that Emil has given me permission to teach it.

Emil will be visiting England later in 2009, for more information on his work and schedule visit www.beyond-the-asana.com

Treatment review: Ayurvedic massage

Here in India, Ayurveda, the Science of Life, represents an unbroken tradition of knowledge and practical application, transmitted by teachers and gurus, often throughout several generations. To take an ayurvedic massage is to receive the benefit of ancient wisdom, so perfectly suited to the most modern of ailments: stress.

I took my massage at a walk-in centre on the main road in Arambol, a thriving yet laid back beach resort in North Goa. These days Goa is peppered with Ayurvedic Centres which have sprung up to serve the tourist economy, staffed largely by Keralans whose home state can quite legitimately be called 'the home of Ayurveda'.
I requested abhyanga sweda, a treatment I have happily recieved many times on previous trips. Essentially, this consists of a thorough oil massage followed by a steam.

Following tradition I was assigned a female therapist, a young, slender Keralan, Sandhya who would shortly be returning south to continue university studies. This was not a spa experience, I was led to a solid wooden couch in a bare room and invited to undress to my briefs. Seated on a plastic chair, I received a thorough head, neck and scalp massage with a heavy application of medicated oil. The same oil was used throughout the treatment, which is characterised by long, flowing repetitive strokes and lashings of oil. This treatment is designed to reduce excess vata, a symptom of overexertion and stress. I should mention that our western sensibilites and etiquette do not apply; the therapist will leave you uncovered throughout the treatment and massage the whole of the bust.

Post-massage I was lead into an adjacent room where the steam unit was being prepared. I can only describe it as something like a quilted jacket crossed with a tent! That is to say one sits inside a structure, often a wooden box where steam is introduced. One is sealed in up to the neck, the head is never steamed as it is undesirable to increase pitta to the head. I stayed here quite contentedly chatting to Sandhya for ten minutes or so until sweat was truly pouring.
I left feeling deeply relaxed and satisfied and will probably take one treatment a week while I am out here.

The treatment lasted about 90 minutes in total and cost Rs 600 (a little under nine pounds sterling).

The benefits of going on retreat

I’m going on retreat tomorrow, flying to India to take a personal yoga retreat in Goa. I’m really looking forward to it. To retreat is to withdraw from daily life, to rest, relax and restore on deeper levels, often in tranquil, natural surroundings. One will often meet like minded people, and the opportunity to share thoughts and experiences can be wonderfully enriching.

In the case of a yoga retreat, one is able to practice poses daily, or twice daily at a regular time and involve other aspects of yoga such as meditation and mantra. In this way we can live the yogic lifestyle, free from the distractions and obligations of our daily lives. It is a way to deepen our practice and actively assert our commitment to yoga.

I hope to use this time to experience the profound peace and renewal that comes from living close to nature. I am excited about connecting with other teachers and students. I am looking forward to reading and absorbing a few classic yoga texts in an unhurried manner and meditating at sunset.