The days seem to be getting away from me faster than I can write about them! In a big way this is welcomed - I am so absorbed minute to minute that when I have free time it's filled with meditating or reading or walking around the hostel and VIIS grounds. There's a lot of beauty here, beauty that's neighbored by the noise of dust and dirt accumulated with trash and stray animals. Heart-wrenching yet profound is the resilience of beings. And curious is the space and time that India occupies - a growing leader in energy and commerce, and a rapidly shifting and highly imperfect organization of social structures. I hope to slowly chip away at my understanding of these things in the context of peace and sustainability work.
As I write this I'm sitting in the SVYM library surrounded by (on this desk alone) books titled "Flowers and Gardens" and "The Hindu Speaks on Scientific Facts," "Atlas of Human Anatomy" and "Library Administration and Management," as well as a well loved copy of Virginia Woolf's "Mrs. Dalloway. This building is a great place to spend time in the pursuit of knowledge related to questions of global peace explored through the organization of India's democratic resurgence. Plus getting to practice following passions during our free time is really exciting. SVYM gave us each library cards, there's a small town a short walk down the road, downtown Mysore is a 15 minute ride away, the Gita and Ramayana beckon with spiritual insights, and there is exciting new music to practice. I think the range of things is giving us all a chance to observe, follow and receive from our interests.
Which is not say this isn't also challenging. Yesterday we woke up around 4:45 to catch the bus to the celebration of the International Day of Yoga - a giant "lesson" was being hosted at the Mysore Race Course with 65,000 people registered in an attempt to break the world record of most people attending a yoga lesson. So on a bus we went, sleepily shouting "Yoga Yoga Jai Jai Yoga!" and munching on bananas and Parlee-G. In total a 4 hour endeavor, we arrived to a field full of stages, bodies and yoga mats. Finding our spot in the middle of swarms of schoolchildren, stages of flag waving leaders to mark the herds, and prickly grass, we waited another hour or so, somewhat patiently, for the lesson to begin. There were glimmers of beauty - to imagine how many people were there, how many minds and bodies and breaths all coming together for the same purpose. But beautiful in the kind of fantastical but not incredibly helpful way imagining how cool and futuristic and glamorous it is that you're flying above an ocean in a small, turbulent-ridden airplane. But life is sort of like those Russian dolls, comfort nestled inside of discomfort inside of comfort and so on. So we sat quietly until a voice came on the suspended, 50 ft tall speaker speaking mostly in Kannada and after we heard "Guinness World Record" about 3 times there were giggles at the absurdity of it all. Still, I felt uncomfortable mocking other people in a space that is not my home. Probably more to unpack there, on healthy and universal skepticism.. We finally got to moving, and mostly had to watch the people standing on the little stages to follow what was going on. After some pretty accessible asanas (physical postures), we were all guided into shivasana - sometimes translated at "corpse pose." Basically you lie on your back, close your eyes and relax. As I was visualizing my body limb by limb, I tried to also visualize my surroundings.
As the week has progressed, I've been realizing how fortunate and how safe I am on this trip. There are so many eyes looking out for my bodily safety at all times - eyes that know this city from birth, that know the people, the customs, the language, dress... I am supremely grateful, but also noticing a slightly marred sense of reality; I'm feeling in want of the sorts of information about my surroundings that I typically gather and consider with a greater sense of agency. Riding around each day in a car or bus with a known driver to a set location makes me realize how little I know about where I am. So as I was lying there, I was noticing a reluctance that my body had to relax. The fear sensation came to me as I was lying among 65,000 other bodies, all supposedly lying down with the same mindset. I was afraid, but unsure exactly of what. I was tense - ready for anything - but not so sure why. And I wonder what use so much fear has. I wonder what use tension has - the kind of tension that's like a wind up doll. I think about what it will be like to have children, to be wound up for them, ready to protect, to oversee. But for now, I have this body to take care of. And, with all of the blessings and warnings I've received from friends and family to keep safe on this trip, I am pretty much as safe as I'm going to be. So now this body needs to be relaxed. It needs to let the world seep in and breathe in unfamiliar air and let it mingle in the lungs like strangers coming for dinner. It needs to accept the dirt in the pores and oil in the hair and sleep in the eyes and just roll like putty with the punches.
And just as soon as that thought settled and I began to unwind, a fuzzy voice from the speakers said "slooooooooowlleeeeee slooooowwwwleeeeee beeegin to wayyyyyke uppppp....." Back to the tension of irrational claustrophobia. To snickering school children and confused adults. To mountains halo-ed by clouds and birds soaring as if nothing different was going on below them. To the shows we put on to just to prove the richness of an inner world that will go on regardless of the masks. To holding my purse close and smiling at strangers in spite of myself. To hugs when tears flow and jokes to cut silence. To the joys and horrors of living in the diversity of minds.
A bus ride back and hurried breakfast adjoined a challenging and exhausting lesson adjoined a surprisingly awaited lunch adjoined (for me) a two hour nap. The evening promptly held a concert of Rivai Sadashivam on Veena, Sudarshan on Mridangam, and Bhat on Kanjeera. It was at a temple where "the musicians aren't playing for you", Steve said, "they're playing for God". The stage in front of an intricate and colorful banner of Rama and Sita reminded us all of that so we settled in for 2 hours of group tala, percussion battles, wandering worshipers crossing the stage to pray, and questionably clean prasad that pushed on the moral conscience of many of us Americans.
Eyes full of colorful clothing and noses ripe with fragrant car rides, yet another peek into different worlds that renders the viewer contemplative and exhausted.
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| View from the roof of our hostel |
Which is not say this isn't also challenging. Yesterday we woke up around 4:45 to catch the bus to the celebration of the International Day of Yoga - a giant "lesson" was being hosted at the Mysore Race Course with 65,000 people registered in an attempt to break the world record of most people attending a yoga lesson. So on a bus we went, sleepily shouting "Yoga Yoga Jai Jai Yoga!" and munching on bananas and Parlee-G. In total a 4 hour endeavor, we arrived to a field full of stages, bodies and yoga mats. Finding our spot in the middle of swarms of schoolchildren, stages of flag waving leaders to mark the herds, and prickly grass, we waited another hour or so, somewhat patiently, for the lesson to begin. There were glimmers of beauty - to imagine how many people were there, how many minds and bodies and breaths all coming together for the same purpose. But beautiful in the kind of fantastical but not incredibly helpful way imagining how cool and futuristic and glamorous it is that you're flying above an ocean in a small, turbulent-ridden airplane. But life is sort of like those Russian dolls, comfort nestled inside of discomfort inside of comfort and so on. So we sat quietly until a voice came on the suspended, 50 ft tall speaker speaking mostly in Kannada and after we heard "Guinness World Record" about 3 times there were giggles at the absurdity of it all. Still, I felt uncomfortable mocking other people in a space that is not my home. Probably more to unpack there, on healthy and universal skepticism.. We finally got to moving, and mostly had to watch the people standing on the little stages to follow what was going on. After some pretty accessible asanas (physical postures), we were all guided into shivasana - sometimes translated at "corpse pose." Basically you lie on your back, close your eyes and relax. As I was visualizing my body limb by limb, I tried to also visualize my surroundings.
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| Better luck next year... |
And just as soon as that thought settled and I began to unwind, a fuzzy voice from the speakers said "slooooooooowlleeeeee slooooowwwwleeeeee beeegin to wayyyyyke uppppp....." Back to the tension of irrational claustrophobia. To snickering school children and confused adults. To mountains halo-ed by clouds and birds soaring as if nothing different was going on below them. To the shows we put on to just to prove the richness of an inner world that will go on regardless of the masks. To holding my purse close and smiling at strangers in spite of myself. To hugs when tears flow and jokes to cut silence. To the joys and horrors of living in the diversity of minds.
A bus ride back and hurried breakfast adjoined a challenging and exhausting lesson adjoined a surprisingly awaited lunch adjoined (for me) a two hour nap. The evening promptly held a concert of Rivai Sadashivam on Veena, Sudarshan on Mridangam, and Bhat on Kanjeera. It was at a temple where "the musicians aren't playing for you", Steve said, "they're playing for God". The stage in front of an intricate and colorful banner of Rama and Sita reminded us all of that so we settled in for 2 hours of group tala, percussion battles, wandering worshipers crossing the stage to pray, and questionably clean prasad that pushed on the moral conscience of many of us Americans.
Eyes full of colorful clothing and noses ripe with fragrant car rides, yet another peek into different worlds that renders the viewer contemplative and exhausted.
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