Our words, what we give value to, shapes our perceptions

Everything is as it is meant to be.

It is our misperceptions, what we have given value to that brings us to think otherwise.

Perfect. As it is meant to be. Happening for me. Right, here. Right, now. In this very moment.

Perfect meaning there is no other way for it to be. Perfect. Enough.

I am perfect.

I am enough.

I am as I am meant to be.

This moment is perfect.

This moment is enough.

This moment is as it is meant to be.

All arises as it is meant to.  For me. For you. For us.

We give value to what we think is beautiful, terrible, heartbreaking based on our perceptions, based on our awareness state, based on our experience.

Take a day for example. 

A day is a day.

That is what it is, a day.

It is a day that is offered for us.

It is offered for us to be here.

Offered for us to be present.

Offered for us to interact.

Offered for us to learn.

Offered for us to grow.

Some perceive a day with clouds and snow falling from them as a beautiful day. Some perceive a dark day with a thunderstorm and a comfortable place to sit as a beautiful day. Some perceive a warm day, with a blue sky as a beautiful day.

What we each see as beautiful is from our experience, our perception, our awareness state. It is dependent on what we give value to.

We can look at moments in the same way.

A moment is a moment.

That is what it is a moment.

It is a moment that is offered for us.

It is offered for us to be here.

Offered for us to be present.

Offered for us to interact.

Offered for us to learn.

Offered for us to grow.

Some perceive a moment, embracing someone else as beautiful.  Someone else may see someone crying as a beautiful moment.  Someone else may see a child eating a meal on the side of a road as a beautiful moment.

We see things through our lens of perception, through our awareness state.

When something happens, say an interaction with someone, we have an experience. How we perceive this experience is determined by what we place value on, how we perceive the event is how we define it.  How we perceive this moment is reliant our awareness state.  We can see ourselves as a victim, seeing things happening to us, by someone else, experiencing things outside of our control. From this place, we may feel helpless. We may feel confused, angry, annoyed, justified. We can see ourselves as a learner, as curious, seeing things happening for us, seeing this experience as an opportunity. We may feel grateful, delighted, charmed, enlivened.

Every moment, every day, every experience is exactly as it is meant to be.

The only thing that is different is what we place the value on and what we place value on really begins to define our story, the lens from which we see.

I have always found value with the power of the word, the power that the words we choose to use, the words we choose to share, the words that come from our mouths from our minds and within our minds are powerful. They have the power to shift, shape, stipulate.

I do my best, choosing to be mindful of my words and my choice on to how to say, convey and deliver my words. For they have value and they begin to frame how we see things. Words have the power to reflect our perceptions, or view, or inner state.

I have looked in the mirror, feeling great and wonderful and most of the time, I see a wonderful being looking back at me and my thoughts are kind and compassionate.

I have looked in the mirror and have felt sad and sunken and angry and some of the time, that is what I see looking back at me. Violent words, words that hurt, words that are so harsh, I would not speak them to anyone else, often accompany the gaze.

Less often. 

I say less often, because I am noticing a change.  I have looked in the mirror and seen myself, distraught, confused, humbled and confident simultaneously… I have taken a picture of myself when I am caught in a snare as a reminder that I do not want to look that way again. In the picture there is pain, there is love, there is reverence. In that pain there is strength, in that pain there is humility. It is not one or another. It is all. It is whole. It is enough. It is as it is meant to be.

For life reflects your consciousness state, so when I am feeling uplifted and grateful then I see signs of beauty and connectedness all around me.

When I am are feeling alone or apart I often only see that.

I have been thinking, yeah, I have been thinking. I have been in my head, I have been in my head, telling myself, this is not my home, this is my sister’s home, and when I am with my folks I am in their home and I haven’t been in my own home for almost a year now- these are the stories that I find myself telling my self.

The other day I was cutting strawberries and I pulled some sugar out of the cabinet to put on top of the strawberries and my niece says to me, “that’s our sugar, it’s not your sugar. It’s our sugar, we use to make our pancakes.”

There it was being reflected right back at me.

I responded, “Yeah, it is sugar. It is sugar for us to use. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

Her perspective is an interesting one, I immediately went to a place of ownership, what is owned, who owns what, what is mine, what is yours.

Then, you know what I noticed?

I am sending out this energy, these messages of feeling apart, saying,  “I am in their home…”

Those words, “I am in THEIR home,” sets me apart, rather than saying, “I am with family.” “I am home.”

These are the things that are arising for me…

And I am grateful, so, so grateful for the opportunity to see. Grateful to observe what is being reflected back to me.

In love, light, gratitude, reverence and courage,

Sara

Today is the Day!

Today is the day.

Today, Tuesday April 21, 2020, is the day that I am sharing my words in a larger capacity.  (as I type, thunder booms!)

You may ask, “Why today?”

In short, I have been hearing the voice within, encouraging me to share my writing, my voice, my experiences. I used to not listen to this voice, I used to override this inner voice, pretending it was not there, ignoring it or most often, not even being slow and quiet enough to hear it in the first place. Now that I have a practice of turning inward and accessing silence, I am responding to the call for me to share.

Today.

For the time is NOW.

When you get the call. You respond to the call.

No hesitation. No questions asked.

April is the 4th month.  This Tuesday is the 21st day. (As I typed, lightening appeared in the sky and my beloved niece opened her eyes from a nap next to me and said, “ooooohh, cool.”) The year is 2020.

4+2+1= 7 which is a number that resonates with me, it has for some time

2+0+2+0=4

7+4=11 which is a double number, it is also a master number.

Tuesday is also Hanuman’s day. I have deep reverence and respect for Hanuman.

Hanuman took a leap.

Today, I am taking a leap.

In regards to putting myself out there like this, I shared a story at the Cabin Fever Story Slam, hosting by Teton County Library, in Jackson WY in November 2018. I was not planning to share a story when I arrived.  A few days earlier I had attended a Storyteller’s workshop that I Library hosted, I chose to attend the story slam to get an idea of what it was like.

Sitting with my friend in the audience, I listened. One story I heard reminded me of an experience in my life and I thought, I have a story to share. It was intermission and I walked up to the stage and placed my name in a bucket. Folks continued to share stories and then my name was pulled. My name was pulled! I had a story to tell, I had thought about it briefly, I hadn’t really anticipated my name being pulled, hadn’t thought through to the opportunity to share my story.  And there the words were, hanging in the air over the audience. My name called.

Just like that, I was on the stage. I stood with my back to everyone and did some serious self talk, drowning out the self doubt saying internally, “You’ve got this!” I turned around, took a deep breath and began.  My legs were shaking, my voice was shaking and then it all stopped. I was sharing. I got in to the flow. You know, that space when you are not even thinking about it and it is happening and you are doing it?  It all happens simultaneously, its only after that you grasp what happened. The words flowed out to everyone.  Being there. Sharing my story. In the flow. It was beautiful.

On the stage at the Pink Garter Theatre for Teton County Library’s Cabin Fever Story Slam. November 2017

That is the thing with the unknown, the anticipation is much greater. It is always much greater. We know then known. In knowing the known, we feel safe. In knowing the known, we feel comfortable. Then we are called to step out, to step in to the unknown.  We can think. We can hesitate. We can ignore. Or we can step.

I choose to take the step.

Step.

Step.

Step.

In and with love and light,

Sara

When you get caught in a snare, the trap of the mind.

I wrote this as a part of my 200 hour Yoga Teacher Training in December 2019 and feel called to share it here, now.

A sneer smile arose from the sides of my mouth as I heard the contemplative question, “As a witness, how do you see your growth through these practices?” The smirk came because this question arose during a snare, a trap, that I have found myself in since yesterday- ebbing and flowing, rising and falling, dissipating and gaining strength- caught in the web of WHY ME tinged with the knowledge and slight taste of experience of it is happening for me.

The space itself here at Sattva lends towards opportunities for growth, not only in the guided practices,  also in the daily, what some may belittle to the mundane or simple tasks or activities.

The act of lining up for food three times a day, sometimes five if you include for snacks and tea, have afforded me many, countless opportunities to witness myself, my awareness of others. Folks entering while I am leaving, so I step aside, another passing me because her roommate “saved a place for her in the line,” or walking to the Sangha Café listening to folks utter in disbelief, “ I can’t believe they ran out of food (this last one is shared in a different post).  Throughout all of these, I’ve noticed how aware I am of others, and when I am not grounded, how quickly judgment arrives. Thoughts rush, Did they not see me?, Why are they coming from a place of scarcity?, Why does this person feel the need to hover over me while I am pouring honey on my curd?

And, often times more than not, I catch myself thinking, asking myself, What opportunity is arising within?, What is this moment stirring up?, What is emerging from the muck deep within -the familiar, yet dark and dank muck that is caked on my insides, impeding me at times from shining, from radiating? In these moments of awareness, the muck becomes dry and begins to flake off, crumble into a dust that I wash away with kriya practice. The twisting, the purging, the transcending, the rising beyond and above. In the moment, at times I sit in utter awe- this is arising to be seen, highlighted and deleted as Anandji says.

I had, since the summit, been guiding my myself through an encasing in golden shimmery light, offering a rose outside this golden egg that encases me, for others who want to offer me something, for them to place it there- inside the rose.  That way, I can intentionally choose what I want to receive. At first, it felt good, providing me distance, space from the suffering and hurt I saw in others. One day, during my mediation, I heard No longer, the encasing is no longer. So I stopped and now, day three of no “protective bubble” I am raw. I am receiving other hurt, pain, anger and I am noticing how I am projecting my interpretations on others based on their body language or facial expressions.

So here I sit, in and with this awareness. “Why,” I ask, “Why judge?” The judgment is the polar difference of myself on my mat or in a journey. There I quickly access Sat Chit Ananda and the deep work I do or don’t, in the stillness of my mediation. On my “mat” I have experienced joy, bliss, glee, delight, love, lots and lots of love.  I am accepting of myself on my mat, I am understanding of the process, I am kind to myself when I can not hold a plank for a minute, even after I tell myself staying power is deserving power. I tell myself you are growing stronger, look how much you can do now- this will come. And in other instances I tell myself- my willpower- don’t give up, you have endured lifetimes of pain, you can handle one minute of this. This is your mind tell you to stop, this is your mind telling you this is hard. I hear Anandji say, “stop listening to every thought in your mind,” and I am.

At first- and it is a journey, one that I have been on for some time-I acknowledged the thought that arises. I still do, now I notice it and I let it go. I don’t add value to it, or give it power.

I took this picture of myself as a visual reminder that I do not want to look this way again. The hardness in my face, I am so distraught. The snare is real, again, only in my mind. You can not see the snares surrounding me, it is only evidenced my my face, by my body language, outward signs of what is occurring internally.

When the snares come out, the traps, the familiar ways that want to grab a hold of my chest and open the floodgates of self violent thoughts…

Why did you ask a question?

Why were you not paying attention?

Don’t speak up

Don’t be seen

It is better to suffer than to be shunned or ignored

And those are thoughts, these are thoughts, they hold no value. They HOLD no value outside my head. They do not exist outside my head. They do not resonate with me. They are known. They are familiar. It is this that I release and it is this I send away, this known, so I can open up to the unknown, what I have forgotten.

Knowing the stillness and bliss that I experience during mediations and guided journeys with Anandji, I ask, myself, why hold on to the familiar, these familiar patterns and ways that I have thought when there is the whole inner landscape, world waiting to be discovered and enjoyed by me.

So in the snare, the trap, words, hooks, that I get caught in and from the experience I know there is more I am reminded to remember- re member, (to be a part of a group again). I choose to release that which I know, to enter the space of the unknown.

***The snare, the trap that I was being held in, that I allowed myself to be held in was so strong, the next day I went in to silence. What I learned there was profound… there is a separate post written there for it is meant to be shared on its own.

With love, compassion and in light,

Sara

Always Opportunities to Learn

Sattva, the space itself, provides so many opportunities to see, to grow, to learn.  This opportunity came for me the same day I was presented with the opportunity to see my desire for ownership- when I claimed my chair and my mat.

This opportunity came during lunch.

I went to the Sangha café to meet up with Lisa for lunch (yes, it is the same Lisa from the chair story, she is a special one, a beloved of mine). She was in a conversation and as I stepped closer to her, her gaze remained fixed to the person she was talking to so I decided to leave and go to Annapura Café where I usually eat (folks in 200 hrs ate at Annapura, folks in 300 hrs ate in Sangha).

I took off my shoes, dropped my bag and stepped toward the door to the café where I learned that there was no food.  Yes, I thought, I was supposed to eat at Sangha Café today.

I began walking slowly toward Sangha Café with people, feet and anxious conversation right behind me. I heard someone say, “people must be hungry, I hope they didn’t run out of food.” “How could they not make enough?” While listening to this I am thinking, “why are they coming from a place of scarcity, do they really think there is not going to be food for us to eat?”

Arriving at Sangha Café, I take off my shoes, dropped my bag and entered.  I lifted the metal thali plate and stepped forward in the line. Food is served like a buffet, with access at this Café to the serving dishes on both sides.  Folks were standing, which indicated that they were waiting for more food to come out from the kitchen and be placed in the serving dish. Someone came out of the kitchen saying in a joking way, “No one wants to eat the boiled vegetables?” There were raw veggies, boiled veggies and then there was a cauliflower, eggplant and potato dish. There was very little of the cauliflower dish.  The person in front of me, who happened to be one of the folks who was walking behind me on the way to the café scooped some of the cauliflower dish on his plate while calling to the kitchen, “are you bringing more?” While waiting, he began to eat what he placed on his plate.  There was a girl behind me who was asking me if I was moving, to which I responded yes. In my mind I thought, what is the rush?

I scooped the raw veggies and placed them on my plate and saw a scoop of the cauliflower dish in the pan. I knew the man in front of me had some, the woman on the other side of the buffet had some, and we knew the kitchen was bringing more out. Knowing this, I thought, I can eat this. So, I turned to the woman behind me and asked, “Are you okay if I take this, they are bringing more out.”  She agreed and said yes. As I began taking the last scoop, the man turned around and said to me “you’re going to take that?”

 I laughed out loud, the kind of laugh that is not totally kind, the kind of laugh where you are thinking, are you kidding me. I got pissed. “Yes,” I said. I continued, this time explaining and feeling the need to justify, “I’m not just taking it without being mindful of who is around me. I asked if she was okay with me taking it,” and the woman behind me nodded her head in agreement, verifying that yes, I had asked and yes, she was okay.

What is it with scarcity?

Why not accept the food that was there, that was provided for you? Was that not enough?

The whole moment made me pause, it provided me an opportunity to reflect. I felt that being snapped at, making an assumption, one that said I was not aware of my surroundings.  Or maybe it had nothing to do with him and it had everything to do with me. Things are interesting like that, how we view things are based on our  perceptions. How the events unfolded to me, are how I portrayed the events here.  Maybe others perceived them in a different way. 

I went to sit by the river to enjoy lunch.  As I was about to sit down, I saw three monkeys stand and begin to approach me. I knew from experience that if I stayed, they would approach me and I wanted to actually eat my lunch. I rose, walked back up the stairs and chose to sit on a bench near a Hanuman murti.

I wrote this in my journal:

The cauliflower dish, was, oh my!  The first bite! Yes, please. The flavor rich and sweet. Melted on my tongue.

Sattva has a way of presenting moments to me, so I can see. As I ate, a caterpillar crawled on my toe.  Of course it did, another reminder to grow, to evolve and to transcend!

Grateful for this one.

In love and light,

Sara

P.S. Two days after this experience, a butterfly found its way in to my life…

"I am the path, the path is me."

“You are the path, the path is you.” What does this phrase mean to you? 


This question was one that I was asked to ponder after my 200 hour training. Here, I share the answer that I wrote in response.

In a literal sense, it means that- I am the path and the path is me. There is no distinction, there is no separation- we are one- that path and I, for I am the path and the path is me. Everything that arises is the path, every step is the path, everything in my field is my path, every challenge is my path, every celebration is my path. This meaning continues to evolve for me, as each step I take is creating the path.

One way I ‘think’ of it is, as I take each step towards my true North (the North Star is a part of the Big Dipper or in India it is called Saptarishi, it has deep relevance and significance to me, it is my dharma, what I am evolving towards), so each step I take towards my true North reveals new possibilities.  As every step, leap, tip toe, crawl, fall, hop, skip or twirl I take shifts my relation to my true North. My path can carry me to the left and then to the right, it can bring me forward, it can provide an opportunity to circle back and try something again, it can be a straight line, it can have bends, it can have curves, it can have switchbacks, it can be up, it can be down. It will vary and it will always remain the same simultaneously, for I am my path and the path is me.

Me and my shadow, on a trek in the Himalayas.

While at Sattva, walking to sit riverside with my thali plate full of breakfast I was talking to myself, I am the path, the path is me, these rocks are a part of my path, I lifted boulders much heavier and bigger than these rocks in my journey, I am invincible. Literally, as I said those words, I am invincible- I placed my foot on an unsteady rock and fell. The thali plate went flying, I landed among the rocks and all I could do was break out in laughter, loud, joyous, cackling laughter, for I will encounter moments when I am not balanced and the moments will ask me to accept them with ease and grace, laughter and acceptance, as they are part of the path and I am the path, the path is me.

During my morning mediation some time after, I had a deeper connection to “I am the path, the path is me.” While walking the previous day, a friend shared that we were going to deviate from the path, I shared, I did not know we were planning on going a specific way and since the path is us and we are the path we are on it. He shared, if we are the path and the path is us then we are actually not going anywhere. So profound I thought in the moment. I sat with this new perspective and the following morning in mediation this arose, this idea bubbled up and what followed had me giggling and smiling with delight- If I am the path, and the path is me, then I am not ever going anywhere, and if I am not ever going anywhere then I AM ALWAYS HERE! Smiling and giggling and laughing with delight now as I type, I am so charmed, so, so charmed!

In pure joy, delight, love and light,

Sara

Rituals and Routines... shifting to “I get to,” rather than “I have to.”

In India I had rituals. In India I had time.

Here, I am noticing that while I am doing the same, in some instances, it feels more like a routine.  I still have time.

The idea of ritual and routine continues to arise. So what is it?

What is the difference between a ritual and a routine? 

Which do I want to experience and embody?

A routine feels more like a “have to,” something that has to get done, or something that gets done because it is done daily or multiple times during the day. A routine feels like something that is done, like going through the motions, something that you do so often, it does not require you to be totally present.

A ritual is more like an act of devotion, a sense of gratefulness for what I am doing, a sense of presence, something that “I get to” experience.

In the sense that a routine can feel like a “have to,”  a routine can feel like it is not a choice. Maybe the word that suits me better is option. Meaning, an option is more of a possibility, a course of action. I have options. I choose from options and from this place of options, many possibilities can arise.  If I choose to not act, that too is a choice.

Om, found on a wall at Chaurasi Kutia, the Ashram of Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. Also knows as the Beatles Ashram, where they studied Transcendental Meditation with him.

A few recent experiences bubble up that I would like to share with you. 

For those of you who know me, you know that I often make sounds when I eat. Pausing from chewing to say, “mmmmmm,” or “yes, please,” “ yum,” or “oh wow.” I found myself pleasantly surprised to catch myself doing just that while eating my breakfast the other day.  The sound would emerge from within often when I was in India, since being here in the US, I have noticed a few delicious bites of food that delighted my mouth- my dad’s sticky bun, a chunk of cheddar cheese, sautéed spinach, a chocolate chip, a piece of Italian bread soaked in red wine vinegar with a piece of iceberg lettuce.  This breakfast was one that I had cooked, prepared and sang my song to before I took a bite and wow, what a bite it was! So delicious, I said out loud, “mmmmmm.”

Last week, a beloved friend Jeanette, shared a story with me about a time she was in India, eating a meal with someone who after every bite, said “mmmm.”  She offered me this, “what if the “mmmmmm” is like the “ommmmm?” When people taste food and it is good they do a “mmmmmm,” but really maybe they are “oming.” Maybe it is the same, natural sound, that which connects us.” Those words sat with me and I sent her a WhatsApp message to her later in the day to share my experience over breakfast.  This is her response:

Gratitude. Yes. I see.  It’s almost as if I was taking for granted what I was eating, not acknowledging the gift that I could taste or the gratitude that I had food.  I was eating to eat, not eating to be in joy, to derive pleasure from the act of eating. From that perspective, I see how eating, not only my blessing, the song I sing to my food, the actual act of eating can move from a routine to a ritual. 

I embrace gratitude and I also notice this idea of routine creeping into other aspects in my life.  At the end of a long day, when I want to crawl in to bed without doing my evening practice, or in the morning when I want to stay in bed and not do my morning practice.  Now that I am here, in this space of reflecting and typing many other opportunities are arising when I have asked or felt, “do I have to?” I have been really good in the past of coming up with excuses as to why I did not do something or get something done.

Moving forward, I am opting to slow down, to move slowly, slowly, in my daily interactions, cherishing the things I get to do rather than loathing what I have to do.

Opting to be in joy, to live in and from a place of joy. I invite you to so the same. HUGE HUGS!

In light and with love,

Sara

Ownership and Mine

This is a piece that I wrote in my journal. It was written in India at Sattva, during my 200 Hour Teacher Training. This is the first time I am sharing an excerpt from my journal.  For ease to read, what is in italics is written in my journal.  What is written in bold, is what is in italics in my journal. What is not in italics is written to give more context and back-story to help make meaning.

I choose to share this story with you, here, now because words of sharing, connections and relationships, this idea of being a part of, being interconnected, being one, being part of a collective has been arising in my morning practice.

To provide context of a time frame for this entry, I completed my morning journey with Anandji. After the journey, we ate breakfast and then gathered back in the hall for our asana breakdown. This entry was written during lunch, after the breakfast and the asana breakdown.

Book 5.

Day 5. November 11.29 –Friday, for context….not ‘cause I know or care.

Today’s lesson- Non Attachment.

I was sitting in the swinging chair- noticing more red is appearing in my bud (I watched the process of a rose bush produce a bud to its bloom). I went to get more chai and paratha with cheese and tomato. By the time I went to return to my chair-see the my-Lisa was walking towards it and sat in it.

My chair.

Possession.

It is not my chair. It is a chair on the lawn that we all can use. I felt, assumed it was my chair-

1.     because I was sitting in it earlier

2.     my stuff was next to the chair, indicating this is taken, I have stuff here

Then I got to Bramanda Hall, folks were already there. I had set up “my” mat.

After breakfast we had our asana breakdown training. The mat that I am referring to as ‘my’ mat is a mat that I chose from Shakti Hall, a yoga hall at Sattva, to use during this teacher training. It is a mat that I saw during the Sattva Summit in the beginning of November. I brought a mat with me to India and I had used that mat during the Summit.  The mat I brought with me was a given to me from a great friend Sara, who gifted me a green mat with a tree on it after I cut my previous yoga mat to use as a liner in the freezer cooler for a trip on the Middle Fork of the Salmon. This mat, the mat that I was calling “mine,” claiming ownership to, was a nice mat. It was a purple and tan mat that had texture to it, it was thick, it’s thickness combined with the texture/grip is what allured me towards it. I learned later, someone had left behind the mat from the previous teacher training and many sought to use it. I often saw it rolled up and hidden away and out of sight from the other mats that were there for us to use.

Two days ago, I gave up/shared the green mat that I had been using from Sara to the Sattva Collection and began to use, take ownership of this new mat, of the mat that has texture. So, I left that my mat in the hall with my cushion (black and green) that I chose morning, day 1 and I set them up. I placed my scarf and my mat bag on top of them to indicate- this is taken- this is mine.

“My” mat. I mean, look at the texture! This picture was not taken at the time of this story. It was taken when I still had the mat, so the picture was taken during my first 6 days of training. This picture was taken to document the 34 and 43 blocks that I chose RANDOMLY from the pile! 34, 3+4= 7 and 43, 4+3=7. 7, a numeral that is powerful for me.

When I entered the hall, it wasn’t in the spot I left it. Neither was my cushion, scarf or bag.

“What happened to my mat?,” I asked to my neighbor who had also set up her mat before they cleared them up. She said, “they did it to mine too.” So I went to the back of the room and while I was walking I noticed that someone else was using- had chosen my mat. UGH, so I selected a different mat and cushion and practiced without my stuff.

After class, I did locate my scarf and bag. 

Interested in the ownership- the my.

Inside Brahmanda Hall.

Reflecting on this now, here, months later, I laugh thinking of the idea of ownership and mine. The idea that I own things, that things are mine is really funny to me.  As for the past 10 months I have been living in the homes of others and for the past five months I have been living out of bag. Simultaneously, this is real, this really happened and it was a big deal to me in the moment. I was pissed that Lisa did not see my bag that I placed there to say, “I am here, this is spot is being used, this is taken.” Thoughts ran through my mind, “how does she not see that my stuff is there, didn’t she notice my bag.”  And with “My mat’… The reference to “they,” that I was referring to, is Nemla, a genuine, sincere, gentle woman who always has a wide smile who I came to know well, who cleans the hall, sweeping and mopping, going up and down, back and forth to clean the floor so we have a clean floor to practice on. She had moved my belongings and the belongings others left behind so she could clean. Maybe she thought, “who would leave their stuff here, who would not put their stuff away so now I have to do it, on top of what I am already doing.” (I do not think she really thought that, I have noticed such a sense of gratitude, from everyone who is a part of the Sattva family and in India for that matter, for the opportunity to work, to have a job).

The thing that continues to bring me such joy is this idea of MY MAT- it wasn’t even my mat! It was someone else’s mat that they left behind for the collective to use and I saw it, I hoarded it so no one else would use it.  I got really irritated when it was moved and then to see that someone else selected it, that was like a kick in the whole situation- what I referred to in my journal as UGH. I’m laughing typing this. The whole things is ridiculous and real simultaneously. I was worked up!

This is an open space at Sattva. The chair once hung from the blue posts to the left. This picture was taken two months after the story.

I am delighted, because those feelings of ownership and mine are distant; they are no longer desires or things that I want to embody, to give energy to. For when I think of ownership and mine, these other words that pop in to my mind:

  separation          taking         holding             gripping        competition                held

     belonging     apart             possession               individual             bound             responsibility

If there is something in my life that brings me joy, then I want others around me to be in joy and to experience the same. I cherish these words and cultivate them in my daily life:

gratitude                     grace                          fulfillment                             abundance

liberation                               freedom                                 trust

Smelling the rose once it bloomed.

Do I live in this space all of the time? Do I live from this place all of the time?  No, I do not. I am aware when I am. I am aware when I am not.  I am accepting when these feeling arise, I do not judge myself, for that is the beautiful gift of life, to notice, to be aware, to learn, to grow, to evolve.

Within the compassionate space that I hold for myself I know that all will continue to be provided for me as necessary.

 with love and in light,

Sara

And then, AH! You get a real glimpse of it.

This piece was written while sitting in the Delhi Airport…

I was in awe when I saw this vibrant green growth, a welcomed sign of spring.

Its an interesting observation to have, to witness how something has been unfolding all along. And then, AH! You get a real glimpse of it.

Slowly, slowly in the way Ma India has her way of being, I was being presented with opportunity after opportunity to not plan, to not have expected outcomes.

A friend from my sangha, a group of people who gather together to support one another, reached out to us on our Whats App group to share that she was hosting all night Gong Baths at the International Yog Festival hosted by the Indian Government. She was looking for volunteers to sell the tickets and support with the evening Gong Bath sessions.  The resort was one street over from Mother Miracle, the school I was volunteering at and I thought, I could be at the school in the morning and an at the festival in the afternoon. It was exams and testing week, children were in school from 8-11 and during that time they were taking tests, so during that time Kusum and I would be able to get our work done and after I could support my friend at the Yog Festival.  I reached out to Komal sharing “I am up for doing whatever it is you need me to do.”

Completing my homework from my 200 hour Yoga Teacher Training.

In the days leading to the event, I was working on my homework for my 200 hour yoga teacher training, I had not been feeling well and spent a lot of hours in front of the computer so I was looking forward to having a morning to be, simply be. 

I woke up, did my practice and thought about how lovely it would be to have a paratha and chai at the chai stand, then go to the Ram Jhula Market via an auto and walk the rest of the way to Ganga Resort along Ma Ganga. That way, I thought to myself, I could stop when I’d like to feel the warmth of the sun, watch the water, touch the water and be outside. 

Seen along the walk to the cafe.

When I arrived at the Chai stand, they were closing for lunch- no paratha and chai for me. Okay, I thought, not what I had in mind, what to do… so I thought, I’ll go to a café that over looks Ma Ganga and have a burger. As I made my way to the café, I stopped at a temple to say hi to Hanuman, Shiva, Ganesha and Kali.

The cafe I wanted to go to for a delicious burger was also closed, so I chose to eat at the one next door. Once at the café, I noticed how clear the sky was while enjoying my pineapple juice and grilled veggies with hummus for breakfast, I could see with clarity and far.

 As I walked to get an auto, I noticed many cars, trucks and autos waiting, there has been construction happening and at times they would close one side of the road. In doing so, the traffic in both directions would have to take turns using the available road. I asked to get in a few autos, they told me no by waving me on. I found one rickshaw that offered to take me to Ram Jhula, the section along Ma Ganga I wanted to go to. While sitting and waiting for other passengers to fill in, I heard a man asking about how much it would cost to go to Rishikesh. I asked if I could offer him a suggestion, thinking I have learned to not ask, for when you ask, they know you do not know so they will charge you more. He told me he did not need any suggestions. I, along with 6 others were riding along in the auto, when he stopped and motioned for me to get out.  While I meant to go the market at Ram Jhula, he had stopped at the Ram Jhula bridge, which is before the market. This ‘threw me off,’ as I was not prepared to get out. I did not have my rupees out which took time for me to locate in my backpack, so much time that the driver took off the brake of the auto an began rolling down the hill. I gave him 50 rupees and he gave me 20 in return. What? I said as he drove off, I was pissed that he took 30 rs for such a short ride in comparison to the 10 rupees I usually paid to go all the way to school. (In the scheme of things, this is really not a big deal, 10 rupees is about 15 cents. Looking back, I think it is funny that I had just asked the man if he wanted a suggestion regarding cost of rides, and there I was paying 20 more rupees than I had planned).

It was more about me not wanting to be there. Having a plan, wanting to be somewhere else and not being there. The change in plans had me disoriented, not prepared, and mildly annoyed. I noticed the anger arising for I had not planned to be at the bridge and I reasoned in my mind, if I was dropped where I intended to get out then this whole thing, plus the feelings I was having could have been avoided (typing this has me chuckling because, he meaning the driver, did not do anything to me. I was reacting to what I wanted and did not get and I had a choice on how I wanted to respond and what I was doing was reacting). 

As I began walking down the stairs I saw a baba in a saffron colored simple clothing, with a bandage covering an oozing wound on his knee. Our eyes met and he reached out his hand asking for an offering. I acknowledged him with my hands in prayer and said, “Namaskar”, he pointed to his eye and an empty eye drop package. I acknowledged him and his request and began walking; a few steps down I turned around walked back and took a look at the package. I saw that it was, what appeared to me as eye drops and I told him I would be back.  I have learned from my experiences that I feel comfortable offering tangible items, mostly food, as offerings instead of money, in this case, I walked to the chemist to purchase the eye drops.   Upon returning he showed me that his eye drops were medicinal and the eye drops I was offering to him was not the right one. Wanting to support and determined to get it right, I took a photo and began to head back to the shop. He told me, in what I could understand with my Hindi and his English that he gets his medicine at the hospital and wanted money. By this time, a gentleman had approached us and I looked to him to ask with my face and eyes, “what is the right thing to do,” he suggested not giving the money, which was the feeling I had on the inside.

Comparing the drops I bought (underneath) with the box he gave me.

I noticed the time and now, with the commitment I made to be there at 1, needed to get back in an auto to be at the resort. I did not have time to walk and sit along Ma Ganga as I had planned.  I walked back up the steps. A few full autos passed me before one with Hanuman and Durga stickers on the windshield stopped and I hopped in.

While in the auto I made a new plan, I will get out at Kailash Gate and walk from the bridge they are constructing to the resort, that way I can still walk along Ma Ganga for a bit.

This is a photo of the bridge that was being constructed. This is near Kailash ghat where I attempted to walk to the resort and was told to go another way. This photo was taken on a different day, from Ganga Resort while I was volunteering.

As soon as I stepped on to the pathway, the ghat, I noticed there were a lot of people standing around. I thought it was a burning, since I was near the burning section of the ghat. I also saw a rope. The rope was being used like a divider or boundary, while not usually seen, it is not fully honored when it is, so like everyone else, I walked around the rope and continued walking until I was stopped by a police officer who gestured that I needed to go around. Okay, I thought, I will find my way through this parking lot of tourists busses and make my way through the streets to get to the resort. I wove in and out of the parked cars and busses, passing folks at food carts, drinking lime sodas and navigated my way to a path that I thought would lead me in the direction I needed to be.

I started laughing hysterically, “I get it, I get it,” I said out loud while laughing, I am not supposed to have a plan. I see what you (Divine Mother, Universe, Ether however you want to call the higher energy we are guided by) are doing. Giggling to myself I made my way through the streets and was pleasantly delighted to meet a familiar road at an intersection. I noticed a group of people ahead, as I approached them I noticed that there were rolling barriers and more police officers who were stopping folks from entering the road to the resort. I was told with words and a hand gesture to go around.  

Familiar with the area I walked the winding streets and approach the next entrance to the ghat, the pathway next to Ganga. There were more police officers there, it was then, that I noticed a huge tent and it occurred to me that they were limiting folks from entering due to the festival, however when I asked to go through, they told me yes.  I walked up the steps to the ghat and proceed to make my way to the resort. After a few steps, I was told, that I needed to turn around and go the other way (the ways from which I had just come from). Which I did, I turned around and made it back toward the first road barrier.

This photo was taken on my way to the Mother Miracle Bakery on a different day, it was taken in the morning as the sun was rising. If you continue to walk straight, this street takes you to the entrance to the ghat

While waiting I made a voice recording to a friend, here are snippets of what I said:

The universe is really asking me to not have a plan

I am, I have been trying to get in for 45 minutes

They keep saying,

“No ‘mam not here.”  “Go around.”  “No ‘mam.” “Wait 15 minutes.” “Open soon.”

Does this corner look familiar?

I waited there, at the place where I began, now for the second time. It was really waiting, I have noticed that at times I projected my view of folks in India not doing things, standing around and waiting. Over time I realized that they are not actually waiting at all, they are being present. They are in the moment, present in the moment until that moment ends and then moving on to the next moment.  I chuckle typing this, because when I shared this with a friend who is Indian, she shared, yes, that is one way to look at it. The other is that many folks, these are my words, I am paraphrasing, many folks think that someone else will get something done, so while it looks like they are being present, they are there, standing because they think that someone else will do what ever needs to be done or accomplished, so in a sense they are waiting for someone else to do the work. For me, I was really waiting. I was waiting to have access to get past the barricade to get to the Yog Festival to volunteer.

After waiting for what felt like a long amount of time, I decided to head back through the streets, past the bakery, back up to the ghat near the tent. My thinking was, maybe they will let me through that way, since they are not letting me through this way. I walked along the street and made my way back to the entrance steps to the ghat.  As before, the guards at the bottom of the ghat allowed me to go through the barricade, I was also able to walk past the tent.  I am getting closer, I thought. I can see the entrance to the hotel, I can see the vendor tents.  I also saw woman hanging a banner advocating for the rights for girls to be educated.  I took a moment to sign the banner and talk with the woman who worked for the state.  Continuing on, I was pleasantly surprised that the officers were permitting me to move, now I was walking down the steps closer the steps that would take me up to the vendor tent where I could volunteer…. Until I walked right past it, following a bunch of folks walking on a path that lead me back to the place where I started from- FULL CIRCLE.

This is the path I walked along the ghat, it is taken from Ganga Resort, the place of the Yog Festival a few days after I walked the full circle.

No joke.

Now, again at the place from which I began for the third time.

Same corner, different perspective. This photo is taken from the southwest corner. I snapped this photo because the Kushi Foundation is a charitable trust which is a part of Sattva, where I completed my 200 hr training.

I arrived at the desk at 3 pm, when I had “planned” to be there at 1. Komal was gracious and understanding, saying we were on “divine time.”

Not one thing that day went according to my ‘plan’ or how I thought it would be.  

I was a beautiful day. As it was meant to be.

In light and with love,

Sara

If life went according to my plan…

When I booked my ticket to India, I debated in my mind about purchasing a one way or a round trip ticket.  Once I decided to purchase a round trip, I had to choose a date.  I chose April 6th. If life went according to my plan, I would have arrived in the US last week. Life does not go according to my plan. Life has not gone according to my plan for some time now. Life has it own plan for me.

I am here.

And I have been here for a month

Here is the only place to be.

Here.

Reality is always happening, always here no matter where I am. My real life is happening for me wherever I am.  Life does not stop or go on hold, it is always here, continuing to reveal itself no matter where I am. To me, it is not that I am back in reality, for I have always been in my life, with my life.

Then, I was there.

Now, I am here.

In being here, I continue to observe, my choices, my actions, my thoughts, my consciousness state.  I continue to be aware.

The being here is more than a physical sense. To me, it is more of an approach, an awareness of my current state, where my attention is, what I am focused on. A reminder that I am here, in this moment rather than off somewhere my mind takes me.  My mind has a strong tendency to do that, to leave the current moment and whisk me away to somewhere else. It brings me to the past, previous events of my life.  It brings me to the future, events that have not happened. 

The practice I have to do this is, to catch my mind and the thoughts it has is not new. It is the awareness that is new. It is the separation between me and thoughts I have that is new. I am not my thoughts. Instead, thoughts arise and my ability to observe when that is happening, to noticing has deepened. My awareness around this is vast, it has become part of my daily practice. A noticing of the thoughts that arise, they bubble up, reminding me that they are there, things are there, stuff is there. It only exists in my mind, outside of my mind I cannot locate it.

That is all that they are, thoughts. I have the choice to sit with them or let them arise and pass like water flowing in the river or clouds in the sky.

In love and light,

Sara

I Was There and Now I am Here

Here are photos and captions that I took from the day I departed India and travelled to the US.

The last photo I took in November 2018 when I was in Rishikesh was of this murti of Hanuman. This past winter I had a dream with this murti in it and in the dream there was a temple behind it, a tall temple with many stories. I spent time here, at this place on Ma Ganga and in front of this murti throughout my time in Rishikesh, it was not until this very moment that I saw and registered that the 13 story Shiva temple (Trayambakeshwar) is in the background. You can also see the Laxam Jhula bridge.

My beloved Ria and I used to say “Look over your shoulder baby,” to one another. Here I am doing that, a nod to three things I love - MJ in front of Ma Ganga, with Shiva in the distance.

Soon after that photo it started raining…I decided to sit at my local chai shop to have aloo paratha (a flat, fried bread with potatoes) and sabji (cooked vegetables, here it is cauliflower and cabbage). My chai was on its way….

I sent this picture to my family as I was leaving the wifi access I had. I anticipated that I would not be able to access wifi to be in touch with them until I arrived in the US. That proved to be true.

On my way into the Jolly Grant Airport in Dehradun.

I continue to be amazed by the power of a gaze. Our eyes convey so much.

It is so easy to see the smile that adorns my face even though you can not see the smile. It is all conveyed through the eyes.

A snapshot from inside of the International Terminal in Delhi which you have to show your boarding pass or proof that you are flying as well as your passport to enter. The guard, who had a gun, asked me “are you sure you want to enter? Your flight is not until 10:45 pm and it is now only 2. Once you come in, I can not let you out.” “Yes,” I replied, assuring him I was prepared to be inside for that long. I wrote a few pieces during that stretch of time which I will add here.

I would write a bit, then stand to stretch my legs. You can not check in until three hours before departure, so I had to carry by bag with me wherever I went. I had an opportunity in High School for my first international trip to Spain (with my beloved Abbey) and as I prepared to go, my dad taught me to never travel with more you can carry, it has been a valuable lesson as I moved a lot while in India and had to carry my bags with me while navigating the terminal. After a trip to the bathroom I noticed a newsstand. As I made my way through the small shop, I saw a refrigerator section that said Chilled Drinks; I walked towards it. To my pure delight I saw a Snapple, a PEACH Snapple! Oh my heart was full with joy! A peach Snapple at the Delhi airport! I selected a bag of mature cheddar and red onion chips to accompany it. When I got to the register, the gentleman rang up both the Snapple and the chips it was 585 rupees. I was a bit confused since the chips were 8o rupees, doing the math in my head I figured the Snapple was close to $8. No, I thought to my self, I can not purchase a Snapple for $8, and then I thought, Why Not?

You can imagine the delight that radiated from my heart as I lifted the cap to read this! The message. An octopus! Three hearts! A Peach Snapple. The Delhi airport in India. I could not make this up. Life is wonderful. So, so, so very grateful to be able to experience this brilliant life.

Once through customs and screening, on my way to the gate, I saw a man eating kulfi, a traditional Indian ice cream. “Yum,” I said out loud, “great choice.” The man, whose name is Ajat, turned and said, come have one. He bought me pistachio kulfi and I enjoyed it in the airport. Ice cream in the airport! I finished it right before I went through the second screening to board the plane.

I was pleasantly surprised to learn that I slept for the first 11 hours of the flight! When I awoke and checked the time that remained until I landed, I had enough time to watch a movie. I had been seeking an opportunity to watch The Matrix and to my delight they had it as an option. “It is the question that drives us mad. It’s the question that brought you here.” When I saw that Neo and Trinity ascended to the 41st floor to bring Morpheus out of the Matrix I was charmed that I was sitting in row 41… I have not put all of this together to glean meaning… I simply love moments like this…as everything is happening for us…

Laura realized that I was flying on 3.14/15! I like numbers. Which is a nod to pi- 3.1415926535 and Ms. Washington’s math class at Mt Hebron Middle school. Ms. Washington taught us a rhythm to remember the sequence. Ask me to chant it for you the next time we connect, I am happy to share it. It too, brings me much joy!

There were so many people arriving in the US, they stopped us at the top of the stairs to manage the flow down below. The image is blurry because I was not supposed to take a picture and there were so many people behind me I could not stop.

There she is, my trusty red travel bag appeared as if on cue, right as I walked up to the baggage carousel.

I spent my first few hours in the US at an airport hotel. This is a moment I captured while there.

On the go again. In the elevator headed down to meet my Mom and my Dad! They arrived in Newark later that evening from a trip Panama and Costa Rica. We were going to go to their house, which my Dad named the International House.

What a welcome! Pook had crumb topping donuts, flowers, and a balloon waiting to greet us! Yes, we ate donuts at 2:30 in the morning. There is not wrong time to enjoy a donut.

This is what was waiting for me when I went upstairs!

This was the card she wrote to me that was hidden in the envelope. I mean!

And this, is what was inside a pink bag surrounded by gold heart tissue paper. Her name is Ophelia and she was “born” in November 2019… the same time I departed for India!

Yes, life is magical and I am so grateful to be living mine to the fullest!

Sending you love from three hearts and an eight armed HUG!

in love and light,

Sara

Just Like That

It happened as most things do, quickly and not planned.

I am really surrendering to this notion of life having its way of presenting itself and opportunities to me that are not according to how I envisioned or think they would be.

I had originally planned to arrive in the US on April 6th.

Here I am.

I opened the door to place the flowers and banana outside to see this!

The decision to depart India was made in less than 24 hours. Well, it was actually way shorter than that, looking back now. I awoke to a series of WhatsApp messages on the morning of March 12th, strongly encouraging me to leave India and make my way to the US.  To me, it was a typical morning in India. I woke up, spent time in puja and my morning practice. I placed a bag of flowers and a half eaten banana near my door to offer to the cow I would see on my walk to school and within seconds a monkey swooped down, took the bag and peeled back the peel to reveal what was left of the banana.  As I watched the monkey enjoy the banana, scootys were passing by the window of my room, horns from rickshaws announced their presence and cows were greeting the day with a low bellow.  I did not understand the panic.

A quiet voice inside told me to bring my bag of things that I planned to ship to the US with me to school. I called Kusum to arrange a ride to school and shared with her that I was going to spend some time sitting with the news from the texts and that I would be arrive to school later than usual.

A typical day in Tapovan

As I sat enjoying my chai, the day presented itself it is normal fashion. Folks were sweeping away the dirt and debris the day before left behind, some were purchasing things from the daily needs shop or from the telewala, or fruit cart, I heard the familiar call of the peacocks in the distance. I was perplexed.  I wanted to honor the request from my family while simultaneously remained committed to the plan I originally set - to be in India until April 6th.

View of the main market in RIshikesh from the DHL shop.

I gathered my bag of things that I accumulated from my months in India and hopped on a scooty, slowly making our way to the DHL store to ship my belongings.  Here again, I was presented with the opportunity to see that things do not go according to plan. The shop was closed. We would have to return when the shop owner arrived back from his time in a different part of town.

I had an unsettled feeling in my chest, an unfamiliar feeling and I was really unsure what to do about it. I saw Kusum and began crying. Emotions were moving through me. It wasn’t that I was ending my trip early; I was not on a trip. I was living in India. I was living in India. I had established relationships, a community, folks I saw daily; I had a life there.

Inside the DHL shop

I made it back to the DHL shop to mail my package, I had a choice to ship it two different ways, one of them was quicker, the other slower. In no rush to have my things in the US, I chose the slower of the two options and sought the opportunity for quiet reflection and sat next to Ma Ganga for the rest of afternoon.  While walking on the ghat, a gentleman approached me offering me chai, at first I resisted, and then I thought, why not.  I sat. I wrote. I stared. I sipped.

That evening was the start of the International Film festival in Rishikesh and the third night in a row of thunderstorms. I watched the films Becoming Nobody and Fierce Grace with Ram Dass and One Track Heart with Krishna Das. In the rainy, rickshaw ride up to Tapovan where my room was, a fellow passenger asked me what I was doing. I shared; Ma India always has something in store for us, even when we have something planned.

Krisha Das’s One Track Heart movie from the International Film Fesitival

 That night, I wrote this in my journal:

I know I can be ready to go if needed, if it is truly called for

Not now

I… yes, I have a few expectations and I did not want it to end this way.

Quick good-byes, no closure

And I see how those are all things I am attached to

Outcomes

Expectations

Attached to

And it is arising to release

To be released and

Me holding on,

Reacting is only allowing it, giving it permission

It- meaning fear- to stay

To see, to witness the attachment,

This stirred up emotion

The morning view from my room

Rising the next morning, a new day, I found clarity.  I was here, in India and I will be until I am called to leave. I arrived at Mother Miracle School to learn that the school was closing and Shahla ma’am was telling the volunteers to leave India. I felt resistance rising up within me and then I softened. If I was in India to volunteer and I was no longer able to volunteer, then I am not meant to be in India.  Within an hour I had arranged flights for the following day, arriving in the US on the 15th of March.

It was the only day, throughout my who time in India that I did not write in my journal.

Not one word.

in love and light,

Sara

Saat Moord

I am in the year of the peacock… What does that mean you might be asking yourself. For the past two years I have pulled a yearly spread in the beginning of February, using Kim Krans’s Wild Unknown deck. While shuffling the cards, you sent an intention, ask for guidance and pull one card for each month and one for a yearly theme.

My 2019 spread.

In May of 2019, while packing up my cabin and going through my storage unit, emotions and memories hit me hard.  I was caught in a self-doubt swirl, wondering why and what and how. I decided to take a break and go for a walk.  On my walk into the wilderness (yes, my backyard was wilderness) I saw a peacock.  I knew there were peacocks that lived as pets on a property near my cabin, I had heard them call, yet I had not seen one. I thought to myself, seeing this peacock is a sign and a message that things are okay and I am fine and everything is meant to be. I walked along, following the peacock, once it was out of sight I turned around.  I began walking towards my cabin and something inside me told me to turn around and look back, so I did.  At first, what I saw looked like a dried reed or piece of grass and when my eyes focused I realized it was thicker than a reed. So I scanned the ‘reed looking thing’ and it revealed itself to me. The peacock left me a gift (I am crying recalling the moment, the power, the emotion, the gratitude, the message). The peacock left me a feather!

My first peacock feather, found near Camp Creek in Hoback, WY.

My first peacock sighting this trip, despite my many hikes and time outside was while riding the bus back from a mall.  Yes, a mall. I went to a mall in India and it was like a mall is the US. However, there I witness a remarkable moment, a talent search called The Talent of Royal Dreams. It reminded me of the 80’s and Tiffany, Debbie Gibson and Martika (I mean come on, Toy Soldiers). Witnessing this brought me right back to the ‘89.

One day at Sri Ram, I was walking to the garbage can to deposit the dust and dirt I collected from sweeping (the brooms here are way more fun to sweep with and there is so much more dirt, so much you wonder how did it get here). I opened the lid and saw a PEACOCK feather. There was a peacock feather in the trash! Oh, no.  That simply can not be, I thought.  So, I lifted the feather out and admired its beauty. The vibrancy of its color, how it changes in light, with different backgrounds, the gold, the purple, the yellow, the green, the turquoise, I was and still am captivated by its brilliance. I brought it back to my room and placed it on my altar. (I got the spelling right, thanks Mom!)

Later that day, I chose to do my afternoon practice (a kriya set) outside in the warmth and light of the sun.  When I opened my eyes, I saw this stunning sight of this massive tree. I had seen the tree, but this time it looked different.  I snapped this photo and went for a walk around the ashram to ground down.  While walking I saw a white crane and went up to the tree to hug it (I have really being fond of trees and my respect for them has grown as I travel here in India and see where they live and how strong they are).

The tree that charmed me. The tree that I hugged.

As things settled around the ashram before the evening aarti, I chose to sip my chai and type while sitting in front of this tree. I was pleasantly surprised to see the white crane fly and land in the tree.  I watched it for some time and then peacocks flew into the tree. I want to say there were seven, maybe there were only six, regardless there were many peacocks and they were in the tree!

One of the peacocks is on the large branch.

Me, my tree and PEACOCKS!  Such immense joy and delight filled my heart and body. I watched them. I talked to them. They walked on the branches and then one by one they flew off.

One of the peacocks flying.

I smiled with a heart full of love as peacocks came to me in India, in my year of the peacock!

I love life and the miracles she offers me everyday and I invite you to do the same!

With a heart full of sincere love, gratitude, joy and delight,

HUGS

S

Sri Ram Ashram as an Orphanage

Orphanage/fully functioning family? I am confused. This is a text that came from my beloved Lauren. Totally understandable question, I thought as I read it.  Here is my answer, with the information that I have at this time.

Sri Ram was founded as an Ashram, as a home for children who did not have one. When the founder, Hari Dass, known as Babji was young he had a friend who was an orphan. His friend told him stories of children being hit and abused, and in that moment Babji made a commitment to create a place where children would be loved, treated with respect and grow to be active contributors to society.

When Sri Ram started, Babji knew that children were taken and used as servants so he was against giving children up for adoption, so in the beginning, children who came here, joined a family in which they would live.

Ansula and I were talking one day and she shared that one of the hardest days of her life was the day she learned Babji passed.  Many of the children here, had not met Babji. Ansula and the elder children had.  I hear them share fond memories of laughing and joking with Babji spending time with him outside under the mango tree.  The other hard day she shared was July 4/5, when she had to say goodbye to her brother that she had a very special bond with. She shared that he had been adopted.

Up until that moment, I did not know that children here at the ashram were adopted.

Rajvi, has been a trustee for Sri Ram for over 25 years and he explained that in more recent years, the times have changed and so has the law.  Now, Sri Ram is required to ‘put children up for adoption.’ While the older children will not be adopted, the younger children can be. They have a specific process and rules that govern these decisions. Families go through an interview process, they have folks visit their home and they are required to submit financial statements (the income must be 3000 rupees a month- that is close to $600). Once a child has been adopted, then Rajvi and his wife Rami travel to visit the child with their family twice over the next two years.

Sri Ram, to me is a family. It is not and does not feel like an institution. Children are welcomed here as I was welcomed, with open arms. Children come to Sri Ram in three different ways, they have either been orphaned, abandoned or surrendered.  Sri Ram welcomes them all, even as young babies. The youngest baby they have welcomed was eight hours old. Not all children come here as babies, some children are much older, one child recently came and he is eight.  No matter how they arrive here, all children are a part of this family and are provided for until they are settled and established on their own and that looks different for each individual.

Since being here over the winter holiday, I had the opportunity to meet older siblings who have returned to visit for the break, some come for the weekend, one stopped by to pick up mail. Some are in school, studying dentistry or photography, living with roommates and navigating being independent moving away from the ashram to Delhi or Jaipur. Three girls left together and work together at a travel agency and work together to cook meals. They shared that living in the ashram has prepared them to live that way. One started a Cross Fit gym in Haridwar and recently bought a house.  Some are married and have families of their own.

Each individual is unique and the ashram does what it can to support and afford opportunities for all of the children to follow their passion and achieve their dreams.

The Thing about Expectations - part 1

I have had a ‘thing’ with expectations for some time now… working through what happens when you have a vision, when you envision, have dreams about things and then circumstances change and those possibilities of dreams are no longer viable, no longer possible.  However and… at the current moment, I really do see a difference between envisioning something and an expectation.  So in this sense, I am still working to make sense, to know, to understand these words, their meanings and these experiences.

Confused. Welcome to my mind… (some of the time).  My dear friend Nicole, who I affectionately call Ria will recall a moment that makes me smile EVERY TIME I bring it back to my mind.  We were at a park on night in High School and some decision was made and I commented, “I am so confused.”  Ria responded, “obviously.”  So this notion of sitting with things in my mind, thinking about them, at times brings confusion and at others there is such a deep sense of clarity, a deep sense of inner knowing. 

In this way I mean specifically that I know, from experience, that I can envision something and make it happen.  Right now, as I type, I am sitting on the third floor of Om Bhavan in room 22 at the Sri Ram Ashram in Haridwar, India listening to the voices of children carry up from the floors below, and while I did not envision this moment specifically, I had many dreams and visions about working with women and children in India and here I am. So, yes, to me there is a difference between envisioning, a vision and or a dream and an expectation.  And my intention here is to share a few of the MANY opportunities that have risen for me to see how my “expectations” are never helpful for me.

Room 22, the first door on the left on the 3rd floor.

The first one caught me by surprise. I was at Sattva Academy in the foothills of the Himalayas for my 200 hour teacher training.  We were a week in to our training and I had established a solid morning routine that consisted of puja, mediation, sitting by the river to greet the sun and then our morning journey.  On this particular morning, I was captivated by the sun, her warmth, her beauty and her light, so taken in that I lost track of time. I gathered my things and rushed (I know I am not the first to rush to a yoga class) to the Brahamanda Hall.  As I approached I saw a lot of room inside and thought, ‘huh,’ as I got closer there were very few pairs of shoes outside the door, another ‘huh’ entered my mind and then as I went to open the door I saw Mark who saw my face and said, “we are going on a hike today.” Aghhhh..not at all what I expected. So I rushed to my room to get my shoes and put down my mat and bag. I made it to the meeting place and took a deep breath and then we were off. Folks were running up the hill and on their way.  I stayed back and followed my natural rhythm of walking.

This is the stunning tree with the root that curled up over itself. I spent a lot of time here one day and will write about my experience soon.

Along the way we passed children in uniforms walking to school and folks, both men and women making their way ‘to town’ with bags in their hands.  We passed a tree whose trunk was bent and twisted and fascinating to look at. As we walked up and up we stepped on a path that was being built. We saw lunch pails and jackets hanging in trees, men arranging rocks, chipping away at pieces with hammers as they worked to get them to fit in the spaces left to fill from the other rocks as the path was being built. Women were carrying the rocks balanced on their heads and them dumping them in piles near where the path was being constructed. We passed a concrete shelter, one that I had seen close to a bus or taxi stand although we were high up and there was no access for any motor vehicles.

There was a steady stream of folks. Some ran ahead and others we walking in pairs or groups talking (this walk was in place of our journey so it was actually time to be in silence) and I chose to find a pace and place that had some distance between me and the person in front of and behind me.  We came to a village and saw a man tending to a fire, a woman washing dishes, and children admiring us from a gate. We passed cows, goats, gardens, laundry drying on lines and water access. As we continued our walk up, I noticed that Anandji and the runners had stopped.  I heard a bell and turned to see a group was near the village temple. Great I thought, we were far behind and went the wrong way. And then I saw that they were not on the path and that they had got off track. They made their way to us and we all went up.  Where are we going,? I thought. Are we going to the top of this mountain? I am excited to reach the sun. When will we arrive there?  How much further?

We followed the path up and up and up and after climbing up rocks we reached an overlook. The space opened up and we could see for miles. In the distance we could see the “Goddess Temple” (that I wrote about earlier with the Pandit and my sacred thread), structures on the hillside and we could hear voices of folks from surrounding villages.  We gathered and began to sit on the hillside. I chose a place in the shade and got settled as the sounds of drumming and singing arose from a nearby school.  I closed my eyes. I breathed. I could tell that folks continued to gather as I could hear them arriving and getting situated- breathing in, exhaling, sipping water, removing clothing. I wondered, when will Anadji start talking, I have seen images and videos of wisdom talks in nature, surely he will talk with us here. Maybe he is waiting for everyone to arrive and will get a signal from someone and then he will start. When folks came near and sat, I kept thinking oh, now he will start. Or maybe it is now. Okay, it is not now, maybe he is giving folks time to breathe and get settled and then he will start.  

Here we are. This picture was taken by Matheus and was posted on Sattva Connect, which is where I got it from.

And just like that, folks started standing. Standing. Folks were standing and gathering their things and moving. Moving. Folks were moving. We were leaving.  We were asked to stop for a moment to capture a picture and then, we were off, headed on a path down. I was confused. I thought, wait, Anandji is supposed to talk to us, that is why we came, for him to talk to us, to share something. In the videos I have seen Anandji talk to folks outside. That is what he was supposed to do here.

Nope, that is not what happened. That was an expectation I had of what I thought was supposed to happen, of what would happen. An image in my mind, thoughts based on previous experiences that I made up, that I told myself would happen. See, I told you I had a thing about expectations.

This second one hit me hard, and I mean hard. I got caught in a loop for days over it.

We had another opportunity to go for a hike, this time to a waterfall and two choices were offered to us, to walk up along a stream to access waterfall or take a path. I love water and chose to walk along the stream (as I type I am recalling more and more details and am laughing out loud, this experience really got me good).

I heard folks around me say that Anandji likes to run and jump from rock to rock and that they should plan to get wet. Instantly the self-doubt voice entered- run?, I do not run, jump from rock to rock?, I am intentional about where I step. Wet?, no, not happening with these shoes, first off they are new and second, how will they dry…. And just like that everyone that chose to go this route started running. Not like a jog, a full on run.  My first thought was, no worries. Folks will fall back and be with me, I will not be alone, that is what happened on the last hike. No, that did not happen. I was last, the absolute last one. The self doubt, self talk was rampant, do I take the path? No, I chose to go along the water, I like the water, I want to be along the water. Do I run, no, I do not run. I am not a runner. But I can run. Should I run? Should I run to keep up? No, this is not about getting somewhere, it is about the experience and me running is not the experience that I want…When I say I was the last one, I was. And to give you a glimpse of where we were, there was no path. There was no path along the river. I was following where it looked like folks had been before me as evidenced by leaves of bushes having mud from being stepped on and trampled over or rocks that were wet from feet climbing over them.

This is the river.

Eventually, I ‘caught’ up to the crew since the route had slowed some down.  Here I too, was mindful of where I placed each foot, careful to not slip and/or to put my foot in the river- no soggy socks and shoes for me… Until, I slipped and in my foot went.  That expectation did not last and to my astonishment and amazement, it was MUCH easier to walk up river than it was to walk along it.  “Oh, right,” I heard myself say, “this is what Anandji was saying, the rocks are the river, they are not in the river, they are the river. There are no obstacles on the path, the obstacles are the path.” With this new “confidence,” I started passing folks who were alongside the river while I was the river and ahead I saw a bridge. I had one person in my sight of vision and she crossed the bridge. I did the same.

I continued walking and walking now that I was on the dirt path. I did not see anyone.  More doubt came, this time with anger, “why is no one waiting for me?  Don’t they see that there are more of us coming? Why hasn’t that girl turned around to see if I was behind her? Am I being punished for passing the others? Should I stop and wait for them so at least they know where to go? But then what happens if when I wait for them, they the others get so far ahead I really do not meet up with them? I should wait, I should wait. That is what I should do, no one waited for me, but I should wait. I will wait.”

So I waited. I waited and I waited. I peed along side the path. A man with a backpack and dress shoes passed me talking on the phone. I waited some more. And more thoughts came, “now that I have waited, I have no idea where the rest of the group is. I am missing out. I bet Anandji is imparting wisdom and I am missing it because I waited to take care of others, when no one waited to take care or even care about me!”

I fully recognize that one can wonder, “how can she be mad while being here?” The view of Sattva with the red roofs is in the distance.

I was fuming with anger as I turned and began walking back towards the area from which we came. More and more thoughts were running in my mind, “why isn’t there someone from the group, one of the ‘teachers’ ensuring we are all together? Why did I stop to care about others when no one stopped to care about me. Am I supposed to learn to take care of myself? Am I supposed to learn to think only of me? Am I supposed to take care and be responsible for others?  What does it even mean to be responsible of others? Where are the others, why have they not caught up to me?” These thoughts trolled my mind the whole walk back to Sattva. When I arrived, I saw a few folks that were ahead of me, they were laughing and smiling and talking and I was even more mad. I sulked off and went to my room to take off my soggy socks, shoes and pants and to sit alone.

My roommate Alessia, entered and asked if I made it to the waterfall. “Nope”, I replied with nothing more. “I didn’t either. I followed the person in front of me, I think we went the wrong way,” she said. I could feel a bit of ease entering my heart. Wait, I am not the only one who didn’t make it to the waterfall... I do not know how long I carried around the hurt, the anger, the resentment, the wondering.  I know that at some point it was gone. Maybe I forgot, maybe it had is course, maybe it moved on… eventually I was back to me again.

A stone wall along the path.

A week later, we had a day off and my roommate and I decided that we were going to make it to the waterfall.  So while folks were loading up in taxis to head to Rishikesh to shop, we set forth to redeem ourselves and see the waterfall.  This time, we choose to take the path.  It was a week later and I worked up the courage to say I did not make it to the waterfall the first time and inquired about how to get there.  I was told- walk along the path, cross the bridge and keep the river to your left.  With this ‘plan’ in our mind, we set forth. This time we were going to see the waterfall.

The stone path.

We walked along the path (the path I walked back on the first time), crossed the bridge (in the opposite direction from the previous time) and had the river stay on our left. We walked and walked and were quiet. We talked and shared our excitement to read and write near the waterfall and debated going for a swim in its pool below.  We stopped to take pictures. We stopped to listen to the sounds. We took in the magnificent beauty of where we were.  We approached a stone structure and a bridge made from pipes. We crossed the bridge and kept following the path until there was a split. We decided to go right staying low, keeping the water near rather than climbing high.

Me.

Eventually we came to a crossing and I felt, that the waterfall was hidden in the narrow section of the forest. Yet, we could not get to it. The path that we chose to take lead us up, up, up.  On these beautifully laid stones, I thought of the men and woman who were making a similar path on our first hike. I recalled the work they were doing, my gratitude and thought of the folks who laid this path- for it was some time ago evidenced my the growth of green growing in between. We reached a place from which we could see.  In the distance there was a village and had we taken the path to the left, we would have approached it.  We could hear voices in the village, maybe the waterfall is there and that is why the created the village. Should we go up further? Should we scramble down this cliff to get back to the river… Alessia pulled up pictures that folks from the first trip to the water fall posted and we looked at the surroundings trying to asses where it was taken.

A view, looking back at where we had gone up, up, up in search of the waterfall.

We decided to turn around and to walk back the way we came.  As we retraced our steps we continued to take in the beauty, noticing a different perspective than the one we had on the way ‘there.’  We came back to the stone house and bridge made from pipes. We admired the rocks and the flowing water.  We asked ourselves if this was the rock in the posted picture of the waterfall. We decided, while it looked similar it was not the same as this was not a waterfall… so we continued on. On our way back we encountered two other folks from our training as their path literally intersected with ours.  We exchanged what we had been doing for the day and at that moment we learned that we HAD MADE IT TO THE WATERFALL.

The waterfall was at the stone house and pipe made bridge. While we had been expecting water rushing over or out from the side of the mountain, the waterfall was a series of rocks in which the water was rushing over or falling over the rocks. See what I mean about expectations?  The whole time we were ‘looking for something specific,’ we set forth with an expectation, a destination in our mind and had our focus set on that expectation- water falling from the side of a mountain, with a pool that we could get in to and swim. We actually spent time at the waterfall- twice, once on the way ‘there’ and then on the way back from ‘there.’   

This is it, the waterfall!

We witnessed its beauty and enjoyed its sound and we did not even know that it was the waterfall we ‘sought’ to see.  We had such an expectation of what our waterfall was to be, we didn’t see this waterfall as a waterfall.  We did however enjoy the walk, the journey, the silence and the company of one another and of nature. Just as it was meant to be.

I love life and am grateful to receive a beautiful lesson.

Laughing out loud, with a heart full of love and a soul full of light,

HUGS

Sara

Another Thing I am Doing....

According to Ansula, a twelve year old here, I am doing very well eating with my hands. Yep. That’s right. I was complimented on my ability to eat with my hands and I am feeling G. R. E. A. T about it.

This is how it came about.  Ansula and I have been sitting near each other during meals.  The other day, she was sitting across from me and asked, “Is this your first time in India?”  I shared that it was not, that I had an opportunity to come to this beautiful country last year for a month.  “Is this your first time eating with your hands?,” she asked.  “No, I ate with my hands last visit and I have been eating with my hands since I arrived this visit.”

She shared that she often watches Westerners eat and a lot of Westerners visit the ashram (I have been with eight others in my time here). She has noticed that many of the Westerners, when eating with their hands use a similar movement.  She motioned with her hands as she talked, “They pick the food up like this (using a scooping motion similar to, all that comes to me is a backhoe) and put it in their mouth like this (she raised her elbow high so that it was higher than her shoulder and her hand was angled down towards her mouth, she turned her wrist so her palm and fingers were facing her mouth and brought them close).

Me and my thali plate.

I, she shared through gestures, use a fine grasp of the food in my hand, drop my elbow down near my waist with my fingers up towards my mouth and bring the food in to my mouth (so my finger tips are facing up and my palm is folded, as if it is holding an egg inside), which he shared is similar to how Indians eat. I’m smiling because I pay very close attention to people and I have been watching folks eat so I can learn.  Oh the power of modeling and observation, a true foundation for learning!

She explained that she has always eaten with her hands, since she was a baby and that when she eats with a spoon, she gets sick. “I don’t know why, I always do, so I only eat with my hands.” I have heard other Indians share this with me as well. Maybe it is because,  part of the experience of eating with their hands is to feel the food, to connect with it and to feel the temperature.  Touching the food also signals the brain to alert the stomach that food is coming, so the stomach is prepared to receive the food and improve digestion.

I am so excited to hear this observation and feedback.  And this is not only using roti to hold my food. I am eating rice, vegetables and even yogurt with my hands!

In pure delight and joy, with a heart full of love and a soul full of light,

HUG

Sara

Electricity

Electricity is an interesting thing here in India.

The one thing you can guarantee is that the sun will rise every morning and darkness will arrive every night. She is consistent, dedicated and devoted to bringing light.  At times she is hidden behind clouds, yet her presence is known as she has brought light to end the darkness of night.

One can rely on light that the sun or Surya brings. 

One can also rely on the electricity going out.

You can be going about your day, having a conversation, eating lunch, in a yoga class listening to the teacher on her microphone, warming your feet by the heater, heating water to take a hot shower, or typing on your computer and the power goes out. You know what? Folks carry on, doing what they are doing. It is as if no one notices. Yet, they do ‘notice,’ they simply to not add value to it. The power went out. The power goes out. That is what happened. That is what happens. No need to panic. No need to comment. No need to do anything different. For only the power went out. Everything else remains the same. 

While everything remains the same, the power comes back on. And, again, that is what happens. No need to comment. No need to acknowledge. There is no need. Simply the power came back on.

Simply Beautiful.

What Have you Learned So Far?

The actual question that came from Aman when we were sitting around the fire in the Himalayas was, “Sara, you have many years on us, what are some important lessons to impart to us?”  I knew that Aman was referring back to a lunch conversation we had a month before, we were in a restaurant over looking Ma Ganga in the Laxman Jhula area of Rishikesh and we were talking about money. Actually, he and his childhood friend visiting for a wedding and a conversation arose about “time off” which lead to both of them sharing the need, they feel, to “chase money.” While both of them enjoy their work, neither of them are passionate about it.  Aman works to develop backend software for large healthcare companies in the US. He has been in Dehli for some time and due to the terrible, absolutely terrible air quality, he has decided to put his health first and switch jobs and locations to a different city- at the end of the month he will be moving to Hyderabad. When this came up in the conversation, his friend remarked, the pollution is going to follow. Wherever the work goes, the population grows and pollution will come.

Later that night, I was reading This is That by Anandji and I came upon these words:

“The more the person chases the less they have. So the way to prosperity is not by chasing it. It is by raising one’s deserving power.”

A message arrived for me within the text too.  I had been and have been working on observing myself and noticing my actions, reactions, tendencies and habits and  how I was really aware of them now that I am out of my familiar comfort zone in the USA.  I read:

“Another meaning of tapah, is self-mastery, of watching oneself, mindful of not cultivating any level of dependency…. Tapah is also when we go on pilgrimages when we step out of our comfort zone, challenge ourselves……Tapah on that level is the practice of pushing the envelope, putting you out of your comfort* zone, cultivating tapah in your life because if you stay within your bubble, your bubble will, after a while consume you.”

*(As I began to type comfort I actually typed conform. Which I find fascinating… my awareness is around what I have let conform me- again, the habits, the ways, the routines the comforts.)

So when we were sitting around the fire and Aman asked, “Sara, you have many years on us, what are some important lessons to impart to us?”  I was grateful and honored to think about how I would answer as a 42 (read forty-tworiffic) woman!

Sitting under the vast Indian sky full of stars in front of a fire it was easy to share the importance of being present in the moment. Many of the opportunities that have presented themselves to me have this as a lesson or theme.  The only time I have is NOW.  What is in the past is in the past, only accessible in my mind, in the memory of my mind. And what is in the future has not yet arrived. For when I get to that future moment, I am there, I am no longer in the previous moment. The people, the feelings, the locations, the moment- all of that has passed and is only accessible in my mind.  So when I am here and I think about what has happened, I am no longer here, I return there, where I was. When I am here and I think about what might happen, I go there, no longer here.  From my experience, when I am not here, when my mind is somewhere in the past or thinking about what I am going to do or say in what might happen in the future, I am missing out on the beautiful moments that are unfolding in front of me RIGHT NOW. It is important to be present, be here, in the present moment.

I have shared a bit about my desire to control.  For most of my life I have had a strong desire to control, not necessary by force although there have been moments when I have raised my voice or clenched my teeth out of frustration and anger because I am not in control and all I want to do it control. Another opportunity that continues to present itself to me is being at peace with what is happening around me, since I cannot be in control.

At the yoga training, I went in to silence for 36 hours. I chose to go in to silence because I was annoyed terribly by the lack of intention folks have with their words. Mindless chatter had me seeking solitude and I am such rule follower I was even more irritated that folks were ‘breaking a rule.’ It is one thing, my mind said, to break silence for yourself, it is another, and rudely so, to ask someone else to break it. So, my rational mind thought, I’ll show them, if they cannot be quiet and mindful of themselves, I will.

In general being in silence, I found was easy, since, up until I chose to be in “official” silence (as indicated by wearing a badge) I had been really secluding myself. We (meaning most of us) were naturally in silence, because we were asked to, from the moment we woke up until after our first class, during lunch. Which on most days was around 2.

Our mornings went like this:

6:00 wake up

6:30 puja- morning mantra (Man- means heart, tra means expansion and liberation, mantra means working with the expansive energy of the electromagnetic field of the heart. Anahata, meaning the "unstruck sound," is the heart center, the beginning of sound. The first mantra was the heartbeat)

7:00 mediation

7:45 tea break (I spent time in reflection and writing along the river)

8:30 morning journey which was usually 2 hours (a journey is our morning yoga practice with asana (poses), pranayama (breath work- expanding energy as we breathe) and kriya (it literally means "to work with energy, to generate electricity." Kriyas combine repetitive movement and mantra).

10:45/11 breakfast

11:45/12/12:15 first class

2/2:15 lunch (it is at this time that we were “supposed” to break silence)

I spent the first eight (8) hours of my day in silence, and when I wasn't in silence I chose to be alone by the river, reading, walking or sitting near a tree. So on the second day of "silence," actually wearing the tag to indicate to others that I was not talking, I had an insight. I had been noticing since the first day of silence that the sign/tag kept turning around and the word silence was hidden from others and turned toward me. I would take off the string from around my neck, turn the sign around and then again, I noticed it would be facing towards me.  On one occasion, I actually unclipped the sign from the string and reclipped it so the word silence was facing out.

You can see the blue string around my neck, it is holding the Slient tag.

During lunch on the second day of silence, a tree caught my eye. I had seen the tree and glanced at it many times. On this day it spoke to me, beckoning me to come towards it. I stood, walked and while standing in front of the tree, admiring its roots, its structure, its being, I received the message, "Sara, it is not about being silent to control the outside, it is about creating inner silence."  Ahhh, I thought, yes, so true. I cannot control what is happening around me, not what folks are saying or doing. I. can. not. control. What I can do is be mindful of the choice I have on how to respond.

If that was not BIG enough, I also was able in the moment to acknowledge that part of what was happening in my mind was judgment and placing value on what was being said and by who..... WHOA! THIS IS HUGE! 

At my 200 hour Yoga Teacher Training (that is taking me time to process. I am thinking about how I want to share that experience) graduation I picked a card. Anandji (Anand is his name, you add "ji" to the end as a sign of respect) has these cards in a deck called "Got it or not?" and at graduation we each selected a card. I chose a card with an image of a moon on it, since that morning, for my last puja, I looked up and saw the moon in the morning sky. This is what the card said:

I mean.... could it be any more fitting?  This is how life has been presenting itself to me here in India. I am aware and noticing something and messages to reinforce or provide an opportunity to look deeper present themselves.... and I see opportunities everywhere.  

Then, the idea of silence and controlling others came to me on my trek.  I am used to walking in silence, in a contemplative place, a reflective place. And two of the three people I was with enjoyed singing and talking and they had an opinion about everything (can you hear the judgment).  It was the same while sitting around the fire.  And on the rare occasions I chose to spoke, I was cut off.  I was struggling, big time. I had an expectation - that my trek in the Himalayas would be quiet, reflective, contemplative, present- and really it was, because I was able to chose to be in that place, not in the place where the folks I was with were. At one point Aman shared, "Sara, you look like you are in deep thought." Another opportunity to learn about myself and my expectations and my cultural norms was in the tent before bed or in the morning, when the conversation was loud, not a gradual way to wake or end the day, rather an abrupt waking with a full voice, no whisper. I could choose to be annoyed (which at times I was) or I could choose to accept or I could choose to get up and leave the tent (even when it was 5 am) or focus on my breath and go to sleep... 

This idea seeking control of things externally has been coming to me, so a huge lesson that continues to present itself is being at peace with what is happening around me, knowing that I always have a choice and the one thing I can control is accessible by turning inwards and stilling my mind. 

The law of Trinity comes in three and I have been envisioning a trident piercing through my old stories, patterns and ways. So in the spirit of three (and my beloved Sister, sister), another huge lesson/message that I am embracing is honoring my true Self. Being here, being alone and spending so much time with myself has afforded me the opportunity to realize (to see with real eyes) my tendencies to compare myself to others.  What I am doing and what others are doing will be different. The reason they will be different is because we each have our own path and my path is my path and their path is their path. My path is not their path and their path is not my path.  It is easy to say. It is easy to type. It requires a mindful practice to embrace. 

My path is my path; it is unique to me. I find myself returning to this message in my journal. It creeps up in ways that try to hide themselves in self-doubt, mostly through the question, “What are you doing here?” The question has more weight when I spend time thinking about what folks are doing in the USA or what stories folks are sharing on Instagram.  I am not beyond it. I am not above it. I am aware of it. I am aware of the snare that I get caught in when I determine my worth based on what someone else is doing, what I think I should be doing based on what someone else is doing or what something else thinks of me.

While sitting around the fire, Aman and I talked about this.  For some moments of the trek were about taking pictures and selfies to post to say, ‘look at me,” “look where I am,” and/or “look at what I am doing.” At one point, I was told that we were no longer going on because they heard there was no snow and they wanted to see snow. Since there was no snow we were turning around (more on that message and experience later). Aman shared that for some, it is about getting a like or how many views one has that determines if something has value or is valuable. And, getting a picture in the snow so they could post it was what was of value and since there was no snow, no picture, no value, no need.

The driving desire to do something based on what someone might think or how someone might react or how someone might feel concerns me. It concerns me because it deeply resonates with me. As someone who has spent most of my life living based on what other people think of me, allowing other people to define me or to take on a false sense of identity based on someone’s misperception of me, I want to shout out loud, “ONLY YOU CAN DETERMINE YOUR WORTH! “

Now that I type this, I realize that I was resistant to writing, to sharing my experiences for putting them in to words provides an opportunity or space for someone to place value on them or judge them.  And you know what, I am writing this for me. I am writing, to capture, to condense, to put into words what I am experiencing in real time, while I am here on this journey.

I am grateful for the question that Aman asked me while sitting by the fire. I am honored that he took a moment from his day to inquire, to ignite within me an opportunity to reflect on what I am learning, what opportunities are arising and what experiences I am having.  So, Aman, my dear, here are three things, in writing that I would like to share with you:

Be in the present moment

Be at peace with what is happening, the one thing you can control is your mind

Honor your true Self

With a heart full of love and a soul full of light,

HUG

Sara

How has the trip been overall?

This is question posed by my dear friend Sara.  I am grateful for questions because they make me pause before I respond. How has the trip been overall?

Since today marks two months being here in India, I feel compelled to respond.

The first thought is that this is the longest I have been away from familiar aspects of comfort, the known in my life. Yet, as I type, I am here with myself and still holding on to some known aspects of my self that I am ready to release, to let go of. I heard a phrase the other day that goes something like this, “If you don’t have a tight grip, there is no reason to let go.” That one struck me big time. What am I holding on to? These old patterns, stories, perceptions that are not the real, true me. Rather they have been projected on to me, ways to be, things to do. And, while that is true, I too, take responsibility and ownership, for I have fully allowed them to become me, to become a part of me, at times define me.

I am not the victim. I am not the effect. Nothing is done to me.

Everything is done for me. 

Every moment is an opportunity for me to see, observe, and witness something within myself to use to grow, to evolve, to transcend.  

Today, as I laid in bed with a stomach issue (that started at 3:30 am-oh so not fun) I find myself returning to this question that has been arising- What am I doing here?

What am I doing here? 

What a deep question to ponder.  I am here. All of the events in my life brought me here to this very moment, sitting in my room at the Sri Ram Ashram typing these words to you.  I am here. Right now I am here. How did I arrive here? While there is a piece of me that acted, that took action to make this happen- to purchase a plane ticket, to have dinner with someone I met at a sound healing, to reach out to Sri Ram to arrange a visit- yes, there are “things” that I have done to arrive here right now.

There are also “things” that have happened in my life, experiences and opportunities that have lead me to this very moment.  Things that I did not “plan out,” rather situations were presented to me.  From those situations I had a choice on how to respond and it is the choice, the response that has lead me here.  Yet, I would not be here if it were not for the opportunities to make the choice.

I have said, felt and still feel a deep pull to be here.  While I am not sure what that pull is leading me towards, I do trust it- most of the time. I say ‘most of the time’ because there are moments like today, when I ask what am I doing here? When I am in a place of asking, I am not in a place of trusting the path. It is real. I’m sure many of you have experienced things when you ‘just KNOW,’ or something ‘flows through you with ease and grace, that you were not even doing, you were simply being.’

That is what I am doing here. I am simply being.  Being present. Being in the moment. Witnessing the miracle that is life right now, unfolding before my eyes, with such simplicity and grace.

Such a moment happened tonight at dinner, after the day of pondering why am I here, what am I doing? As I heard the dinner bell, I sent a message though WhatsApp to my family, put down my phone, got my thali plate, cup and spoon and made my way to dinner. I sat down and  thought, being here is like being in New York City. I am all alone, yet surrounded by life. There is little quiet here in India. At least the India that I know. (As I type a truck sounds his horn- and some horns here in India are unique to each truck, like an individualized announcement). I have found that to be here, to be present and in the moment, I have to turn inwards and become silent.  Silencing the inner mind- the one that wants to control, to judge, to criticize, to place value.  None of those things, which were huge patterns and habits of mine, work here. They don’t.  At times I have them, the desire to ask people to stop talking or to lower their voices, yet, what good will that do. Instead of seeking and wanting to control others, I turn inward. I notice that I want to control. I witness it. I see it for what it is. And that is that.

So tonight, as I sat on the floor preparing to eat dinner, I watched.  I sat quietly and watched.  I turned my head and witnessed something so beautiful, so simple; tears began to flow from my eyes, as they are revisiting the event.  Tanya (she is 3) and her ma were sitting next to each other. They both had their plates of food in front of them when a gentleman from the kitchen, a cook, brought over a box of sweets.  He lowered the box into their view (for he was standing and they were sitting on the floor). Ma selected a sweet, and the gentleman placed it in her clean hand (as her other hand had rice and dal on it since she was eating) and Tanya reached into the box and choose her sweet. Ma lifted the sweet to her forehead, to her third eye center and said a prayer. She lowered the sweet to her mouth and took bite. Tanya watched and followed, lifting her sweet to her third eye before eating it.

That is how we learn. By watching. Witnessing. Observing. Noticing and then doing.  A moment that lasted maybe twenty seconds was so simple and so beautiful at the same time. How many of those moments have I missed in this life?

So, how has the trip been overall? 

It has been a collection of moments, opportunities for me to observe, to witness, to learn, to grow.

I am grateful for every. single. one. of. them.

In love, full of love and light,

Sara

Where I am Called Didi.

I am here. The Sri Ram Ashram has been my home for a week now. I was here for the transition from one year/decade to the next and I have been held, accepted and welcomed since the moment that I arrived.

I learned about the Sri Ram Ashram in a way that India often offers. I was in Rishikesh and was invited to attend a sound healing mediation.  The friend that invited me ended up not going and I did. It was there that I met Anna. She too was at the sound healing and after I invited her to join me for dinner.   Over soup and ginger, lemon, honey tea, we shared pieces of our experience.  I mentioned I was interested in learning from woman and children. She had spent a few weeks here at the Ashram with a group from California and she shared that there were six babies that needed to be held.  And here I am.

The courtyard looking toward the girls rooms

I am holding babies. I am holding them. I am rocking them. I am singing to them. I am staring at them. I am sitting with them. I am making noises with them. I am feeding them. I am burping them. I am simply being with them. And it is beautiful.

The ashram is an orphanage. All of the children here (there are about 33 living full time and since it was winter break many of the older siblings have been here, making it close to 50) have been found without families. While they each have their own story on how they arrive here, all of them are loved and welcome with open arms as I was.

Look who I found here, Hanuamanji! I could not even make this up!

The ashram sits on 16 acres and has a living area for boys, girls, employees (who do not work directly with children) and guests.  Children have a ‘ma’ that nurtured, nourished and provided for them when they were little, if they arrived young.  Each ‘ma’ cares directly for 2 children, they can be close in age or the ages can differ. For example, I spend most of my time with Prena (nine months) and Shahtam (two months)and their ma Sunita who I respectfully call Maji. Guari (6 years with special rights) and Aanya (4 months) share a room and a ‘ma,’ while Tanya (who completed her second year of age and is in her third year) and Madhavi (who completed her 1 year and is in her second year) are with a different ma. Anisha (six months) and Vidhi (five months) have two ma’s, one of them is Swapna who is American who arrived her with her Guru Hari Ram or know here affectionately as Babaji who had a vision to create a space where children we are part of a loving family. 

The phrase or motto of Sri Ram is Love Loves Love.

While I have not been upstairs to the girls’ rooms, they have shared rooms and live together by age. The younger children aged five-nine/ten have a ma that shares a room with them. In general though, everyone who is older looks after all of the children. There is a shared responsibility for raising, nurturing and disciplining everyone.  And no older sibling spares the responsibility of showing his or her age.

view of my third floor room 22 from the outside

view of my room from inside

Each day at 6:15 am we hear the wake up bell. It is not an electronic bell.  It is a metal stick hitting metal pieces.  Morning aarti (prayer) follows and children who wake and attend get a chocolate. The breakfast bell is at 7:15.  The children gather their thali, a traditional meal plate (which is a metal plate with divisions in it- similar to a picnic plate) and meet in a line in the courtyard. The girls are in one line and they boys are in another.  They walk to the dining/eating room and enter only after taking off their shoes.  The boys sit to the left and the girls sit to the right (currently there are six boys who live here and the other 27 are girls). The cooks and older children come around with serving size portions of the meal and call it out, offering it as a choice. The children say ‘ha’ or tilt their head meaning ‘yes’ and point to which section of the thali plate they would like it placed.  They can also say ‘ni’ or ‘niheen’ or tilt their head in a different way to indicate ‘no.’ Once everyone has their food they join together in a prayer, while they say the same prayer, I have noticed at times the boys say it when they are ready and the girls say it when they are ready. Most folks eat with their fingers, some eat with a spoon. We all sit on the floor.  Some times children are fed (I have seen Tanya use a spoon and eat from a bowl on her own and I have also seen her ma feed her). Once they are done eating, they each are responsible for washing their thali plate, bowl (if they have one), spoon (if they used it) and cup.

There is some time between breakfast and study hall for children to return their dishes to their room and for them to play. The bell rings at 10ish for study hall, and while I am here during winter break, they only days they have taken off from study hall is Sunday and New Years Day.  Everyone who is ‘school’ aged, meaning older than five, gathers their book, workbooks, photocopied papers and writing tools and meets in a room to work. After about two hours, around 12:15 we hear the lunch bell.  After lunch is a time of rest, before a chai/snack break at 2:45/3.  From then until 6 children have the opportunity to play and explore on their own.

The sound of the bell at 6:15 signals the start of aarti/puja, which is lead by the children.  The elder children do the fire and water ceremony, play the drums and the harmonium and start the puja. The younger boys blow on the conch shell, which they love to do! The aarti ends with 3 minutes of mediation, in which the room is quiet.  Dinner is served around 7:15 and after children have time to study or watch TV for one hour before lights out. 

I wondered before I arrived, what my role would be here.  Sri Ram Ashram is a functioning family that guests step in to.  So while I am here or if I am not here, the same routine continues to honor consistency for the children.  My role here it to help with the babies. I have found a connection with Maji, Prena, Shahtam, Ma, Tanya and Madhavi and I spend most of my time with them, where I am called, Didi or big sister.

With a huge smile and love radiating from within,

HUG

Didi