Just Like That — sara lynn lashbrook

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.

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.

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

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