Today’s the first day of the rest of your life

As I write this, it’s day 18 out of 28 at the ashram.  A lovely time, though quite a different experience than the teacher training course days of 2006.  Those days were filled with memorizing Sanskrit chants & names of asanas (yoga postures), preparing practice lessons to present to small groups, and studying.  These days, there are more lectures to sit through, more karma yoga to attend to, and more unusual shuddikriya (cleansing techniques) to attempt.

As far as classes go, it seems less personalized than before- there are currently two classes in session.  The days have been a journey within, seeming like a retreat.  I don’t feel as connected to the place and other students this time around.  There’s a great sense of detachment, which is wonderful.  There no longer exists the novelty of being a first-timer.  Logically, rather than soaking it all up like a sponge, I’m doing more inner work than I previously had the capacity for. 

Being unsure of the next move, there are signs that I must to be receptive to.  I’ve been writing down the vivid, sometimes disturbing, sometimes comical dreams that have graced my sleep for the past few weeks.  Though I’ve given seated meditation a go, daydreams and gazes out into nature and up to the sky have been, as usual, more effective. 

As the second day of a three-day-silent-stretch winds down, I embrace the moment.  I’ve acquired a mass of new music and am listening to the pleasing, gentle, New Age-y sound of a group named Bliss. 

First day, second time around

4 years later, 4 years older, at the same ashram in the heart of Incredible India.  Then, it was the Teacher-Training Course, now I’m attending the Advanced Course.  Some things have changed; teachers & volunteers come and go, buildings have been added to accommodate growth.  Some things remain the same, such as the incredible meals (though the food is even more delectable) and the silence that must be kept while enjoying them. Surrounded by green rolling hills, the air here is fresh and calm.  There’s a constant chorus of birds during the day, taken over by the buzzing, chirping insects at night. 

After a 30-minute ride from Nashik city, we pulled up to the quiet ashram.  A man raised the gate to let the vehicle, piled high with bags, enter the grounds.  There was never a gate here before, let alone an armed Indian Army guard.  I suppose everyone feels safer now.  All bags must be inspected.  Really?  What the hell!?  Though a zip-loc bag of baking soda was ignored, each book was carefully fingered.  After lunch, I settled into the room I share with a Canadian, Northern Irish, and Egyptian.