Amazing Things About South India: Part 5

I went to South India with my teacher, Douglas Brooks, and an intrepid group of 22 other travelers.  We flew into Chennai and visited Thirupathi, Thirutani, Kanchipuram, Thiruvannamalai, Chidambaram, Kumbakonam, Thiruchendur, and Madurai.  It was a whirlwind trip both geographically and internally. There were so many amazing and incredible experiences that I would like to recount, so this five part series is my attempt to do just that.

Part 5: Elephants, Peacocks, and Snakes, Oh My!

Elephants
There is a “no photos” policy inside the temples that is strictly enforced. At the Chidambaram Temple, when I stood in front of the black Ganesha, big, fat, phat (am I dating myself?), and completely composed, I stood and stared to commit his image to memory. There is something so steady, so weighty, so grounded in his presence. And then, to my pleasant surprise, Babu and Bharati brought us a case of coconuts. Really it was a big bag, but I mean it was a *big* bag. We got to take turns smashing coconuts on the steps of Ganesha’s shrine. The symbolism behind this is wonderful. The coconut is your head, your brain. When you smash it open, you are breaking through to a new, deeper level of conscious awareness. It is an offering to the gods, to Ganesha particularly, the Guardian of Thresholds, the Remover of Obstacles. You offer yourself, your mind humbly and he is there for you. When you feel smashed in little pieces by events, relationships, life, he is there, hiding in plain sight, supporting you.

As the group of us were smashing coconuts, there were local people there to pick up the pieces. Nothing is wasted. That coconut meat probably made a great chutney later that day.

By the way, it is not necessarily easy to smash open a coconut. You have to aim it just right to hit the corner of the step and you have to put some muscle into it. It felt cathartic to generate that much effort to break it open, and if you think of how it feels when a firecracker goes off, how the air is displaced in order to make that loud boom, that is something of the feeling of the coconut smashing open, there is an internal displacement that awakens you to something more. And there is always more, like an iceberg with its tip above the water, three-quarters of it is still hidden below.

Ganesha is the ultimate elephant. The son of Shiva and Parvati he is often found sitting in thresholds, the obstacle himself — elephants are rather large — and the one who removes the obstacles. He is the first one you greet walking into a temple or even into someone’s home. Images of him often show him holding Indian sweets, modaka, and he is offering them to you, to everyone, in an invitation to enjoy the sweetness of life.

Peacocks
Upon arrival in India, I had this desire to see peacocks in real life. As we were preparing to leave the hotel one morning early on in the trip, I asked Douglas if we would see any peacocks that day, knowing that the peacock is the vahana, the vehicle of Murugan, and that we would be going to a Murugan temple that day. His response, “now we will.” I just love this idea of planting the seed and then allowing things to take their course. That day in that temple, there were many images on the walls of peacocks. It is the Mazaradi of deity transport. In contrast, Ganesha rides a moussaka, a mouse, which is a testament to Ganesha’s lightness of foot and of heart. Durga has her tiger, Sarasvati has her swan, Lakshmi her elephant or sometimes a peacock too, she is the goddess of abundance after all. Vishnu has his eagle. The vahana seems an extension of the quality that deity offers or reflects within.

A few days later we did see real, living peacocks in Tiruchendur. The peacock is so majestic with its feathers on display. Seeking a mate it puts its best face forward. Our group in our colorful saris felt a little like peacocks to me, and it was interesting when Douglas once mentioned that the reason we follow the tradition of wearing a sari is because it is sacred. We play the part “as if” we are Hindus and belong there because we do belong there. There are no rules to participation in these rituals of the self, the universal. Show up and act “as if.” Not only is it sacred to dress the part, it is a part of the culture that is being lost. Many younger women no longer embrace the wearing of a sari, I dunno, maybe because it is a little fussy, maybe because it can take a long time to get dressed, you often need someone else’s help, and getting the pleats just right is a real skill that needs to be practiced. We dressed in so many fanciful colors to honor the tradition and just maybe in some small way, to rekindle the love of the sacred.

Snakes
Naga in Sanskrit, images of snakes are abundant. Snakes are wrapped around Shiva’s arms and waist while he dances his ecstatic dance, snakes are wrapped around many deities, and they are wrapped around each other. Snakes represent spiritual power, one’s true potential, and fertility, which is really the passing along of one’s power. There is a relief image on a wall here of Murugan riding his peacock with a snake coming out of his mouth, and his father Shiva and brother Ganesha beside him. They say that spiritual energy, kundalini, is a coiled serpent lying at the base of the spine, and through meditation she awakens and rises, piercing the chakras so that the aspirant awakens to deeper levels of existence, deeper levels of humanity. It is a metaphor, a way to describe the indescribable. Awakening.

At the Kalahasti Temple in Srikalahasti Andra Pradesh in particular, there is a great naga forest just outside the gates. Many many images of snakes wrapped around each other, piled on top of each other, where young couples go to pray for children. It was an amazing and fecund sight. Kalahasti is the Shiva temple that is connected to the wind element. This naga forest had an overwhelming sense of earthiness, and a great sense of hope, potential, power, and fertility, again. It was real and palpable.

Snakes represent power. This is a difference with the goddess cult so prevalent in southern India, compared to say the Kashmir Shaivite tradition of northern India. Kashmir Shaivism philosophy is a bondage to liberation model. When one is born into a body in this life on earth, one is shrouded in darkness and must practice yoga in order to return to the light; this is the rising of the kundalini energy from base to crown chakra. According to this philosophy, the yogi should do anything to get out — relief from the suffering — of this world. In the goddess cult, one lives with kundalini energy in the world. The idea is not to leave the world through liberation or emancipation, but to remain in the world and feast on its spiritual fruits. Generally in northern India, Shiva is represented as a lingam, a formless form, which you do also find in temples in the south, but you also find images of Shiva’s family much more prevalent in the south. Shiva, Parvati, Ganesha, Murugan, and rarely the bastard son Ayappa [see Part 3 of this series for more on him]. A family represents a full expression of love in its many forms.

And forests represent the place of human existence. They say there are three places that you can find Shiva, on the mountaintop, in the cremation ground, or in the forest. If you are on a mountaintop, the sun shines brightly and you may see vast expanses of lands. In the cremation ground it is dark and scary and there are goblins there, gravesites are often associated with the night. However, in the forest, it is the combination of these two, the sun shines brightly through the leaves of the trees, so in the forest there is light and darkness intertwined. Dappled light — which is the human experience, sometimes we are in the light and sometimes darkness reigns. It is up to each one of us individually to find our own pathway, to navigate the places of light and the places of darkness. Yoga gives us tools to navigate, and through practice we become skillful. As Douglas’ teacher Appa once said, “yoga is virtuosity in being yourself.” The Bhagavad Gita states, “yoga is skill in action.” A peaceful warrior. Impeccable and awake.

Amazing Things About South India: Part 4

I went to South India with my teacher, Douglas Brooks, and an intrepid group of 22 other travelers.  We flew into Chennai and visited Thirupathi, Thirutani, Kanchipuram, Thiruvannamalai, Chidambaram, Kumbakonam, Thiruchendur, and Madurai.  It was a whirlwind trip both geographically and internally. There were so many amazing and incredible experiences that I would like to recount, so this five part series is my attempt to do just that.

Part 4: Smoke… And Fire
If you travel to India, one of the first things you might notice is the massive amount of sensory input that bombards you from the moment you step off the plane.  There are so many sights, sounds, smells and tastes that are available to you; it can be a little discombobulating.  It also happens to be one of the reasons I love India.  You are surrounded by sensory experience.  And people.  And cars, trucks, motorcycles, buses, bicycles, trains, rickshaws, tuck tucks.  And cows.

In the temples, there are so many sculptures, on the walls, the pillars, in little nooks and in big shrines.  For me, just knowing that these works of art have been around for hundreds or even thousands of years connects me to a certain timeless quality that offers a sense of letting go of the small, petty, everyday realities that are not so important in the long term.  This outer timelessness provides me a connection to the inner quality that is the underlying truth of experience, that which is changeless, formless, without any external supports, that which is radiant, peaceful and drenched in bliss.

Om Namah Shivaya Gurave Satchidananda Murtaye Nishprapanchaya Shantaya Niralambaya Tejase

Smoke

In the before-mentioned Murugan Temple in Tiruchendur, there was a shrine for Murugan and the priest standing outside it was cultivating a small flame.  He would pour vibhuti, white ash, on the flame and as it would smoke, he invited you to put your face directly into the smoke while he fanned it on you.  The first time I did this, I was not sure what to do, looking into the small fire, trying my best to do what the priest told me to do and going through motions.  The next morning when we returned to the temple, I had the chance to do it again, and this time I was ready.  As I stepped up to his little flame, he began to fan the vibhuti smoke into my face and I inhaled deeply.  I had the sense of the smoke penetrating nostrils, lungs, and then following the nadis, subtle nerve pathways that infuse the body with consciousness – they say there are 72,000 of them in the human form – to the furthest reaches of my awareness.  It was as though the smoke clarified and purified each layer of my awareness, body, mind, heart, emotion, spirit.  I can still remember that sensation if I close my eyes and inhale.

Fire

Chidambaram Nataraja Temple feels like home.  When I’m outside the gates, I can feel the temple calling me inward.  When I step in the gates I am open to a larger version of my own heart.  When I take the 21 steps into the inner courtyard, mantra arises in my mind without me making any effort.  The subtle vibration rises up from the very ground of the temple, through my feet and into my field of consciousness.  When it is time to go, the ounces of my being cling to the temple, not wanting to leave.

Traveling with the Poonai, we had an extra special treat when the dikshitars, Brahmin priests of Chidambaram Nataraja temple, prepared a homa ceremony for us.  A homa ceremony is a fire ritual.  They decorate the place with banana leaves and other natural ornaments, we all sit around in a big circle as the priests chant their mantras, and then the dikshitar of the day offers many things into the fire – ghee, yogurt, honey, rice, sandalwood paste, milk, and more; the whole process takes several hours.  There is a large silver trough that each of the substances flow down and then get poured out into the fire, to then transform into smoke that rises up to the gods.  This process is fascinating… and painful to sit on the stone floor cross-legged, and quite often it is hot and uncomfortable, but it is fascinating.

There may be many ways to interpret this ritual, but one part of it is the idea of abundance.  Here are all kinds of food items that someone might be able to eat, but it is being offered into the fire.  The funny thing is, there is always more.  At points I would want to laugh at the ever more outrageous offerings sent into the flames, at points the laughter was at the spectacle itself, but in the most joyous way, there was nothing self-serving or sarcastic about it.  The child-like joy of the South Indian people is infectious.  Several times throughout the trip, our guide Babu would mention that it is rare for someone to go hungry in India, that may sound a little questionable, but it is what he said.  In the giving away of the food, something greater is actually retained.  After the ceremony we distributed buckets of food that our group had supplied, that dikshitar wives had cooked, to other temple attendees.  It was literally buckets of food, served in little banana leaf bowls.

Later, as our way of providing back a small token of what the dikshitars had offered to us, we offered sugar cane and turmeric to the dikshitars.  Sugar cane is for the sweetness of life and turmeric is for good health. Piles of sugarcane and turmeric branches stacked up are the very picture of abundance itself.  Having experienced these offerings first-hand, it makes me feel that I am connected to a larger whole within the universe, the part that continually offers, continually creates, continually transforms.  It is the plus one factor.  There is always more.

And each more forms a new memory, a new story to tell.

  

Amazing Things About South India: Part 3

I went to South India with my teacher, Douglas Brooks, and an intrepid group of 22 other travelers.  We flew into Chennai and visited Thirupathi, Thirutani, Kanchipuram, Thiruvannamalai, Chidambaram, Kumbakonam, Thiruchendur, and Madurai.  It was a whirlwind trip both geographically and internally. There were so many amazing and incredible experiences that I would like to recount, so this five part series is my attempt to do just that.

Part 3: Brahma Chamundesvari

Stupa at entrance to Thillai Kali Temple, Chidambaram
On the outskirts of Chidambaram sits a breathtaking temple known as Thillai Kali Amman. Thillai Kali herself used to be located in the Chidambaram Natarajan Temple until the 1200s when a Chola dynasty king moved her. Legend speaks of a dance contest between her and Shiva in which she was to mimic every move that Shiva made. He went too far and in order to preserve her dignity, she wouldn’t follow him in a particularly unsavory dance move, therefore she lost the contest and in her anger at him “cheating” chose to move outside the city just to prove that we humans need both Shiva and Shakti in our lives. ‘You are gonna miss me when I’m gone.’ There are other versions, as is always the case with Indian mythology, but there is no question that the story is much more involved and complicated.

Chidambaram means the space, ambaram, of consciousness, chid. It may also be translated as “clothed in consciousness.” In fact, there is a unique connection between these two temples, Thillai Kali and Nataraja, in that each one contains a piece of the other. The akasha linga, akasha meaning space as well, and linga referring to Shiva in his “formless form,” sits in the Thillai Kali temple, and there is still a place for Thillai Kali in the Nataraja temple where she is not. But the funny thing is, there is a place for this lingam, under a five faced naga, cobra, and it is completely empty. The lingam is in the ether, not in the physical, visible world.

When you first enter the temple, you notice that Ganesha is on the wrong side. Usually Ganesha is to the left when you enter a temple, and you offer him mantra, mudra, and your love at the threshold and then go about your way. His brother Murugan sits on the right. At Thillai Kali Temple, Ganesha is to the right and Murugan to the left. Which means that when you leave the Thillai Kali temple, they are in the proper position; so when you leave Thillai Kali temple you are actually entering the temple of the outside world. Everything is reversed, a reflection of Nataraja and other temples, in the same way that Shakti, the feminine divine manifestation is a reflection, reversed, of Shiva, the masculine divine consciousness. It is a brilliant way to acknowledge that in Shakti practice, the world that we live in is divine, it is the universal, it is the truth for which we have all been searching.

There are many things to capture your eye and your spirit in this temple, and on this particular trip, it was Brahma Chamundeshvari who captivated me. She is the deity in the innermost sanctum, and she is Kali, Shakti, Parvati, the divine feminine in murti form. She has four faces. The one facing out, toward you looking in, is Shakti herself. Shiva is to the left and Vishnu is to the right. And then there is the face in the back. These faces represent a little known story, told in Rajanaka lore of South India. Shiva and Shakti, Parvati, Kali, are married, but in the course of time, Shiva was attracted to the feminine form of his best buddy (and Parvati’s brother) Vishnu, called Mohini. Shiva and Mohini were in the Thillai forest to awaken some sages who had become complacent in their yoga and meditation practices. They were able to shock the sages back into reality and when that deed was done, they had a tryst with each other. This resulted in Vishnu becoming pregnant. Vishnu, being a man after all, had no way to birth this baby, so Parvati, after already being wronged by them having a tryst in the first place had to suffer the indignity of then helping her brother betrayer birth this baby through the pores of his skin. She was the midwife to the bastard child of her husband. Talk about feminine strength. Despite all of the things she must have been feeling because of her husband’s and her brother’s betrayal, she held strong and supported them through this most unusual and perhaps even life-threatening event.

Thillai Kali Temple, Chidambaram
The child’s name is Ayappa. You may recognize him in south Indian art because he is often sitting in a squat position with the yogi’s strap around his legs supporting him. In the Thillai Kali temple, he is the face of Brahma Chamundeshvari that you never see. He represents the broken piece, the missing piece, the thing that guarantees there is always something more, something else, something different, something interesting. It might be something painful, but it in contemplation, it will always bring you closer to your own Self.

We have things that are broken right? Something about ourselves that we might not want to show to the world, but that gives context, richness, fullness, story. It is something that makes one unique and perhaps even colors our decisions or actions. This is what this story is about, recognizing that the figurative bastard child is not something to be thrown out, but to be embraced, for all the heartache that he causes, he brings more love into the world. Or perhaps better stated, he brings more experience into the world. The broken piece in our own lives causes more trouble when we try to deny it or ignore it, because then it festers. If we recognize it for what it is and accept it — no matter how much we may or may not be able to forgive — still acknowledging it, then it adds a new pattern, a new detail to the fabric of life.

Brahma Chamundeshwari is the peak of strength of the Divine Feminine. She holds those things that she loves and those that have betrayed her, and she still shows her best face to the world. She may be inspiration to us all.

Amazing Things About South India: Part 2

I went to South India with my teacher, Douglas Brooks, and an intrepid group of 22 other travelers.  We flew into Chennai and visited Thirupathi, Thirutani, Kanchipuram, Thiruvannamalai, Chidambaram, Kumbakonam, Thiruchendur, and Madurai.  It was a whirlwind trip both geographically and internally. There were so many amazing and incredible experiences that I would like to recount, so this five part series is my attempt to do just that.

Part 2: The Poonai
Poonai means cats in Tamil. As in, our tour guides feel like they are “herding cats” to get us on the bus, get us off the bus, into the temple, out of the temple, checked in to the hotel, checked out of the hotel, and make sure everyone gets their bio break when the need it. Oh, and, of course, to make sure everyone has their chai. Over the years the trip has become more and more sophisticated in that our guides now know that shopping must take place in the beginning to make sure we have the best saris (and dhotis) for our travels; they know when to make a pit stop as well as where and how; even during our picnic lunch in a banana field, we had everything one could ask, hot delicious sambar, tamarind rice, and curry complete with straw mats to sit on so we weren’t on the hard ground.

Inside MC Poonai

Of course the Poonai come mostly from the US with a few other countries represented, Sweden and Thailand, but I believe we all are a little South Indian at heart. How else could we get up so early to have someone else help us dress — I tried diligently to tie my sari myself, and came relatively close, but my sari-tying never lived up to our guide Bharati’s standards — and not to mention, eating with our fingers. You have to want to be in South India to be in South India.

Bus Chuck

Sometimes the challenges were real, being so far away from comforts of home, but daily, the people on the bus, my friends new and long-time were continually nurturing, supportive, curious, welcoming, open, and maintaining a positive attitude. It was hot and the roads were sometimes bumpy, and the ground on which we walked barefoot was often less than clean. Over the years, the Poonai have developed some rituals and nicknames. Once, there was a guy named Chuck (which may or may not be his real name) who tended to wander and who accidentally got left behind. Of course this was discovered relatively quickly and they went back for him right away and all was well, but now, after every temple and every re-boarding of the bus, we do a “Chuck check.” You have to make sure that your roommate is there. I ended up with two Chucks, my bus-mate whom I would sit with, my “Bus Chuck,” and my roommate in the hotels, my “Chuck Chuck.” These ladies were so wonderful.

Chuck Chuck

My Bus Chuck, Harriet, is a head-strong activist resisting the corruption in government that we are seeing so much of lately and standing up for women’s rights in so many ways. My Chuck Chuck, Shannon, is a brave soul who is stellarly living her truth and being a positive influence in the world. The conversations that we had really helped me figure some things out in my own life and to get in touch with places and events that I may have rejected, ignored, or wished away. This past year has been emotional for many of us, as the American “Id” has risen into power and the #MeToo movement has swept social media. Figuring out not just ways to cope and to deal, but ways to make positive change is truly priceless. Having a non-judgmental sounding board is really the best therapy. 🙂

We may not have all known each other at the beginning of our trip, but we all came for similar reasons, to “see and be seen,” darshan. Please check out Douglas’s post regarding darshan. “The practice of darshan arrests the mind into singular focus, places the body in often uncomfortable positions (spoon up, lean in…), and it compels the heart to race into a kind of fury, chaos, and wonder that is difficult to explain but from doing it, and doing it, as it were, “properly.” Think of it this way: our whole cognitive and somatic being allocates our attentions, regulates and assigns meaning to our environments, in terms of both inside and outside awareness.”

Speaking of spooning up, at most of the temples, there were long lines to see the inner sanctum deity. We had to hurry up, rush rush, and then wait, and then the moment when he or she is revealed. Quite often we had to squish really close in order for everyone to have a chance to see. In that moment we were “Spoonai”… and when the new folks needed to get up front in order to have the best view, they were “Newnai.” Joyful, child-like enthusiasm at every turn.  And at the same time, we were immersed in one of the most sophisticated philosophies on the planet.  The rituals, habits, and mantras reveal a rare depth of humanity.

One temple, the Tillai Kali temple in Chidambaram, is especially breathtaking.  The images of Shakti, the goddess, are striking and they can and will meet you at every level of your awareness.  We visited twice, once at the beginning of our trip and again at the end.  On a particular occasion, as I was standing in the back courtyard area, somewhat dazed and just absorbing the experience of being there, Mariah walked up to me and whispered the 66 syllable Durga mantra into my ear.  I was caught by surprise because at first I thought she was offering the mantra that I was familiar with, Om Dum Durge Bhagavati Namasthite, but then it became clear that she kept going.  More syllables that spun into an amazing mantra that represents the churning of the milky ocean of consciousness.  Shakti, the feminine form of infinite consciousness who manifests in the world, is continuously churning, making more, giving the value added experience, the “plus one.”  As Mariah, unprovoked, spoke this mantra to me, I felt it a gift to help me recognize that churning within and all around, and in the next few days myself had committed those 66 syllables to memory.

By the end of our travels, we were functioning as a unified whole. A group of individuals with our own unique desires, needs, and habits that existed completely in support of each other as well. Friends, Poonai, for life.

Amazing Things About South India: Part 1

I went to South India with my teacher, Douglas Brooks, and an intrepid group of 22 other travelers.  We flew into Chennai and visited Thirupathi, Thirutani, Kanchipuram, Thiruvannamalai, Chidambaram, Kumbakonam, Thiruchendur, and Madurai.  It was a whirlwind trip both geographically and internally. There were so many amazing and incredible experiences that I would like to recount, so this five part series is my attempt to do just that.

Part 1: The South Indian People

These folks win the prize for resilience. It is their “winter” season and the temps were in the 80s and close to 90 everyday. A “three shower day” I call it. It is a harsh climate, especially without air conditioning. And if you have air conditioning, you are not always guaranteed that the electrical grid will hold up throughout the day. It is challenging, and yet, I saw so many smiles on people’s faces.

Their homes come in many shapes and styles, but we visited one village, where our tour guide Babu has a small farm. We first stopped at a traditional potter’s home. He was spinning pots on his porch, where the roof made of bamboo and thatch hung low. So low in fact that one of our travelers hit her head on the bamboo post sticking out. It was bloody. Everyday they have to duck to get into their home. It is low for a reason though — to keep the sun out.

At this same village we visited a small outdoor temple. Douglas advised that most of the goddess deities we saw here are related to the monsoon and even small pox, the things one has to deal with in this climate in order to survive. Even in this small village, it is clear the villagers take pride in their place, the artwork and attention to detail is amazing.

We visited Babu’s farm after that. He also allows his home to be used as a school for the village children. He told us that when the children first started meeting visitors like us they were so shy, if they said anything they might ask your name, but now they are friendly and open and asking how we are doing. We offered the girls bindis, nail polish, and hair ties. The boys were all about the pens.

In Babu’s home some villagers served us a traditional South Indian lunch. Thali meal. This consists of rice placed in the center of a large banana leaf (yes, literally a banana leaf) with a variety of curries spread around the rice. You mix the curry into the rice with your hands and eat with your fingers. There is no silverware anywhere. The tamarind curry is truly dee-lish.

Our group wanted to be respectful of the culture and so we would wear saris — it took the ladies hours to get ready in the morning. Guys get to wear dhotis, which is basically a big sheet wrapped around your private area. 15 minutes tops to get ready for them. It was so worth it to dress the part. When South Indians would see us in traditional dress, they would be so happy and want to talk and take our photographs. It was interesting to me how, seeing Westerners dressed in traditional South Indian fashion, they weren’t repulsed by cultural appropriation, on the contrary, they were so happy that we were trying to “fit in” as it were that they printed a photo in the newspaper. It was a Tamil language newspaper that Babu and Douglas translated to say basically, ‘look at these Westerners going to temple in traditional Indian clothing, doing their best to follow the tradition and temple rituals, they might help inspire our young people to do the same.’ I am paraphrasing, for sure.

One temple that I really loved was the Murugan Temple in Tiruchendur. This is right on the Bay of Bengal. I think perhaps the laid back beach vibe might be a universal experience. Many people would go to the temple, have darshan, which means to see the deity and be seen by the deity, and then walk outside and take a dip in the sea. The people we met here seemed especially joyful and happy to see us. There were Shakti pilgrims dressed in red saris, and Ayappa pilgrims in black dhotis. Once, after some of our group had darshan, a few of us were waiting in the hallway for the rest of our group. We were standing in front of other shrines where a continuous stream of people were rolling by. One of the Ayappa pilgrims spoke to one of our male travelers within my earshot. As I was listening, he was saying that they are so pleased to see us at the Murugan Temple. It was not just his words but the whole gestalt of smelling the incense burning, the heat of the day, the darkness inside the temple, the sacred air we were breathing… as this pilgrim was speaking, my heart was bursting. It felt as though some hard outer shell was crumbling and an even greater love was beginning to shine through my own chest. It felt like a deeper connection to my own soul. It felt like a merging of different layers of my awareness so that I became more complete as myself. I wanted to hug everyone, but in that moment I just kept breathing deeply and feeling even more deeply. It was enough to just be there.

Mamacita Costa Rica

Om Mata Kali, Kali Durge Ma

It’s been two weeks since we returned from Costa Rica, but I am still living in the afterglow. There were so many great things about our visit — 16 of us yogis both teachers and students, all with a connection to Yoga Center of Columbia — so I will try to hit on some of my highlights.

Poas PanoramaThe first day we had some free time, so we got to tour and hike around Poas Volcano and La Paz Waterfalls. This was a great introduction to the country. Colder than I expected because we were up high in altitude. This volcano is active… in fact it was active just one week before we arrived! It was only gurgling on the day we were there, which was fascinating because the sound was such a low frequency that you felt the sound more in your body then you actually heard it.

When's yoga?
When’s yoga?
We spent the first half of the week in Grecia, a suburb of San Jose, at Villas Azaleas, and each day we visited a senior center nearby. We were there to plant a butterfly and hummingbird garden, do arts and crafts, and practice gentle yoga. I was in the yoga group. Kath had prepared a sequence and there were several of us assisting. These seniors were so open and joyous and wanting to practice, at the end of the first day they were asking when would we be back and for how long. It was really a rewarding treat to be so warmly received. After yoga was over, the seniors would usually break out their vinyl and start dancing. So elegant and dignified. Hener, who walked with a cane, came over to my wallflower seat, promptly hooked is cane over the back of my chair and asked me to dance. This man had a hip replacement (as near as we could tell with what pokito Espanol any of us spoke) and had the gumption to lay it out on the dance floor. Inspiring.

La Presidenta
La Presidenta
While in Grecia we also visited a women’s co-op that produces cosmetics, hair care and soaps, and coffee — a great combination. These women fought through many hardships to make there business survive. It seemed the government and everyone was against their success, and many people just did not think they could pull it off. But the women persisted and now it brings meaningful sustainable work to good people, they grow many herbs in their own greenhouses and gardens. Xavier was our host and interpreter that day as La Presidenta told us her story. And the coffee is delicious.

morning yogaOur group was both yoga teachers and students, so we took turns leading each other in yoga class in the mornings before we went off to the senior center. It was an opportunity to stretch and center before facing the day. On days that we did not return too late, Lucy offered excellent and relaxing yoga nidra sessions outdoors before sleep. For the two mornings that I taught, we chanted Om Mata Kali, Kali Durge Ma to the land and to nature and to our good fortune for being able to share in the bounty of our Earth Mother in such a verdant and beautiful place. The sheer variety of birds, even in the city of Grecia, was a sight to behold. The blue crowned motmot joined us for several mornings. Oh yes, and the fruits — lime, mango, banana, star fruit, and sour orange were in our secret garden behind the concrete wall. Just walk outside and pick one. The mangoes were not quite ripe yet, but green mango, sliced in long french fry shape, with a squeeze of lime and sprinkle of salt is a tasty Costa Rican dish. When it is fresh from the tree, you can taste the vitality. Costa Rica is home to nearly 4% of the worlds diversity in flora and fauna. Many of which are insects.

Look at this little guy.
Look at this little guy.

For the second portion of our trip we visited Hacienda Baru on the southern Pacific coast. This national wildlife refuge is the heart of a rainforest teeming with life. Our cabinas were less than half a mile from the ocean so you bet we did some yoga there. The water was warm, but had the potential for riptides so not many people swim. It was okay though because the abundant hermit crabs (in the wild!) were fascinating to watch as they lumbered about with their homes on their backs. There were so many opportunities to commune with nature. I chose hiking and kayaking. One hike took us up the side of a mountain with birds, frogs, monkeys, even a two-toed sloth. They call the capuchin monkeys “cappuchino monkeys” because they are dark brown with milky faces. One afternoon I went walking by myself. Of course that is when a snake chose to show up. There are two types of poisonous snakes in that area of the country. I found out later the one I came across was not poisonous, but a little “shoo… shoo” was enough to make him turn around back into his foliage so I could quickly pass. My favorites were the afternoon monkeys feeding up in the fruit tree. It was just me and the monkeys. There were about three cappuchinos that I could see at first,cappuchino monkeys so standing still, I just watched. They saw me, but they also saw the fruit. Soon others were joining them, including two mothers with babies on their backs. I counted at least 22, but they were moving around pretty quickly, it was hard to get a good count. At that point, I felt completely immersed in nature as I watched them have their afternoon meal.

There are challenges in traveling to another country when one does not have the conveniences of home, like a warm shower or an air conditioned room, or the proper shoes for the task, or dirt under your toenails due to a lack of the proper shoes. But the Earth is abundant and beautiful and wild. On this trip, whenever I would slow down and simply be, simply allow nature to flow around me and in me and through me, I was uplifted beyond words.

Om Mata Kali, Kali Durge Ma

Did I mention the humidity? It felt like a Washington DC summer. Our guide kept telling us that it was not humid. I think I believe him.

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Move ahead to Saundarya Days.
Return to: I Feel Good…But Not *That* Good

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