South India

I recently returned from South India, traveling around Kerala and Tamilnadu in a Toyota van with Dileep, our driver, and my longtime companion who turned 80 on the trip. Before meeting with Dileep and beginning our journey, we checked into Kairali Ayurvedic Health Resort and experienced 7 days of Panchakarma treatments. Dr. Rajeev gave a pretty thorough exam, wrote up an evaluation and prescription of treatments including a daily organic vegetarian diet, a continuation of Trifala and Chyawanprash and he added Abhayaristha 30 ml twice daily, plus lots of drinking water which was a special concoction of warm water steeped in a variety of herbs and spices with a peppery taste. Each day began with an hour of yoga practice followed by a one hour treatment in the morning (each treatment took place on a Droni table and involved 2 therapists) then breakfast, free time (walking, swimming, more yoga, cycling around the countryside, lots of rest), then lunch followed by rest or activity, an afternoon treatment, a short period of time before meditation, a late dinner and then to bed. The place was absolutely magical. The treatments varied daily and included Abhyangam (general massage), Sirodhara (nonstop stream of medicated oil, herbal concoction, milk or other materials), Elakizhi (herbal poultices, whole body massage), Pizhichil (whole body and head prescribed oil massage with continuous slow and light hand pressure), Navarakizhi (whole body massage with small linen bags filled with cooked Navara rice cooked in cow's milk and mixed with herbs and oils), Nasyam (after certain processes, exact doses of oils are poured into the nostrils as the patient inhales deeply), Netradhara (eye therapy with medicated oils), and much more. Most therapies were followed by time in a hot steam box followed by an exfoliating shower, then a brief meeting with the doctor and his assistant over hot tea. Weight, blood pressure and various measurements were taken, feedback solicited, modifications made. For example, because I'm one of the lucky few who have no allergies, the administration of medicated oil into the nostrils was only done once, and because the doctor didn't like the way my eyes got all red and bloodshot after having cups and cups of oil poured over them (try keeping your eyes open for that!), he suspended that treatment. I was never sure what was coming next which added to the deliciousness of it all. Learning to totally relax while your therapist administers an enema, or pounds your body with bags of cooked rice, or suddenly finding yourself being soaked in buttermilk can be challenging, but I loved the experience. Many people return often. One of my favorite friends was a woman from Trinidad who had worked in many countries, including Kenya and Tanzania, with abused and dis-empowered women (including the horrific forced practice of "circumcision" which is really a brutal mutilation of the female genitalia), and is currently based in NYC and has been with the United Nations for many years. For her, the treatments were all about down time and destressing from a high pressure job as well as weight reduction. Another friend was the 25 year old son of a businessman who needed to see some maturity in his only son (and weight reduction). People from all over would suddenly appear for brief treatments, some to just relax, some after pilgrimages or ashram stays in the North. For me, 7 days was plenty, but 14 or 28 days are most recommended, but not many people can do this.

One day I was walking on the road towards the village when a small, crippled dog suddenly appeared underfoot and caused me to nearly fall. He was so sweet and determined to be petted. I later learned that a woman from Germany who was staying at the resort after hip replacement and multiple bypass surgery and who had a habit of cycling throughout the countryside despite doctors order to the contrary, had found a little dog that had been crushed by a car and lay dying in the road. She insisited that Dr. Rajeev, an Ayurvedic doctor and not a vet, come immediately to help her rescue the dog. I'm told she cried for days while holding the dog and nursing him back to health. There is a "canteen" across the street from the resort where employees gather before and after work, and this little crippled dog that demanded so much of my attention had been promised a lifetime of care by the employees of the resort.

On the day of our departure, there was significant protesting going on in Palakkad after a brutal attack in which one woman was killed (political stuff I'm told). Our driver made it through early, but our departure was waylaid until the crowds dispersed late in the day. And so began sixteen days of travel throughout South India, from Palakkad to Cochin, Munnar, Alleppey, Kumarakom, Periyar, Madurai, Trichy, Tanjore, Mahabalipuram (aka Mamallapuram) to Chennai.

Illusions

This morning I randomly opened a book to read: "Stay alert to the easy shift from the illusions of false expectations to the illusions of anger and fear that follow in their wake." It resonated. Recently our nearest neighbors have been partying and the noise just reaches out and grabs me and stirs something inside that gets me so riled up it is just ridiculous. My heart pounds, I get angry, I pace, I want to respond to the retaliatory impulse that swells up inside me by moving my stereo system outside and turning it on full blast. I want to scream at them to shut up. I find it hard to sleep, not because of the noise they are making (because I cannot hear it in my bedroom) but because of the noise I am making inside myself. It is really my own noise that is beckoning me to listen, to learn, to go inside. The illusion of the false expectation indeed shifts so very easily into the illusion of fear and anger. Of course it comes down to the deeper truth that I fear I am not worthy of love and that can express itself in sadness or anger. When I was a kid sometimes my parents would have loud arguments and fights, and it was so scary for me. I would be hypervigilant and stay up for hours listening mostly to the quiet, thinking I could spring into rescue mode the moment the fighting resumed. That impulse to stop the noise stays with me today although I can truly say that I no longer jump totally out of myself when I hear a loud noise. A teacher recently said that those of us who are most sensitive to outside noises tend to have a lot of noise going on inside ourselves. I think there is some truth in that. There is certainly nothing wrong in seeking peace and quiet, but to expect it to always be there may not be so realistic. Bayda writes: "Peace is found not through seeking peace, but through residing completely in what is."
There is a new yoga teacher in town that I really like. He teaches from the heart. He truly inspires me and helps lead me to that quiet place inside. He is an asset to the Austin Yoga community, a very warm welcome to Chris Muchow.

Platters of Nourishment

On the breakfast table in a house I lived in years ago was a large platter of food. It was mine. Two people I know--one a friend, one a family member--were voraciously eating from this platter. I grew so angry that I yelled and threw a cup against the wall, causing it to shatter and break into a thousand pieces. "This is MY food and I hate it when others eat from my plate," I screamed. Food can represent nourishment, both physical and spiritual, and we all must have nourishment. Sometimes I feel I am unable to grow when I perceive that others around me are depriving me of nourishment (which is of course transference/projection). We are each one of us responsible for providing ourselves with the nourishment we need to grow and enlarge ourselves in this life. We cannot do this completely alone. We do need times of silence, of being alone and still with ourselves so we can listen to what our Self is trying to tell us. But, is it not all the disruptions and interferences that cause us discomfort and suffering that lead us to the places we need to be in order to grow and learn? True, we cannot allow the behavior of others, over which we have no control, to disempower our determination to seek nourishment. We cannot blame others for our own failures to procure for ourselves what we need as we do not have the power to change anyone other than ourselves. So what is the message of the dream? We all need nourishment and often that nourishment is the same (something we all share), yet we cannot blame others when we do not get what we need, for it is up to each one of us to take from the plate of life that which we need to feed ourselves--this takes action. And, it is through the chaos and craziness of human behavior that we can see more clearly the path upon which our deeper self is guiding us to walk on. I often struggle with relationships. If someone does something we vehemently disagree with, what action, if any, do we take? Do we decide to distance ourselves from that person? Do we choose to look at that person's good qualities and accept the "bad" as simply part of their humanity? I always think the compassionate, loving viewpoint is the best route; however, it is good to remember that we can love someone from afar without constant interaction. We can disagree with their beliefs, philosophy, religion, orientation, etc, but do we condemn them just because they are different from us? I think not. What about all the things we have in common, both good and not so good? Hollison writes: "We do not learn and grow by all subscribing to the same school of thought, copying the same values, or voting the same way. We grow from the experience of our differences, although in insecure moments we quickly forget this. The capacity to include those differences, even incorporate them into an ever broader, more sophisticated range of choices, is the chief task, and gift, of evolving relationships."

Universal Mirrors

It seems I've been seeing my darker side quite a bit of late, reflected in the actions of people around me. It puts me into that place where I find myself trembling with fear, and once the anger aspect has dissipated, I feel a raw tenderness that leaves me so humbled and stripped of self that I begin to open to those moments of better seeing. Tears can refract the incoming light and break it up into a range of blinding colors. I am caught off guard when the intensity and depth of these reflections come in sudden waves. I wonder what I'm doing to elicit these blinding visions. I don't mean mystical visions, but rather the kind of seeing that pushes me towards that place of limitless learning, whether I like it or not. Life can be so profoundly sweet at times that I tend to just lay back on the cloud and float, and that's good stuff, for sure. But the cloud floating is not something I've learned to sustain. I heard someone say recently that when we realize that learning is limitless, new worlds open to us. Learning is work in progress, and the lessons put before us are opportunities. These opportunities can wear chaotic faces that are not easy to look at. I find it hard to suddenly discontinue the star gazing from the cloud and look towards those difficult and challenging realities, but that is the task at hand and while looking away may be a choice, it is not the choice that is usually best.

Parallels

I had great fun this weekend with a houseguest--a new friend, a yoga teacher (in the Iyengar tradition, in the NYC OM studio tradition, etc.), a former professional dancer, a professional musician. The gifted artist with a wide range of talents. Just the kind of people I've always been drawn to. Strong elements of independence, living on the fringe of things, so to speak, a certain outer fierceness (aka control freak) coupled with an inner sweet fragility. Vulnerable, open to life. In truth, someone whose life, in many ways, has run parallel to mine. Of course, many differences, but the connectedness comes from discovering those things shared. He told me that staying here was relaxing and he felt totally decompressed. He spoke of having vivid dreams. We talked endlessly and were both silly and serious.

My step cousin committed suicide a few years ago. She was young, toying with drugs and alcohol, feeling depressed and all alone. It happens a lot. She and her mother, my aunt, had a falling out on the phone which perhaps triggered the final act of her young life and she spiraled into that place of no return. I dreamt of her last night, and my aunt and my father. My father and I were in line to view the body and we were outside near the sea, and we were both barefoot. There was a playfulness and joy to it all. As I approached the body for my personal viewing, the corpse began to stir and move. Clearly she had been dead for a long while and I wondered why the funeral was being held so many years later. In brief, she was possessed and so began my journey towards exorcising the demon within her. She constantly changed forms, from an adult to a tiny baby in a bath. Always I was trying to exorcise the occupying spirit without success. I begged a holy man for water, he had none. But he gave me a small piece of dampened cloth to apply to her body, which I did. Slowly the life began bleeding from her body, but she had recourse to counteract the bleeding. Clearly, this was not going to be an easy exorcism!

Other people mirror who we are, and those attributes we relate to, whether representative of our accomplishments or unresolved issues or yet to be achieved goals, and we see ourselves, we see aspects of ourselves. We can choose to feel good about where we are in our current life, and gaze out on the landscape of our lives with a sense of contentment; we can also be reminded of those issues that always inform us that our work is really never done. There is always something to propel us forward toward wholeness, or completeness, whether such is ever achieved or not being irrelevant.

Spring is here and it's time for cleansing. Time to gently stir from the darkness of winter and take inventory. Where are we going? What do we want? What do we need? What can we do to bring about these things? Are we being realistic and honest in setting our goals, or are we being fanciful? Fantasy is great and can reveal much about who we are, but a certain kind of common sense that comes from our gut is the best leader.

Unlike most trees, live oaks drop their leaves in the spring, not the fall. As the leaves die and fall to the ground, new leaves are growing simultaneously. Dying and rebirth are always happening, often at the same time, in the same moment. We want to cast off (exorcise) those aspects of ourselves that don't serve us, and this is a never ending process, just as we need always to find nourishment for the renewal.

Getting Marooned Outside Our Inner Sanctums

This past weekend reminded me that I keep company with cats more often than with people; the sounds of windchimes, birdsong, and rustling leaves is far more prevalent in my little world than that of conversing humans. This weekend was an exception. It was martini night at Blu, certainly a first for me. Sweet and fruity martinis with an alluring, nectar like taste that can take one to the edge of drunkenness and dizziness lickety split. The key is small sips followed by long pauses. I was delighted to see an acquaintance tending bar there. Daryl and I had great fun--I like how we connect in so many ways. We all need these new infusions of special connectedness with one another, especially if, like me, they are relatively rare of late. The music was live and loud and begged for a sing-along. I Will Survive, I Put A Spell on You, because you're mine. And that's when the walls came crashing down around us. Sweet, beautiful and fragile, my acquaintance laughed and exuded such warmth as she served us drinks. Then she went off duty, and moments later returned with tears flowing down her face, and she was devastated, for the moment, her vulnerability violated. He had taken her bag away from her and refused to give it back. He was refusing to leave her alone. I've seen that kind of possessiveness, the kind that screams I Own You, and it's a bad scene. The police were called, and I can claim to know nothing more other than that which I observed. But I know all about abuse, particularly spousal abuse. I have seen how it can wreck lives, transform holy holidays into shattered pieces of brokenness. To the outsider, these things just burst forth into the moment and cause temporary shockwaves. For the victims, they can be long-term, hurting and festering day after day until suddenly they just burst open like a boil that spills forth its pus like an erupting volcano, and suddenly one is just burnt down to ash. I cannot judge. I don't know the many facets of this story. I don't know the whole of it. But, it is a theme that runs through many of our lives. Our pains come flying out of us and onto others--we strike out as often as we've been struck, until we learn, if ever we do, that it simply doesn't have to be this way. The cycle can be broken. And, as usual, I too feel sad and weep.

A couple of weekends ago I took my first intense vinyasa class in quite a while, and did it ever leave me feeling oh so sore. But I did two more this weekend and while the plan is to pretty much stay away from them, I did have great fun, especially when I let go of all attempts to push myself beyond what felt good. My physical therapist has "graduated" me! I have passed his tests and my shoulders are well into their healing. Just keep doing what you're doing, he advised, and let time do the rest. Thank you Steve at Star Physical Therapy, and thank you Iyengar Yoga and the wonderful, instructive teachers I've had the honor to work with, thanks to Erin and Mark at Austin Deep, a special thanks to Bekir, and to all those who have shared their healing knowledge with me and shown sincere concern.

It is fascinating to watch Blue Eyes the once feral cat being transformed before our very eyes. Daily, he changes. His aggression and fight or flight response is now replaced by yawns, stretches, lots of purring and oh so much curiosity. He gets lots of petting, but still, I must move gently and slowly and always be respectful of his boundaries, his fears--he will not hesitate to let me know his claws are far sharper than mine. Still, a quick dip of my fingers into his water bowl and a quick splash of water droplets flying off my fingers on to his face usually does the trick. He backs off, we both apologise, and begin again. I have yet to find a better way to win the hearts of others than simple kindness, compassion, love, and understanding. And a big dose of patience. Total non-violence. It works, just like Gandhi told us, and all the sages and seers before and after him. But, watch out for those wearing false robes of holiness, they can outwit us and before long we listen to them above and beyond our own inner wisdom. Keen discernment towards all that tends to shape and mould our lives is yet another of many mantras to help guide us along the way.

They are selling maroon-bonnets at HEB, maroon bluebonnets, that is. I don't know why this has left such an impression with me. When did someone come up with a maroon bonnet wildflower or have they always been with us? I've never seen one before, nor heard of one. I asked inside the store and was told "no, those are Indian paintbrushes." My reply was "no, they certainly are not." "Well, look at the label." So I did. Maroon bonnets, in little black containers alongside regular, old fashioned bluebonnets. Actually, I really like these little surprises.

A big white church invites me in. I stand outside. It is massive. Except for a vertical line of bas relief in rich colors and forms, it is simple architecture covered in a bright white stucco. It glows. Young plants ready to be potted sit in a window sill beside the door. I am called to go inside and pot these plants. We all need to go inside and tend to our inner gardens, nourish ourselves and be in that inner sanctum. Well, at least I do. Sometimes I linger so long outside that sacred space that it all but becomes lost to me, even though it's always there.

Blue Eyes the Feral Cat

Country living has its disadvantages, such as being the repository of unwanted pets, in particular, cats. Domestic cats that don't have loving homes and are left to fend on their own become wild creatures, often forming feral colonies where the females reproduce prodigiously, the males fight bloody battles and disease runs rampant. Life is very short and not so sweet. This is how I came to know Blue Eyes, a beautiful cross-eyed Siamese feral tom cat who began sleeping around the house, seeking cool spots in summer and places to be warm in winter. It's not easy integrating a feral cat into your home. I gave it a try and failed. I released him today with a prayer and a few tears. Now I find myself gazing out the window hoping to see him return. I tend to melt when he looks at me with those incredibly beautiful eyes of his, pleading for love and kindness, and more importantly, for something to eat; subsequently, I feel rejected when he runs away from me in fear. This has been going on for months, but slowly he has allowed me to be his friend. As humans, we often tend to think we know what's best for everyone else while we continue making our own mistakes and learning lifes' endless lessons. I took him to the vet and had him neutered, vaccinated against rabies, feline leukemia, dewormed, revolutionized (kills fleas and ticks), and most definitely he got traumatized. Then I brought him home and set up the sunroom to be his domain, his refuge, his place of healing, his prison. The vet regretfully informed me that Blue Eyes tested positive for FIV, the feline immunodeficiency virus, and gently recommended that he be put down. The animal rescue people believe he should live out his remaining years in isolation from all other cats, including other ferals. "Such placement can be quite difficult, but you might find a no kill shelter that has a room set aside for such infected cats." Certainly a reasonable alternative to releasing him back into the wild where he may very well continue to infect other cats. In the US, it is estimated that between 1.5% and up to 4% of the cat population is infected with this virus. Worldwide the infection rate is estimated to be around 44% of all cats. Euthanasia of such infected cats is a way of bringing the infection rate down, of reducing the population of infected cats. Like the HIV virus, it is spread through the transference of body fluids, often through blood fights between tom cats who exceed females in their rates of infection. It can be passed on from mother to kittens, but not always. Much is unknown, and the vaccination is admittedly not a very effective prophalactic; however, cats can live long lives with the virus. Unlike feline leukemia, which is highly contagious and tends to make cats very sick, very quickly, the FIV infected cat can live a long life, especially if they can be put on high protein diets and given supplements and treated with antibiotics when the frequent kidney infections, and a litany of other problems, occur. Such options are not available to the feral cat. So I keep looking out the window, and if Blue Eyes shows up, he will have water, food, and shelter, but the decision is his. While writing guess who showed up? He peered in the window and meowed, but ran away when I approached. We engaged in the meow call and response. I opened the door, left the room, and watched as he tentatively entered, then proceeded to eat. Then he left. My neighbors have a room above their garage they keep open for the local feral cat community, and have managed to get most of the females spayed. Between them, and us, and a couple of other neighbors, the wild cat community has some 50 acres in which to roam in relative safety from predators. My decision to release Blue Eyes back into his community, despite his FIV positive status, was in part due to the fact that most of these cats are likely to also be infected. I've learned a lot from my neighbor and my friends at the local shelter. Hopefully Blue Eyes and I will continue growing our friendship, and he will eventually overcome his fears and allow me to provide him with more care.