Holiday!

E and I took a holiday to the rainforests of Coorg, three hours North of Mysore. It is wonderful there, where the loud, primordial hum of nature vibrates in your whole being. I needed a break from the City; to get realigned and centered in me. It is quite synchronicitous how the whole trip came together.

It started when E and I had lunch on Tuesday with Mallory, a fellow Ashtangi that we met at the Amma satsung. She had just spent a weekend in Coorg at a beautiful retreat on an organic farm. The idea of going there started to percolate in my mind.

The next day, Wednesday, marked the start of ladies’ holiday, the gloriously fanciful name given to the time in a female Ashtangi’s monthly cycle where she takes three days off from the normal 6-day a week practice to rest. So three days off from practice in a row, maybe a trip to Coorg?

I sent an email to the rainforest retreat Mallory told us about, and they had availability. Also, their prices were very reasonable - 2000 rupies ($40) a night to stay in a cabin with Western-style toilets, hot water, and three delicious, organic meals and guided treks included.

Next I called Sai, our amazing rickshaw driver, to see if he could help us arrange a car on one day’s notice: 

“No problem, madame.”

So Thursday morning we headed off on the three-hour car ride to Coorg. I brought my laptop, internet card, and phone, thinking I would get some work done while relaxing there.

The way there was a bit treacherous - typical mountain-style driving where you have to catch your breath when you look over the edge. And very bumpy in parts too due to some unpaved roads. In the last 30 minutes of the trip, the driver got lost, and E got carsick - all over himself, me, and the car. We pulled over and I changed our clothes. E felt immediately fine after purging, of course, but my shirt was soaked through to my bra -- so that when I put my clean shirt on, it was now wet due to the vomitorious bra underneath. Nice.

I had the thought, “maybe this wasn’t such a good idea - we are lost, E is possibly sick, we reek - should we have stayed in Mysore?”

When we arrived it was clear that Coorg was where we were meant to be. The retreat was beautiful. It felt like something out of Costa Rica - not the India I am used to. Much of the food was grown on premises, and it was all cooked with delicious spices and almost-tangible, tastable love.

The place we stayed is owned by two Indian PhDs. The husband is a former plant molecular biologist, and his wife a botanist. They gave up their careers after tiring of that lifestyle, and started the farm and eco-retreat. Their knowledge of science and plant-life makes the place unique.

It was illuminating to chat with the other guests. There were about 10 of us total, and it felt like the others were handpicked by the Universe to be there with us. We were the only Americans, except for one of the interns working on at the retreat. The other guests were Austrian, German, Dutch and British, among others. It seemed like everyone there with us was a writer or journalist or aspiring writer, like me. They were all world travelers, speaking many languages. Fascinating people. It also seemed like everyone was living their yoga on some level; following their heart.

And that is what I asked Amma for: to help me write with courage from my heart, and align with my true Self. I would not have been able to post my January 23 "lost blog" prior to my Amma hug. That is a fact, because I had already written it, but did not have the courage to share. 

After posting, I received some negative feedback, mainly from the mean voice in my head; but also, not surprisingly and not incomprehensibly, from my mother, who was receiving an earful herself about the perceived perils of my recent adventures. All I can say is that I am not your average yogi, and my path ain't your momma's spirituality. I have several shameless vices, including good food, wine, and, well, you know, an affinity for ausadhis (the sanskrit term for magical, enlightening herbs). 

I think it is important for each of us to live from spirit in a way that is real for us. As Krishna said to Arjuna in the Bhagavad Gita (as translated by Swami Vivekananda), “As different streams having their sources in different places all mingle their waters in the sea, so, Oh Lord, the different paths which men take through different tendencies various though they appear, crooked or straight, all lead to Thee."

I believe my path is to live my life and to write about it. All of it. Even the stuff your grandparents might be aghast about. Still, I'm not sure I will ever completely transcend the desire to have everyone like me.

(I really want people to like me!)

For many years that meant living in a way that would be the least offensive. Not stepping on any toes to avoid the judgment that almost necessarily comes with putting yourself out there. Nonetheless, I have realized that my biggest critic has always been the voice in my head. I don't think there is any judgment of me that anyone can make that I haven't already judged upon myself. But I'm not living that way anymore.

Anyway, back to Coorg. And my bra. I tried to wash it when we arrived but I could not remove the odor with the mild ayurvedic soap offered to guests of the retreat. There was no way to buy laundry soap during our brief, two-day stay. One of the German guests inquired about laundry facilities, and she was kindly pointed to the “washing rock” down by the river. I’ve got no problems with washing rocks, per se, but soap is still necessary when dealing with vomit. So I went bra-less for two days, and found yet another use for scarves as a fashionable cover-up for my bra-less-ness.

And, perhaps not surprising to anyone else but me, it turns out that there is no internet or cell phone service in the rainforest. I had to scratch the idea of getting some work done while relaxing, and I’m pretty sure I’m better off. Though I will say that I got an earful from Bitchy Brain Voice about all the catching up I have to do now after two days off the grid.

And to come back to Mysore really felt like coming home. I did not realize how deep in my heart this City is nestled. I miss America and I’m looking forward to coming home in less than two weeks. Yet, I think Mysore will always be one of my homes too. I felt such relief when the car brought us back to our house here, the same sensation I feel when coming home to my house in America after a trip away.

Leaving here is sure to be bittersweet.


Check out my new and improved website: www.theyogalawyer.com