Changes in the Sangha

A sangha, or Buddhist meditation community, is essentially a family away from home.  Unconditional acceptance, listening, caring, and kindness prevail within the sangha.  Yes, a sangha can have its share of drama, but it's difficult to be petty when you're studying the inspirational dharma (Buddhist teachings).

About two weeks ago, Open Door lost one of its dearest members, Larry Murdock.  We were wrapping up Melanie's Beginners Meditation class when she received the upsetting news from Larry's daughter.  We were shocked that a man as fit and active as Larry could suddenly collapse and pass away.  One of our founding sangha members had died.

The next few days were consumed with planning Larry's memorial service.  His family requested that it be held at Open Door, and Melanie was happy to officiate.  Food, program, speaking, singing, and photos were all delegated to eager volunteers, pleased to participate in such a great man's final acknowledgement.

On the day of the service, even more members pitched in toward various tasks:  floral arrangement, locating additional chairs, cleaning floors, and emptying the trashcans.  Work that is sometimes delegated to hired help was lovingly performed with one end goal in mind:  honoring Larry's memory.  Interestingly, Larry would have been the sangha member to perform those duties and more, without request.

In the subsequent weeks, we will each discover a new role in the sangha, as we absorb Larry's former duties.  Andrew will assemble the lectern, Lynette will teach Larry's yin class, Diane will greet new people as they enter the center, and Melanie will continue her leadership.  Larry's photo will perch atop the library bookshelf that he drilled into the wall, sending us approval and guidance as we navigate the sangha's "new normal."

On a personal note, thanks to Larry for encouraging me to try yin yoga, after observing that my flexibility could improve.  In his words, "If you do the pose on the right side, you must do it on the left."  After all, Larry was master of the balanced existence.

Peaceful Larry in his meditation posture.

Playing around in asana class.  I'm so grateful to have taught many classes that Larry attended.  Afterwards, he always complimented or encouraged my teaching in some way.

Larry's last Sunday sitting ~ January 10, 2016.  We documented our intentions for the year.

My Own Private Safari

A recent conversation with a friend inspired me to write an article about affordable safaris.  She was aghast that I had visited five national parks in Tanzania on my safari, under the impression that safaris were reserved for the affluent.  Hardly, I explained to her.  I researched many tour companies online, including Facebook reviews, and found that the in-country companies were the most affordable.  I was also searching for a combination package, where one company would arrange my Kilimanjaro climb and safari, for one price.  Zara Tours turned out to have the best reviews and was the most affordable.  As expected, it was a no-frills adventure, but highly personalized and the guides were exemplary.

Read the story here.  If you are considering a safari, contact me with questions!

Lake Manyara National Park, the first stop.

My cheap camera captured the expanse of Serengeti National Park rather well.

Observing the frolicking zebras in Ngorongoro Crater.

Indian Intestinal Adventures

Any travel guide, blog, or seasoned traveller will tell you that it's virtually impossible to avoid intestinal troubles while travelling in India.  Yes, there are ways to stay safe, but those tactics are also boring when you are presented with enticing food and drink as you stroll down the streets.  I didn't eat anything unusual or anything my fellow yoga students didn't try.  I just suffered a major stroke of bad luck, incredibly bad luck.

A special heartfelt thank you goes to the staff and teachers at Rishikesh Yog Peeth, who deal with these issues regularly.  My fellow yogis comforted and supported me when the trauma seemed insurmountable.  Obviously, I surmounted it, as I am writing this story and now hold a Registered Yoga Teacher (RYT 200) certification.

Click here to read my story on Pink Pangea, but wait until you are finished eating.

Post-hospital touring at the abandoned ashram where The Beatles stayed during their time in Rishikesh.

Solo Traveller Tips

I compiled some general tips in an appropriately titled Pink Pangea article, Beginners' Tips for Solo Female Travel.  In speaking with numerous women, both active and armchair travellers, it's always enlightening to learn from each other.  Sometimes what I consider basic knowledge is a surprise to another traveller, while my own hard learned lessons come easily for others.  For these reasons, I strive to remain active within social media travel communities, whether I'm on the road or earning money at home. 

Click here to read the article.  Enjoy!

Hanging out with John, Paul, Ringo, and George at the abandoned "Beatles Ashram" in Rishikesh, India.

A Culture Shock to End All Others

"How am I supposed to survive for six weeks without air conditioning?"

"I can't leave my door open because the monkeys will take my stuff!"

"Um, that motorbike just splattered cow shit all over our legs!"

"Will diarrhea become my new normal?"

Welcome to India. 

I entered my room at Rishikesh Yog Peeth ashram, engaged the lock, and had a good cry as I collapsed on my bed. I messaged Melanie, my yoga teacher at Open Door back home, who assured me that she felt the same way upon her arrival and that it would soon pass. It didn't help that the temperature was hovering around 105-110F when I arrived. India was suffering a deadly heatwave, and I wondered if, all factors compounded, I would meet my demise during my visit.

1. No air conditioning

Central AC is largely an American phenomenon. I'm reminded of this luxury when I travel. I didn't know how I would manage six weeks without it. Three weeks in, my ceiling fan is doing a fine job, and it's relatively bearable. When the power cuts, the generator gives it a nice surge.

2. Frequent power outages

Indians are some of the most intelligent people I've ever met. I don't understand why this problem can't be solved. I suppose it's out of their control. The power cuts every day, at least five and sometimes ten times a day. Amit, one of the intensely dedicated staff members, drops what he's doing and cheerfully kicks on the generator. I started to keep a tally when I first arrived, but it became more time consuming than my studies. I've accepted it as a fact of Indian life.

3. Temperamental hot water

During the heatwave, I didn't mind a cold shower. Even at 5:30 am, before asana class, it felt refreshing after writhing around in sweat all night. Some students showered multiple times a day, merely to cool off. I got into the habit of showering twice a day. It's especially repulsive to sink into your bed at night after wading through cow dung, so the nightly shower became a refreshing necessity.

4. Cow dung in the streets

Cows are sacred in India. In Rishikesh, meat is illegal. That said, they roam the streets, eating the food scraps and mingling with the residents. I'm a vegetarian, actually almost vegan, but I cannot imagine eating one of these beautiful creatures after coming into such close contact with them. The bulls can be aggressive at times, but that's rare and he's usually pacified quickly.

5. Monkeys!

Only a few days into my stay, I was reading with my door open. I thought the resident cat had entered my room, but it was a monkey that looked to be about 20 lbs! She was looking for food and she found it: my precious Trader Joe's granola bars that I was saving for a special occasion, mostly an occasion which didn't require a spoon to eat them. I'll tell the detailed story in a future blog post.

The school was forthcoming with these five items, listing on their website to prepare to face them. They also insinuated if you didn't think you could embrace this lifestyle, the course isn't for you. I tried to prepare myself, but experience is the best teacher.

Now in my third week of the program, I can't imagine passing up on the opportunity to earn my yoga certification in India at Rishikesh Yog Peeth. The teachers are world class, the staff is delightful and helpful, and the food is delicious and plentiful. As with any travel destination, flexibility and a sense of humor are essential. Spoiled entitlement doesn't fly here. Once I pulled myself together and realized how fortunate I am for this opportunity, which didn't take long, I began to savor and internalize every moment of this journey.

The Solo Travel Blues

It's hard to imagine not enjoying every moment of a trip abroad, especially when you recall how hard you worked to save your money and how carefully you planned your flight and accommodations. Even when one appreciates all aspects of his or her trip, a bout of homesickness or slight regret can manifest itself. I wrote this story sincerely, after suffering a depressive state on the road. Luckily, I was strong enough to pull myself through it and was able to enjoy the rest of my trip.

Click here to read my Feature Writer story on Pink Pangea.

First Impressions Don't Matter, India

No one can create an image of a faraway place for you, as a substitute for the visceral experience. I struggled with the decision of attending yoga school in the U.S. versus India or another foreign country. Since I'm an avid traveller, but also didn't have thousands of dollars to spend, I chose India. I wanted to experience my training in an authentic environment, culturally immersed.

The decision was made to attend Rishikesh Yog Peeth for its location, residence and meals onsite, and expedient responses to my numerous enquires via email. The school offers to coordinate a taxi from the Delhi airport up to Rishikesh for a discounted price and piece of mind that the driver is reputable.

Sophie and I had emailed before leaving the U.S., as we were paired up by the school to share a taxi. I waited for her at the designated spot outside the airport, and we soon found our driver, Mr Tayal. He held a sign with our names written on it, hopefully evidencing the VIP treatment.

After loading the white sedan with our luggage, we set off on our 6-8 hour tour of the Indian countryside. We soon realized that it might take 6-8 hours to exit the Delhi city limits. Honking is a form of the driving culture here, as a warning to your fellow drivers, not as an insult or reproach as in the U.S.

Mr Tayal was courteous and asked whether we needed food or a restroom break. We were both apprehensive about eating at a roadside restaurant, for fear of getting sick. The school had advised us to only eat food from the dining hall for the first few days, to allow time for our systems to acclimate. I had the feeling Mr Tayal was simply trying to provide a cultural experience. He stopped for "sugar juice" and asked if we wanted a glass. I glanced to the left and saw a cane press, reminiscent of the rum distillery I visited in the Amazon. Sophie and I observed as the vendor got up from his plastic patio chair, grabbed a few stalks of sugar cane, and squeezed them through the press. The liquid was plentifully extracted straight into a glass and handed to Mr Tayal. The men chatted as Mr Tayal enjoyed his refreshment. I envied a taste, but watching the process was satisfying enough.

We continued on our way, naturally clogged up in another traffic jam. This time, Mr Tayal impressed both us and our fellow travellers by off roading on the shoulder to bypass the cars ahead of us, honking the entire time. No one seemed to mind. Mr Tayal again provided the VIP treatment as he bounded over the median and passed in the oncoming traffic lanes. Why not? Instead of merging back into the traffic, which was impossible, we stopped in our tracks. Thankfully, the oncoming traffic did the same. We were now stuck in traffic on the opposite side of the median, creating even more of a blockade. Mr Tayal had obviously performed these maneuvers before and wasn't content to wait his turn to merge. He had VIPs with him, after all! He worked his way to the shoulder of the oncoming traffic, now making good time bypassing everyone. An opportunity arose again to work our way to the proper lane on the proper side of the road, so we stuck our nose over the median hoping to sneak in this time. Some frustrated traffic officers approached in the distance. They were carrying sticks that measured about five feet long and might have been a bamboo material. I wondered what they were used for. My question was answered when the officers began slapping the hoods of cars that were blocking traffic! I just imagined the lawsuits that would ensue should the LAPD slap cars with sticks. Mr Tayal seemed concerned and frantically inched forward as the slapping officers approached. I slunk low in the backseat as the inevitable slapping drew closer. Miraculously, the officer shouted at Mr Tayal, giving the hood a gentle tap, as Mr Tayal was forced to turn around, backtracking for a while until we found a spot to merge.

We arrived at our destination, grabbed our jostled bags, and Mr Tayal walked us to the main office to check in. Sophie and I had discussed how to pay our fearless driver, since the cost was $70 and we only had $20s. We agreed that Mr Tayal deserved a $10 tip for ensuring our safe arrival. We each handed him two $20 bills. By the time we looked up from stashing our wallets, Mr Tayal had vanished.

We were shown to our rooms by the lovely and helpful Amit and Ankit. Exhausted, but eager for the start of the course, we ate dinner and retired to our respective rooms for the evening.