Whatever will be, will be
Everyone at the homestead had already taken off by the time Courtney and I got back from yoga, a bit later than anticipated. But it was ok ... I knew where they were all headed. Courtney took a few moments to get settled into her new room which had just been vacated. I headed out to our favorite tourist restaurant, Unity Pizza for Atli and Eva's farewell lunch. Maria poked her head around the outdoor canopy and waved me over to the table. Our housemates Warren and Kahu were already there, along with a few other well wishers.
It had only been a few weeks together but it sure felt like we were losing two members of the family. We had come from all different parts of the world, had our own reasons for winding up in Bhagsu, but after spending two weeks sharing one bathroom, lots of food and more than a few laughs it was time for the Icelandic contingent to return home. I started to think about my own impending journey back to the US.
We sat around our table we reminised about our time together in Rishikesh. I couldn't help but remember our teacher Khush's words at our graduation ceremony. He warned us, tried to prepare us for what was sure to await. No one comes to India and returns the same person, especially not after spending so much time and effort pursuing spritual practice. We all could have just hung out in Rishikesh or Dharamsala and smoked ganga with the stoner sadhus, but instead we all choose to spend our vacation doing 6 - 8 hours of intense yoga and meditation per day.
When your friends and family see you again, notice the physical changes, hear you speaking about God realization and watch you practicing hours and hours of yoga each day, they'll be convinced you've lost your mind. They'll start to think you're brainwashed. The people who love you the most, who you care about more than anything, will judge you, will question your motives, will be sure they know what you should be doing with your life, better than you yourself could possibly know.
I remember shaking my head out of frustration as Khush continued speaking. I had experienced the extremes of this very behavior first hand. I looked around the table at my cohorts with a bit of envy. It seemed like every one of them could point to the love and support their families gave them on their journey. How they were encouraged to go. How they answered all the eager questions about what they were doing. How they helped make all of this possible, helped take care of their worldly responsibilities while they were away. I was just getting to the point with my family where there seemed to be the beginnings of some level of acceptance. That's what happens when you're from an Indian family and dare to be just a little bit different from what is the norm.
But Khush told us to forget about those distractions. Sure, treat your inquisitors with love and compassion, but stay true to yourself. When you are accused of being irresponsible for not taking part in the material economy, when you hear that you are selfish for pursuing a goal greater than your own desires, when you are told you are a drain on society for not contributing enough ... don't believe those lies. Instead take a second to ask yourself what these people who belittle your path are contributing to the world. Mostly just stress and anxiety as a result of working jobs they dislike. A degree of lust and envy as a result of unrealized desires. At best a few dollars to United Way or some other charity which makes them feel better about themselves.
The world we live in only becomes a better place as the people in it spend the time and effort to make themselves better on an individual level. By raising our own awareness we raise the level of consciousness of the entire planet. I've had plenty of moment where I debated going back to an easier route, running with the rest of the sheep in the pack, banging my head against the walls of material possessions, relationships, fame and worldly respect that people swear is the path towards true happiness. But once you've acknowledged for yourself that there will always be a greater Truth than those things can provide you'll never be fooled again.
After lunch Atli and Eva headed down the long road to the auto-rikshaw stand, loaded up with all their belongings. They turned down all the offers to help carry their load, they knew they were capable of dealing with all the baggage they had brought with them. And I knew the same about myself.
Showing posts with label homecoming. Show all posts
Showing posts with label homecoming. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Life At The Ideal
As I deplaned in Tijuana my first thought turned to a street taco. Not that the food in the Yucatan and Chiapas wasn't fabulous, but I am 100% convinced that the best street tacos in the world can be found right off of Avenieda Revolucion in Tijuana. But I was tired. The long bus ride the night before to Villa Hermosa coupled with the two flights that brought me within 20 miles of home, just south of the border, had exhausted me. And moreso than that, I was just ready to be back in a familiar place.
So instead of heading off in search of pastor, I crossed the border and caught the trolley to downtown San Diego. I had already managed to secure a soft landing at the Ideal Hotel, which isn't a hotel at all, but rather a ... well ... sort of a ... meditation center? I had been helping out there randomly for a while and had been assured I would be warmly received. I had already figured out what I was going to be doing here for the next 3 weeks. I needed to tie up some loose ends, sell my car and practice as much yoga and meditation as I could, preparing myself for my upcoming trip to India.
As I turned up 3rd Avenue I saw Wesley out front acting a fool as usual and I knew that I was home. Within minutes I was greeted with hugs all around and a cup of hot tea. I shared a few stories of my travels to Mexico and marvelled at all that had changed in the 3 short weeks that I was gone. I was suprised to see Mike Callaghan at the Ideal, last we talked he was heading to Santa Barbara or some other spot, but no, he too had moved into the Ideal. Our first conversation in a couple of weeks went something like this:
Peter, true to his word, had left a note on my new bedroom door, lollipops on my pillow and a key in a secret location. But it wasn't until Hip Fu's Qi Gong class that evening that I realized just how stagnant I had allowed my Chi to become after just a few weeks of hard living. Teaching my first yoga class in several weeks made it all that much clearer to me. So the next day I decided to head to my friend Maria's class up the street.
Her chakra flow was exactly what I needed, I started feeling all the tension melting away. But I could tell there was something else going on, and after class I found out. She had just broken up with her fiance Travis and had that look of fear and uncertainty about her. I told her about how Mike and I were heading to India and saw her eyes light up. Within a few days our group had grown by one more.
But it wasn't until Dipika arrived on the scene that I really started to understand just how wrong I had been about everything I had thought up until now. She had grown up in India and is far more connected to the culture than I was. And after not too long of hanging out with her I realized how woefully unprepared I was for this trip. Whenever I tried to speak to her in Hindi somehow Spanish managed to come out of my mouth.
The next few days were a whirlwind of booking flights, applying for Visas and trying to balance my intentionally unprepared nature with that of my two new travel companions. While Mike and Maria crossed off the items on their checklists and purchased things that set their minds at ease, I kicked it with "Dibs" and started to realize just how differently things were going than I had intended when I arrived in San Diego.
The next few weeks descended into a bunch of late night wine and bullshit sessions while we excitedly talked about "plans" and watched bollywood flicks. Instead of devoting all this time to my practice as I had intended we somehow managed to turn the Ideal Hotel into the coolest Buddhist Frat house in the world.
As my impending departure came closer and closer, I realized that I hadn't actually tied up most of those loose ends I came to San Diego to take care of, but instead had created a newer, far more complicated thread, that I had no idea what to do with.
Instead of selling the car, I left it parked illegally in the same spot with a dead battery and a flooded engine. But in between this trip and my last I had learned a little something about which friends I could rely on to help me out and in what way. And I felt assured that I left it with good ones that would do what they could to ease my burden and make this irresponsibility of mine possible without resenting me for it.
The night of our going away party was the worst. We all knew that there was a chance, perhaps even a good chance, that Mike and Maria weren't coming back for a while. They had nothing calling them back to San Diego, or anywhere else for that matter. But that's not where I was. With each warm embrace and heartfelt goodbye I assured my friends that I would be back in 3 months, if only just to convince myself.
I was leaving San Diego and heading to India with a few particular goals in mind, open to the possibilities of what might happen, but closed to the notion of floating away. Expectations are crazy things because the reality of the world seldom plays out like you imagine. I learned that lesson first hand throughout my 3 weeks in San Diego. And I had to admit to myself that even before I left I was imagining how life would be like when I got back, letting my mind wander and dream about the possibilities, about how certain loose threads might be neatly tied up.
I was ok with that, because knowing where you're at, also means knowing which trajectory you're headed on and setting your intention for how you wish the world to play out. It's being open to the wonderfully amazing and unexpected opportunties that life throws your way and adjusting mid-stream that's the key. And if these last 3 weeks were any indication, I felt fully confident in my ability to sieze those moments and make the best of them.
As I deplaned in Tijuana my first thought turned to a street taco. Not that the food in the Yucatan and Chiapas wasn't fabulous, but I am 100% convinced that the best street tacos in the world can be found right off of Avenieda Revolucion in Tijuana. But I was tired. The long bus ride the night before to Villa Hermosa coupled with the two flights that brought me within 20 miles of home, just south of the border, had exhausted me. And moreso than that, I was just ready to be back in a familiar place.
So instead of heading off in search of pastor, I crossed the border and caught the trolley to downtown San Diego. I had already managed to secure a soft landing at the Ideal Hotel, which isn't a hotel at all, but rather a ... well ... sort of a ... meditation center? I had been helping out there randomly for a while and had been assured I would be warmly received. I had already figured out what I was going to be doing here for the next 3 weeks. I needed to tie up some loose ends, sell my car and practice as much yoga and meditation as I could, preparing myself for my upcoming trip to India.
As I turned up 3rd Avenue I saw Wesley out front acting a fool as usual and I knew that I was home. Within minutes I was greeted with hugs all around and a cup of hot tea. I shared a few stories of my travels to Mexico and marvelled at all that had changed in the 3 short weeks that I was gone. I was suprised to see Mike Callaghan at the Ideal, last we talked he was heading to Santa Barbara or some other spot, but no, he too had moved into the Ideal. Our first conversation in a couple of weeks went something like this:
Kashif: I'm heading to India for a few monthsAnd within minutes of arriving my voyage of self discovery to my parents' homeland had become a buddy trip. And pretty soon all my preconceived notions about what this stop over in San Diego was all about would be thrown out the window.
Mike: I want to come
Kashif: Buy a plane ticket and get a visa
Mike: OK
Peter, true to his word, had left a note on my new bedroom door, lollipops on my pillow and a key in a secret location. But it wasn't until Hip Fu's Qi Gong class that evening that I realized just how stagnant I had allowed my Chi to become after just a few weeks of hard living. Teaching my first yoga class in several weeks made it all that much clearer to me. So the next day I decided to head to my friend Maria's class up the street.
Her chakra flow was exactly what I needed, I started feeling all the tension melting away. But I could tell there was something else going on, and after class I found out. She had just broken up with her fiance Travis and had that look of fear and uncertainty about her. I told her about how Mike and I were heading to India and saw her eyes light up. Within a few days our group had grown by one more.
But it wasn't until Dipika arrived on the scene that I really started to understand just how wrong I had been about everything I had thought up until now. She had grown up in India and is far more connected to the culture than I was. And after not too long of hanging out with her I realized how woefully unprepared I was for this trip. Whenever I tried to speak to her in Hindi somehow Spanish managed to come out of my mouth.
The next few days were a whirlwind of booking flights, applying for Visas and trying to balance my intentionally unprepared nature with that of my two new travel companions. While Mike and Maria crossed off the items on their checklists and purchased things that set their minds at ease, I kicked it with "Dibs" and started to realize just how differently things were going than I had intended when I arrived in San Diego.
The next few weeks descended into a bunch of late night wine and bullshit sessions while we excitedly talked about "plans" and watched bollywood flicks. Instead of devoting all this time to my practice as I had intended we somehow managed to turn the Ideal Hotel into the coolest Buddhist Frat house in the world.
As my impending departure came closer and closer, I realized that I hadn't actually tied up most of those loose ends I came to San Diego to take care of, but instead had created a newer, far more complicated thread, that I had no idea what to do with.
Instead of selling the car, I left it parked illegally in the same spot with a dead battery and a flooded engine. But in between this trip and my last I had learned a little something about which friends I could rely on to help me out and in what way. And I felt assured that I left it with good ones that would do what they could to ease my burden and make this irresponsibility of mine possible without resenting me for it.
The night of our going away party was the worst. We all knew that there was a chance, perhaps even a good chance, that Mike and Maria weren't coming back for a while. They had nothing calling them back to San Diego, or anywhere else for that matter. But that's not where I was. With each warm embrace and heartfelt goodbye I assured my friends that I would be back in 3 months, if only just to convince myself.
I was leaving San Diego and heading to India with a few particular goals in mind, open to the possibilities of what might happen, but closed to the notion of floating away. Expectations are crazy things because the reality of the world seldom plays out like you imagine. I learned that lesson first hand throughout my 3 weeks in San Diego. And I had to admit to myself that even before I left I was imagining how life would be like when I got back, letting my mind wander and dream about the possibilities, about how certain loose threads might be neatly tied up.
I was ok with that, because knowing where you're at, also means knowing which trajectory you're headed on and setting your intention for how you wish the world to play out. It's being open to the wonderfully amazing and unexpected opportunties that life throws your way and adjusting mid-stream that's the key. And if these last 3 weeks were any indication, I felt fully confident in my ability to sieze those moments and make the best of them.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
They burned my barn and stole my horse
I saw the beard before I saw Greg. He was driving towards me and I had to stop and look twice to make sure my eyes weren't decieving me. But sure enough, it was my good pal. I had spent my last night in the US with Greg and Nicole, crashing on their futon in Chicago about 11 months ago. And now I was heading to their new place in San Diego to crash on their air-mattress. It's funny how the life takes you around full circle some times.
It was strange being back in the US. I cringed at the rows of cookie-cutter condos I scattered from Chula Vista up into downtown. When Greg and I went to the grocery store I marvelled at how one single store could have 30 different varieties of orange juice.
I had managed to make it into town 3 days before the Dylan show, earlier than I originally thought. But I was feeling ready to go home. The next few days were a blur of submitting resumes, arguing with the DMV, looking for an apartments, and trying not to let my spanish slip out at inopportune moments.
I talked to Bill and he told me of his idea to head to the northern beaches of Brazil. I talked to Sean and he told me he was heading back to Colombia for the holidays. Yanet was finally off to Mexico. And I started to wonder what the heck it was I was doing back in the US. I wanted to run, it was all just too much, too fast. And no matter how many times Greg and Nicole told me to just calm down and take it a little slowly, I just couldn't.
Nicole fed me with her excellent cooking and Greg did his part plying me with beer and his famous fried eggs. It was nice to be somewhere that felt a bit normal again. Greg was even generous enough to let me borrow his car while he was working, which happened to come complete with a copy of "Modern Times" my new favorite CD.
And soon enough the night of the big show was upon us. As Greg and I excitedly rushed off to the Cox arena to see the man in person. Before the show I told Greg, I need to hear "Working Man Blues #2" I wasn't a working man as of yet, far from it, truth be told, but when Bobby told me about the declining power of the proletariet or his inability to give away what he had, I felt it too. He played Watchtower, Like a Rolling Stone, Cold Irons Bounds and just about everything else I wanted to hear.
As we pulled away from the arena I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. And I knew without a doubt why I was here and what I was doing. It wasn't going to be easy, but there is just no price you can put on the company of a few good friends who get it.
I saw the beard before I saw Greg. He was driving towards me and I had to stop and look twice to make sure my eyes weren't decieving me. But sure enough, it was my good pal. I had spent my last night in the US with Greg and Nicole, crashing on their futon in Chicago about 11 months ago. And now I was heading to their new place in San Diego to crash on their air-mattress. It's funny how the life takes you around full circle some times.
It was strange being back in the US. I cringed at the rows of cookie-cutter condos I scattered from Chula Vista up into downtown. When Greg and I went to the grocery store I marvelled at how one single store could have 30 different varieties of orange juice.
I had managed to make it into town 3 days before the Dylan show, earlier than I originally thought. But I was feeling ready to go home. The next few days were a blur of submitting resumes, arguing with the DMV, looking for an apartments, and trying not to let my spanish slip out at inopportune moments.
I talked to Bill and he told me of his idea to head to the northern beaches of Brazil. I talked to Sean and he told me he was heading back to Colombia for the holidays. Yanet was finally off to Mexico. And I started to wonder what the heck it was I was doing back in the US. I wanted to run, it was all just too much, too fast. And no matter how many times Greg and Nicole told me to just calm down and take it a little slowly, I just couldn't.
Nicole fed me with her excellent cooking and Greg did his part plying me with beer and his famous fried eggs. It was nice to be somewhere that felt a bit normal again. Greg was even generous enough to let me borrow his car while he was working, which happened to come complete with a copy of "Modern Times" my new favorite CD.
And soon enough the night of the big show was upon us. As Greg and I excitedly rushed off to the Cox arena to see the man in person. Before the show I told Greg, I need to hear "Working Man Blues #2" I wasn't a working man as of yet, far from it, truth be told, but when Bobby told me about the declining power of the proletariet or his inability to give away what he had, I felt it too. He played Watchtower, Like a Rolling Stone, Cold Irons Bounds and just about everything else I wanted to hear.
As we pulled away from the arena I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. And I knew without a doubt why I was here and what I was doing. It wasn't going to be easy, but there is just no price you can put on the company of a few good friends who get it.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Homeward Bound
I don´t know exactly when it happened, but at some point between shrimp tacos in Sayulita and ceviche in Mazatlan I decided it was just time to go home, wherever that was. Swimming up and down the Pacific Coast of Mexico had proven to be lots of fun, but it was getting a bit tiring. Sure the water was perfectly warm, the food was generally excellent, the people nice (except for whoever nicked my bag while I was swimming in Sayulita) and the scenery beautiful, but I was just kinda done.
I decided against exploring the Copper Canyon from Los Mochis or reliving the history of Hermosilla. Instead I hopped a plane to Tijuana, perhaps the crappiest city in the world unless you happen to enjoy street prostitutes or 18 year olds drinking and yelling ¨woo!¨ It made a lot of sense at the time, I figured as soon as I had enough I would just head up to San Diego and get started on this whole return to normalcy thing.
I knew íf I gave myself a couple days to get used to the idea I could probably get started with all the stuff I need to get done. And if nothing else I´ve managed to convince myself that things truly are going to be alright even though there are about a 1000 questions running through my mind of what´s what.
But I head to San Diego tomorrow, and amazingly enough I even have a place to crash for a few days (thanks Greg and Nicole!) until I get settled in a bit more. And Greg and I have got tickets to the Dylan show lined up already, in just a few short days. A plane ride to Seattle Oct 28th is already purchased and a road-trip back to San Diego with a good friend a few days later is in motion. Thanksgiving in Madison with my family rounds out the plans, although who knows, I might make it back to the Carribean some time in between.
Now if I can just find a job and a place to stay it´ll really start looking like I´ve returned to the real world. But for now, I´m going to be pretty content to go visit some friends and see what the rest of the world has been up to fo the last year while I´ve been vagabonding around. Yeah I´ll miss the amazingly magical sunsets in Mazatlan and the calm tranquil waters of Bucerias but I´m sure there are new, as of yet unimagined adventures to be had as I settle in.
I don´t know exactly when it happened, but at some point between shrimp tacos in Sayulita and ceviche in Mazatlan I decided it was just time to go home, wherever that was. Swimming up and down the Pacific Coast of Mexico had proven to be lots of fun, but it was getting a bit tiring. Sure the water was perfectly warm, the food was generally excellent, the people nice (except for whoever nicked my bag while I was swimming in Sayulita) and the scenery beautiful, but I was just kinda done.
I decided against exploring the Copper Canyon from Los Mochis or reliving the history of Hermosilla. Instead I hopped a plane to Tijuana, perhaps the crappiest city in the world unless you happen to enjoy street prostitutes or 18 year olds drinking and yelling ¨woo!¨ It made a lot of sense at the time, I figured as soon as I had enough I would just head up to San Diego and get started on this whole return to normalcy thing.
I knew íf I gave myself a couple days to get used to the idea I could probably get started with all the stuff I need to get done. And if nothing else I´ve managed to convince myself that things truly are going to be alright even though there are about a 1000 questions running through my mind of what´s what.
But I head to San Diego tomorrow, and amazingly enough I even have a place to crash for a few days (thanks Greg and Nicole!) until I get settled in a bit more. And Greg and I have got tickets to the Dylan show lined up already, in just a few short days. A plane ride to Seattle Oct 28th is already purchased and a road-trip back to San Diego with a good friend a few days later is in motion. Thanksgiving in Madison with my family rounds out the plans, although who knows, I might make it back to the Carribean some time in between.
Now if I can just find a job and a place to stay it´ll really start looking like I´ve returned to the real world. But for now, I´m going to be pretty content to go visit some friends and see what the rest of the world has been up to fo the last year while I´ve been vagabonding around. Yeah I´ll miss the amazingly magical sunsets in Mazatlan and the calm tranquil waters of Bucerias but I´m sure there are new, as of yet unimagined adventures to be had as I settle in.
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