Barefeet and Baggy Pants

My time in India and Asia has almost come to an end. I love how my perspective has be reset living in an environment where where the water is unsafe to drink, there's cows and dogs and monkeys on the road, no good wifi, an array of bugs and littering of rubbish everywhere.

Whilst these things are in your face it's the subtlety that I want to hang on to. The vibrations of nature and the way the birdsong changes from when I go to the rooftop at 4.30am to when I go to bed at 9.00pm. The thunderstorms where lightening flashes strobe across the Himalayas that tower over us. A strange bird pecking at the yoga room window.

And of course, being barefoot wearing baggy pants.

This is a dry town, no alcohol to be found for a 30minute drive, so there is no glass on the streets. I haven't worn shoes for 2 weeks; which might have you horrified because, yes, I am in one of the dirtiest countries in the world, but I am in the holy land of this colourful, textured country. I ditched the jandals as they were slipping around and making a tendon in my toe tight. I have been connected to the earth and think about every step I take ever since. Grounded.

Before you clasp your forehead in dismay thinking "oh goodness, she's lost all sense of reality and become full hippy! She shall forever smell of sage and turn her nose up at our unenvironmentally friendly cleaning products! I just Janola'd the floor, she is barefoot in India, what?!!"

This is not something to worry about. 

I grew up going barefoot to the supermarket; playing on school fields, and running through paddocks.... as they say here, same same, but different.

As for the baggy pants; it's a cultural thing, to cover up, as many of you would know. Happy pants, hippy pants, harem pants, fisherman pants and wraparound pants of a magical myriad of colours and kaleidoscopic patterns wonderfully colourful and flowy blend with the earthy toned landscape and bright saris. They are worn by young and old and don't suit sneakers but suit barefoot amazingly; as they say, if the shoe fits....

Elastic waistbands and low crotchs give freedom to movement worth travelling for. Sure, I could wear them at home, but they seem to harmonise with the tone so much more in countries like this. Plus, just like how Hawaiian shits in Hawaii go well, so do elephant pants in India/ South east Asia. 

Why am I going on about this?

Because it's these small sensory things that are easy to forget. By writing about and holding onto the feeling of walking barefoot down a sandy road in baggy pants, it gives me something to flashback to if life becomes hectic again..... (I get back at 8pm and go to work for the next 3 days.)

Sometimes we get overwhelmed by full schedules, shitty weather, overdue phone bills, friendship dramas. It's nice in these times to flash back to the feeling of the sun on your back while lining up to get ice cream, or the smell of insense as you stroll past a temple.

When the body is stuck, let the mind wander.

Reflecting and remembering is reinvigorating.

If your mind is boggled about the barefoot thing, I recommend trying it; especially on morning dewy grass. 

Jj 

Love Yo(ga)Self

I am writing this from a cafe where there wifi is relatively decent here. I've been trying to take refuge to write this post for a few days now, but was struck down with fever and dia-horrible-stomach-pain-arrea. (Edit....have had to chip away at this post since then; time, energy and inspiration have come and gone in waves)

The halfway point of my 200-hr yoga teacher training in Rishikesh, India, has been crossed; the routine is regular and more and more information is thrown at us. A couple of things have surprised me about this whole process, and one of the most beautiful surprises is how much love, especially unconditional love, is one of the foundations of yogic philosophy and practice.

When we greet people or start of finish class with "namaste," we hold our hands together in a prayer position at our heart centre. Wikipedia says "In Hinduism it is believed that God is present everywhere. Every person whether good or bad has God inside them. By saying Namaste means "I bow to the divine in you". 

You only have to have a superficial conversation with a cashier to realise that sometimes the way we speak to each other isn't exactly from the heart, bowing to the divine in each other.

"Love yourself. Then you can begin to love others." I doubt this is the first time you have heard this one. It is a cornerstone that spans across cultures, religions and countries. One of the reasons why I am taken by its omnipresence here though, is that yoga in western society has been taken and pushed in the "bigger, harder, better" kind of way, with expensive clothing and membership to swish studios, people pushing their bodies into poses of an intense instagram standard. 

One of the reasons why I decided to become a yoga teacher is to steer away from this mentality, as I have found myself eyerolling at and being repulsed by it within the fitness industry. Learning to love oneself is something that there are probably a million YouTube videos and wikihow posts and books about it, some of my previous blog posts have been exploring it (thanks to those readers out there who smile to themselves knowing such posts) yet truely, it needs to come from within. 

Here we are taught that the guru is within us. Sure, the teachers can tell us facts and correct mistakes, but their duty is to make us realise our inner guru. This takes time, patience, trust and love (in ourselves). It also takes pushing boundaries, leaning into discomfort, and approaching things with curious wonder rather than fear, or not at all. 

"Love, serve, remember."

3 words that summarise all of the Sutras of Patanjali (a scientific, systemised series of proverbs that teach us the path of yoga*.)

*not just the physical asana, the breathing, meditation, cleansing.

When we meditate, we are asked to focus on our heart centre or navel centre.

The navel is our lifeline; it's where we received nourishment when we were in utero. We feel our pulse through our belly button, we get 'gut feelings' 'butterflies in our belly' and 'sick to our stomach.' For a long time, and sometimes even now, self loathing and shame has stopped me from touching my stomach, or letting someone else touch it without me "sucking in." One of our teachers here lifted up his top to reveal his "one pack" during Pranayama (breathing.) He emphasised that 6-pack abs actually restrict the body from breathing diagraphamatically- which is not only efficient, but makes us calmer and more present (so that explains why gym rats are so highly strung.)

There's parts I have missed about unconditional love and how it is intertwined in yogic philosophy. There have been moments in class where things have clicked and flourished and made me wonder how to pass it on to you. 

Finally, I guess the most wonderful resolution I have come to is: 

I am able to understand all this learning about love so much more since entering the wonderful ride that is my relationship. I have not really wanted to share too much of that personal stuff on here; but it's fair to say that I am truely, madly, deeply experiencing what it is to love and be loved by someone other than my family. I don't know about the use of the word "soulmate."

I would rather use the word "home."

That's where my heart is, after all.

I bow to the divine in you, namaste.

Jj

Meditation and me.

I am beginning the second week of my 200-hour yoga teacher training in Rishikesh, India.

This is where yoga comes from. Our teachers grew up with it, the ancient philosophy the guide for their daily lives. Although they are here to teach us yoga, the asanas (physical poses) are only 5% of what yoga is all about- mind, body, soul.

Our schedule is rigorous. Before every class there is a short meditation (what a great way to get in the zone), and in some classes the focus is meditation so it's a lot longer. Meditation is something I have dabbled into and felt the benefit of. I also pray, and sometimes the two combine. Right now I'm pushing myself to go internal, to get meditation to help me write this post. See it's a very personal thing, and I can feel my heart rate increasing and a lump rise in my throat as the oncoming vulnerability and fear takes over.

I'm not good at this.

I don't know if you can ever be 'good' at meditation.... unless, according to yogic philosophy, you practice for many many years and reach Samadhi- enlightenment or bliss. 

As that's far far away, we are mostly practicing concentration

 (**cough, some might say 'mindfulness' but that's such an overused word it makes me literally cringe. And I mean "literally" as in for real, not in the way "literally" is used instead of "figuratively" and has lost all meaning.)

Concentration is the crawl to meditation's walk. 

"Slowly, slowly, it will come."

There have been meditation classes where I've fallen asleep, where I have wanted to change position, open my eyes and check the time, or see what is making the sound I hear. There have been classes where suddenly my chest has got heavy and tears roll down my cheeks from the small opening of my closed eyes. Times where I have felt so relaxed and like I'm just a mind, not a body, and a time where I felt my soul rise out of me and smile at me for doing something so challenging yet rewarding.

Moving my now 27 year old body through asanas, balances and inversions; I have encountered some movement I was able to do when I was younger I find more difficult now. I never thought that day would come as I have always been really active with sport, the gym, dance and yoga since I was 18.... Granted, there are some things my body can do now that it couldn't back then, but it still makes me sad to know that there may one day be a point where it's too hard/too old/ too dangerous (like during pregnancy.) However, I am not as scared of this as I thought I would be because I know my meditation muscles are going to be able to grow and serve me when my physical ones might not. 

I'm actually excited to see how far the mind can go, and for the first time, I feel truely compassionate toward myself and not bothered if I don't 'get it right.' If I fall asleep during a meditation or pranayama class and miss the point then it must mean I'm tired. If my mind can't focus on one thing and I start planning what I am going to wear for an event 3 months away, then oh well. At least I'll have that out of the way to leave my mind clearer for meditating.... right? 

I hope you can find something to take and ruminate over from this massive thing I have tried to briefly articulate to you. Prayer, meditation (cringe- mindfulness) and concentration cost nothing, but give us so much. Hugs, smiles and complements are the same also. Give them to yourself or give them away and feel the joy it can bring into your day.

Jj

2 Dirty Days in Delhi

"In India, everything is possible"

30/04/2017

I'm writing this from the lounge room of my hostel (Madpackers Hostel; #1 on Lonely Planet and "google famous" according to a tour guide.)

There is a buzzy atmosphere of young and older people speaking in foreign languages and accents, and many an elephant pant and anklet in sight.

I'm glad to be back here as my day so far had been hectic and that was just 7 hours out and about!

Started with a relaxed curry naan kind of breakfast in the hostel. I needed to book a train ticket; because they sell out really quickly. I went to book with the hostel but they said come back at noon because then the booking number needed will be free. I sifted around all morning and found two Brits who were keen to go exploring later.

Come 11.30 I asked about the train ticket and they said I needed to book tomorrow. Or go to the main station. I was given about 10 different instructions on how to avoid getting scammed.

Feeling ambitious armed with a printed out map, my new pommie pals and I set off.

Everything here today was like an adrenalin rush. Simply buying a token for the metro left us buzzing and high diving after. Taking the metro was like the tube in London, except more people stare at you. 

Our first stop is India Gate; an arc de triumph type structure that was amazing with wide open space and locals abound. They all wanted to take selfies with us and talk about cricket. You rippa! 

We then walked about 3km in the heat sharing travel stories, looking at the local boys bathing naked in the fountain and hosing our already dirty feet down under a sprinkler. We made our way to the Parliamentary house and embassies. It was a stark contrast from the previous city I was in; Ho Chi Min, where everything was stacked up on itself. Followed by tuktuks and trying to capture the moment in a picture. 

Then to Lodhi garden, following an argument about tuk tuk prices, found a relatively posh area for lunch (Turtle Cafe) in a cool as bookshop. Headed to Connaught place; by this time, metro pros.

Went to the train station to buy the ticket. Imagine you have 8 children and they all want something and then there are 5 dogs barking and also a fire coming closer to you, and you have to balance a basket of poo on your head.

That is what getting to New Delhi station is like.

Instead we got sent to a tourist office which in hindsight I think was a scam but a really good scam. It took more than an hour to book a bus ticket to Rishikesh and a taxi as Rakesh, the booking agent, was trying to convince me that I would make a great wife and if not me then maybe my UK companion. He said he has the whole of India in his hand. We got free chai but it burnt my tongue. Kind of how he booked a night bus for me and said it would be good- one to a high standard for tourists.

My experience was the opposite. Not quite the type of bus where people are hanging off windows and doors but bumpy and they beeped their siren horn all night.

As a plus the other local passengers were nice and after talking to them about cricket, they helped me out. 

We headed back to the Hostel relatively jaded and hungry. Ordered delicious food in, and retreated.

01/05 (Taj Mahal sunrise tour and Agra fort)

The pictures say more than I can; but I will just say that my driver told me that if I move to India I will become a Bollywood star in 6 months.

02/05

Solo mission.

Saw probably one of the coolest most ornate temples, Arkshradam, which was quite far away by metro. It's a glitter queen's dream in there.

Headed to Chandi Chowk, old Delhi. Getting out of that station was about as easy as blocking off a burst pipe with your baby finger; whilst a crocodile starts climbing out of your toilet system. 

I got lost.

Haggled with a rickshaw driver to take me to the spice market after some sweaty walking and not much luck following the blue dot on google. The rickshaw was an experience in itself; and I made it to the spice market. My nostrils were flooded with cardamom, cinnamon, pepper and masala. Everyone was hacking and coughing as was I and it was a hilarious soundscape of shouting and spitting and coughing that any medieval film set could learn from. I got stuck in a narrow lane way because a cart loaded with sacks was trying to go through at the same time as about 15 people and 2 men with sacks of what I think could be potatoes on his head.  

Found the delicious Samosas (lunch for $0.75! Yuss)

Went to a mosque commune and chatted with some locals. Then to lotus temple as it was described by Lonely Planet as "a pocket of calm in this hectic city" but it looked like the Sydney Opera House and it was crowded and I got yelled at because all I wanted to do was sit down. 

So I retreated back to the hostel to prepare to head to the night bus.

That was a whole 'nother ordeal and whilst this blog has highlighted the calamities more than the most exciting things that have had my jaw dropping. 

One thing that has truely taken my breath away is how I am so stimulated and challenged here. Surrounded by like minded people, in a very sometimes unrecognisable world.

I am completing this post in Rishikesh, in the north, where I am going to do 200-hour yoga teacher training. I have had little sleep, but the atmosphere is a gently buzz that can only be sealed with an "Om"

Jj