Browsing Category

Yoga

Becoming a yogi

April 3, 2011

Checking into an ashram in India was one of the scariest leaps of faith I’ve ever made, but it turned out to be one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. My only regret is that I didn’t have time to stay longer.

Sivananda is located about 30 kilometers outside of Trivandrum, in the southern part of India. Before I went, some people told me it was a prison — no drinking! no smoking! no drugs! no sex! no fun! — but I also heard enough good things to make me want to go anyway.

The ashram is situated on the edge of a jungle near an elephant sanctuary and a home for lions. Sometimes when it’s incredibly quiet, like during morning meditation, I could hear the animals waking up and making noise.

This is where my life changed forever.

 

I lived in a dorm with about 70 other women, just one of many simple dorms on the ashram campus. The buildings were clean, but sparse. Shoes are removed before entering any building.

Flip-flops galore! This is how you know a yoga class is going on.

 

We were given two meals a day — breakfast at 10 a.m. and dinner at 6 p.m. We filed into the dining hall individually while chanting, then squatted on bamboo mats on the floor. Our dinner plates were gigantic aluminum trays divided into sections, school cafeteria style. The food is all sattvic, which means no meat, fish, garlic, onion or spice. Still, it was all surprisingly delicious. Typical meals include chapatti bread, dal (lentil soup), and salad made from shredded beets and carrots. Volunteers walk around with food buckets and serve up as much as you want.

Everybody eats in silence, which is supposed to help with digestion. That was probably the biggest thing for me to get used to, since I love to talk while I eat — something I never realized until I was forced to have quiet time.

There are no utensils, so everyone eats with their right hands. The left hand is reserved for bathroom stuff, since there is also no toilet paper.

Each day begins with a wake-up bell at 5:30 a.m., followed by chanting and meditation in the temple. The rest of the day adheres to a strict schedule of tea time, yoga classes, more chanting, a lecture and more yoga, chanting and meditation. Lights are off each night by 10:30 p.m.

The rooftop space where we had intermediate yoga classes.

 

Om shanti.
No, they didn’t drink the Kool-Aid. There’s a yoga class going on in there.

 

Each person at the ashram also has mandatory karma yoga, which is volunteer work done on site. Some folks emptied the garbage bins, some scrubbed floors. I was assigned to work in the internet cafe for an hour each day. (Hey, yogis are pretty modern!)

Becoming a yogi is very hard work.

 

I don’t have enough words to describe how moving and meaningful it was to stay at the ashram. I enjoyed the discipline of it, and it was strangely liberating to have all choice removed from my day. I was told when to wake up, where to go, what to do and when to sleep. After months of travel, where I’ve had endless decisions to make, it was a relief to turn that off for a while.

What he said.

 

Above all, it was peaceful and quiet. For the first time, I felt like I was actively working on becoming a better human being — and ultimately, that’s the whole point.

Moral of the story: Do more yoga.

 

Travel time-out

January 6, 2011

I am burrowing.

I tend to do this every winter. For the longest time, I thought it was seasonal affective disorder. Then I moved to the California desert, which gets approximately 500 days of sunshine per year, and I realized I no longer have an excuse.

Now I’m starting to think it’s the natural rhythm of humans. Or maybe it’s just the natural rhythm of me — holing up, turning inward and building a cocoon before I have the energy to break out again.

What surprises me is that I have to still do this while traveling. I mean, here I am out in the world … I should be going places! I should be meeting people! I should be doing something!

Instead, I am void of ambition. I am mentally and physically broken down. I have some family issues going on, which leave me feeling vulnerable and imperfect. I am lonely and a little sad. Plus, I recently got over a case of worms and parasites, and the 17 mosquito bites on my face are only now starting to heal. I am exhausted.

So I am holed up at El Salam Yoga Camp in Dahab, Egypt.

This is where I am resting. I am jogging on the shore of the Red Sea. I am getting lost in hours of yoga. I am reading and catching up on writing and making confessions in my journal. I am playing with puppies and squeezing kittens. I am thinking.

I feel guilty about all of this, like I should be doing more, traveling further, volunteering for somebody somewhere. Instead, the biggest accomplishment of my day is making soup.

Dakini, the woman who runs this camp, gave me a little squeeze around my shoulders and assured me that I’m doing exactly what I need to be doing.

“Get strong,” she said. “You have to honor yourself. Realize that by helping yourself you are helping the people around you, and ultimately that helps the world.”

Soon, I hope I will find myself with the ability to move on and have more meaningful experiences and adventures.

But now, I am burrowing.