Spiritual Thoughts

One of the best things about traveling is meeting people from different backgrounds, who engage with the world in very different ways. The more I've seen, the more I've come to understand there really is no 'right' way to live. For a long time, I've mostly believed this, with small doubts surfacing every now and then. But when you're around - and become friends with - people who approach life in a way that conflicts with your own ideas about how life "should" be lived, you have to continually confront the notion that the way you see things may not be the only 'right' way to move through this world.

I think this notion is obvious to most people. At least on an intellectual level. But Ive found myself challenged by some of these different approaches to life, to the point where I react negatively because I don't think I can possibly accept some of these lifestyles as equal to my own. And so I resist them, and think of them as confused, as inferior. Surely these people are just confused, misguided. After all, what they're saying doesn't line up with what I believe, and I know my lifestyle has brought so much good to my life and those around me. It must be right.

That's how I started out. Since then, the constant exposure to lifestyles that were previously beyond my understanding have come more into focus. It's not that I necessarily believe them, but I can see the benefits gained from. The benefits may even be the same I gain from a completely different (perhaps opposite) approach, or they may be different, based on a different value set.

I've undergone many changes in my thinking thanks to deep conversations with some wonderful travel partners, most originally strangers, now friends. Once again, I'm indebted to the openness and kindness of strangers. A recent conversation with a new friend pushed my thinking yet again, challenging me to reconsider notions I considered foundational to my very core. I've had a couple revelations like this in my life before. The beauty is that each time, though it shakes me in a way that unsettles things in myself I considered to be stable, at the same time it grounds me deeper, gives me more solid footing. Someone once told me that the most profound revelations in life don't come from someone teaching you something new. They come from pointing something out to you that you've known all along, but didn't yet see. It's the experience of touching something so integral to your being that you feel "at home." And there, you can rest.

In order to make yourself available to such an experience (because it truly is experience that finds you when you're ready, not you seeking out and finding the experience) you must be open to possibility, even when that makes you uncomfortable or challenges your preconceived notions. One zen saying describes us as cups. If you want to have your cup (yourself) filled, you must first empty it. You must rid yourself of preconceptions, of judgments, of stagnant notions of right and wrong, good and bad. You must be open to experience, to possibility. Only then can you receive what the world, what others, what life is offering you. The usefulness of a cup is in its emptiness. By emptying ourselves, we become useful. To ourselves and to others.

In that spirit, what I'm about to share contains things that will probably strike at nerves for some, and confuse others. That's always inevitable. I reference Hindu religious stories and concepts we view as tabboo in the US, but know little about. A few days ago, a lot of this would have turned me off. But there are many paths to the same point. This is just my experience, and given that this is my blog where I describe the most profound events in my travels, this is an apt place for it. I should also mention that these words are derived from extended conversations over the past 2 days. Many thanks to those who helped bring them out of me.



The primary thing that hit me as a result of this conversation was that through living according to buddhist philosophy I might be missing out on something big. This something may be present - and indeed emphasized - in another philosophy, that of tantra. The idea that stuck with me, because it reflected small doubts I'd had about Buddhism from the beginning, related to the expression of emotions. In Buddhism, you detach from your emotions. They are not you. They are something to learn from, but they will not guide you to enlightenment. Whereas, in tantra - which views every aspect of life as god - the emotion IS you, and therefore is something that deserves your attention and energy, it deserves to be expressed. Emotions are things to be celebrated. You do recognize the transitory nature of emotion, and in that way you are not overwhelmed with despair when they are negative, but the difference is that you RIDE the emotions, allowing yourself to fully experience the ups and downs, rather than remaining in the middle, as is taught in the 'middle way' of Buddhism.

Related to this is love, an aspect of Buddhism I never wholly agreed with. Buddhist thought says you should love everyone equally, be attached to no one in particular, for that leads to suffering. In tantra, given that everyone and everything you feel is another manifestation of god - and therefore all is holy - to love fully and let yourself go in that feeling is one of the highest forms of living.

In tantra, you can achieve this blissful state on earth, in basic experience, through any practice. For instance, for the Hare Krishnas it's music. They sing and sway and dance as a collective and become part of something larger through this communal experience that is inherently physical, visceral. For the bodhisattva Hanuman, it was service. He descended from bliss into the world of experience to serve Rama and Sita, central characters in Hindu religion and philosophy. After he finished, Shiva - a powerful Hindu god - asked him to return to bliss. He refused, saying that he instead would remain in the world of experience in order to help others achieve the bliss he had achieved. That was his passion. For me, it might be love. It might be giving yourself so fully to an emotion that it redefines not only how you understand yourself, but your relation with those around you, and the very nature of existence. Kahlil Gibran said it best when he wrote of love,

"When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart."

Some myths/stories help illuminate the importance of fully investing yourself in experience, in emotion, rather than holding out for something else that "transcends experience." One is the story of the creation of Shakti from Shiva. Shiva is this really important Hindu god, and Shakti is his counterpart. The idea is that Shiva split himself into 2 parts just so that he could "see" himself again, meaning he wanted to appreciate the beauty of his being, his existence, anew. Sitting in a blissful state that transcends experience, he willingly chose to reenter the reality we currently experience, this physical, tangible world. The idea is that he created it, yet it is part of him. This reality, this form of existence, is known as Shakti. It is at once part of him, and yet separate. My mind goes to Christianity, where Jesus is at once thought to be a man of the physical world, yet also one with god, god himself. Ultimately, Shiva threw himself from bliss into experience, so that he could find himself again, and thus appreciate existence in a novel way. Shiva and Shakti are counterparts, separate, and yet the same. When these two are united or aligned, bliss meets with physical experience and we become whole. We at once recognize our divine nature, and how that divine nature is present in every aspect our lives.

For me, that story of Shiva/Shakti helps me reconcile the possibility of god with that of a universe we understand as chaotic, where both wonderful and terribly sad things occur. People often question how the most saddening, terrible, unbelievable events could come to pass, if there truly was a god. Here, one can replace "god" with any concept or sentiment reflecting connection or beauty in the world, of existence.

You have a perfect being that is aware of its blissful state, yet realizes this is just one facet of the wonder of experience. And this being has the power to "hit a button" and initiate something new, to create and throw itself into the chaos of experience, where it will experience ups and downs that do not occur in this blissful state. It will hurt, terribly so at some points. But it will also be incredibly joyful. And through this process, this being will come to understand and appreciate this bliss anew, rather than simply sitting in that state for eternity. It's the idea that, in order to appreciate the truly marvelous things in this world, they must be contrasted with the truly terrible. Or, in order to fully appreciate love, we must know what it is like to feel the pain of love lost. This is the rationale for creating what we perceive as an "imperfect" world, containing "imperfect" life. The truth is, nothing about any of it is imperfect. If you didn't understand the concept of dark, you wouldn't know light if you saw it. What we experience is indeed perfect. It is just the ongoing process of each of us trying to rediscover the perfection in ourselves, which is always there, if we're willing to look.

Never been happier to lose $300

Most of you who are reading this know about my bag being stolen yesterday in Chiang Mai, Thailand. And it being found a few hours later, without the money - $300. I was incredibly lucky. Inside that bag was my passport, my credit card, both my ATM cards, my tablet, my 2 cellphones, iPod, camera, emergency contact info, wallet, all my forms of ID, and perhaps most importantly, my journal. It's funny how, in the face of not having any money or way of obtaining any, or any form of ID, my heart hurt worst with thoughts of my journal. All my detailed thoughts, emotions, ideas for future research, contact info for people I met, itineraries for future countries, and suggestions for books, movies, and music were lost. These were the only irreplaceable things, and what I missed most.

How did this happen? Why was I so stupid to have all this in one place? Well, let me explain.

I carry two bags when I travel. One is a 55liter backpacking bag, with all the big items, including clothing, emergency toiletries, and currently the copious souvenirs Ive bought for friends and family. I also keep a credit card, ATM card, extra cash, amd important emergency info here as well. The other is a small backpack that has all my electronics and things I'll need for the day, which I carry everywhere and always keep a close eye on. It just so happened that, on the day this happened, I was switching hostels unexpectedly and was a bit flustered. There was a mix up and I had to quickly pack my stuff and head to the new one. Because it was a 2-3min ride by tuk tuk (small taxi), I didn't think anything of throwing all my stuff where it fit at the time. Well, turns out all the important stuff ended up in one place.

So I catch this tuk tuk and the driver takes me to my hostel. I get out, quickly pay him, and rush into my new place to make sure I have a room. It's only when it's time to pay do I realize I don't have my wallet - my bag is missing. Frantically I ran outside, but the driver left a couple minutes prior. Panicked, I ran around looking, but found nothing. I hoped he would return - he didn't. So it set in and I was devastated. Everything lost! No money, no way to get money, and no identification. Not to mention everything else listed above. And god, my journal. I was caught between wanting to cry and throw things in a fit of rage. I did neither, but sat frustrated and distraught.

This is where the highlights of my story begin. This hostel owner, seeing my predicament, not only gave me a room without question (knowing I couldn't pay) but also proceeded to drive me around looking for the driver, then to the police station to make a report, then to my previous hostel to use internet - cancel cards, etc. The owner of this previous hostel, hearing my situation, straight up gave me $30 (repaid today), and her sincere sympathy, which mattered more to me at that moment. I know 2 hostels which are getting rave reviews online!

At this point, there was nothing I could do. I found a computer and sought repreive online. And I am so grateful, I found it from so many friends and family that I'm still responding to all the emails and messages. Several conversations in particular last night really had a positive impact on me. I feel so warm and loved, and could not imagine being luckier given the circumstances. I only hope I can return the favor to you all.

A few hours later, I got a call from the police (well, my hostel owner did). The bag had been turned in by a young man who was just at the airport, where it was found! The airport? My guess is the tuk tuk driver found the bag, looted it, then dropped it off there before picking up new customers. Either way, this kid didn't take anything, AND turned it in. My hostel owner drove me to the police station, we picked up the bag, and I proceeded to emphatically hug everyone who came near me. Couldn't believe how lucky I had turned out to be.

All in all, about 3 hours passed between realizing my loss and having the bag returned. During that time, I went from frustration, disbelief, anger, and sadness, to acceptance, and even bring energized with a new sense of adventure. More than almost any other opportunity I'd ever had, this was an opportunity to practice mindfulness. An opportunity to sit with my emotions, my fears, and work to accept them in the present moment, knowing I couldn't change anything besides my own outlook on life. Anything in life can be taken away from us at any time. The only exception is the choice to view our experience in a particular way. We absolutely control how we understand and interact with the world around us. So I sat down to meditate and work on that. I already was regretting my burst of emotion. But we begin where we are, right? The first arrow that pierces you is the actual pain or mistake. The second is the one you shoot yourself with, by trying to be someone you're not, or being down on yourself for not being perfect. Moving on, I started to see this as the opportunity it was. I felt the freedom of release from all the artificial responsibilities and burdens we carry. I began to relish the idea of having to make due in a place where I didn't speak the language, without any money or ID. Surprisingly, and in no small part due to the kindness of strangers, it's absolutely doable. Things started to seem less intense and I began to relax.

Then I got the call, my bag was found! And the rest I've already said.

Ultimately, I'm GLAD this happened. I'm glad someone took my bag, stole my $300. Becuase it woke me up from a monotonous dream that I was living - I didn't even realize I was sleeping! I was living too comfortably, something I mentioned in a previous blog entry. Despite my attempts to step outside of my comfort zone, there are always more steps I could take. And this one was big. Because of this, I want to go out of my way to take care of strangers when they need help - or don't. A few kind words or a simple attempt to understand someone else, to listen openly, is everything. That's something I lost a lot of at some point. I don't know if it was the stress of grad school, the pain of failed relationships, or just spending more time in a society that values the individual so much more than the community. But somewhere along the line I became too selfish. I owe a debt to strangers that I want to continue repaying forever. I want to give to others the same energy I feel, as a result of strangers' actions. And to my friends and family who were so loving and helpful - I want to return that love and attention tenfold.

In the end, I'm grateful for the challenges and opportunities this experience has given me. If this is all I learn during these 8 months of travel, it was more than worth it. And certainly worth $300.

To everyone who was so supporting - thanks again :-) I'm here if you ever need anything.

Goodbye India, Hello Thailand!

I'm currently sitting in my new hostel in Chiang Mai, Thailand. Sipping Darjeeling tea I bought in the Bangalore duty free shop and feeling the stark contrasts between India, where I spent the past 2 1\2 months, and what little Ive now seen of Thailand. It didn't take long to experience these differences, and to be happy about them.

I loved India, let me say that up front. I'm not sure there's any other country in the world that has so much diversity in language, culture, food, and general behavior. And I only saw mostly one side of it. I traveled from the northern most region the the southern most point, hitting as much as possible in between. In the north, the people are genuine and friendly, at home in extreme altitude and cold. While still remaining close to their aged traditions, they have adopted to the influx of tourism that began around the late 70s. Luckily, this area still remains a less common tourist destination, than say Rajasthan, including Delhi and the Taj Mahal. I found these areas some of the most frustrating times of my travels. I won't even talk about Varanasi. The locals in these areas are so used to rich foreign tourists that very white person is nothing more than a walking dollar sign. Obviously, there is a lot to be said here about the remnants of colonialism, and perhaps it's wrong of me to complain, or I should be more understanding, given all that has brought this situation to be as it is. With that in mind, all I write here are my own impressions, devoid of any larger analysis, though you certainly might be right to fault me for it.

As I said, you're a walking $. You'll hear this from just about anyone who's been there. Everyone who approaches you on the street wants to sell you something, or simply wants something for nothing. They will claim to be your friend, that they just like helping foreigners, etc. 99.9% of the time it's a lie. Which is sad, because this makes you distrustful of random people, and so you push everyone away, assuming they are all the same. You very well could miss something here. And you become jaded, or at least I did. I became hard, unfriendly (by US standards) in return. You could call it cultural adaptation, but I'd rather not adapt if that's what it requires.

On the other hand, moving further south, this became less and less the case. The people were similar to those in the north, more open to strangers, not as much seeking to advantage. Though you definitely still are a target of greedy tuk tuk drivers and shop owners.  Here, many Indians are Catholic, a relic of Portuguese imperialism. There are cathedrals and churches everywhere, about as ornate as most Ive seen in Europe! Though what's neat is the way they've blended it with their own culture. In traditional Indian style, it's quite "over the top" (a subjective assessment, yes, but think Indian weddings). Think neon lights surrounding every picture of Jesus. Or a small statue of him hidden in a small ornate doorway behind the alter, revered and praised in the same way they worship Hindu gods. In other words, like everywhere else and every other period in history, they fit the new to the old, establishing their own unique form of practice.

I could say more here, but I'd rather focus on what's most salient to me right now, as a part of this transition in countries. I gotta ask one thing. What the hell is up with qeues in India? By which I mean, there is no such thing. It's all out chaos. Even to the point where it hurts everyone involved. For instance, when a train stops and some people have to get off so others can get on. But there, they try to pile on anyways, pushing you back as you try to get off, despite the fact that there's nowhere to go! Senseless.

Cue my transition to Thailand. Suddenly, everyone is super nice, in a way that feels more genuine. Even the people who want to sell you things don't impose on you, don't call out at you - at least in Chiang Mai. And I haven't heard a horn the enire time ive been here. That's a small miracle. I'll admit, it definitely is more touristy than any place over been so far. I haven't seen so many white people since Indiana. And though that can be nice sometimes, I have come to like being more off the beaten path.

Oh yeah, and I have started to eat meat again, which was perfectly timed. I was a vegie for 3 months, but lost 20lbs. Not something that's great for my health. So picking meat back up, and there's no better place to eat meat than Thailand! Helloooo stir fry, pad Thai, and god knows what these words mean but hey it's meat. The place seems super clean, though I'm not sure how much of that is just me coming from India. Either way, I trust the food.

So Ive got a couple days of wandering around exploring, then I'm taking a Thai massage class to learn a bit. I've always loved giving massages, and I think physical touch is something that's so important in interpersonal communication, a thing we lack in the US. I look forward to becoming more comfortable touching and being touched. And understanding the human body in new ways.

Reminds me of a Jack Kerouac Novel

I just finished a relaxing 4 days at a small beach town called Gokarna, a couple hours south of Goa, one of India's bigger tourist destinations. I've been trying to stay away from the big tourist places lately, because I want to learn more about the local experience, what life is like away from places where the economy isn't fully run by tourist money. This wasn't exactly that. Though one of the less well-known beach areas, it still was occupied by about 40-50 westerners. I was happy to see about as many Indians enjoying the beach as well, however. Though I did note that the groups didn't often interact.

I spent the nights in a thatched hut, about the size of a walk in closet. Just enough room for a bed with a mosquito net. The floor was sand, which I found pretty comfortable, though that meant you definitely got sand on the bed. I was lucky to be here just after the full moon, when the moonlight still helped me navigate the place at dark. The stars were as vibrant as I've ever seen them, when I'd sit near the water listening to the waves come and go. In my hut, the light shone through the walls and roof to create my own little starry world. The calm yet powerful feel of the waves, only 100ft away, rocked me to sleep.

My days were simple:  eat, meet and talk with others, swim, and eat some more. Though there was slow internet for a couple days, it was down about half the time I was there, which was a mixed blessing. I wasn't able to plan the next steps of my trip, but it allowed me to focus more intently on the here and now.

One of the things I realized, through thought and discussion with some great fellow travelers, is that I tend to shy away from direct experience sometimes. I approach most things from a predominantly mental lens (other academics might be able to relate) that obscures the more emotional, sensual elements of experience. It favors evaluation and judgment - objectification of experience - over intuition and "going with the flow" - a more open, relaxed, subjective type of existence.

That is something I've been doing since I started this journey, though I certainly don't mean to say it's how I always act. Looking back, I can see myself spending too much time reading books, particularly those related to my research interests. It's not actually doing research, but it does take me away from the present moment and keeps me shackled to the things I was supposed to give up when I began this undertaking. Those things are in my comfort zone, things that remind and reinforce this image I have of who "Danny" is. In a way, it's an escape from a life that is less defined and secure, the nature of life on a trip like this. It's an attempt to establish control in stability, though when I think about it, I'm seeking the opposite.

There's a quote I love that I've been trying to live by since I first arrived in Seattle a year ago. It says, "Life begins at the end of your comfort zone." When I let this notion guide my life, I find it to be profoundly true. Living this way, I've done things I never thought I'd try, met amazing people I wouldn't have otherwise, decided to go on the Bonderman, and ultimately learned an incredible amount about myself. Life lived according to this value is like a river that constantly flows, ever-changing. New experiences enrich our lives and we discover new people and places. When we become content with what's around us and settle, becoming averse to the idea of engaging in new experiences just because they're different from what we know, we are more like a stagnant pond. You wouldn't drink the water from a stagnant pond. Everything comes around in a cyclical fashion, as well. The more open you are to direct experience, the more you grow, the more new people you meet. And that leads to more openness.

Although it shouldn't surprise me given the nature of the places I've been, I am astounded by the uniqueness of others' experiences, but also by how many of these people have these same experiences in common. For instance, let's take yoga teaching. When I return to Indiana, my experience in an Indian yoga ashram is going to be thought of as strange. I'd be surprised if a single person in Evansville has done it. In Seattle, there will be more, but still few I'd wager. But at this beach, you'd wake up and there would be a dozen individuals up at 7 greeting the sun with several "sun salutations," a popular yoga flow. And most of them were trained here in India. The same goes for all these various types of massage, including Thai, ayurvedic, and a few I'd never even heard of. But everyone else had, and probably had a teaching certificate for it.

I brought up how strange this seemed - and how cool, to have so many like minds - but to most of them it was completely normal. Most of the people I met here are lifetime travelers, or maybe go home to work for 6 months out of the year to fund their adventures. In these situations, I felt like the weird one because I have something stable I plan on returning to in 5 months. Furthermore, apparently I was one of few who hadn't been to Peru for a spiritual retreat with native shaman, chugging this "enlightenment-inducing" plant/drug cocktail called ayahuasca. I've been told the spiritual balance of the world is shifting away from India and towards Peru. So there you go, time to cancel those flights to India and get on the Peruvian shaman train before it becomes "too commercialized."

There is a little cynicism in my tone here because I do find some of what some of these individuals are doing as silly, as their own form of escape from reality. In the same way I escape from direct, intuitive experience by re-grounding myself in academia, some (not all) of these people have evidently become so jaded by whatever life experiences brought them here that they now believe the life they live is the only true way to fully experience the wonder and mysteries of human life. And that involves traveling to new places constantly (as long as they're not western), and buying fully into the next big spiritual thing. You can probably tell I'm angling for a middle ground here. I think stability is incredibly important in most people's lives. If everyone lived the way some of these guys live...well, I'm not sure what we'd have, but I don't think I'd want to be a part of it. On the other hand, they provide justified critiques of some of modern society's ails, and there is a great deal we can learn from these "dharma bums."

There's some random thoughts for you. It's what happens when I sit on a beach all day for 4 days. But I promise, I did have some great direct experience with those waves :-)

Random note:  Everyday, I try to write down three things I'm grateful for, always in relation to the events of that particular day. I thought it might be cool to share them. Some are deep and meaningful, and some are downright silly. Today I'll share one of the latter. Yesterday I was extremely grateful for my Chacos, and whoever convinced me to get a pair - you know who you are ;-) These things are serious business.

One month of yoga: Complete! / Redefining the ordinary

I just left the yoga ashram yesterday morning, but it already feels like forever ago. It felt like another world in a way. It was quiet, isolated, and I was mostly surrounded by fellow foreigners. All the food was prepared for me. All I had to do was show up to places on time. I'm now in Mumbai, back into the real world of hustle and bustle, where I have to go places, apply for visas, find my own food, and make friends with people who will leave in a day or two and I'll never see again. Instead of falling asleep at 9:30pm and waking up at 5am for two hours of yoga, I'm kept awake until 1am by two drunk 50 year olds, traveling the world in search of themselves. But that's life in a hostel for you.

So now I can officially teach yoga, says the piece of paper they gave me after 30 days. That's a cool thought. Though I don't plan on it anytime soon. It's just funny to think about, something random that makes sense in my current context and doesn't seem out of the ordinary, but will probably feel different when I'm back in the States.

Speaking of things that are out of the ordinary, but don't seem like it to me in this Indian context, there was a train wreck in India yesterday. In fact, it took place just a few kilometers from the train station I was at just then, waiting for my train. I found out because the train I was about to board was cancelled. The derailed train, in which dozens were injured or killed, was blocking the very tracks I would have been on 10mins later. I was with 6 other foreigners trying to get back to Mumbai, but none of us were concerned or gave much thought to this tragedy that was so close to us, that might have well been us if things went slightly different. We realized we needed another way to Mumbai, and quickly booked a taxi. And that was that. I find myself wondering if this is something owed to spending extended time in India, where less value is placed on human life. Or maybe it's not that at all, but more universal, a product of the pace and impersonality that characterizes modern life. Or maybe I've just become less empathetic. That's probably part of it. And definitely something that needs work. Though India is a difficult place to exercise that emotional muscle.

Anyways, the big news was the completion of the yoga retreat. I learned a lot about yoga postures, theory, and philosophy. And I'm really happy for that. I think it will be really useful in my own life, and in helping others, whether informally or related to Tourette's, communication, etc. But honestly, what I most enjoyed about all that time was getting to know the other students. I was lucky to have 3 great roommates who I clicked with, 2 from Dubai and 1 from Thailand. They had very different personalities, which made for a hilarious time. One was super sarcastic and blunt, which is something I love to be around. Another was very serious about the yogic/mindful lifestyle, and was always pushing himself and others to go further. All of them were extremely intelligent and we spent most nights staying up much too late, having conversations about love, philosophy, religion, all the big stuff. I think we all fall on different ends of the spectrum, on almost all those issues. It made for a really good dynamic, having to reconsider most of the big framing points of my life. I'm really grateful for those kinds of challenges to my beliefs, forcing me to step out of my comfort zone for a bit. I'm hoping to visit all of them during my travels. There were lots of other people as well, several of whom I got to practice my Spanish with, which was awesome.

One of the things I liked most about the course, which I thibk I got the most out of, was the practice teaching. For my final, I instructed 6 other people for one hour. I think my experience teaching as a TA helped a lot, because it felt great. It requires a much different teaching persona than teaching public speaking though. In this, I developed a much softer, calming voice. I also had to find a fine line between encouragement and corrections, which I think takes time. But it gave me the opportunity ity to incorporate some meditations, such as one on co passion I really love. In this, you visualize someone you love dearly, and keep them in mind as you recite, inwardly, the following phrases: May you be happy. May you be healthy. May you be loved. It always has positive effects for me, and everyone else loved it as well. That's one of the things I'd like best about teaching if I did it, the meditations.

There are a million things I could write about the experience, but I'd be here all day, and it's time I go out into the city! We can chat more individually later, or I'll write more later. It's one experience onto another again. Part of me already misses staying a while in one location with a stable group of people, but traveling around frequently has its own joys :-) 

Yoga retreat, week 1

I'm writing this on Tuesday, October 22nd. I'm only 4 days into the yoga retreat, but there's so much crammed into such a small space of time, I thought it best to write at short intervals.

There are a few ways to document this. I think it might be most interesting if I include some of the theory I'm learning along with the larger experience. Otherwise later down the line, I might be talking about something I've learned the 3rd week, which will make total sense to me, but confuse anyone who else reading this without the same background knowledge. So prepare to learn some yoga theory!

Background

But first, some background on the ashram (an ashram is basically a retreat center). It's located about an hour West of a city called Nasik, which is a 5-6hr train ride East of Mumbai/Bombay. It's pretty isolated from noise and distraction, as there's no internet (I'm currently typing this one my tablet, which I'll post later on our one off day per week), electricity is sporadic, and I have no phone - though few who have them have much reception anyways. There are about 40 students here, 20 or so for the Teacher Training course, like me. The other 20 are for Yoga Therapy. And half a dozen teachers.

I'm in a room with 3 others guys. We are 4 of the 6 males in both courses combined, kind of what I expected - but not the only reason I came here!  ;-) In total, I'm one of 3 Americans. The other students are from Asia, Europe, S. America, Australia, the Middle East, and several from India. The average age is probably in the early 30's.

We wake up daily at 5am, then begin a 2hr yoga session at 6am. Breakfast, cleaning, and 2 lectures take us to lunch, then a 2hr break. We then have 2 more lectures, followed by 2 more hours of yoga before dinner. Before bed at 9ish, we'll sometimes have chanting, or study time.

The food is delicious, all vegetarian - the Indians do it best. I do miss certain things, and I've felt my energy level relax because I'm having less protein, stimulants, and food in general than normal. But it makes it easier to focus, similar to when I did vipassana.

Yoga: East vs. West

I knew this would be the case, but this yoga is very different than most of what you see in the States. To summarize, the focus in the US is on physical fitness almost exclusively, with perhaps a little meditation on the side. It's akin to gymnastics, where people go to become more flexible, lose weight, etc. People push themselves (and are often encouraged to do so), meaning going deeper into poses, holding them until exhaustion, or modifying their environment to make the process more difficult. For example, "hot yoga" is a new trend of performing yoga in rooms heated to 100 degrees, or even hotter.

Though I'm not buying 100% into the way things are taught here, I see a lot of sense in what they say about much of Western yoga. Just yesterday, a teacher called attention to the fact that you will not find hot yoga in India - it doesn't exist. Nor will you find "doggie yoga" (yoga for dogs, yes; I think this is just in the US). Keep in mind, this is the birthplace of yoga. This is certainly not to automatically discount the creation of new methods of yoga. But it's always interesting to question why there is a need for new developments. For example, what does the new method provide us that the old one didn't?

The teacher pointed out something I had been thinking about before I came here: In many places, yoga has become just another industry. It is akin to the world of dieting. Which diet is best? Which will help me lose the most weight in the least amount of time? It is a product that is specifically produced to be consumed, and in large quantities. This is, in large part, a result of the capitalist mindset. You can shop around different yoga schools - in Seattle, we have as many yoga studios as Starbucks - and choose one (or several) that fits your present desires. Not to say having choices is bad, but I do wonder how we came to have so many "different" options. In addition to selecting a studio, you can spend $25 on a yoga mat that costs $2.50 to make (but hey, it's got flowers on it!), hundreds of dollars on so-called "yoga clothing" which really are just old clothing styles with new names, and more $ on all the accessories marketers can dream up.

From what I understand so far, the main difference between this yoga and most in the US comes down to the definition of yoga itself. Yoga has been practiced for thousands of years, but was codified most notably by an Indian dude named Patanjali, in his "Sutras." This is the foundational text of all yoga practice, regardless of where in the world you practice. Your yoga instructor will consider this the source, no doubt about it.

This is important because Patanjali's sutras made it clear that the purpose of yoga is to balance the body and mind. And mind. This is where much of the West diverges from the East. In the East, the connection between these two is integral to the practice. Neither is valued more highly than the other, though the physical practice is considered as preparation for the mental. In reality, they can't be separated. They say that when our body is not stable, neither is our mind; and vice versa. You can easily test this for yourself. Next time you are stressed about something, check in with in your body. It's going to be experiencing the physiological reactions to stress. Though actually, it's hard to say which came first, since they are so connected. Psychologists have found when you encounter a stressful stimulus, your palms will begin to sweat before you even comprehend the stressor. In the same vein, when you're feeling angry you take deep breaths to relax, which is a bodily function that also calms the mind.

Anyways, the point is that the notion of balancing the mind and body is inherent within the central philosophy of yoga. When the mind and body are out of balance, you experience "dis-ease"/disease. You get stressed. You get sick. So the practice is designed to fix this.

So how do yoga practices establish this balance? Well, you start with "asanas," or postures. This is the part of yoga everyone is familiar with. It's the physical part. Defined, it means "steady and comfortable postures." That's the part that may seem strange to this of us who practice in the West. Comfortable? Probably not. Often, we hold the pose as long as we can stand it, then bow out, exhausted. When you think about it, this fits perfectly into our societal mindset of pushing ourselves to our limits, whether in physical exercise, work, school, or anything really. This is how I lift weights, and how I work in grad school. It makes sense we'd apply that ubiquitous approach to everything in life, including yoga.

But that's the problem. Yoga isn't, at its core, supposed to be stressful, or push our physical boundaries. It's not a contest to see who can stretch the farthest. It's a way to bring your mind into sync with your body, in a way that is relaxing, but makes you healthier, happier, and leaves you full of energy. You're not supposed to leave class exhausted, drenched in sweat. By its very definition, that's not yoga. That's physical exercise. It's stress. And whether positive or negative stress (distress or eustress), stress has no place in yoga. At least how it's been understood and practiced for millennia.

This has been a little tough for me to digest, because I love pushing myself to limits. I love lifting more weight, climbing higher, and becoming more flexible. It makes me feel good, and I don't want to give it up. But I don't have to. Those activities are fine, and I get something wonderful out of them. But out of yoga, I get something different. Because of the combination of physical postures with mental exercises, it provides something different, something unique. Something that doesn't fit into the box with other forms of physical exercise. It provides a life philosophy, a recipe for happiness and well-being, and it helps you live according to that philosophy.

To play devil's advocate though, I'm not sure how much this really even matters. So "yoga" in the US isn't loyal to the way it's always been practiced. There are benefits - though admittedly costs as well - to the way the US practices it. And who's to say anyone who practices should have to care about the mind aspect of yoga, or its philosophy? Terms and concepts have been redefined throughout history - it's the natural way of things. For example, Christianity today isn't what it was 1,000 years ago. But it doesn't seem to matter much to modern day Christians. Some still do good, and some still do bad, just as it has always been. It's still incredibly meaningful to millions of people.

And furthermore, if the purpose of yoga doesn't entail pushing yourself beyond small levels of discomfort, to stress, how are you supposed to progress, or get better at it? Why shouldn't we push our limits? Isn't that the point of life - growth?

In a way, yes. But we should consider what it is we are pushing, and why. Is the pleasure gained from a given activity fleeting? Or does it stay with me for long afterwards? Is this activity something I get pure joy from? Or is it just a substitution for something larger?

Ernest Becker, a renown cultural anthropologist, explains that many (perhaps most) personal and social accomplishments are usually sought out to prove to ourselves that we are "worth something," even if we are unaware of this underlying motivation. This insecurity comes from a desire to be "worth something" in the eyes of others. In other words, we have been programmed to behave in particular ways to satisfy others, or our own notions of what others expect of us. These programmed behaviors become so ingrained that they transform into our own desires, at least on the surface. But beneath these programmed behaviors, there is something larger and more profound.

The point is, we should ask ourselves, Why am I really doing this particular activity? The cliché is the successful businessman who never truly "succeeds" because what he's really looking for is his father's love. As for us, we might ask ourselves why we're on our current career path. Does it make me happy? If so, in what ways? If not, why am I currently doing it? Or, relevant to yoga, why am I doing it? Is it to increase flexibility? To be healthier and happier? To reduce stress? To distract myself from my daily worries? To zone out?

Ultimately, it comes down to, What do I want, and Why do I want it? We have a responsibility to ourselves to know this, to be aware of our own desires. Then it's our choice whether or not to modify our behavior based on what we discover.

Yoga as it's typically practiced in the US will probably get you a stronger, more flexible body. And that's awesome, if that's the goal you set. But yoga was intended to be (and still is in many places) much more than that. It is a system of mental-spiritual training for realizing the "true nature" and creative potential of the self and gaining freedom from conscious and unconscious impulsions, reactivities, and behavioral conditioning. It is, as they talk about it here, a tool of "personality transformation." I think we can get so much more out of it than the physical.

Remember the Reins

We are walking skeletons.
Our flesh and blood embody
the behaviors and forms
Impressed upon us by culture.
By family.
By friends.
By enemies.
By strangers.

Predispositions established, lived,
and then forgotten,
Yet still lived.

Guided unconsciously, we are the
Horse rider who forgets he is ahorse;
Loses sight of his destination.

Horse, like unchecked thought and emotion,
Carries us along the path of its own choosing.
A comfortable path, to be sure,
Though one absent the strenuous peaks,
with their rewarding vistas;
Ignorant of those lessons in humility which
Ravines gift from their low perspectives.

But mere contentment is surrender
to a life of illusory fulfilment,
One of disguised aversion,
One in which attachment
Dons the sheepskin of love.

I beseech you:

Remember the reins.
They have always and will always
Lay delicately across your palms,
Imbued with heavy potential.

Consider their weight,
Their fine detail.
Caress them with your willing fingertips and
Appreciate their indentations,
As you might relish the indentations
Memory has marked upon your own soul.

Remember the reins.
Resume your journey, and travel:
Forward,
Backward,
Standing still,
It makes no matter.

Just remember the reins. 

Burning effigies, Hare Krishnas, sand dunes, and Walt Whitman

I'm not exactly sure where to start this one. A lot has happened in the past several days. Many of these events relate to one another, though fully blending them would also detract from their individual uniqueness. This entry may not make much sense.

For me, the last several days are uniformly represented in my mind by the last night I spent in the basti (slum). Stephen and I sat in the cool sand, alone together, on a dune overlooking the revelry below. It was the night of a huge Hindu festival, Dushera, when the city of Jaipur (along with cities around the country) ceremoniously set fire to 50ft tall paper machet representations of figures from the epic Indian text, the Ramayana. The holiday celebrates the death of a villain, though it's not as simple as that. As they torch this character, they also mourn his passing. It's not as in the christian tradition, where Satan, who fell from grace, represents pure evil. Rather than painting a picture with two colors - good and evil - this ceremony acknowledges the greyscale of human morality, noting that a man can commit evil deeds, yet not be evil himself. Just as you and I could be angry at a point in time, but this does not necessarily make us angry people.

You know who's not an angry person? The Boss Man. The Boss Man is a character in a new Bollywood film, being released in a couple days. I've seen ads all over India, in numerous media, for his confident swagger that is composed of both Indian and western elements. This man has an Indian temperament - no need to get angry or overly emotional at slights - and the stereotypical western (perhaps American would be more accurate) physical strength. He's jacked and he sends adversaries tumbling in gravity-defying manners the directors of the Matrix would call over the top. Like many Indians I'm seeing in the bigger cities, he lifts weights, and it shows. Very few Indians do. Though it's becoming more common, as is Western fashion. Fashion trends shift, as do the characteristics of desirable bodies. Centuries ago, it was considered attractive, and a sign of wealth, to be fat. In the US today, mustaches are "out," except in Portland and Seattle (and Rajasthan, in India). Except for perhaps the mustaches (keep rocking them, Seattle), there are increasing similarities between styles in the US and India, in clothes and in body type. (Insert comments on globalization here - I'm lazy, you can fill this in for yourself). Indians (some - the priviledged) are becoming bigger, lifting weights, performing more "western" forms of exercise. Americans are eating as much as ever.

You probably know I'm a fan of chipotle. If not, ask me sometime about my patented "chiptole diet." It's part of a weight lifting routine I've done off and on for years. Great stuff. 1,800 calories per burrito if you do it right. Great if you want to put on mass. Also great for sucking up more resources than a vegetarian likely consumes in a week, when you think about what the cows who became that steak had to be fed to fatten them up, the water required to grow their food, the land where they "graze," the hormones they're injected with, the shipping costs, the methane they release, etc. etc. All this for a burrito. All this for my vanity. Because that's what it's really about. I don't need to be muscular, at least in the ways I grow from pushing a weighted bar up and down while lying on my back. I don't use that strength for anything important. The process is simply designed to generate human peacock feathers, which unfortunately I wasn't born with. But I work for them. And others in the US work for them. Because peacock feathers are pretty and desirable, or so we're told. And everyone wants to be desired. And we're a nation of peacocks. But eventually the feathers fall off and are no longer replaced. What then? Why is our ideal body that which is inherently unsustainable? Has it always been this way? Or is the way we consume related to the way we consume? We live in a culture which does not believe in recycling, with few exceptions (again, don't shave those mustaches, Seattle). Something goes wrong with a TV, we replace it. A new iPhone comes out, we get rid of our perfectly good older model. In reality, we gain little, in terms of technological advances. Yet in our socially-concerned minds, shaped by the tango between our insecurities and their resultant cravings, we gain a distraction from the reality of the moment, a respite from the humanizing vulnerability that is part of our very nature. We consume, and in doing so, turn away from the reality of the moment. We consume, and in doing so, give into past worries and anxieties for the future. Our bodies become as our minds, our minds as our bodies - docile, needlessly overburdened, useless but for performing isolated tasks that serve foremost to stroke our own egos.

My own ego, overly attached to the philosphy of dispelling the ego. Becoming attached to the philosophy of non-attachment.

Sitting on sand dunes reading Walt Whitman.

Great thanks to a good friend for pushing me beyond my comfort zone these past several days.


EDIT: I should clarify this one a bit. I was playing with styles of writing a bit to see how best to link a bunch of different ideas and events. In plain terms, I had some powerful conversations with a friend about the effects of capitalism on our body images, and how we attain the "ideal" body. He pointed out an interesting contrast between the ascetic body and one which works out, in where theyre considered desirable, and the repercussions of this. He also called attention to my own unstated assumptions in my mindfulness practice and research, some of which are naive and fundamentally ethnocentric. It gave me a lot to consider.

We also attended a couple big Indian religious festival, one related to Hare Krishnas in Vrindavan, where we met some serious practicianers and joined in some of the services. Learned w lot about that religion's philosophy. Stephen also got his glasses stolen by a monkey. Those things are cute, but beware - they're just little thieves!

Living in a Jaipur slum

I woke up at 7am and man I had to pee. 

We all know the feeling. The internal debate that subsequently takes place. Do I try to hold it in until the alarm goes off and get a bit more sleep? Or do I absolutely have to get up and walk to the restroom? This time, it was the latter. But it was different than anytime before. 

This time, I got up from the concrete floor and unlatched the bar locking the door from the inside. I took care not to stumble over my snoozing rommate, my companion in this 6 by 8 foot concrete box with no windows. I slipped on my sandals and walked down the shared hallway - also concrete, the floor wet with what I hope was water. 

I stepped outside into the morning haze, carefully avoiding the stumbling traps - roots, mismatched concrete steps, and piles of garbage. I then joined the procession of Indian men walking down the street with water bottles. I only had to pee, so I walked empty-handed. 

There are of course no toilets here, since there's no running water. What water we have is in buckets, delivered daily, and used for bathing, cooking, cleaning, and drinking. This being an illegal settlement, no proper water or sewage system has been constructed. And so the men walk down then street to defecate in a local wooded area, though some choose to go on the side of the street. That is also acceptable. The water is used to clean yourself afterwards. No one here uses toilet paper. Just make sure, if you come to India, beware of the left hand. And bring hand sanitizer.

I should have mentioned, I'm staying in an Indian slum. One of my friends is studying Hindi in Jaipur, the 8th time he's been in the country. He speaks almost fluently. He lives here, the only foreigner to ever to do so (according to the locals). For this, he's somewhat of a local celebrity. The kids love him, and many ofthe adults are taken aback when he is able to converse with them. They laugh in surprise. Everyone here wants to learn English, because it often leads to greater opportunities. Yet, here is this american learning Hindi. Puzzling.

His rent is about $20 a month. With food and transportation,the lives on $80/month. Not bad. Of course, to enjoy this price, you have to be OK with open, fresh-air "toilets," bucket showers, never being completely clean, hand washing clothes, maybe enough electricity for one lightbulb, and questionable sanitary conditions. 

I write this a bit sardonically, because it is so different from what I (and all of us) are used to. It's almost comical. But it can only be so when you know it's only temporary. This style of life is a choice, for Stephen and for me (a very short one in my case). That is not the case for everyone else who lives here, which is at times sobering. Without a doubt, they would all choose more comfortable living conditions if given there choice. Most constantly strive to get out of these conditions. But they're stuck, because of family responsibilities, lack of education and work opportunities, and of course the caste system. 

Don't let anyone tell you - like my high school history books - that the caste system in India is dead. That's absolutely not true. Browsing through Indian newspapers, every day you see a story about a young eloping couple, from different castes, who have been murdered (possibly burned alive) by their own families for marrying outside their caste. This is only one example. They're everywhere. 

Yet, the slum is not some violent, dangerous place where people langour despondently. Or if it is, I've not seen it. Admittedly, I've only seen a very small portion. I've been told there are of course the drunkards who are violent, the glue sniffing children who will mob you and turn out your pockets. But I've met people who are (surprise) no different than you and me. They don't have internet or chat about the latest episode of Breaking Bad, but they have a strong sense of community that, coming from the USA, I envy. I went to a play (which lasts 10 days, 8-10pm) where much of the community turned out to watch, socialize, and play. Kids chasing each other, teenagers were flirting, and adults were tryingto control their little monsters. It reminded me of a 4th of July picnic, large scale. 

My friend lives with a family, and the mother makes us dinner each night. It's much better than what I would make myself. Yet, she was embarassed to serve me at first, thinking I wouldn't like it. I wish I knew Hindi, because I can tell by their mannerisms and their eyes, the family is loving, fun, and intelligent.

For me, my short stay in Kachi Basti Tila 7B (name of the slum) has probably been the most interesting portion of my travels so far. It's not at all what I expected. I came in expecting danger and depressing circumstances. Instead, at least in this small part of the slum, I found genuinely nice and curious people, a different way of living, and even a couple friends. It was perhaps naive of me to think otherwise, but it's just reinforced the notion that people really are the same everywhere. The only real differences surround the style of living. And here, this style of life has caused me to inquire more into the injustices of social and economic systems. 

One more thing I feel grateful to take away from this experience is a lesson learned from their style of life. They get by just fine with so little convenience, though it's certainly not out of choice, for the most part. But they have to appreciate what little water they get and make the best uses of it. Because they live with the reality of it being a limited resource. This is the reality of the matter, though in the USA we are able to live without facing this reality because of our opulence. I hope to be more mindful of what a blessing our abundance of resources truly is, and do my best to conserve what I have, and not to waste. 

PS. I hope this doesn't sound condescending or preachy. It's not intended that way. Living in a slum for a few days is nothing, and doesn't give me some enlightened perspective on life. I'm spoiled that I can go in and out at will, and experience it almost as another form of "vacation," though that's not the best word for it. I have no idea what it's like to really live in one of these places. I'm approaching it from the only perspective I really know - my own. I found it very powerful and just wanted to share how fascinating it was for me, as best I can explain it in such a short space. 

Varanasi: Land of the Buddha

I took my first overnight train to Varanasi, 4 days ago. I rode what's called "3AC," meaning the 3rd tier with air conditioning. There are at least 2 classes above this and one below, though I was warned against the one below, "sleeper class," for safety reasons. I had my own bunk, a curtain, and a window. I loved it. I felt like I was in a cradle being rocked to sleep while we rolled 13 hours.

Immediately after getting off the train, the solicitors were waiting. Here, they are even worse than Delhi. Very pushy, very persistent. But you get used to it and just ignore them. Even saying "No, thanks" apparently gives them hope and attracts them. It's sad, because it basically means I can't acknowledge their existence without being harassed. I've been told by various people that 99.9% of them just want your money, despite whatever they say about not being guides, or how many times they call you friend. In the times I've let my guard down, I ended up finding the 99.9%. But that's the nature of tourism in countries like India. The money I make back home in a few days is what the average indian makes in a year. Knowing this, many try their best to pry just a tiny fraction of that from you using whatever means possible. For many of them, it's survival. I don't blame them. If anything, I view it as a luxury tax, paying more than the "Indian price" for food, transportation, etc. I'm lucky that I can afford it, and much more.

Before I traveled to Varanasi, I was aware of its status as a pilgrimage sit for Buddhists. Nearby is where the Buddha was enlightened, and where he gave his first teachings. I have read much about this over the years and was excited to see these places with my own eyes, to meditate where the buddha found his inspiration. Though I didn't get to see where he was enlightened, I did visit Sarnath, where he gave his teachings. I saw ruins of old monasteries and statues. It's crazy to think so many buildings were built to commemorate and continue his practice, but it was so long ago that they're all but gone. About 2,600 years of history. And yet his teachings are still going strong, albeit adulterated.

Much like in kathmandu, the Hindus burn their dead. My hostel is right next to the main burning "ghat," the place where this ceremony takes place. Again, I find myself very attracted to this process, this way of commemorating death. All except for dumping bodies in the Ganga, the holiest river in India, where Indians do pretty much everything: swim, bathe, fish, dump dead bodies, spill sewage, throw trash, wash clothes, drink, defecate... But the "purity" of the river, as far as I understand, explains away any potential problems with this apparently lethal combination of tasks.

Beside the river, I sit in hostel terrace. I hear cows mooing nearby, and see monkeys playing on the other roofs below. But what makes me smile big is all the small kites flying in the sky, dozens and dozens as far as I can see. You would think we were in a green park. But the kids play alone or with siblings on their own roofs.

One of the funniest and often most frustrating recurring experienced here is how impossible it is to get change. Say you eat a meal. It runs about 100 rupees. But all you have is a 500, since that's what the ATM's typically give (I won't even go into the 1000s). There's no way they have change for that. Right now, 500 is about $7-8. But rarely does an Indian carry that much. Usually the highest they have is a 50, maybe a 100 or two, and many 10s. This just speaks to what i said earlier about the average income. $8 is a ton of money. Sometimes even a 100 is hard to break. It still surprises me that even hostels that cater to Westerners operate in the same fashion, but that's just how it works.

Every day I write down 3 things I'm grateful for, in my journal. Yesterday, one was how grateful I am to live in a country that is much less corrupt than most, and holds moderately free and fair elections. If you know me and we've talked about politics, you know how critical I can be of the way the US government functions. It certainly has big problems. But when i compare it to what I've seen and read in India regarding its elections and "democracy," I consider myself incredibly lucky to live in such a place.

One last note. The next time you go to an Indian restaurant, if they have a "banana lassi," try it. You won't be disappointed. 

India: Out of the freezer and into the frying pan

Leh:

My first stop in India was Leh. When I told that to a couple Indians at the airport, they weren't sure where that was. It seemed like they hadn't heard of it. It makes sense, given that India is such a large country. But also since Leh is in the very far northwest region of India, in or near Kashmir (I'm still not sure which is accurate).

Leh is isolated, surrounded by mountains for miles and miles. It is also ringed with monasteries. It's a desert region, except that it's at over 11,000ft, so it's super cold when you're not in the sun. Sleeping was sometimes difficult, as there was not heat (rarely any electricity at all). But I had some really warm blankets.

Leh was incredible. Very chill, in part because tourist season was over and there were not a lot of people around. Most everyone I met was extremely friendly. The hostel was a family's home, with 3 children, and they were really cute. It was wonderful always having young laughter and smiles around :-)

I'm finding the same scenarios repeating themselves with each city/town. Again, I met a wonderful group of friends who had so much insight into places I plan on going. Again, the food was so cheap and amazing. And again, seeing the variety of cultural expressions is thought-provoking. This was particularly interesting in an area of conflict, where armed guards are always present, though they want to know you and take pictures with you. The people of this area are Buddhist, Hindu, and Muslim. Yet they seemed to blend together in a way that worked just fine. More acceptance than mere tolerance.

On a less deep note, speaking of repeating adventures, I rented another motorcycle. I road the most beautiful road I've ever seen, possibly with the exception of the 1 in California, though they're so different its hard to compare. Mountains split by a long river. Riding up to around 14,000ft to visit a secluded Buddhist monastery, of the Tibetan tradition. Lots of paintings and deep chanting that sounds almost sinister when it rings in unfamiliar ears. It was perfectly monotone. The French guys I rode with (met them randomly at the gas pump and decided to tag along) also tried to describe how it made them feel, but it was something none of us could express in words (English, French, or Spanish!)

Delhi:

Today I left the mountains behind, escaping the freezing nights, and am now bathing in Delhi's heat, around 90 degrees. Too hot for me! It's so hard to find that middle ground...

As soon as I landed and started walking to the part of town where I knew I'd find a hostel, I got conned into a rickshaw (I was being paranoid anyways - this guy was reeeally good to get through that barrier I put up). And of course he took me where HE wanted me to go - to his friend's travel agency - rather than my intended destination. On the surface, it looked legit. It wasn't too far from where I wanted, they gave out free maps, and it had "Government of India" written on the front. It was advertised as tourist information. So what the hell, I went in. People were friendly, initially. Gave me free info, offered me free hotel help, etc. They even offered to help book my train tickets, which I've heard are infamously difficult. So I accepted. Then he dropped the price for 4 trains: $312. What?! No way. I could FLY to all those places for that much. And I told him so. He disagreed. We looked it up, and I was right. So then he started taking down the price. I was already getting a bad feeling in my gut, and that confirmed it for me. I walked. And then found a hostel that booked it all for me for around $45. Yep. That's including their small commission. Worth it for me. Glad I went with my gut. Everyone who travels always repeats that: when in doubt, go with your gut. Hasn't failed me yet. I have a good gut. But it would be better with some chipotle in it...ahh I miss chipotle! But that's another story.

Saw some sights, avoided the same old people peddling one thing or another. And now am finally catching up on this blog.

I'm leaving on an overnight train to Varanasi tomorrow, one of the holiest cities in India. Should be fascinating. I believe it's also where the Buddha attained enlightenment. Maybe I can grab a small leaf off that aged tree :-) 

Pokhara: Lakes and Motorcycles

First of all, I wish I could post photos more often on this blog, but unfortunately I rarely have access to a computer to do so. I only have my tablet, and I can't do it with that. But hopefully soon I'll be able to post more.

I just got back to kathmandu after almost 10 days in pokhara. Pokhara is the 2nd largest city in Nepal, which isn't saying much. It's actually pretty chill. Which is one of the reasons I stayed there so long. It's right on a beautiful lake and looks out over the lower Himalayas. Every morning you'll see dozens of paragliders soaring over the lake, enjoying the best view of the mountains.

A lot happened, but my tablet doesn't have much juice left, so I'll be brief.

I got destroyed by a Nepali kid in pool. Total shark. Luckily I had no money on the game! This was at a restaurant his mother owned, so I'm guessing he had a lot of practice :-)  They also had a guitar, so I got to play a bit for the first time in a while.

I went to my first Nepali yoga class. It was in a room barely big enough for 5 people. The guy who led the class seemed very knowledgeable. The style was very slow. Maybe too slow, though it was closer to what I like than most yoga in the states. I can't wait for the yoga retreat in India.

I met a couple great guys, one from Portland and one from Seattle. One is living in Nepal now, running a textile business. We went on a long bike ride to some caves and through the less explored parts of the city one day. It was on the day of the transportation strike, so the roads were clear. Except for all the children playing cricket and soccer in the streets, who would always smile and yell, "Hello!" over and over as we passed. That was one of my favorite experiences so far.

A couple days later, we rented a couple motorcycles and road to a lake about 45mins away. The ride was exhilarating, but also challenging. Neither of the two had ever ridden a cycle before, and me only in training to get my license. But we did well, I'd say. There was one point when I stalled out on a steep hill and had to push the thing a ways to get to flat ground. And that time when what I've now identified as a water buffalo ran out in front of me. And then having someone on the back of my bike the first time. On roads that rarely were paved, and not well when they were. But now I'm not at all afraid to ride back home. Although the other drivers on the road here are much more aware than those in the USA, mainly because there are more bikes on the road than cars. Riding here gave me a fresh, unique view in the place. I loved it.

Walking down the street, I get asked by barbers leaning out their windows if I want my beard shaved, at least twice a day. I know i haven't shaved in a month, but i like it!

Battery is going to die, so that's all for now. Feeling so grateful for this opportunity, and for great support from my friends and family :-)

Annapurna Trek

I just got back yesterday evening from Annapurna, one of the world's most famous treks. My feet are slightly blistered, my legs are sore, and the stench from my 2 changes of clothes would make a skunk recoil. I'm going to spend the next few days recovering in a relaxed hostel near the lake in Pokhara.

Trip Details:

I was lucky enough to meet a great traveling companion, Julian, in a hostel in Kathmandu. He's from Germany and is here to do some Nepali exploring as well. We both wanted to hike Annapurna Base Camp (a 7-10 day hike). However, he had to do it fast because of a time restriction. Long story short, we made it in a hurried 5 days. I now understand the meaning behind the phrase "blistering pace." You walk so fast for so long, you literally get blisters. It was especially difficult for me because I was keeping up with Julian who, standing a solid 6'5", has much longer legs and thus a longer stride. I also was a newbie and brought too much gear, though he was nice enough to even our packs out and take some of the burden off my shoulders.

The Base Camp stands at 4,130 meters, which is a little more than 13,800ft. That was the highest I'd ever been, and I felt the altitude. You have to be careful because going that high without acclimatization can be dangerous. But I got used to it enough for our short stay there. It helped that each day got progressively higher. Though I still felt a little dizzy and it took a great effort to push the last couple hours to the BC, which was also the most beautiful part of the trip (pics on FB soon).

Sights and Experiences:

The route you take to BC is spotted with very tiny "villages," usually consisting of 0 to several places to eat or sleep. The people here are usually pretty nice and cook great food! I had some of the best Mac n cheese... Hot showers are rare, but appreciated! But food is expensive by Nepali standards because its so hard to get it there. In fact, everything gets there by either donkeys or porters, who carry things on their backs. It seems like a grueling job, though one that gets you in incredible shape.

As far as wildlife goes, there were a few new things for me. There were the typical animals you'd expect such as lizards and a variety of colored birds, but there were also many goats, water buffalo (these things were scary when blocking your path, which was often), donkeys, ponies, and, my least favorite, leeches. It was a constant fight at the lower altitudes to keep these things off my body. I tried all the local remedies (rubbing salt and tobacco on my boots, using deet, tucking my pants into my socks), but I still got one bite. I must have flicked 100 off my boots though. My poor companion Julian got about 7 bites, including one above the waist! But luckily they're pretty harmless. They just bleed a lot because the nature of the bite stops your blood from congealing.

After the leeches, we took a break at a natural mountain hotspring, definitely one of the trip's highlights. It was just what our exhausted bodies needed. The peaceful warm waters stood in marked contrast to the frigid river raging right next to us. We shared a conversation with an older French traveler and were on our way.

We saw more waterfalls than I could count. Small ones, but also ones that were hundreds of feet tall. This was in part because we were there during the end of monsoon season. The river cutting through this big valley (through which our path wound) was raging. There were some unnerving points where we had to cross very shaky, handmade plank bridges above these waters, hoping we didn't slip and the bridge held. Or else we would have been hurt badly or most likely killed. In fact, I'm sad to say 2 hikers died this way in the short time we were there. One went missing as he was hiking alone, then turned up further down the river. Another was hiking with friends, slipped into the water, and is presumed dead. I hope this isn't as common an occurence as it seems. The families and friends of the hikers were in the thoughts of the hikers and Nepalis. If anything positive can be said about this, it's that everyone on that trek cares for the others traveling the same path.

Heading Home to Pokhara:

When hearing about people's travels to developing countries, there often is that story about that "crazy bus" or "crazy taxi" ride, where you're careening around narrow roads high in the mountains at way too fast a speed, and are afraid for your life. I just had my first one. Riding in a jeep on dirt and rocks around a road that was wide enough for one car, but there was the occcasional one coming the other way. I was on edge the whole hour and a half it took to get out of the mountains. I tried to make peace with the possibility of death, but was finding it difficult. Guess I'm not ready to die yet. I've got to at least finish this trip first!

But for now, I'm going to relax in a $5 hostel by the lake, with a hot shower, a bed made for Nepalis less than 6ft tall, and plan the next adventure. And maybe buy a tailored suit, because apparently you can get a really nice one, even 100% cashmere for around $100! Traveling in style ;)

Vipassana part 2: The exit

Above, I related the positive aspects of the retreat and what I gained. Here, I'm going to talk about what led me to leave, and how it became so difficult.

I can trace it back to one mistake I made. During one of my rest hours, I became bored. You have nothing to do, so your options are: walk around the area, meditate even more, or sleep. The area is small and there isn't much to see. I was enjoying a much needed break, so I wasn't going to meditate more. And I wasn't tired. I wanted to exercise. I'm a very physically expressive person, that's how I operate in the world. I love sports, yoga, and just playing. Not doing any of that for days was bothering me. I didnt understand why i couldnt do just a bit. So I decided I'd do a very small bit of pushups and ab exercises. It felt great. It also raised my energy level, which was the problem. When all you do all day is meditate, you maintain a stable, low energy level. This helps you keep your mind peaceful, tranquil, and more easily controlled. But raise that energy level and suddenly your mind is more active and seeks out more sources of stimulation. The mind and the body are connected, so activate the body and you activate the mind. 

In doing this, I planted a seed that would fester. My mind being activated started thinking about what other productive things I could be doing with my time. At first I resisted, but then ideas seemed so important in the moment that they had to be written down, else I forget them and lose something profound. This was a particularly strong feeling, since my research is related to mindfulness and my experience was generating so many fascinating ideas related to it. I became so excited to apply what I had already learned to it. I had mistakenly brought a pen in with me, buried in my pack. I also had scrap paper. So I used them and began an invigorating note-taking session. I didn't want to stop, and was annoyed when the bell to end rest time sounded. 

As you can imagine, that next meditation session was much more difficult, given the facts that my mind was activated, and I had not been able to write down all I had wanted. I had a hard time removing those thoughts from my mind. So I found a way to remember them, and mentally saved them for the next break. My meditation never recovered. I became bored with meditation. I wanted more time for thinking and writing, though I still desired to meditate - just not as much. But my mind had begun rolling, and so the monkey mind began finding other thoughts to grasp onto. I started thinking about what other amazing things I could be doing in Nepal, besides this retreat, which I could also do in the USA. In fact, there is a center not two hours from Seattle. These thoughts became more and more difficult to control, and that was it for me. I had let my mind control me.

I talked to the teacher and asked to leave. He managed to convince me to stay for one more day. He worked hard to sell me on this, because I was convinced I was leaving. He did a lot to challenge me, to see that this was simply part of the process. I saw that, though I still had doubts. The next morning was fine, as always. The morning is when your energy levels are the lowest. But come afternoon, I was ready to leave again. I couldn't find the teacher, so I packed up my things and walked to the entrance. I should mention that, when you enter this retreat, they not only take all your electronics and reading/writing material, but also your passport and money. The retreat is free, so they're just caretakers. I admit, when I arrived and was asked to do this, I balked. I think that's a perfectly fair reaction. Without all that, I'm lost. With that gone, I have no way to prove who I am and no way to get anywhere. That's kind of the point though, to release all attachments. I didn't feel comfortable. However, vipassana is a world wide reputable organization, they're basically Buddhist, and everyone else did it. So I bit the bullet and did it too.

So leaving, I obviously needed my things. I approached the 4 men at the entrance, who were surprised to see me. "Why aren't you meditating?" they asked. Lightheartedly, I told them I was leaving, it was too much for me. At this point, I was very happy to have gained as much as I did, to have accomplished so much. I was planning on leaving on that note, successful on my own terms. But that was not to be. They immediately told me, "You can't leave. You're here for 10 days." Of course, I realized the retreat was 10 days, but I had chosen to leave early. I didnt expect to have this basic right to move freely denied. But they firmly told me I could not leave, and that I should talk with the teacher, because he would explain why I needed to stay. I told them I was firm and nothing the teacher said would change my mind, though I had tried to find him and couldn't. I was ready to leave now. They continued to refuse me and told me to go meditate. I understand there are cultural differences regarding authority and hierarchy, but at this point I was getting upset. They had my passport, money, everything. I'm a climber and could have hopped the 10 ft locked gate, but I couldn't leave without all that. I started becoming more assertive. Still no luck. I realized they were becoming more serious when a couple other people showed up and discussed a lot in Nepali. I was becoming afraid.

At this point, I evaluated my options. These people are not only denying me my basic rights to my own possessions and freedom of movement, but are becoming aggressive in telling me to go back and meditate. My fight or flight response was kicking in, and I made a point of telling them that clearly. I think they recognized the word "fight" and backed off a bit, someone made a phone call. I was scared enough to consider becoming physically violent. I felt backed into a corner with no outs.

They told me to sit. Stretching my arms and hands, I waited. I noticed the appearance of the room, adorned with about a hundred photos of the founder of the vipassana program, who seemed like a god to these people. I had aalready been surprised how much they focused on this one man. Meditation is a practice, not a religion. Though they also made a point of stating this, it didn't appear to me they were living in accordance with this value. Within 15mins they told me the teacher said I could go. During this time, a few different people had used "good cop bad cop" to try and convince me to stay, trying to intimidate me and making fun of me for giving up. It was making me frustrated in a new way, because though I didn't care what these people said, I had gained so much from my time there, and this was ruining my peace of mind and tarnishing my good feelings about the retreat. I just couldnt, and still don't, understand how people with so much meditation experience could behave so terribly. But I just wanted out.

They returned my things and everything was there. They asked me yet another time if I was SURE I wanted to leave. You can guess my answer. They then made me sign a form that said I was leaving of my own free will (I laughed) and that I "wouldn't hold them responsible for any physical or mental harm that would come to me on account of leaving early." I also had to sign a form saying, if I ever wanted to take a vipassana retreat anywhere in the world ever again, I would have to get permission from this center. Given what had just happened, I viewed this as a scare tactic designed to keep me there, and this place began to seem more like a cult than a legitimate meditation experience, designed with the good of the student in mind.

It just so happened one of the workers (not one who had been present yet) was also leaving early. I remembered him from the first day because we had had a great conversation. We walked out together and caught a microbus. He is a genuinely good person, apologized for what had happened, and said he'd been to other centers and never seen anything like that. I was glad to hear that.

In the end, Im happy I did it because I gained so much. I choose not to let the actions of a few individuals warp the positive and fulfilling experience that extensive meditation provides. Its all part of the work of mindfulness, even if you have to apply it to your interactions with those who taught you the techniques.

I say this place seemed like a cult, and I really believe it. It was disappointing. However, this was perhaps an isolated experience. There are many of these centers around the world. I don't want to discourage anyone else from doing this. But make sure to do it I'm a place where you feel comfortable. Communication across languages and cultures can sometimes cause unanticipated problems.

My vipassana experience: Part 1

I got back yesterday evening after 4 days at a vipassana meditation retreat at a beautiful national park just outside of kathmandu. The retreat was set to last 10 days, so I left earlier than expected. We started with around 80-90 students, and about 70 remained when I left, most on the second day. That is also when I had my first doubts.

I've organized my thoughts enough to write about this in two sections. First, and most prominent in my mind, is the experience of the meditation regimen itself. Second, I'll explain what an ordeal it was to actually leave once I decided that's what I wanted to do.

If you didn't see my previous post about the course time table, you might glance over it below. To summarize, you wake up every morning at 4am, then meditate straight until 9pm with 3 short meal breaks and 2ish hours of rest. All in all, it comes out to 11-12 hours of daily meditation.

During this time (at least for the first few days) you focus entirely on the sensation of the breath coming in and going out of your nose. Thoughts and emotions will arise, yes. And sitting completely still for that long, you will experience physical pain. But you simply re-focus your attention on the breath, ignoring what arises. This technique is different from other types of meditation I've done in this regard, as other forms have you deal with what arises in ways besides ignoring them. But I found this extremely effective. At various times during my sittings, I felt anger, frustration, fear, sadness, doubt, anxiety, and exhaustion; but I also felt bliss, contentment, patience, and a profound peace of mind and body. A cried a few times, at least once out of frustration and self pity, and once out of joy for successfully subduing the rancorous pleas of my mind and body to give up. If you've ever tried just sitting alone quietly, trying to clear your mind of all thoughts and emotions, or focus just on one thing for an extended period of time, you know how difficult this can be. Some called it the "monkey mind," because it swings from branch to branch constantly without stopping, similar to how our minds constantly go from thought to thought. The important thing is to remember that you are not your thoughts or emotions. They are fleeting, will come and go consistently, while it is YOU that constantly remains regardless of what changes occur within and around you.

Surprising to myself, the process was not as difficult as I feared it might be. The longest meditation I'd done to this point was 1 hour, so 11 is unfathomable. But when you fully engage with the technique, always shifting your mind back to the breath no matter what arises - positive or negative -  it becomes effective and natural, an instinctive reaction almost. The key is to live entirely in the present moment, not entertaining thoughts of what has been (thoughts of the past) or what might be (thoughts of the future). In this state, your breath is the only reality, and therefore the only place for the attention to go. This is made easier in this retreat by outlawing all forms of technology, communication (even among students - it's a silent retreat), writing, books, and exercise. Literally the only things you do are meditate, eat, and sleep.

The most difficult aspect of all this for me was the physical pain I experienced. Imagine sitting completely still in cross-legged position, with a straight back, for hours on end. Inevitably, you have to shift - the pain becomes unbearable. You feel it in your back, your neck, your legs, and even your shoulders and arms. But the goal is to delay this movement as long as possible, focusing on the breath rather than the pain. The longest I went without movement was an hour and a half, and that was when I cried out of sheer happiness and pride for fighting off my own mind so successfully. The idea behind all this is that you obtain mastery over your own mind, regardless of internal and external circumstances, so you may always consciously decide on your actions, rather than simply reacting to stimuli. For instance, when I found myself becoming annoyed by people next to me shifting loudly or coughing without covering their mouths (you can hear the difference, even with your eyes closed), I reminded myself that it wasn't their actions or the noises themselves that are inherently annoying, but rather my assessment of those noises. In other words, nothing outside you annoys you. Its you who allow or make those things to be annoying to yourself. I hope to apply this mindset to people I encounter daily, especially those I don't understand initially.

One of the things that I learned about myself is that there is a lot of pain, fear, anger, and insecurity inside. I think we all have this if we take the time to listen, even if it's buried deeply. Insecurities regarding school, future careers, and relationships past and present came to mind. Personally, I think this all stems from an insecurity about being loved. Honestly, I think that's true for everyone. If you fully love yourself - accept all your mistakes and honor your successes - and feel truly loved by others, it's hard to imagine feeling insecure. But we don't fully love ourselves, and so we seek ways to prove our worthiness to others, seeking validation, which we hope will make us feel more loved, and, ultimately secure. But that's not how it works. As I mentioned above, it's not external things that are annoying, but your internal operations that make them so. In the same way, you'll never find love, contentment, or security by seeking it externally. It has to come from within. Yet, realizing this intellectually is one thing, but realizing it on an experiential level is quite another. To really achieve that takes much time and effort, certainly more than I put into 4 days. But acknowledging that reality is an important step.

This is a piece of the positive experiences I had at this retreat. I've been meditating and recommending meditation to people for years, and I believe more than ever it's something you owe yourself to do. And by meditating I mean simply sitting with yourself and observing what arises in the mind and body, and accepting it. No religious connotations, no chanting, no prayer beads, and no need to fly to Nepal to isolate yourself for an extended period of time. It's the simplest thing you can do, but also the most profound and rewarding. I promise you that.

I'm still on retreat time, despite staying at a hostel, and so I woke up early. The sun is rising though, and it's time to eat breakfast and begin another day in Kathmandu. I'll write the second section later. That part involves less peace of mind and more stress. I'm still shaken up by it all.

Kathmandu - Deliciously busy

Quick! While the internet is working, make a post!

As expected, internet over here is not prevalent nor reliable. Which is honestly kind of nice, in that I don't feel the constant urge to check email and Facebook. On the other hand, I would love to be able to look up hostels and ticket prices, and post in this blog!

This is my fourth day in kathmandu and I am still reeling from jet lag. But waking up at 4am has been nice because I get to see the sun rise over the city while I read the Maharabata, a classic work of Indian literature, similar I'm cultural relevance to the West's Illiad and Odessey, though apparently much more important even in modernity. It is said that what is in this book is everywhere, and what is not in this book is nowhere. We'll see about that.

I'm staying at the edge of Thamel, a neighborhood that is known for being a bit touristy and chaotic. Though I've gotten used to it now, at first it was a bit overwhelming. As the tallest person in the city of kathmandu (only a very slight exaggeration) I stick out like a sore thumb. And therefore am the target of every taxi driver, store owner, beggar, and freelance guide. It was difficult at first to find a balance between typical american courtesy and traveler savvy. Now I've got it down.

No surprises, there's some cool shit here. For starters, how about a temple of monkeys, right outside the city? And these monkeys don't take your shit. Theyll scrap with you, with your mother, with stray dogs, and with rival monkey gangs (seriously, there are monkey gangs - word of advice, don't get in the middle when they're rumbling over turf). Walking down the main strip today, there were some just chillin on power lines, snacking and watching in amusement as we humans stomp around in the mud trying not to get eaten by those big metal beasts that run all over the place, seemingly without direction. Seriously, I would never drive here. Walking is crazy enough. Though I have yet to see a single accident...

So its monsoon season. Know what that means? Ever tried to dry your clothes in a sauna? Thats basically the feeling. I washed a few articles of clothing 3 days ago and they're still wet. You just have to get used to always being sweaty and a bit salty. For you surfers out there (looking at you, Ister) that may not be too abnormal. But even coming from southern Indiana and Seattle, this is a whole new ball game. One where everyone loses, particularly the people around me because fuck if I'm showering when Im just going to put on the same smelly clothes I took off before the shower! Its OK though, because everyone else is in the same boat.

In all seriousness though, its a cool experience and its kind of fun to be gross by US standards for a bit. But I will be happy when monsoon season is over in a few weeks.

One last thing, because there's so much to tell I could type on this annoyingly small tablet screen until...until about now, because texting essays is a pain in the ass.

Anyways, the food here. Holy. Shit. The. Food. I'm taking pictures to post later and make you all hate me because I'm living like a king on a grad student salary. Breakfast: Omelet chock full of veggies, cooked potatoes with red peppers, onions, other delicious things i dont recognize, a "pancake" (actually closer to a crepe), French toast, hot tea, and something called meseuli (sp?) Which is basically God's version of that lame morning bowl of oatmeal. Throw in yogurt, bananas, honey, milk, and god knows what else and you have a serious win. Oh yeah, and the kicker? Thats all $1.50. Every. Morning. Served on a thatched roof terrace overlooking the city. I'm too lazy to type out the lunches and dinners, but I promise you, they are equally amazimg and affordable. And i thought I would lose weight over here.

Diving right in

The theme of my travels involves experiencing "mindfulness" in a variety of ways. I've done a decent amount of meditation and yoga, and many of you know my area of PhD studies relates to this topic of mindfulness. However, I have a very limited perspective on such a profound concept, and I'd like to expand my knowledge by approaching it through new means.

In that vein, a few of the things I have planned during this trip are:  meditation retreats, extended yoga retreats, massage classes, and deep water solo rock climbing. Alright, so it may be a stretch to call that last one a "mindfulness" activity. But those of you who also struggle with heights and have done any outdoor rock climbing, you know how easy it is to "lose your mind" when you tense to a bracing breeze 50 feet up a rock wall where you're trusting your life to a few bolts somebody drilled into the rock who knows how long ago.

But I thought I'd start out with something basic, something that seems simple. Though by all accounts it will be incredibly challenging. Three days after touching down in Kathmandu, I'll be participating in a 10-day silent vipassana meditation retreat. I'm including a link here that has some information on it: https://courses.dhamma.org/en/student_apps/907448/pages/4/edit

Essentially, it's 10 days straight of no talking or communication of any sort (beyond one brief, daily meeting for questions), no technology, no reading, no writing, no physical activity beyond walking, and 11-12 hours of daily meditation. 11-12 hours?! Here is the daily schedule:

4:00 am		Morning wake-up bell
4:30-6:30 am		Meditate in the hall or in your room
6:30-8:00 am		Breakfast break
8:00-9:00 am		Group meditation in the hall
9:00-11:00 am		Meditate in the hall or in your room according to the teacher's instructions
11:00-12:00 noon		Lunch break
12noon-1:00 pm		Rest and interviews with the teacher
1:00-2:30 pm		Meditate in the hall or in your room
2:30-3:30 pm		Group meditation in the hall
3:30-5:00 pm		Meditate in the hall or in your own room according to the teacher's instructions
5:00-6:00 pm		Tea break
6:00-7:00 pm		Group meditation in the hall
7:00-8:15 pm		Teacher's Discourse in the hall
8:15-9:00 pm		Group meditation in the hall
9:00-9:30 pm		Question time in the hall
9:30 pm		Retire to your own room--Lights out

To put that in perspective, the most I've ever done in one sitting was 1 hour. From what I hear though, that is the case for most people who go. It'll be quite the crash course, but sometimes that's just what you need to jar you out of monotonous patterns of thought. Going cold turkey is a solution for drug addicts, sometimes the only way to really quit the habit. In this case, one habit I'm trying to quit is negative reactive patterns of thought. We all have them, but rarely pay attention to them. And even when we notice them, it's a rare occasion that we take the time to question their effects and take action to control them. This retreat will provide the opportunity to try that work.

It starts September 1st and ends September 10th. Hopefully I make it through and have something interesting to say.