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.
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.
Ah, Danny, your words resonate so much with the concepts I've been contemplating over the last year! Most poignant are the ones that evoke the interesting challenges of finding balance and accepting instability. I'm so happy that you're getting the chance to practice being present moment to moment in such and unprecedented way (at least for many Westerners, especially we from Indiana. ;) ). Much love to you!
ReplyDelete