Warning! Not too far into this post I will be sharing my experience at satsung. Feel free to skip through; it contains a somewhat lengthy discussion of my own realizations/awarenesses and may be a bit much for those who don’t dwell in or visit that space.
Up a bit later than usual (been going to sleep about 9:30 or 10 and waking 6 – 6:15), shower, do a bit of laundry and head down for buffet breakfast. I’m the only one in the hotel restaurant (they do have free yoga 7:30 to 8:30, so maybe they’re there?
I wait at the entrance to the shortcut and Kaita and Jackie hop out of a rickshaw promptly at the appointed 9:20. We walk up the road to the rickshaw stand, and hire another to take us to Ram Laxsmi to attend a satsang with the teacher Mooji. (everywhere in town are flyers plastered to the walls for yoga teacher training, Ayurvedic treatments, and satsangs. i tried to pull down a very colorful one to take home a la Matt in Japan, and it was stuck on like wallpaper. i was told to the tune of much laughter that this is because the cows will eat them off the walls otherwise). We arrive in a very, very large, long space, where all the volunteers are dressed in white and silent; however, they get their message across with signs requesting shoes be placed here, bags be checked there, maintain silence, no mobiles, etc. In the entryway, there are tables set up against the wall that are lined with Mooji books, CDs and DVDs. The other 2/3 of the space, that is not filled with shelves for shoes and bags, contains woven mats spread out on the floor for anyone wanting to lay down or rest. Beyond the very long white curtains that divide that part of the building (this end comprising about 1/3 of the overall space) is a space filled with chairs on each side and at the back, and a wide area to sit on the floor in between. I snap a forbidden picture:
and then stow my camera and take in more of my surroundings. All seating is arranged to face a raised area, upon which the man will sit. A woman arrives on the podium and she reads aloud the agreement we make by attending (it’s being broadcast live as well as recorded). The usual stuff.
Mooji arrives right on time (thank you) and proceeds. His style is to have people raise their hands and when selected, come to one of the microphones set up in each of the two aisles, and pose their question, dilemma, whatever. Kaita has told me that the questions can be excellent or just be rambling stories. You just never know.
In total, over the 2 1/2 hours+ that I sat in the room, both men and women from hither and yon, young and old, rise to address the teacher. I find resonance in some part of every question and every story. I find myself shaking my head in agreement at some of the audience-participants’ words as well as Mooji’s teachings around those questions. I also find myself slowly realizing that here is someone who speaks my language. The language of the awareness and consciousness that I find myself swimming in often these days. Some of you may have experienced this as Deb-wanting-to-talk-about-big-ideas and to find people who could/would engage in that way, in that place. It is a reflection of my growing understanding of the nature of my/our experience during this life that I have attained through years of questioning and postulating coupled with intense personal work – in therapy, the Hoffman process, the intention-oriented drug experience I underwent in Boulder 3 years ago – and that began much earlier than it otherwise might have owing to the violent murder of my father in 1981.
So, I feel energy surrounding my heart and in my chest. I close my eyes and allow. I tune back into the the current teaching and my nodding head becomes my rocking body. I listen to Mooji, and at times don’t feel he is respecting a person’s quandary, but come to realize he is being lighthearted and he, too, may not speak directly to what is going on for this person, but bringing in a lesson in the way he sees what is going on. After all, he’s a man who puts his pants on one leg at a time too! He calls the final questioner up onto the stage and pushes beyond, and to my amusement (and I say this in a way you can understand only if you have experienced the synchronicity of the universe in ways that delight you to a point that you can just smile in recognition), asks about what is truth? What is it that is always true for us? And as each person answers, I smile more, because I get it. Every answer that arises, amuses Mooji as well, and he explains why that particular answer doesn’t work. Someone says “love”, another “I am” and Mooji responds with something along the lines of “do you know this when you sleep?” “do you experience this when you are under anesthetic?” how “true” is this thing that can be erased with a small amount of chemical? He asks “who is observing the “I am?” It is not your mind, because something is observing that that it is “your mind”. Is there a second mind observing the first?” or another, and another? he pushed, gently, and posed the question “what is it that is observing all and never changes?” i had closed my eyes to follow his questions, even if only after raising my hand to answer his questions with my own observation(s), as a few others had, but just smiled and closed my eyes. It was at that very point, when he asked what was behind it all, what never changed, what was actually doing the observing, that I had this experience in my head: I was putting myself in the place of observer, understanding that which is my body, my mind and my heart as he was suggesting. And suddenly it dawned on me, and in me – literally (and here I mean the literal meaning of literal, not the present day bastardization!); Within the darkness of my mind burst an omnipresent light and the words “The Eternal”. As you might imagine, I was filled up inside with this, and started quietly sobbing in my seat – with joy. Here I was experiencing that which so many meditate, journey, trip to experience. Mooji had led me to this place of discovery and it was joyous to be consumed by the understanding and connection once again (experienced in fleeting moments and as building blocks during my lifelong journey to this point). A heavenly moment of being part of the pervasive consciousness that is everywhere and every thing. Our true nature. And then it was gone, with only the echoes of that feeling remaining. But even they filled me with joy. Will I be able to access this knowing more easily now? Perhaps. Perhaps not. I do know these moments of clarity and understanding are slippery and ephemeral, and can only have the intention of emptying myself to be open to the experience in the coming days and years.
Mooji had said earlier to one of the questioners that he should come to his satsang until he did not need it anymore. I knew that I had arrived at this place. However, it was lovely to remain and listen a bit more. I rose and went out to the area with the mats, where Kaita and Jackie were waiting and asked for a tissue. A blow of the nose and we were out on the streets, heading back to Rajasthan, the restaurant we enjoyed so much the night before. As we walked along the bustling street, I was (according to Kaita) glowing and doing a bit of babbling, as I am wont to do for those who’ve caught me in those moods. I thanked Kaita and hug her and cry with joy into her shoulder. I hug Jackie and thank her for her role in making all this possible. I ask to return twice more before I leave India. To see, feel, sit in another teaching for as little or as long as feels right for me on that day. I suddenly return to the present (ooh, I wonder if they have that dress in my size?), and in complete contrast to where my head and thoughts just were, I snap pictures of the slums built in the dry river bed:
and share some of my thoughts about the way these people are living in the most basic and immediate way. In ways that most of us in the first world do not, worried as we are about the measurements and definitions of success and happiness that are drilled into our heads on a daily basis in ways that are both blatantly obvious and insidiously subtle. Kaita and Jackie are smiling and allowing me to just be where I am. The usual beeps (hello, get out of my way) from scooters result in my turning toward the driver with a beaming smile and a “hello!”. Most of the smiles are returned in kind, which brings a flush of pleasure to me. Making people smile is a glorious calling – and dare I say it? – talent that I enjoy. We arrive at the restaurant, and along with the big smile, I request a different dosa from last night as well as matar mushroom and not so many dishes with paneer, and we (meaning mostly me, I’m afraid) continue to talk. The food arrives and we dig in with gusto. Today’s spread:
Appetites sated, we hail a rickshaw – Jackie’s knee is bothering her and I have a 3 pm massage at the hotel to make! – and before I know it, they have hopped out at their stop and I am tooling through the busy streets and taking in all the sights and sounds and smells (this IS India, after all) and then walking along the shortcut – which is running with a clear stream from the on-again off-again rains of the day – to my appointment at the hotel.
I enter the spa (don’t think nearly as elevated as one you’d walk into in the States. this is much simpler) and the same woman I booked with is going to give me the massage. I have selected one with herbal oils to help heal my body (sounds good, doesn’t it?), and hop up on the table. Her hands are rough, I haven’t had a masseuse with that issue before and not really keen on it now, but soon she begins her work, pouring copious amounts of interesting smelling heated oil on my body and rubbing it in with long, strong strokes. How bad can it be?
I do miss the stateside practice of the towel under the knees while on my backside and the place to comfortably plant my face when on my frontside. I speculate on whether this is all Indian practice or whether another type of spa may have those comforts – and hope to be able to answer that question before I return home! She uses some kind of instrument that feels like a rolling pin with the medium size metal prongs from a cheese grater one it, and rolls it slowly up and down my foot with medium pressure. Feels really good and really interesting until the 4th or 5th time, and then it gets a bit sensitive. She ends with a head massage, and again, other than the awkwardness of positioning, it’s very enjoyable. Party over, I sign the check, and head to my room to enjoy my post-coital (really, just a metaphor folks) hot green tea and relax further.
Pack up my iPad and raincoat and head out. First stop at Seventh Heaven B&B to ask the folks of good taste over there to recommend another spot for massage, but no one there speaking English at the moment. Walk further into town, stop to try on a few things, buy nothing, and then to the coffee shop where we grabbed our quick breakfast before yoga on Monday. Start on the India portion of the blog, and continued on for almost 3 hours (I know some of you already appreciate the time and energy that goes into this from having witnessed it firsthand) and into my second stop, at the Seeds of Life Cafe, where we enjoyed lunch on Monday. The proprietor recognized me and chatted a bit, and that felt really nice. Also feels way different to be walking through and being in Rishikesh (or anywhere for that matter) on my own, as opposed to having my force field/one-layer of removal by walking around with Kaita and Jackie. A nice balance of ways to be while here.
After dinner, I head back to the hotel to relax, play games, and rest up for tomorrow. Not quite sure of the schedule, but it’s supposed to rain and we’re going to try to arrange for Kaita’s friend Anup to come to the hotel and lead us in a private yoga class (he’s a yoga teacher as well as friend and newly-married). Time will tell!