I'm almost overwhelmed with everything that’s going on at the moment. And I say almost, because I choose not to be overwhelmed. As I notice myself feeling less than resourceful and my muscles becoming tense I inadvertently smile, as I am sure you sometimes do too when you realize the futility of getting overwhelmed or frustrated. I guess I must have created an anchor so that when I start moving into the less than resources state I instantly take a breath, relax my muscles, smile and let go. Sometimes I have to do it consciously because I am still attached to feelings of frustration when I don’t get my way!
And perhaps this is one of the most enlightening and empowering lessons I have re-learned over the last month or so since my silent retreat; that is to allow silence to come into my life whenever I feel that I don't have it. It is at first a decision I have consciously made – that I want to feel connected and empowered, rather than un-resourceful and disempowered - and then it is a commitment to what I have heard described as every day conscious living. Victor, an immensely calm Peruvian yoga instructor I met on my Vipassana meditation had what appeared to be a flag tattooed on the inner side of his forearm. It was a deep orange, green and blue colour which was in fact a symbol or anchor for him to experience every day conscious living.
“Watch your thoughts, for they become words.Watch your words, for they become actions.Watch your actions, for they become habits.Watch your habits, for they become character.Watch your character, for it becomes your destiny.” Someone famous!
I think it's very interesting that while I'm travelling and enjoying life and the incredible adventures and freedom of being in India, Singapore, Malaysia and now Thailand I still feel the same emotions that people do right across the world in this new era of uncertainty and enlightenment. While I am free, having a ball and enjoying myself; able to do what I want, when I want with who I want I still have challenges, uncertainties and gaps between where I am and where I want to be. I believe there is a fundamental and inescapable truth in life - that problems never go away! I’ve heard it said that if we’re lucky and grow we tend to have better quality problems, but it is the realm of delusion to hope or assume that one day you will no longer have problems.
As we grow and develop our skills and abilities we learn to deal with these problems in new ways, at least that is the hope! Unfortunately it is not always the case. One of the ways we can deal with our problems better is through improving our understanding of the influence that language has on us and others, so perhaps calling these experiences challenges rather than problems is a first great step. We all love a challenge!
As Milton Erickson once said “you are going to use words that will influence the psychological and organic life of an individual today…. and twenty five years from now. So you better be willing to reflect upon the words you use… seek out and understand their many associations.” And still today, having studied linguistics over the last few years I am absolutely fascinated by the depth of their impact and my ability to continue learning how to use language to better influence my own world and the worlds of those around me.
Another way that we can better deal with our challenges is by embracing the realisation that we create problems through our thinking and perceptions and we can therefore solve them through changing our thinking and perceptions. So, to every problem there is a solution if we can just let go of our old ways of being and open up to a new truth, a new way of experiencing things. In fact I’d even go as far as saying that perhaps we create problems at an unconscious level so that we can evolve to a new level of being. That would be an interesting belief to hold.
As you may have noticed all has been very quiet on the blog front since my Vipassana silent meditation. It’s quite funny because my life has been anything but quiet over the last month.
I have been on an amazing adventure, travelling around Kerala in India for two weeks with my mum, followed by a week with both my best friend and mum in Malaysia. Mother has gone home to England now and I've just come back from Singapore to Kuala Lumpur, and I now find myself in Thailand for a month’s rest, reading, writing, relaxation, rejuvenation and reconnection. I wonder when and where you are taking time for those things that matter most to you in your life?
So much has happened in the last month it’s difficult to know where to start. From relaxing and reflecting in peace on the beach and around the pool at the Secret Beach in Allepey, to my mother arriving and the ensuing adventurous two weeks - including elephant and boat rides on the backwaters of Kerala, to the tea plantations and stunning mountain views in Munar and beyond - it has been pretty much a non-stop assault on the senses and spirit.
We encountered much wildlife on our travels and we spent a couple of days trekking to and from, and relaxing in a small hut in the jungle, which actually looked more like the African bush than Indian jungle. We rode elephants, indulged our eyesight with the beautiful tea plantations and views stretching for miles from the mountains of Munar to the wilderness of Chinnar. We visited more than one bird sanctuary and a couple of wildlife parks and our transport broke down more than once in both Malaysia and India. We experience crashing thunder and awe inspiring lightning; vibrant botanical gardens and another close encounter with a monkey! And then there were the butterfly parks, the gut wrenching food poisoning and to counter it, the stunning beaches in Kerala and Penang; we've even shared wardrobes and taxis with cockroaches. More recently I spent the day at Singapore zoo which was breathtaking and incredibly well designed, although I still find it hard to embrace and enjoy seeing leopards and the like cooped up like prisoners with no end to their sentence!
Throughout my time over the last month, while alone and with my friends and family, the thing that has really struck me is how relationships magnify the human experience. In my journey over the last four weeks I have both dulled and magnified my experience while with and without other people. I've also realised just how important, perhaps the most important thing, relationships really are in life.
I really enjoy and value my time alone. And I also realize that exploring a theme park or zoo; travelling around and exploring is for me not as emotionally engaging or fulfilling as being with someone special. So I do believe that the purpose of relationships is to magnify the human experience.
Unfortunately that can work both ways, for better or for worse! And so having developed the relationship with my mum over the last few weeks, I wonder now where you can use a perceived challenge in your relationships to magnify your experience for the better, by being the change you want to see in others or the world.
So while embracing the reflective nature of our world and the Universe, where do you want to, or perhaps more importantly need to be more flexible, need to grow, need to be the change in order to enhance your relationships so that they can be all that they can be… and truly magnify your experience and the experiences of those around you?
Until next time…
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Vipassana part 2 - pain
Having completed day one of the Vipassana meditation in total silence, I knew I could make it through the next couple of days but was not sure I really wanted to. Day two was a challenge mentally in much the same way as the first – constantly bringing my roaming and untamed mind back to focusing solely on my breath. I had to change my sitting position often as my back muscles continued to seize up. I moved from sitting on my backside in the lotus position (well my version of it!) to sitting on my backside like I was around a campfire with my knees tucked up in front of me at chest height – this gave me something to grab onto with my arms to help hold me upright, but eventually it pulled my back muscles uncomfortably. Occasionally I sat upright with my weight over my knees and lower legs; my feet tucked behind me. This position gave my back the best structural support but ensured the blood stopped flowing to my feet within a short period of time.
Waking to Pavlov’s bell at 4am – promising the food of enlightenment but receiving the scraps of meditation from 4:30am – we sat for two grueling hours until breakfast at 6:30am. Its funny, I never associated meditation with the word grueling before but trust me, it was! What we must have looked like – 50 odd looking people, all sitting still facing the same direction without smiling or moving for 2 hours! Breakfast for me was normally taken outside the dining hall after the morning meditation. I sipped my sweet tea, or chai, from a small metal cup every morning as the first traces of daylight spread their rainbow rays across the sky and the mist lifted slowly over the picturesque paddy fields and coconut palms unfolding into the distance.
Following breakfast and a rest which was normally spent asleep, we began another hour’s ‘endurance’ meditation which from day four onwards was to include no movement at all – no opening eyes and no hand or body movements. After this hour we had a 10 minute break and then resumed for another 2 hours, just focusing on the breath until 11am when we had lunch. Following lunch and another sleep we convened in the meditation or dhamma hall at 1pm for another 4 hours meditation interspersed with two 10 minute breaks. It sounds like such inspiring fun even just writing these words! At 5pm we had some chai which was the highlight of my day, and perhaps a little fruit. We were meant to be aware of our cravings and aversions but not to react to them. I was very aware of craving a lovely sugary cup of chai at the end of each day! The evening consisted of an hour’s meditation, a video explaining what was going on and how we were treading the path of Buddha’s enlightenment, and then another half hour meditation before bed at 9:30pm.
As the evening of the second night drew to a close there was a beautiful plump full moon shining brightly over the palm’s stretching into the distance. I remember thinking while gazing out into the moon-light night with fireflies gliding gracefully and crickets chirping cheerily, if I can do 2 days then I can do 10! But apart from the delights of sweet chai, my sleep and the view I was not enjoying the experience. I was suffering physically, and I was overwhelmed with the idea that this path was apparently the only path to enlightenment! I thought I had come on a Vipassana meditation to be in silence for 10 days, to have as profound experience and to feel much more present after a few days. I had no idea I was going to have to sit for 10 hours or more every day meditating with breaks only every hour or two, or that I would begin to experience and learn about Buddha’s path to liberation and enlightenment!
I had been recommended the course by a good friend, Arun, who had told me it was a profound experience in which after about five days you become much more present. It turns out his experience was in Japan and much more user friendly – only 5-7 hours meditation a day and some of it was optional – all of ours was compulsory!
Still, as the minutes and hours passed and my mind raced from one thought to another I began to slow down and enjoy the small delights of the experience, of just being. The view from the meditation hall was beautiful beyond words in its simplicity and stillness. The open area beyond the meditation hall was adorned with beautiful coconut palms balanced perfectly on little raised mounds of earth stretching to the paddy field beyond was like something out of a film. Every day, two or three cows accompanied by beautiful white stalks grazed aimlessly while the odd worker carried crops in the fields beyond. That serene view from sunrise to sunset comforted us like a warm cuddle from a loved one. It gave us some outer beauty to enjoy while we battled with our inner beauty.
As day three progressed, things with my back became more and more painful and challenging. Every day we had the opportunity to speak to the teacher about the technique, which I took as an opportunity to ask about my back. Every time he encouraged me to transcend my pain, to be aware of it but not to react. I must remain equanimous – no craving, no aversion. The problem was, that after three days of sitting like I had never sat before my back was getting worse and worse and I was worried that I would not be what walking out of the meditation centre at all.
After lunch on day four, I went to the teacher and explain my predicament again. As usual, he used his most excellent strategy of not listening to me and instead interrupting and telling me what to do. But this time I interrupted him and told him, no, you don't understand this is not about me transcending my pain, this is about my back falling apart! I somehow talked him into allowing me to have a chair which I then sat in for the next day and a half.
While the physical challenge was overcome on day four and five, the mental challenge of understanding, accepting and integrating the teachings made the whole experience increasingly difficult. By this stage we had lost a couple of people but the vast majority were sticking at it, and I would later find out, struggling like me.
On day six I had a real breakthrough. Having conversed with myself from morning until night over the last six days, at lot of things had become clear. I resolved to write a book and having passed the midway point, I committed to staying the course. I felt stronger; I was starting to understand the principles of Vipassana and I was able to recognize and accept the similarities of these teachings to those of NLP, which I have been studying for the last five years or so. In fact the teachings of Buddha are pretty simple.
The only reason we ever do anything is for a feeling. That being the case, Buddha believed we should let go of our attachments to our cravings and aversions– it is these that cause us misery and suffering. We should remain equanimous, calm and balanced because all things are impermanent. This is the law of nature. And this being the case everything arises and passes – feelings arise and pass - as do cravings and aversions.
And so having focused just on our breath for the first three days, throughout the next three we were tasked with scanning our bodies from head-to-toe and toe-to-head for sensations and simply be aware of them. In just being aware and not reacting to the apparent pleasurable or uncomfortable sensations that are going on all over the body all the time, we were reprogramming our minds at an unconscious level not react to cravings and aversions. I was becoming liberated, and the path to enlightenment was unfolding in front of me...
To be continued...
Waking to Pavlov’s bell at 4am – promising the food of enlightenment but receiving the scraps of meditation from 4:30am – we sat for two grueling hours until breakfast at 6:30am. Its funny, I never associated meditation with the word grueling before but trust me, it was! What we must have looked like – 50 odd looking people, all sitting still facing the same direction without smiling or moving for 2 hours! Breakfast for me was normally taken outside the dining hall after the morning meditation. I sipped my sweet tea, or chai, from a small metal cup every morning as the first traces of daylight spread their rainbow rays across the sky and the mist lifted slowly over the picturesque paddy fields and coconut palms unfolding into the distance.
Following breakfast and a rest which was normally spent asleep, we began another hour’s ‘endurance’ meditation which from day four onwards was to include no movement at all – no opening eyes and no hand or body movements. After this hour we had a 10 minute break and then resumed for another 2 hours, just focusing on the breath until 11am when we had lunch. Following lunch and another sleep we convened in the meditation or dhamma hall at 1pm for another 4 hours meditation interspersed with two 10 minute breaks. It sounds like such inspiring fun even just writing these words! At 5pm we had some chai which was the highlight of my day, and perhaps a little fruit. We were meant to be aware of our cravings and aversions but not to react to them. I was very aware of craving a lovely sugary cup of chai at the end of each day! The evening consisted of an hour’s meditation, a video explaining what was going on and how we were treading the path of Buddha’s enlightenment, and then another half hour meditation before bed at 9:30pm.
As the evening of the second night drew to a close there was a beautiful plump full moon shining brightly over the palm’s stretching into the distance. I remember thinking while gazing out into the moon-light night with fireflies gliding gracefully and crickets chirping cheerily, if I can do 2 days then I can do 10! But apart from the delights of sweet chai, my sleep and the view I was not enjoying the experience. I was suffering physically, and I was overwhelmed with the idea that this path was apparently the only path to enlightenment! I thought I had come on a Vipassana meditation to be in silence for 10 days, to have as profound experience and to feel much more present after a few days. I had no idea I was going to have to sit for 10 hours or more every day meditating with breaks only every hour or two, or that I would begin to experience and learn about Buddha’s path to liberation and enlightenment!
I had been recommended the course by a good friend, Arun, who had told me it was a profound experience in which after about five days you become much more present. It turns out his experience was in Japan and much more user friendly – only 5-7 hours meditation a day and some of it was optional – all of ours was compulsory!
Still, as the minutes and hours passed and my mind raced from one thought to another I began to slow down and enjoy the small delights of the experience, of just being. The view from the meditation hall was beautiful beyond words in its simplicity and stillness. The open area beyond the meditation hall was adorned with beautiful coconut palms balanced perfectly on little raised mounds of earth stretching to the paddy field beyond was like something out of a film. Every day, two or three cows accompanied by beautiful white stalks grazed aimlessly while the odd worker carried crops in the fields beyond. That serene view from sunrise to sunset comforted us like a warm cuddle from a loved one. It gave us some outer beauty to enjoy while we battled with our inner beauty.
As day three progressed, things with my back became more and more painful and challenging. Every day we had the opportunity to speak to the teacher about the technique, which I took as an opportunity to ask about my back. Every time he encouraged me to transcend my pain, to be aware of it but not to react. I must remain equanimous – no craving, no aversion. The problem was, that after three days of sitting like I had never sat before my back was getting worse and worse and I was worried that I would not be what walking out of the meditation centre at all.
After lunch on day four, I went to the teacher and explain my predicament again. As usual, he used his most excellent strategy of not listening to me and instead interrupting and telling me what to do. But this time I interrupted him and told him, no, you don't understand this is not about me transcending my pain, this is about my back falling apart! I somehow talked him into allowing me to have a chair which I then sat in for the next day and a half.
While the physical challenge was overcome on day four and five, the mental challenge of understanding, accepting and integrating the teachings made the whole experience increasingly difficult. By this stage we had lost a couple of people but the vast majority were sticking at it, and I would later find out, struggling like me.
On day six I had a real breakthrough. Having conversed with myself from morning until night over the last six days, at lot of things had become clear. I resolved to write a book and having passed the midway point, I committed to staying the course. I felt stronger; I was starting to understand the principles of Vipassana and I was able to recognize and accept the similarities of these teachings to those of NLP, which I have been studying for the last five years or so. In fact the teachings of Buddha are pretty simple.
The only reason we ever do anything is for a feeling. That being the case, Buddha believed we should let go of our attachments to our cravings and aversions– it is these that cause us misery and suffering. We should remain equanimous, calm and balanced because all things are impermanent. This is the law of nature. And this being the case everything arises and passes – feelings arise and pass - as do cravings and aversions.
And so having focused just on our breath for the first three days, throughout the next three we were tasked with scanning our bodies from head-to-toe and toe-to-head for sensations and simply be aware of them. In just being aware and not reacting to the apparent pleasurable or uncomfortable sensations that are going on all over the body all the time, we were reprogramming our minds at an unconscious level not react to cravings and aversions. I was becoming liberated, and the path to enlightenment was unfolding in front of me...
To be continued...
Monday, February 23, 2009
Vipsassana part 1 - confusion
I arrive alone at the Vipassana meditation centre in the middle of nowhere, about 8km from Chengannur in Southern India. I notice an austere silence pervades the entire compound; a somber mood seems to have descended like a dark cloud suffocating a soulless landscape. And yet I realize very quickly that the 10 days in silence I am about to embark on hasn’t even started! Is this a bad sign, do I start making meaning or listening to my intuition?
I have a chat with a couple of apparently normal people – a young Israeli called Jonathan who has recently come out of the army, and his sister Rena – both full of energy and smiles; and Flo, a young German with dreads who I later discover loves his house music. Then I meet Victor the relaxed yoga Instructor from Miami. He’s as calm as a cool evening breeze, wearing a flag-like tattoo on his forearm in blue, orange and green which symbolizes Conscious… Everyday… Living; and I chat to a very tall Indian called Mohit who runs a psychedelic trance events company in London and seems to live and love life to the full. It emerges that there are about 50 people in total from all over the world who have converged to experience the delights of spending 10 days in silent meditation. They come from France, New Zealand, Scotland, Peru and Australia to name a few, and about half of all delegates are Indians, many of whom do not speak English… not that we’re going to be speaking for the next 10 days anyway!
I trundle my way to my living quarters which are based in an oblong bulding made from standard-grey breeze blocks. A corrugated iron roof raised about 3 feet above the building protects us from what, I am not sure; it is placed on thin steel girders allowing insects, the occasional breeze and the thin rays of evening sunlight to visit their indulgent delights upon us. The breeze blocks have set within them the odd grimy frosted glass window. The building is perched upon a red brick floor, no carpet to be seen anywhere. Down the far end of the building are 4 very basic dirty toilettes with shower heads coming out of the walls. In the middle are 3 mismatching sinks, two small shaving mirrors on the wall and a small bin beneath.
Back in the main room there are 7 beds on either side of the dormitory, each adorned with a mattress which at its thickest is at least 1.5 centimeters of pure luxurious cotton wool. When I lie on the ‘mattress’ it compresses to at best, I would guess about 3mm of comfy padding! This luxury is placed directly on a hard wooden frame bed about 5’11 in length and covered by a rancid smelling old mosquito net. This is my home for the next 10 days. I make my way to the toilette and find a large spider, about the size of my palm in diameter, watching me intently before scurrying behind the loo. It’s not tarantula but a much faster and leaner cousin. Still considerably larger than any spider you would see in the UK.
That night I dream of two Indian wild dogs – one on each of my hands, dragging me down the road with their teeth digging in to my flesh. And then suddenly I am held by a baboon, likewise biting me, but this time on my forearm. Neither the dogs nor the baboon drew blood but they had a firm grip which I could not break free from. I thought that there must be some significance about the dream but was not quite sure what it was when I woke. I thought after a while that perhaps the dogs each pulling on one hand in different directions might signify the struggle I was to face – being pulled in different directions.
I woke at 4am the next day to what would become a very familiar bell - our first mediation session of the ‘day’. Only unlike Pavlov’s dogs, the bell had the opposite reaction for most of us – no excitement, no drooling! Wearily I go to the meditation hall for the first time where there are about 50 people preparing to meditate in near darkness on small blue mats – girls on the right and boys together on the left of the dark dingy room. Throughout the 10 days, boys and girl were kept separate wherever possible – while eating, living and meditating.
During the first day of my 10 days in silence I was subjected to over 10 hours of meditation - sitting still, silent, just observing my breath. I sat there watching my mind wonder from thought to thought desperately trying to make sense of things, trying to latch onto something and then something else; always in need of something to think about like a drug addict searching for its next fix. Its actually quite disturbing realizing how untamed and out of control our brains really are. Fortunately I discover after the course that I was not alone in having a wild and untamed mind when left to focus soley on the breath. When we just sit and observe the very essence of life, our breath, our brains are not content with just being but instead go on a relentless search for more, and more… and more! Rather like life, I believe that two things chasrataterise humans – we are all driven by a need to be loved… and a search for more!
All we were instructed to do was nothing other than observe our breath, which sounds simple to me. But you will find that if you try to concentrate on just your breath with your eyes closed for any length of time, your attention will very quickly be drawn into the future or the past – typically to painful or pleasurable past memories or created imaginations. Our task for the first three days was simply to observe our breath and nothing else. Whenever we became aware of our mind wondering, we were to bring it back to the breath – the sensations of the air moving in and out of our nostrils, and nothing else.
Very soon I became aware of my many patterns of thinking and behaviour, but most significantly I became aware of my back muscles seizing up. I crushed two vertebrae in my spine 12 years ago in a motorcycle accident and have suffered recurring problems, primarily muscle tension, ever since. It gets worse when I do not exercise or stretch regularly. My back muscles started to spasm by the end of day 1 having sat for over 10 hours without moving much. Although we had breaks between the 10 hours it began to take its toll, more physically than mentally or emotionally. Had I known we would be sitting in meditation for so long I am not sure I would have gone on the course. In retrospect I am very glad I did not know how tough the journey would be – I doubt I would have even started. That makes me think about some of the parallels with life; setting up as business; starting a relationship or writing a book, which I have now committed to doing. If we knew how hard the journey would be in advance would we even begin it?
As day 1 came to a close and I begun to realize the full enormity of what I had let myself in for; that I had embarked on a journey of pain and spiritual discovery - Buddha’s path to enlightenment and liberation! I began to wonder if I had made the right uninformed decision to come on a Vipassana meditation. Knowing I had another 90 hours of sitting in painful silence I questioned my commitment and both my mental and physical strength to see it through. The road ahead was gong to be long, painful and slow-going.
To be Continued….
I have a chat with a couple of apparently normal people – a young Israeli called Jonathan who has recently come out of the army, and his sister Rena – both full of energy and smiles; and Flo, a young German with dreads who I later discover loves his house music. Then I meet Victor the relaxed yoga Instructor from Miami. He’s as calm as a cool evening breeze, wearing a flag-like tattoo on his forearm in blue, orange and green which symbolizes Conscious… Everyday… Living; and I chat to a very tall Indian called Mohit who runs a psychedelic trance events company in London and seems to live and love life to the full. It emerges that there are about 50 people in total from all over the world who have converged to experience the delights of spending 10 days in silent meditation. They come from France, New Zealand, Scotland, Peru and Australia to name a few, and about half of all delegates are Indians, many of whom do not speak English… not that we’re going to be speaking for the next 10 days anyway!
I trundle my way to my living quarters which are based in an oblong bulding made from standard-grey breeze blocks. A corrugated iron roof raised about 3 feet above the building protects us from what, I am not sure; it is placed on thin steel girders allowing insects, the occasional breeze and the thin rays of evening sunlight to visit their indulgent delights upon us. The breeze blocks have set within them the odd grimy frosted glass window. The building is perched upon a red brick floor, no carpet to be seen anywhere. Down the far end of the building are 4 very basic dirty toilettes with shower heads coming out of the walls. In the middle are 3 mismatching sinks, two small shaving mirrors on the wall and a small bin beneath.
Back in the main room there are 7 beds on either side of the dormitory, each adorned with a mattress which at its thickest is at least 1.5 centimeters of pure luxurious cotton wool. When I lie on the ‘mattress’ it compresses to at best, I would guess about 3mm of comfy padding! This luxury is placed directly on a hard wooden frame bed about 5’11 in length and covered by a rancid smelling old mosquito net. This is my home for the next 10 days. I make my way to the toilette and find a large spider, about the size of my palm in diameter, watching me intently before scurrying behind the loo. It’s not tarantula but a much faster and leaner cousin. Still considerably larger than any spider you would see in the UK.
That night I dream of two Indian wild dogs – one on each of my hands, dragging me down the road with their teeth digging in to my flesh. And then suddenly I am held by a baboon, likewise biting me, but this time on my forearm. Neither the dogs nor the baboon drew blood but they had a firm grip which I could not break free from. I thought that there must be some significance about the dream but was not quite sure what it was when I woke. I thought after a while that perhaps the dogs each pulling on one hand in different directions might signify the struggle I was to face – being pulled in different directions.
I woke at 4am the next day to what would become a very familiar bell - our first mediation session of the ‘day’. Only unlike Pavlov’s dogs, the bell had the opposite reaction for most of us – no excitement, no drooling! Wearily I go to the meditation hall for the first time where there are about 50 people preparing to meditate in near darkness on small blue mats – girls on the right and boys together on the left of the dark dingy room. Throughout the 10 days, boys and girl were kept separate wherever possible – while eating, living and meditating.
During the first day of my 10 days in silence I was subjected to over 10 hours of meditation - sitting still, silent, just observing my breath. I sat there watching my mind wonder from thought to thought desperately trying to make sense of things, trying to latch onto something and then something else; always in need of something to think about like a drug addict searching for its next fix. Its actually quite disturbing realizing how untamed and out of control our brains really are. Fortunately I discover after the course that I was not alone in having a wild and untamed mind when left to focus soley on the breath. When we just sit and observe the very essence of life, our breath, our brains are not content with just being but instead go on a relentless search for more, and more… and more! Rather like life, I believe that two things chasrataterise humans – we are all driven by a need to be loved… and a search for more!
All we were instructed to do was nothing other than observe our breath, which sounds simple to me. But you will find that if you try to concentrate on just your breath with your eyes closed for any length of time, your attention will very quickly be drawn into the future or the past – typically to painful or pleasurable past memories or created imaginations. Our task for the first three days was simply to observe our breath and nothing else. Whenever we became aware of our mind wondering, we were to bring it back to the breath – the sensations of the air moving in and out of our nostrils, and nothing else.
Very soon I became aware of my many patterns of thinking and behaviour, but most significantly I became aware of my back muscles seizing up. I crushed two vertebrae in my spine 12 years ago in a motorcycle accident and have suffered recurring problems, primarily muscle tension, ever since. It gets worse when I do not exercise or stretch regularly. My back muscles started to spasm by the end of day 1 having sat for over 10 hours without moving much. Although we had breaks between the 10 hours it began to take its toll, more physically than mentally or emotionally. Had I known we would be sitting in meditation for so long I am not sure I would have gone on the course. In retrospect I am very glad I did not know how tough the journey would be – I doubt I would have even started. That makes me think about some of the parallels with life; setting up as business; starting a relationship or writing a book, which I have now committed to doing. If we knew how hard the journey would be in advance would we even begin it?
As day 1 came to a close and I begun to realize the full enormity of what I had let myself in for; that I had embarked on a journey of pain and spiritual discovery - Buddha’s path to enlightenment and liberation! I began to wonder if I had made the right uninformed decision to come on a Vipassana meditation. Knowing I had another 90 hours of sitting in painful silence I questioned my commitment and both my mental and physical strength to see it through. The road ahead was gong to be long, painful and slow-going.
To be Continued….
Friday, February 6, 2009
Inner Space...
I open my eyes slowly and take a deep warm liquid breath as a gentle relaxed smile spreads across my glowing cheeks. Gazing into the infinite piercing blue sky I notice myself noticing birds floating gracefully and dancing like lovers just as my awareness comes back to my mind, and to my body. And as that happens, every time, I think what a wonderful way to start my day…how lucky I am to be alive, and in India of all places!
Lying on the beach, listening to the birds singing, and the sea making its beautiful music; the cool sand beneath my body I am completely relaxed; I am at one with nature, with myself and with the Universe. It’s funny, I have never experienced yoga like this before but I have now been enjoying Swamiji’s yoga on the beach a lot over the last 2 months since being in India.
That in itself is not remarkable, but waking up every day at 7am and spending an hour of the most intensely relaxing and gentle yoga is a true gift. There is no doubt that my flexibility in both thinking and behavior have increased, but there is more to yoga than just flexibility. It is not only is it a great metaphor for NLP in many ways, but yoga also enhances and develops the mind body connection, that we all share as human beings. When we increase our flexibility and relax our bodies it invariably leads to increased flexibility in our thinking and we can then become more relaxed in our behaviour. It also connects us with that silent part; the knowing, trusting and loving part where everything just is….
And that has really been my experience of India in the last two months… one of letting go of old notions, of old paradigms, needs and beliefs; and enjoying a magical journey exploring and integrating new possibilities; new choices and dimensions of myself and of life… and of just being.
I have been asked to write an article by Sue about my experience here in India and there is so much I could say it is hard to know where to begin. I have had so many varied and rich experiences here it is a challenge to really communicate the true depth of the journey. From walking along the deserted picture-postcard white sandy beaches in Allepey occasionally festooned with old wooden fishing boats, to the cows aimlessly walking the beaches and sleeping in the streets of Tamil Nadu, the flowing richness and endless love that this magical and unique country offers the soul is like nothing I have ever experienced, and certainly difficult to put into words that can do it justice.
I think it is really in my heart where I am feeling the biggest difference. I believe that India in and of itself creates and inspires change in people. It is such a uniquely vibrant and colourful place that we can’t help but let go of the old and embrace the new. And yet paradoxically for me, while embracing the new it is like stepping back in time – to a more simple, more harmonious way of life. In many ways it feels like a home from home – so many things conspire to make me feel connected. The intense warmth of both the climate and the people; the sunshine and the pace of life make this feel more like what home should be like!
The differences in the values and culture out here is such a sharp contrast to that in the UK that I find it hard to imagine people being here and not experiencing a whole new side to themselves, and indeed life. Mix all that up with some utterly unique NLP training (I’m still searching for a better word than training!) and I have had what I can only describe as a uniquely spicy and succulent dish full of insight, growth, challenge, laughter, love and light. And that is just for starters!
Its funny, the driving on the ‘roads’ out here in India is what can only be described as an experience. It certainly exemplifies Indians enhanced ability to communicate non-verbally as well as their trust in life and the Universe. And that spreads far beyond their driving. It is deeply interwoven like a Kashmir jumper into the very fabric of society. And every day brings many new encounters demonstrating the trust and faith of these people. From the clothing and food to the many drumming experiences, temples and elephants I have encountered on my travels, faith and presence transcend.
There is an amazing contrast from the apparent organized chaos of the towns, driving and the roads, to the stillness and serenity of the trance inducing backwaters of Kerala and the countryside. It is said that out of silence comes a deeper truth. Certainly that has been true for me. When I spend time to myself; where I am alone, like now, or on the beach, reading a book, relaxing, or gazing into the sunset of a still evening there is a deeper truth that emerges, not from my mind but from being… just being.
There is a new sense of calm, serenity and love that I have experienced in my time here, away from striving, from having to, from running a business and managing things. I find that India has silence, space, and time to be, time to get out of our heads. Not as the English do on a Saturday night which is unsustainable in my view! But in a life enhancing and much more sustainable way where we can be much more present, in our bodies, or perhaps our hearts. It’s a letting go of that phovial vision, inner dialogue and muscle tension as John Grinder put it, so that we can be truly present.
And I think that being in India, in Kerala, in Cherrai, and slowing down, being present with people, really present with people allows all kinds of new possibilities, awareness’s and insights to emerge with a real sense of richness and warmth that I know I wouldn’t get in the UK
In my experience, in the UK some people explore NLP in a kind of get it done mentality, a ‘doing’ technique type affair, NLP as a set of tools and techniques. That has never been my experience with Sue, but from her desire to embrace the richness of the environment and culture out here to facilitate learning, I would say that for me and many people, there has been a deeper and more rapid awakening – a spiritual integration of NLP and Indian culture.
It strikes me that in NLP we often see the environment as the lowest level of change, and yet I think that by changing the environment we can and sometimes do get profound changes at higher levels. Einstein famously said we can’t solve a problem with the same kind of thinking that created that problem. By that rational we often have to think in a new way or at a higher logical level to find a sustainable and workable solution. And yet that implies that we have to think in order to solve problems, rather than getting out of our heads more and just being, or using our bodies as we do in yoga. Certainly from my perspective it doesn’t always mean we have think more in order to solve problems, in fact sometimes quite the opposite. We create problems in our thinking! Sometimes a new environment can radically encourage ecological change and that has certainly been true for me.
So India is now my home for the next few months, and in fact the world is now very much my home. For me, exploring, travel, sunshine, adventure, growth and learning, and surrounding myself with people who are playing life at a higher level is my drug of choice. I tried money and business, success and things; striving for more but none of them comes close to being here and living life to the full. And that takes letting go of old notions, needs and beliefs; of old paradigms – it takes being present, being open to the truth of who we really are, and really enjoying the truly magical journey we are all on.
Enjoy yourself enjoying others enjoying you....
Lying on the beach, listening to the birds singing, and the sea making its beautiful music; the cool sand beneath my body I am completely relaxed; I am at one with nature, with myself and with the Universe. It’s funny, I have never experienced yoga like this before but I have now been enjoying Swamiji’s yoga on the beach a lot over the last 2 months since being in India.
That in itself is not remarkable, but waking up every day at 7am and spending an hour of the most intensely relaxing and gentle yoga is a true gift. There is no doubt that my flexibility in both thinking and behavior have increased, but there is more to yoga than just flexibility. It is not only is it a great metaphor for NLP in many ways, but yoga also enhances and develops the mind body connection, that we all share as human beings. When we increase our flexibility and relax our bodies it invariably leads to increased flexibility in our thinking and we can then become more relaxed in our behaviour. It also connects us with that silent part; the knowing, trusting and loving part where everything just is….
And that has really been my experience of India in the last two months… one of letting go of old notions, of old paradigms, needs and beliefs; and enjoying a magical journey exploring and integrating new possibilities; new choices and dimensions of myself and of life… and of just being.
I have been asked to write an article by Sue about my experience here in India and there is so much I could say it is hard to know where to begin. I have had so many varied and rich experiences here it is a challenge to really communicate the true depth of the journey. From walking along the deserted picture-postcard white sandy beaches in Allepey occasionally festooned with old wooden fishing boats, to the cows aimlessly walking the beaches and sleeping in the streets of Tamil Nadu, the flowing richness and endless love that this magical and unique country offers the soul is like nothing I have ever experienced, and certainly difficult to put into words that can do it justice.
I think it is really in my heart where I am feeling the biggest difference. I believe that India in and of itself creates and inspires change in people. It is such a uniquely vibrant and colourful place that we can’t help but let go of the old and embrace the new. And yet paradoxically for me, while embracing the new it is like stepping back in time – to a more simple, more harmonious way of life. In many ways it feels like a home from home – so many things conspire to make me feel connected. The intense warmth of both the climate and the people; the sunshine and the pace of life make this feel more like what home should be like!
The differences in the values and culture out here is such a sharp contrast to that in the UK that I find it hard to imagine people being here and not experiencing a whole new side to themselves, and indeed life. Mix all that up with some utterly unique NLP training (I’m still searching for a better word than training!) and I have had what I can only describe as a uniquely spicy and succulent dish full of insight, growth, challenge, laughter, love and light. And that is just for starters!
Its funny, the driving on the ‘roads’ out here in India is what can only be described as an experience. It certainly exemplifies Indians enhanced ability to communicate non-verbally as well as their trust in life and the Universe. And that spreads far beyond their driving. It is deeply interwoven like a Kashmir jumper into the very fabric of society. And every day brings many new encounters demonstrating the trust and faith of these people. From the clothing and food to the many drumming experiences, temples and elephants I have encountered on my travels, faith and presence transcend.
There is an amazing contrast from the apparent organized chaos of the towns, driving and the roads, to the stillness and serenity of the trance inducing backwaters of Kerala and the countryside. It is said that out of silence comes a deeper truth. Certainly that has been true for me. When I spend time to myself; where I am alone, like now, or on the beach, reading a book, relaxing, or gazing into the sunset of a still evening there is a deeper truth that emerges, not from my mind but from being… just being.
There is a new sense of calm, serenity and love that I have experienced in my time here, away from striving, from having to, from running a business and managing things. I find that India has silence, space, and time to be, time to get out of our heads. Not as the English do on a Saturday night which is unsustainable in my view! But in a life enhancing and much more sustainable way where we can be much more present, in our bodies, or perhaps our hearts. It’s a letting go of that phovial vision, inner dialogue and muscle tension as John Grinder put it, so that we can be truly present.
And I think that being in India, in Kerala, in Cherrai, and slowing down, being present with people, really present with people allows all kinds of new possibilities, awareness’s and insights to emerge with a real sense of richness and warmth that I know I wouldn’t get in the UK
In my experience, in the UK some people explore NLP in a kind of get it done mentality, a ‘doing’ technique type affair, NLP as a set of tools and techniques. That has never been my experience with Sue, but from her desire to embrace the richness of the environment and culture out here to facilitate learning, I would say that for me and many people, there has been a deeper and more rapid awakening – a spiritual integration of NLP and Indian culture.
It strikes me that in NLP we often see the environment as the lowest level of change, and yet I think that by changing the environment we can and sometimes do get profound changes at higher levels. Einstein famously said we can’t solve a problem with the same kind of thinking that created that problem. By that rational we often have to think in a new way or at a higher logical level to find a sustainable and workable solution. And yet that implies that we have to think in order to solve problems, rather than getting out of our heads more and just being, or using our bodies as we do in yoga. Certainly from my perspective it doesn’t always mean we have think more in order to solve problems, in fact sometimes quite the opposite. We create problems in our thinking! Sometimes a new environment can radically encourage ecological change and that has certainly been true for me.
So India is now my home for the next few months, and in fact the world is now very much my home. For me, exploring, travel, sunshine, adventure, growth and learning, and surrounding myself with people who are playing life at a higher level is my drug of choice. I tried money and business, success and things; striving for more but none of them comes close to being here and living life to the full. And that takes letting go of old notions, needs and beliefs; of old paradigms – it takes being present, being open to the truth of who we really are, and really enjoying the truly magical journey we are all on.
Enjoy yourself enjoying others enjoying you....
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Famous for a day!
As I fly across the heart of Southern India, from Chennai to Mumbai, or as the English called them Madras to Bombay, I am reflecting on my time out here in India and the amazing insights, revelations and adventures I have had. I wonder how much time we give ourselves in the West just to reflect, to be… in a neutral space and allow the emergence and enjoyment of natural being-ness. I think they call it meditation in the East.
I have been here for nearly two months now. England, winter and the credit crunch couldn’t be further from my mind. It is a strange feeling to even think of such things, and yet when I do, I realize how integrated and accustomed I have become to life on the road and living in India, and how nourishing it is compared to thoughts of striving for more in England when things seems to be almost going in reverse in the depths of winter.
As I write this, I am on my way to visit some very good friends on mine in the financial capital of India, Mumbai, which was struck by terrorist attacks just before I came out here. They are still suffering economically and socially to some extend in Mumbai with the impact of those atrocities. I am only there for a few days before heading back South to Cochin to resume NLP training.
My experience of Chennai over the last couple of days was nothing short of spectacular, bizarre and enlightening. So, where to begin? The spectacular for me, included being treated like some sort of a film star, having my photograph taken over a thousand times and handing out about that many medals and trophies to the children, teachers and parents of the phenomenon that is called BraioBrain. Boy, my feet hurt by the end of the day but my grin was practically glued onto my face.
BrainoBrain is quite simply a revolution in learning. It has been launched by 3 great friends of mine, Ashok, Arul and Anand who I met a few years ago but only really got to know in the last couple of months having spent so much quality time with them. The are brothers, and have all contributed to spreading this revolution, so far into 8 countries, and now, I believe, it is on the verve of exploding across the world due to the utter commitment of the brothers and all those involved. It is also down to the unique ability of BrainoBrain to help children in particular, but also adults to learn, to memorize, the be creative, to use left and right brains and develop the skills, abilities, knowledge and confidence to - I’d go as far as to say - create leaders in the world.
And I do not mean that lightly. What I witnessed as chief guest for the day at the 10th Indian National BrainOBrain competition was somewhere in the region of 4000 children, teachers and parents all committed to developing themselves and each other in a way that gets results unlike anything I have seen in traditional education before.
I gave a short talk on leadership, about being the change as Gandhi put it, and recognizing these amazing young children as leader of the future… and in fact even as leaders right now. It really was an eye opening and spectacular day. The bizarre was feeling a little like David Beckham, being asked for my autograph by children.
And the enlightening was when I was talking to Ashok the following evening about my vagabonding lifestyle and not feeling like I have a real sense of purpose at the moment. He enlightened me to just what an impact I have had by being me, making the effort to be in Chennai for the event and the children – the hundreds if not thousands of peoples lives I touched by talking to them, being in their photos, giving them medals, recognizing their efforts and success; also playing and connecting with his and the other brothers young children - so that they now have a positive view of Western or white people, an anchor if you will.
Also by spending time in their home – apparently I am the first Western or white person ever to have dinner with him and his whole family – I am building cultural ties and mutual respect, understanding and possibilities for the future. That is something I believe the world needs right now – more understanding, compassion, respect and cohesion. So thank you Ashok, for waking me from my trace of feeling I was not really doing anything productive or constructive with my life, when in fact I am, we are, all the time touching other people’s lives in ways we cannot fully appreciate. As a bumble bee creates new life and possibilities for flowers by going about their normal daily lives completely unaware of the impact they have, we too touch people’s lives in ways we will never really fully know.
I have also been awoken in part by Uta as to what leadership is really all about. It is not, as she put it “about long term planning [or organizing or controlling things] but about doing what is right in front of you wherever you are”. And perhaps even more importantly, it is not really about doing, it is about being; being the change we want to see in the world, and in others; about being an example and living our deepest truth. About being truly present, here and now… and always.
I had the great pleasure of not just being force fed by the brother’s families in Chennai- for which I am very grateful, thought a little full, but also by Ramesh and Tulsi. And my hosts have at all times treated me impeccably (apart from the force feeding of course) and given me insights and pleasures I would not have otherwise experienced, had I just been a traveler or vagabond. So I am very much indebted to all my Indian friends for giving me such a rich experience of Indian culture and perhaps, I have got even more than I had previously imagined, now that I take time to…reflect.
Enjoy yourself enjoying others enjoying you!
Until next time….
I have been here for nearly two months now. England, winter and the credit crunch couldn’t be further from my mind. It is a strange feeling to even think of such things, and yet when I do, I realize how integrated and accustomed I have become to life on the road and living in India, and how nourishing it is compared to thoughts of striving for more in England when things seems to be almost going in reverse in the depths of winter.
As I write this, I am on my way to visit some very good friends on mine in the financial capital of India, Mumbai, which was struck by terrorist attacks just before I came out here. They are still suffering economically and socially to some extend in Mumbai with the impact of those atrocities. I am only there for a few days before heading back South to Cochin to resume NLP training.
My experience of Chennai over the last couple of days was nothing short of spectacular, bizarre and enlightening. So, where to begin? The spectacular for me, included being treated like some sort of a film star, having my photograph taken over a thousand times and handing out about that many medals and trophies to the children, teachers and parents of the phenomenon that is called BraioBrain. Boy, my feet hurt by the end of the day but my grin was practically glued onto my face.
BrainoBrain is quite simply a revolution in learning. It has been launched by 3 great friends of mine, Ashok, Arul and Anand who I met a few years ago but only really got to know in the last couple of months having spent so much quality time with them. The are brothers, and have all contributed to spreading this revolution, so far into 8 countries, and now, I believe, it is on the verve of exploding across the world due to the utter commitment of the brothers and all those involved. It is also down to the unique ability of BrainoBrain to help children in particular, but also adults to learn, to memorize, the be creative, to use left and right brains and develop the skills, abilities, knowledge and confidence to - I’d go as far as to say - create leaders in the world.
And I do not mean that lightly. What I witnessed as chief guest for the day at the 10th Indian National BrainOBrain competition was somewhere in the region of 4000 children, teachers and parents all committed to developing themselves and each other in a way that gets results unlike anything I have seen in traditional education before.
I gave a short talk on leadership, about being the change as Gandhi put it, and recognizing these amazing young children as leader of the future… and in fact even as leaders right now. It really was an eye opening and spectacular day. The bizarre was feeling a little like David Beckham, being asked for my autograph by children.
And the enlightening was when I was talking to Ashok the following evening about my vagabonding lifestyle and not feeling like I have a real sense of purpose at the moment. He enlightened me to just what an impact I have had by being me, making the effort to be in Chennai for the event and the children – the hundreds if not thousands of peoples lives I touched by talking to them, being in their photos, giving them medals, recognizing their efforts and success; also playing and connecting with his and the other brothers young children - so that they now have a positive view of Western or white people, an anchor if you will.
Also by spending time in their home – apparently I am the first Western or white person ever to have dinner with him and his whole family – I am building cultural ties and mutual respect, understanding and possibilities for the future. That is something I believe the world needs right now – more understanding, compassion, respect and cohesion. So thank you Ashok, for waking me from my trace of feeling I was not really doing anything productive or constructive with my life, when in fact I am, we are, all the time touching other people’s lives in ways we cannot fully appreciate. As a bumble bee creates new life and possibilities for flowers by going about their normal daily lives completely unaware of the impact they have, we too touch people’s lives in ways we will never really fully know.
I have also been awoken in part by Uta as to what leadership is really all about. It is not, as she put it “about long term planning [or organizing or controlling things] but about doing what is right in front of you wherever you are”. And perhaps even more importantly, it is not really about doing, it is about being; being the change we want to see in the world, and in others; about being an example and living our deepest truth. About being truly present, here and now… and always.
I had the great pleasure of not just being force fed by the brother’s families in Chennai- for which I am very grateful, thought a little full, but also by Ramesh and Tulsi. And my hosts have at all times treated me impeccably (apart from the force feeding of course) and given me insights and pleasures I would not have otherwise experienced, had I just been a traveler or vagabond. So I am very much indebted to all my Indian friends for giving me such a rich experience of Indian culture and perhaps, I have got even more than I had previously imagined, now that I take time to…reflect.
Enjoy yourself enjoying others enjoying you!
Until next time….
Sunday, January 25, 2009
The graveyard that is my body…
Wow, what a couple of days. I left for Pondicherry, the former French colony, speeding away on my motorbike full of excitement and verve only to run out of petrol within about 15 minutes. I wasn’t told and I didn’t check to notice that the petrol tank was on ‘reserve’. Feeling slightly despondent I ground to a halt on the side of the highway baking in the sweltering heat, not looking or feeling quite so cool anymore. As I pushed my hunk of metal along the road, I started thinking about what I could learn from the experience; surely we can learn from all experiences…. A smile came across my face, even a smirk - prepare before setting off on any journey; take full responsibility, and make sure I have the necessary resources to reach my destination!
Luckily a friendly little Tamil chap who spoke absolutely no English signaled me to come with him to one of his friend’s shops – he did understand when I pointed at the petrol tank. Having had a good giggle about what I am not sure, and shared many smiles and even some of my biscuits, I set off once more having filled my tank with just enough petrol to make it a few miles.
The second time I ran out of petrol, another friendly not so little chap on the side of the road helped me to fill up with slightly more petrol, again from a plastic bottle. Only this time, just as I was departing another cheeky chap who spoke no English planted himself on the back of my bike for the ride. He was not my only passenger – I had another 2 people I gave lifts to, including a school kid who did actually speak English – a charming little fellow and cheeky enough to ask me for 1 rupee for having had the privilege of his company. It took me back to the days when I used to hitchhike around the South of England, only I didn’t ask for money! Lesson learned – if you don’t ask you don’t get. Actually he didn’t get either, but full marks for effort!
I did find it funny driving past a sign that said “Accident Zone” – I mean talk about embedded commands. As it happens, there were no signs of any accidents but on my journey – a cheeky monkey, a herd of goats, numerous cows and the odd dog pretty much threw themselves in front of my bike which was made all the more interesting because the breaks did not work very well, certainly not by English standards. Add to that, the fact that whoever made the bike decided to swap the sides where the break and gear-change pedals normally are. So every time I attempted an emergency stop I changed gear instead and every time I wanted to chance gear I’d slow down momentarily as I hit the break!
By day two of traveling on the bike I just about got the hang of it but a lifetime’s habit can be hard to change in a day. Having said that, never underestimate your ability to adapt and learn quickly, especially when its life or death. I think they call that leverage! As Darwin said, it’s survival of the most adaptable, not fittest, that counts. Luckily I was feeling pretty adaptable and so survived the numerous tests I was to face in the next day or so.
I mentioned the other day about some people out here not having hope, namely those who sleep under the stars. But that is not necessarily true. I believe that people here have more hope and faith than many people in England, but those that sleep rough and have nothing; I do wonder how much hope they have. I can’t answer that but I do wonder.
Having not eaten all day and feeling quite sunburnt I eventually arrived at the international community of Auroville – a project in ‘human unity’ - late in the afternoon having left the chaos of Pondicherry. Auroville was a somewhat surreal place… 80 rural settlements spread over 20k, about 1800 residents from 38 different nationalities of which two thirds are foreign. Each settlement has its own area of interest and expertise but I didn’t stay long, just long enough to have a portion of chips. I felt more at home in Pondy.
As I left Auroville to head back into the commotion of Pondicherry for the evening my horn failed. I counted how many horns I could hear within a 30 second period in Chennai and got to 67 before it became overwhelming and impossible to keep count – they love their horns out here! And I had lost mine, which actually put me at a serious disadvantage and also in peril. Without a horn you can’t make people aware of impending disaster or potential accidents that are around every corner. I resorted to revving my single cylinder engine as much as I could to get noticed, and not run over. It worked. And people also thought I was a madman so gave me an extra wide birth!
I passed a cow in the middle of the road which very nearly relieved herself all over me… luckily I evaded that with a big swerve into oncoming traffic. I’m sure I probably missed some sacred experience and would have been blessed for many lifetimes had I succumbed to the offering but instinct got the better of me.
I spent the first part of the evening alone on the sea front occasionally staring up at the stars and thinking of all the endless possibilities that lay ahead for me, and all of us on this journey.
“Buddhists believe that we live our ever day lives as if inside an eggshell. Just as an unhatched chick has few clues as to what life is truly like, most of us are only vaguely aware of the greater world that surrounds us. Excitement and depression, fortune and misfortune, pleasure and pain,” wrote Dhammapada scholar Eknath Easwaran, “are storms in a tiny, private, shell-bound realm – which we take to be the whole of existence. Yet we can break out of this shell and enter a new world”.
Having spent the evening with a very kind Tamil whose name I can’t remember and a couple of young Russian girls, one of which didn’t speak any English I took a rickshaw home at about midnight. I had a monkey attack me as I walked to find a rickshaw – I had to fend him off with my water bottle. It did occur to me that maybe I should have got my rabies jab!
The rickshaw driver, or rather rider, like most people I have met recently in Tamil Nadu spoke no English and was towing me, a cart, bicycle frame and himself along, all the time pedaling with bare feet! Judging by the look of him and the rickshaw, I suspect he was going to be sleeping on the side of the road. He forced his way for what seemed like miles across town. He had no idea where he was going so I eventually ended up getting out and taking a motorized auto. Despite haggling a good price with the barefoot rider and him taking me in completely the wrong direction, I felt pity on him and gave him the original price he quoted and a pack of biscuits. He didn’t say thank you, but then he didn't speak English.
I had a large buffet lunch the following day having had a fairly lazy morning interspersed with exploring the craziness that is Pondicherry and the market rich with magical colours; fruits and vegetables; smells, spices and inquisitive smiles. After lunch I fell asleep in the park shaded by palm trees. On waking from my slumber I set off on my return journey to Mamallaparum.
About 35ks from home the clutch on the bike went. I was once again stranded, but still smiling. Eventually the chap from the motorbike shop turned up and we swapped bikes. Unbelievably I ran out of petrol again, on his bike this time! Someone stopped to help again. To be honest I was laughing, chuckling to myself at what an ordeal the whole bike saga had been. Even trying to start the Enfield on occasion took in excess of five minutes, and the bottom of my right foot is testament to that with the bruising and punishment it took in trying to kick start the forsaken machine.
It was dusk, the graveyard shift, although I didn’t yet know that. I decided that I had to make it home before it got dark so that I could keep wearing my sunglasses and protect my eyes from getting bugs in them as I rode home. But as the darkness closed in I found myself in something of a horror film, but this time I was the vicious maniacal murderer. I must have killed hundreds if not thousands of bugs with my bare face, arms and chest in that twenty minute ride home. Minute after minute the onslaught continued and even now I can feel my face wincing at the thought. It was pretty painful too. Bugs flying into your cheeks, forehead and arms at 40-50 miles an hour can pack a pretty good punch, especially the big ones!
And yet it was a fight against time, to get home quickly while there was still some light, so I could wear my sunglasses to protect me from the bugs. So I had to go faster and kill more. Oh, the graveyard that is my body…
Until next time….
Luckily a friendly little Tamil chap who spoke absolutely no English signaled me to come with him to one of his friend’s shops – he did understand when I pointed at the petrol tank. Having had a good giggle about what I am not sure, and shared many smiles and even some of my biscuits, I set off once more having filled my tank with just enough petrol to make it a few miles.
The second time I ran out of petrol, another friendly not so little chap on the side of the road helped me to fill up with slightly more petrol, again from a plastic bottle. Only this time, just as I was departing another cheeky chap who spoke no English planted himself on the back of my bike for the ride. He was not my only passenger – I had another 2 people I gave lifts to, including a school kid who did actually speak English – a charming little fellow and cheeky enough to ask me for 1 rupee for having had the privilege of his company. It took me back to the days when I used to hitchhike around the South of England, only I didn’t ask for money! Lesson learned – if you don’t ask you don’t get. Actually he didn’t get either, but full marks for effort!
I did find it funny driving past a sign that said “Accident Zone” – I mean talk about embedded commands. As it happens, there were no signs of any accidents but on my journey – a cheeky monkey, a herd of goats, numerous cows and the odd dog pretty much threw themselves in front of my bike which was made all the more interesting because the breaks did not work very well, certainly not by English standards. Add to that, the fact that whoever made the bike decided to swap the sides where the break and gear-change pedals normally are. So every time I attempted an emergency stop I changed gear instead and every time I wanted to chance gear I’d slow down momentarily as I hit the break!
By day two of traveling on the bike I just about got the hang of it but a lifetime’s habit can be hard to change in a day. Having said that, never underestimate your ability to adapt and learn quickly, especially when its life or death. I think they call that leverage! As Darwin said, it’s survival of the most adaptable, not fittest, that counts. Luckily I was feeling pretty adaptable and so survived the numerous tests I was to face in the next day or so.
I mentioned the other day about some people out here not having hope, namely those who sleep under the stars. But that is not necessarily true. I believe that people here have more hope and faith than many people in England, but those that sleep rough and have nothing; I do wonder how much hope they have. I can’t answer that but I do wonder.
Having not eaten all day and feeling quite sunburnt I eventually arrived at the international community of Auroville – a project in ‘human unity’ - late in the afternoon having left the chaos of Pondicherry. Auroville was a somewhat surreal place… 80 rural settlements spread over 20k, about 1800 residents from 38 different nationalities of which two thirds are foreign. Each settlement has its own area of interest and expertise but I didn’t stay long, just long enough to have a portion of chips. I felt more at home in Pondy.
As I left Auroville to head back into the commotion of Pondicherry for the evening my horn failed. I counted how many horns I could hear within a 30 second period in Chennai and got to 67 before it became overwhelming and impossible to keep count – they love their horns out here! And I had lost mine, which actually put me at a serious disadvantage and also in peril. Without a horn you can’t make people aware of impending disaster or potential accidents that are around every corner. I resorted to revving my single cylinder engine as much as I could to get noticed, and not run over. It worked. And people also thought I was a madman so gave me an extra wide birth!
I passed a cow in the middle of the road which very nearly relieved herself all over me… luckily I evaded that with a big swerve into oncoming traffic. I’m sure I probably missed some sacred experience and would have been blessed for many lifetimes had I succumbed to the offering but instinct got the better of me.
I spent the first part of the evening alone on the sea front occasionally staring up at the stars and thinking of all the endless possibilities that lay ahead for me, and all of us on this journey.
“Buddhists believe that we live our ever day lives as if inside an eggshell. Just as an unhatched chick has few clues as to what life is truly like, most of us are only vaguely aware of the greater world that surrounds us. Excitement and depression, fortune and misfortune, pleasure and pain,” wrote Dhammapada scholar Eknath Easwaran, “are storms in a tiny, private, shell-bound realm – which we take to be the whole of existence. Yet we can break out of this shell and enter a new world”.
Having spent the evening with a very kind Tamil whose name I can’t remember and a couple of young Russian girls, one of which didn’t speak any English I took a rickshaw home at about midnight. I had a monkey attack me as I walked to find a rickshaw – I had to fend him off with my water bottle. It did occur to me that maybe I should have got my rabies jab!
The rickshaw driver, or rather rider, like most people I have met recently in Tamil Nadu spoke no English and was towing me, a cart, bicycle frame and himself along, all the time pedaling with bare feet! Judging by the look of him and the rickshaw, I suspect he was going to be sleeping on the side of the road. He forced his way for what seemed like miles across town. He had no idea where he was going so I eventually ended up getting out and taking a motorized auto. Despite haggling a good price with the barefoot rider and him taking me in completely the wrong direction, I felt pity on him and gave him the original price he quoted and a pack of biscuits. He didn’t say thank you, but then he didn't speak English.
I had a large buffet lunch the following day having had a fairly lazy morning interspersed with exploring the craziness that is Pondicherry and the market rich with magical colours; fruits and vegetables; smells, spices and inquisitive smiles. After lunch I fell asleep in the park shaded by palm trees. On waking from my slumber I set off on my return journey to Mamallaparum.
About 35ks from home the clutch on the bike went. I was once again stranded, but still smiling. Eventually the chap from the motorbike shop turned up and we swapped bikes. Unbelievably I ran out of petrol again, on his bike this time! Someone stopped to help again. To be honest I was laughing, chuckling to myself at what an ordeal the whole bike saga had been. Even trying to start the Enfield on occasion took in excess of five minutes, and the bottom of my right foot is testament to that with the bruising and punishment it took in trying to kick start the forsaken machine.
It was dusk, the graveyard shift, although I didn’t yet know that. I decided that I had to make it home before it got dark so that I could keep wearing my sunglasses and protect my eyes from getting bugs in them as I rode home. But as the darkness closed in I found myself in something of a horror film, but this time I was the vicious maniacal murderer. I must have killed hundreds if not thousands of bugs with my bare face, arms and chest in that twenty minute ride home. Minute after minute the onslaught continued and even now I can feel my face wincing at the thought. It was pretty painful too. Bugs flying into your cheeks, forehead and arms at 40-50 miles an hour can pack a pretty good punch, especially the big ones!
And yet it was a fight against time, to get home quickly while there was still some light, so I could wear my sunglasses to protect me from the bugs. So I had to go faster and kill more. Oh, the graveyard that is my body…
Until next time….
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
In search of sunrise
I have just finished reading Shantaram, all 932 pages of it; one of the most intensely rich and emotional journeys I have been on while reading. On closing the book I feel a sense of mixed emotions bubbling inside me but a release from the never ending rollercoaster I felt while reading that book – the incredible strife and pain which those people endured in this magical country, India, which I now find myself it.
Having slept only 3 ½ hours last night, I woke before dawn at around 4am. I fumbled my way to the aircraft that was to carry me across the breathtaking scenery and mountains of southern India. Perhaps it was no more beautiful or dramatic than any other scenery I have seen from an aeroplane but for some reason today, alone and in my tired and emotionally sensitive state it seemed to catch something deep inside me that wanted to love and be loved. I found myself reading and reading and reading – on that rollercoaster - feeling a deep and profound sense of gratitude and joy only to be followed by numbness, a dull aching from the loss of love in my life some months ago. I still grieve that loss now.
While my life moves on and I am set free, excited, and inspired by the unfolding magic that is all around us, today has been one of those tired days, much of it caught up in the rollercoaster of Shantaram or reminiscing the past like a fish struggling in vain to break free from a tangled net.
And yet I know deep in my heart that I am free. It was brought home to me every time I read those stories of suffering and strife in Shantaram, or when I see the enormous disparity between rich and poor out here, between my life and theirs. I do not need to work for a living out here. I can enjoy eating in restaurants, talking to loved ones on the phone and travelling by aeroplane; watching the mountains cut through the beautiful yet desolate patchwork below me, and the wisps of cloud mirroring back to me my freedom, my ability to just let go. And all the while others sleep under moonlight, on the side of the street, with nothing – no home, no healthcare, and perhaps worst of all, no hope.
And so I continue to let go… and just trust.
Having landed safely I find myself in a taxi with no seat belts hurtling through the organized anarchy of Chennai while children play on rubbish tips, or perhaps they are scavenging. And I trust, I have no choice but to trust. That’s the difference between faith and fear – choosing to trust. But sometimes we have no choice but to trust. I love those exhilarating adventures where we have no choice than to trust, to go with the flow. Perhaps that’s what life is all about, an exhilarating adventure where we have no choice but to trust.
Eventually I reach the beach in Mamallapuram which has fishermen, and dogs, and cows and people, and street vendors and tourists and the wind rushing up off the Indian Ocean into my face kissing me with warmth and a waking freshness. And I am deeply grateful. All the emotions I have are merely expressions of love, for love is the place that allows all other emotions to flourish.
Tomorrow I set off early, in search of sunrise and Pondicherry on a 350 Enfield Bullet, only the 3rd time I have ridden a motorbike since I crushed two vertebrae in my spine some 12 years ago. Trust… At least I chose somewhere safe in the world to get back on the old horse… where they drive so sensibly!
Until next time…
Having slept only 3 ½ hours last night, I woke before dawn at around 4am. I fumbled my way to the aircraft that was to carry me across the breathtaking scenery and mountains of southern India. Perhaps it was no more beautiful or dramatic than any other scenery I have seen from an aeroplane but for some reason today, alone and in my tired and emotionally sensitive state it seemed to catch something deep inside me that wanted to love and be loved. I found myself reading and reading and reading – on that rollercoaster - feeling a deep and profound sense of gratitude and joy only to be followed by numbness, a dull aching from the loss of love in my life some months ago. I still grieve that loss now.
While my life moves on and I am set free, excited, and inspired by the unfolding magic that is all around us, today has been one of those tired days, much of it caught up in the rollercoaster of Shantaram or reminiscing the past like a fish struggling in vain to break free from a tangled net.
And yet I know deep in my heart that I am free. It was brought home to me every time I read those stories of suffering and strife in Shantaram, or when I see the enormous disparity between rich and poor out here, between my life and theirs. I do not need to work for a living out here. I can enjoy eating in restaurants, talking to loved ones on the phone and travelling by aeroplane; watching the mountains cut through the beautiful yet desolate patchwork below me, and the wisps of cloud mirroring back to me my freedom, my ability to just let go. And all the while others sleep under moonlight, on the side of the street, with nothing – no home, no healthcare, and perhaps worst of all, no hope.
And so I continue to let go… and just trust.
Having landed safely I find myself in a taxi with no seat belts hurtling through the organized anarchy of Chennai while children play on rubbish tips, or perhaps they are scavenging. And I trust, I have no choice but to trust. That’s the difference between faith and fear – choosing to trust. But sometimes we have no choice but to trust. I love those exhilarating adventures where we have no choice than to trust, to go with the flow. Perhaps that’s what life is all about, an exhilarating adventure where we have no choice but to trust.
Eventually I reach the beach in Mamallapuram which has fishermen, and dogs, and cows and people, and street vendors and tourists and the wind rushing up off the Indian Ocean into my face kissing me with warmth and a waking freshness. And I am deeply grateful. All the emotions I have are merely expressions of love, for love is the place that allows all other emotions to flourish.
Tomorrow I set off early, in search of sunrise and Pondicherry on a 350 Enfield Bullet, only the 3rd time I have ridden a motorbike since I crushed two vertebrae in my spine some 12 years ago. Trust… At least I chose somewhere safe in the world to get back on the old horse… where they drive so sensibly!
Until next time…
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