On the morning of the third day I was in Nepal, as returned back to my guesthouse, I found my guide waiting for me.  Although I was not going to be able to do the Annapurna trek as I had hoped, he did have an alternate suggestion.  I could fly to Pokhara, a lake town at the foot of the Annapurna range, and trek up to the Annapurna base camp.  It’s a popular trek and, although not what I really wanted (it’s heavily traveled and not off the beaten path the way Annapurna I is) I decided it was worth a try.

It’s funny, though, how we take for granted certain things in this country.  Things like credit cards.  Although I’d brought some cash into the country, I didn’t have enough cash on hand to pay for domestic flights (I prefer Yeti Air to Sherpa Airlines…. and I’m not kidding about those names), pay for my guide, and for lodging and food.  Being a good American consumer, though, I pulled out my trusty gold card.  No dice.  Most businesses in Nepal require a call to a bank for an authorization code on a credit card transaction.  As it was, the airlines were surreptitiously open… you had to know someone who knows someone.  On top of that – the banks were closed.  I could pay for my domestic flights in cash, but not with a credit card.

My guide and I then tried to procure more cash.  Nepal has ATMs, and there is even an ATM in Jomsom, up in the mountains.  Just go to any corner, right?  Wrong.  In Nepal, ATMs are in bank lobbies.  Banks were, remember, closed.  One or two banks, we found, had left side doors open with a guard nearby.  You could go in (trying not to draw TOO much attention to yourself) and use the ATM.  HOWEVER.  Because of the situation, banks had programmed the ATMs to dispense only 10,000 Nepali Rupee at a time.  At that time, that was about $144.  I needed three times that.  So, I did two withdrawals.  I was about to do a third when a chilling thought occurred to me.  Although I’d notified my credit union that I’d be in Nepal, three transactions for exactly the same amount within 10 minutes in a foreign country would – I WOULD HOPE – trigger some kind of flag on my account.  Did I try risking it?  Would I end up with a frozen account?

This is where things started to get a little dicey in my mind.

“Wait a second,” I thought to myself.  “You’re going all over town, trying to raise cash, to book a flight that might be canceled at the last minute (the Nepali papers were reporting that 50% of domestic flights were being canceled due to the bandh) to go out to one of the remote parts of the country, where there have been documented cases of violence.  If you get there, what’s to say you can get back to Kathmandu?  What if the bandh is still on then?  What if you get there, can’t get back, AND THEN CAN’T GET CASH?”

You know how the practice teaches you to watch fear and anxiety arise, to witness it and encompass it, neither denying it nor shying away from it?  Boy.  I was really glad I paid attention that day.  Because this was starting to get a little too real.

I told my guide I needed to think for a minute.  We walked, and I weighed out my options.  Do I go, and risk it?  Doesn’t opening to grace involve a bit risk sometimes?  Did I come all this way, just to not see the mountains?  Could I live with that?  Do I want to be the guy that traveled halfway around the world and then let a Maoist General Strike keep him from his goal?

As I walked, I did my best to breathe deeply.  Breathing deeply in Kathmandu can be a challenge, between the pollution and the different levels of sanitation.  I do not suggest breathing deeply by the rivers.  I thought about Douglas Brooks’ statement on the Gita:  “No matter what we are doing or where we find ourselves, we can, and indeed we must, create an experience of alignment.”

What, I asked myself, is the experience of alignment here?  Do I stay in Kathmandu and return home, or do I go on a trek that involves a number of risks?

Understand that through all of this, there was a physical sensation of longing to see the mountains that was so intense as to be painful.  I was so close.  I knew that one quick flight would put me in sight of Macchupuchare.  And I want to see that mountain again so much, even now, as I type this sitting at my desk in San Francisco, that my breath becomes tight.  This is what it is to love the Himalayas.

I was aware, as I considered my decision, that I was already dangerously close to being dominated by scarcity thinking:  that there will not be enough, that I will not have this opportunity again, that this would be my last chance to see the Himalayas.  I’d recognized the impulse to scarcity thinking the night before, when I, like all the other tourists, was busy buying food while the bandh was suspended for two hours.  I found myself buying things I would never even consider eating were I at home, driven by a “what if the stores don’t open tomorrow” mentality.  I mean seriously:  strawberry Oreos?  (That having been said, add Strawberry Quik to the filling of an Oreo and you have  something at once grossly processed and overly sweet as well as AWESOME.)  I’d bought eight liters of bottled water, just in case (I was going through 3 a day in the heat).

So, scarcity thinking was the first thing I had to tackle.  Yes, I’d made a considerable number of financial sacrifices in order to fund this trip.  There would be no other vacations or trips this year and probably not next, either.  I’d foregone doing yoga teacher training.  I didn’t consider going to Bali with Laura Christensen, to Costa Rica with Stacey Rosenberg, or to Mexico with Darcy Lyon.  I wouldn’t be returning to Wanderlust, and would probably have to stay in San Francisco for both Thanksgiving and Christmas.  Those were not good reasons to put myself in a precarious position.  And there would be other opportunities to return to the mountains and, even if I never made it back to Nepal, there are still the Canadian Rockies and the Patagonias in my own hemisphere to explore.  Scarcity thinking could not dominate this decision.

I also had to tackle the story I was constructing about how I think of myself.  I didn’t want to be the guy that gets back early, that took the safe route.  I wanted to be the guy that scoffs at political instability and privation and hardship and still has a great time.  I WANTED TO BE INDIANA JONES.

Okay, not really.  But I say that to be honest about the level of bouncing around my mind was doing as I walked around Kathmandu, considering my choices.  On my last trip to Nepal, I read the Shiva Sutras.  I’ll be honest – I didn’t understand most of it.  And two years later and a workshop with two of the foremost authorities on the subject, Douglas Brooks and Mark Dyczkowski, I still only understand parts of it.  But the second sutra, “jnainam bandh,” “Knowledge is bondage,” is something that has resonated with me since I first read it in a town south of Kathmandu, Pharping, near the principal Kali temple of Nepal, Dakshinkali.  How does what I think I know about myself limit and bind me?  So much of my last trip to Nepal was about identifying those things I thought I knew about myself and tackling them (to wit:  I’m too old for a career change; I’m not smart enough to go into medicine, even as a nurse; I’ve wasted so much of my life on trivialities).  There is another application of this sutra, though: to what knowledge do we choose to bind ourselves?  What understanding of myself would I be binding myself to by going home?

Having dealt with the scarcity thinking and these silly ideas I was binding myself to (“go home now and you are going home a milquetoast fool that didn’t have the gumption (not really the words I used, but this is a family-friendly blog) to go after your goals”), I asked myself how I would counsel a friend in this instance.

“Duh!”  I said to myself.  “Go home.  You can come back when the time is right.  Or you can go someplace else.  Both are perfectly acceptable choices.  The mountains will always be there.  And this will not be your last chance.  Even if you never come back to Nepal, there are still many wonderful and beautiful things to see in this world.”

And with that, I started to make arrangements to come home.

___________________________

I wish I could say that it was all shri and rainbows from there on out.  Being human, I second guessed (and third, and fourth, and, well, you get it) myself repeatedly.  But I still managed to have a blast in Kathmandu, especially on the last two days I was there when – you guessed it – the bandh was called off.  There was another few hours of considering whether I could re-change my plans but they involved canceling my return flight, going on a trek, coming back to Kathmandu and hoping I could get a flight out on a date that reasonably approximated my original date to be back at work.  All while hoping that the bandh would not be reinstated (the first one being, according to Maoist party leadership, a “dress rehearsal”).  I was ready to go home.

Boudhanath

And have a blast I did:  I got to see all of the places in Kathmandu I’d wanted to see again so badly.  I went to Swayambunath,  one of two major Buddhist stupas in Kathmandu, known as the “Monkey Temple” because of the troops of monkeys that live at the temple and thrive off of the prasad (the food offerings) left there.  I also went to Boudhanath, the other major Buddhist stupa in Kathmandu, that has, for centuries, been a pilgrimage site for Tibetan Buddhists.  It is a place that radiates peace.

My last meal in Nepal: daal bhaat, black eyed peas, saag, and veggies

With restaurants open once again, I also ate my weight in vegetable pakora, momos (momos are the Nepali version of Chinese dumplings), and the national dish of Nepal, daal bhaat.  Daal bhaat is comprised of yellow lentils and rice.  May you one day be so lucky as to have a huge platter of daal bhaat before you, preferably after a long day of trekking in the mountains, when it will taste best.

I also took a ton of taxi rides for no other reason then to take taxi rides, taxi rides in Kathmandu being one of my principal delights in life.  It’s funny:  I don’t particularly enjoy roller coaster rides, which is sort of like a taxi ride in Kathmandu.  At the risk of overstating, traffic laws are more notional then a sociological reality in Nepal.  There are traffic lanes, sort of, and traffic lights in places, and well, in the end, taxi drivers go full speed and you are often sure you are going to go through the windshield in a crash when, at the last minute, drivers headed straight towards each other somehow seem to find space on the narrow roads to avoid collision.  I find this thrilling beyond words.

On my last day I made two pilgrimages.  The first was to Pharping, a small town south of Kathmandu.  It is the site of Dakshinkali Temple.  This is the temple to Kali of the South.  It is also the site of Dakshinkali Mai.  Dakshinkali Mai is a Nepali deity, a swayambu (self-arisen) rock formation which is revered as a form of the devi, in this case, the Mother (Mai) of Kali.  I spent a good amount of time there on my last trip, as the friend I was visiting had done quite a bit of research there.  She even arranged to allow me to offer puja – a rare honor, as ordinarily non-Hindus are not allowed in Nepali temples.  I meditated outside of the Dakshinkali temple, and wondered what my return home would bring.  At Dakshinkali Mai, I offered the pujari (the priestess) an offering of Nepali rupee, and in return she annointed my forehead with tikka.

My second pilgrimage was back to Pashupatinath.  I must have spent more than an hour there, simply sitting across the river from the temple complex, praying and watching.  There were several cremations going on.  I don’t know how long a cremation lasts from start to finish; I doubted that the one I had watched at the start of the week was still going.  I also watched as two attendants bathed the body of a recently deceased woman in the river, preparing her for the funerary rites.  At Pashupatinath I was not left with any questioning:  I knew, and know, that I will be back there.  Pashupatinath has been the site of some of my greatest spiritual openings and shifts.  I will be returning again and again, as opportunity and financial means allow.

I had one last thing I needed to do.  I’d not forgotten the envelope I’d prepared before my journey, which held the names of people dear to me whom I had intended to carry in my heart as a way of strengthening myself for what was to be a grueling physical challenge.  I’d carried that envelope with me now halfway around the world and all over Kathmandu.  I wouldn’t be leaving it at Thorung-La, the highest point on the Annapurna trek, as I’d hoped.  Neither would I be leaving it at Annapurna base camp.  I considered keeping it, a reminder of how we prepare for the unknown, the difficult, and how we attempt to seek alignment in the midst of uncertainty.

But I knew I would carry these lessons – that we must examine those thoughts and values to which we bind ourselves; that we have the opportunity and invitation to seek alignment in every situation, even the most unlikely or challenging; that when attempting something difficult, holding those you love in your heart can be an amazing source of strength – I would carry these lessons with me always.  And so instead of leaving the envelope at the at Thorung-La, high upon the mountain as I had hoped, I approached one of the many white stone pagodas, and placed it there, reverently, in front of the Shiva-linga it housed.  It was my offering to Nepal, to the people named in that envelope whom I carry in my heart, and to the experience of opening to Grace and finding alignment under difficult circumstances.

There is only Grace. There is only Love.

_______________________________

These posts are dedicated with great love and gratitude to my teachers, to the San Francisco Bay Area Anusara Kula, and to the people of Nepal.  There is only Grace; there is only Love.

Related posts:

1. Opening to Grace in Nepal: Part 1
2. Opening to Grace in Nepal: Part 2

This year’s 2nd Annual Wanderlust Festival in Squaw Valley, CA, was a remarkable event. A noteworthy feature of Wanderlust was Village Anusara, which was a large area of the festival grounds celebrating Anusara and the Arts. Village Anusara was a stunning array of delights, including slackliners, hula hoopers, and AcroYogis. There were light boxes of beautiful photographs lighting the pathway to an art gallery called Dialect from Los Angeles. Dialect displayed fine art for sale in a beautifully constructed and impressive temporary building/tent.

Sianna and Hareesh performing the installation of Shiva Natarāj with light boxes in the background

There was earth-art, à la Andy Goldsworthy, which made use of stones, pine cones, branches and other materials such as lights and fabrics. A group of us, led by Tantra and Sanskrit scholar Hareesh Wallis, performed pradakshina around the earth-art with Shiva Nataraj placed in the center to consecrate and pay homage to the sacred grounds and to honor Village Anusara at Wanderlust.

John Friend in handstand at Village Anusara entrance

As visitors walked under the beautiful archway which read, “Village Anusara, Community of the Heart”, Dr. Manoj Chalam who was just to the right, was tending to his booth of Murti’s for sale. Alongside Manoj was the Shrī -tail, an affectionate name for Retail with Shrī (Divine beauty). Just down the way, there was the Tea “house” called Om Shan Tea which created a great bhava of bohemian San Francisco meets South Asian influences with side by side and overlapping Oriental and Persian rugs covering the bare earth under an artful white tent. A few steps down in Village Anusara was the Anusara Pavilion, an amazing outdoor domed tent for asana practice, complete with a stage. In this space, DJ Drez spun wicked hooks that inspired the hula hoopers, AcroYogis, and dancers to come out and play.

All of the artfulness enticed John Friend, Founder of Anusara Yoga, to make a surprise visit to Wanderlust. Originally, he was not on the scheduled line-up, though he ended up giving a talk at the Speakeasy on Saturday afternoon and at the Tantric Fireside Chat with Hareesh Wallis and Sianna Sherman on Saturday night. After John, Sianna, and Hareesh spoke, I felt so full of light and radiant inside, so connected into myself, and full of love. I felt remarkably blessed to be in such great company with such wonderful teachers. The way that these three maha teachers spoke so eloquently on stage was magical, inspiring, and uplifting to the highest. Two of my takeaways from the talk was that this practice is a joyful discipline, and if you orient yourself to the Divine, good things will happen. Hareesh taught that if you are fully present to the reality of what is, while seeking to see the shrī in it, you will tap into ānanda.

It was my great pleasure and honor to interview John while at Wanderlust at the midway point of his 2010 “Melt your Heart, Blow your Mind” world tour. In the videos below, John speaks about Wanderlust, his recent trip to Europe, and the NY Times Article.

(If you’re reading via email or rss, please visit the blog for the video.)

Video 1: What is your history/ relationship with Wanderlust and one of its Founders, Jeff Krasno? What is Village Anusara and how did it come to be?

Video 2: How was Europe?  Did your trip to Europe influence your vision for Anusara? Discussion on New Media and Anusara in China.

Video 3: What is your reaction / response to the NY Times article? Do you have any additional thoughts to share that may have occurred to you after your blog post response?

Video 4: How are you going to spend your time at Wanderlust? What is in the pipeline for you? Bonus Discussion of Bhakti yoga.

Many thanks and heartfelt pranams to Creative Director for Anusara, Dave Kennedy (DK) and crew, whose vision and creation of Village Anusara was a wonderful success, and Katrina Knudsen, Communication Relations Representative for Anusara without whom this blog post may not have been possible. Maha Pranams to John Friend for being an amazing teacher and without whom this blog, Bay Shakti, would not have a reason to be.

To find out more about Anusara, please visit Anusara’s website. To keep up with John on Facebook, “Like” John Friend, Founder Anusara Yoga ‘s new Facebook Page. You can also follow John on Twitter at @anusarafriend.

Related posts:

1. Village Anusara at The Wanderlust Festival 2010
2. Wanderlust Festival Photos, 2010
3. Wanderlust Teacher of the Week-John Friend

Wanderlust Festival and Village Anusara  – Yoga. Music. Nature

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Related posts:

1. Village Anusara at The Wanderlust Festival 2010
2. Esalen’s 6th Annual Yoga Festival (Photos)
3. Interview with John Friend at Wanderlust

Updated : See end of post

KK in Dragonfly by faernworks

Consider this your civic Anusara duty.

While we really wished our friend KK Ledford was here again with us at The Wanderlust Festival, at least we know she’s holding it down for hotness back in SF.

7X7 Magazine in San Francisco just put out The Hot 20 2010 Reader’s Choice Nominees and KK is on the list.

Let’s help send KK to the next round of finalists. You can vote for the first of three rounds right now by following this link and finding her at lucky number 13.

The first round of top 20 finalists will be chosen on August 2nd. You can vote once for each round.

Full details and voting can be found here on 7X7 Magazine’s site:

You hear that the Bay Area is a hotbed of creativity and innovation a lot. So much, in fact, that it’s easy to get a little jaded on the subject. But it’s true, we live in a community brimming with do-gooders, entrepreneurs and risk takers, as evidenced by the extremely impressive group of Hot 20 Reader’s Choice nominees below. So read their quick stats, get inspired and then vote on who you think we should feature as the Readers’ Choice Winner in our October Hot 20 Under 40 issue, an annual celebration of the city’s 20 most up-and-coming movers and shakers under 40. (Check out the 2009 Hot 20 Under 40 class here)

We have so many great nominees that we’ve decided to do rounds of voting (your votes will only be counted once for each round).

August 2: 20 Finalists

August 5: 10 Finalists

August 9: 5 Finalists

August 11: Reader’s Choice Winner Announced

Vote now and share below

Good luck KK!

Updated on 8/02/2010:

We just heard that KK has made it to the next round of top 20 finalists. Time to vote again! Whether you voted for the first round or not, click here to vote KK Ledford into the next round of top 10 finalists.

Vote NOW! KK is number 8 on the voting list.

Updated on 8/06/2010:

Time to vote again for KK. She has made it into round 3 of the top 10 finalists and needs our support. Again, this is a new round of voting and your vote counts whether you voted once before or not. Click here a let’s send KK Ledford to next and final round of top 5 finalists.

Vote NOW! – KK is number 5 on the voting list.

Updated on 8/09/2010:

While KK did not make it to the Top 5, she’s very gracious for everyone’s support. Find out more about her at Wild Moon Wisdom.

Related posts:

1. KK Ledford at The Wanderlust Festival

Wow! Did the end of July sneak up on us quick or what?

Village Anusara at Wanderlust

The Wanderlust Festival starts tomorrow and you know what? If you haven’t bought a ticket, you’d better act quick, Friday and Saturday yoga passes just sold out.

If you’re leaving the mat at home and just checking out the music, Daytripper passes are still available, but if you are interested in yoga, Thursday and Sunday are now your best bets.

Today, team Bay Shakti is loading up the Shakti Sedan and heading up to Squaw Valley. We’ve had this adventure planned for some time and given our history with the Wanderlust Festival, we’ve been very excited about returning for year two.

If that weren’t enough, Wanderlust has something special for Anusara enthusiasts with making Village Anusara part of the splendor.

From the PR release we received from Anusara:

Village Anusara Makes First Appearance at Wanderlust Yoga & Music Festival, Celebrating Yoga and Diverse Creative Expression

Internationally renowned certified Anusara yoga teachers Sianna Sherman, Elena Brower and the Anusara yoga community join artists, musicians and others for three days that inspire and delight the mind, body and spirit

THE WOODLANDS, TX (July 27, 2010) — Debuting for the first time, Village Anusara comes to Wanderlust Yoga and Music Festival. Not only a setting for certified Anusara® yoga teachers Sianna Sherman, Elena Brower and others to lead the world-renowned hatha style yoga classes, Village Anusara celebrates the diversity in creative expression that flourishes when deeply rooted in a hatha yoga practice. Among the multi-faceted experiences that will live alongside yoga within Village Anusara include live mural painting of Hindu iconography; hoop dancing with the nation’s leading ‘hoopers’; balancing on a slackline with the YogaSlackers; learning to fly (or be flown) with AcroYoga co-founders Jason & Jenny; ‘upcycling’ with interactive sowing stations at the prAna General Store; and perusing the Dialect Art Gallery featuring work from up-and-coming modern artists.

“Deeply honored to be apart of this truly unique experience, we – the Anusara community – celebrate the creative self-expression and inspiration that is informed by our yoga practice,” said John Friend, founder of Anusara yoga. “By embracing our individuality and creative freedom, we are empowered to channel our energy into an array of different inspired expressions – and with Village Anusara together we create a ‘community of the Heart.’”

“To return to Wanderlust and bask in the sounds, sunshine, and spaciousness is one thing, but to have the Village Anusara this year as our home base – where we can play, practice and celebrate in such great company – is an incredible treat,” said Elena Brower, a world-renowned certified Anusara yoga teacher.

“The Wanderlust experience opens doorways for powerful vibrations, making an imprint on your soul for years to come,” said Sianna Sherman, a world-renowned certified Anusara yoga teacher. “It’s a profound gathering of wondrous beings who devote themselves to the synergy of yoga, music and nature where everyone is invited to breathe deeply, dance freely and live passionately. Come join the gypsy caravan and sing together as one.”

Village Anusara

Like I said, we’re totally psyched to catch up with the Kula and play in Village Anusara. If you see us around, be sure to say hi. One way to connect with us is @bayshakti on Twitter. With that said, if you’re on Twitter, you’ll want to follow #wanderlust and #villageanusara tags as well.

As always, one of our aims is to bring you some coverage in the ways of photos and video, so keep an eye out for updates.

Yoga. Music. Nature. What could be better? See you at Squaw in The Lake Tahoe sunshine

Related posts:

1. Wanderlust Festival Photos, 2010
2. Interview with John Friend at Wanderlust
3. The Wanderlust Festival returns for 2010 to Squaw Valley in North Lake Tahoe

MC Yogi

From the moment I heard MC Yogi for the first time last year, Live in San Francisco on Friday, April 17, 2009, I was hooked. It was no surprise then, that Esalen last month would rock the house. With captivating rhythms, catchy and entertaining lyrics, and the fascinating and unlikely marriage of two seemingly irreconcilable worlds–hip-hop and yoga, MC Yogi skillfully unites hip-hop and yoga as though this union has always been around, and if you question these two worlds coming together in this way, you can quickly catch yourself thinking that you are so last year, duh! and that you should really get with the times. MC Yogi is doing truly revolutionary work, helping yogis reconcile their love for hip-hop with their love for yoga, that the two worlds do not have to be mutually exclusive. A true Tantrika, MC is weaving together polarities like nobody’s business! Perhaps more importantly than bringing hip-hop to the yoga world,  MC Yogi brings yoga into the hip-hop world, though the carry over may be small, imagine a world where hood music was regularly infused with some Jai Ganesha music!

There is no part of me that thinks I ought to like MC’s music, I don’t have to convince myself that this is good music, it just is good music.  It is edgy enough to be artistically compelling from a hip-hop perspective, and definitely wholesome enough to be (traditionally) yogic.

Check out the videos from Esalen below! In the first video, MC Yogi answers how his week at Esalen went. In the next 3 videos, MC rocks the shakti with his live performances of my favorite songs, Ganesh is Fresh, Rock on Hanuman, and then a darker and more intense kirtan crescendo of Ganesh is Fresh with Saul David Raye.

(If you are reading this via email or rss, please click here for the videos.)

MC Yogi, how was your week at Esalen?

Ganesh is Fresh, MC Yogi Live in Concert from Esalen

Rock on Hanuaman, MC Yogi Live in Concert from Esalen

Ganesh is Fresh,  Kirtan Version, MC Yogi Live in Concert from Esalen with Saul David Raye

For more MC Yogi, check out his website, http://mcyogi.com and come hear MC Yogi this week at Wanderlust!

Wanderlust Festival: Yoga, Music, Nature
July 29-Aug. 1
Squaw Valley, CA

Related posts:

1. Esalen’s 6th Annual Yoga Festival (Photos)
2. Village Anusara at The Wanderlust Festival 2010
3. The 11th Annual Power To The Peaceful Festival is coming to San Francisco

A couple of hours after the march of the Maoist cadres had moved on, leaving an unsettled feeling in the Thamel (the tourist district), my guide appeared.  He confirmed what I had already figured out:  the bandh was not going to be lifted for at least a couple of days.  I would not be departing for the Annapurna trek on time.  Because of the length of the trek, there was a short window during which I could leave and still ensure a return to Kathmandu in time to make my flight out.  It was not looking like I would be able to complete the trek I for which I’d come to Nepal.

_______________

To Pashupatinath

Although I knew the city of Kathmandu somewhat well now, and could find most of the things I wanted to see on my own, a few sites were either a greater distance from my guesthouse to undertake on my own or in areas that were generally unsettled under the best of times.  Many roads are also not well marked, making navigating via map (which themselves don’t show ever the street) difficult.  I asked him if he could accompany me to Pashupatinath, the primary Shiva temple in Kathmandu and, for that matter, Nepal.  Pashupati is the form of Shiva as Lord of Beasts; the suffix “nath” indicates “the place of.”  Pashupatinath – The Place of Shiva, Lord of Beasts.

It took a little over an hour to reach Pashupatinath by foot.  I was left a little amazed by the walk:  the only, and rare, cars on the street were UN vehicles and ambulances.  For most of the time I was there, the streets of Kathmandu were completely devoid of cars.  This left the streets free for pedestrians, and turned the intersections of major roads into demonstration areas.  At each major intersection, half the intersection was filled with Maoist demonstrators, mostly in their early twenties, many of whom wielded bamboo canes and clubs.  The other half of the intersection was filled with Nepali police and soldiers, some with assault rifles, though some of the younger recruits and police also held bamboo canes and clubs.  At many of the intersections it was possible to skirt around one party or the other, and avoid the clearing between them; at other times, one had no choice but to walk between them, their eyes on you as you traversed the intersection that separated them.

Pashupatinath

Pashupatinath is a complex of temples and public buildings.  Non-Hindus are not allowed into the temples, and don’t bother trying to pull a “I’m a Shiva-dharma observing yogin.”  The temple personnel are pretty clear on this point.  If you are a Westerner, you can observe from across the Bagmati River.

I’d been to Pashupatinath twice on my prior visit, and I knew it had to be the first place I visited on this trip.  On my first trip, I remember contemplating the ghaats – the funeral pyre platforms along the river.  There is a belief that to die and be cremated on the shores of the Bagmati River, a tributary of the Ganges, is to escape the cycle of samskara.  There is, for lack of a better, term, a hospice on the grounds of the temple where people go to spend their final days.  On the last day of my prior visit, as I visited Pashupatinath, and watched for a half an hour as funeral pyres burned.   It marked a shift in my approach to life, as it intensified my desire to live fully, savor experiences, and find a way to make my life be of greater service to others.  Understand that this was driven not by a fear of dying – watching the funeral pyre did not inspire a fear of death.  Instead, it inspired a greater appreciation, a deeper love, of life, in all its richness and complexity.

When I arrived at the temple, I made my way to the stone bridge that crosses the Bagmati River to the area available for non-Hindus.  This area is filled with small white stone pagodas, each housing a lingam and a yoni.  Outside of some are stone statues of Nandi, the bull that is Shiva’s mount.  The temple was crowded, and at one of the ghaats funeral rites were just beginning.

The deceased’s body had been wrapped in a shroud, and covered in orange-yellow mums used widely in Nepal for garlands.  A small canopy of a sheer orange-gold fabric had been erected over the pyre, and about thirty or forty people were in attendance.  They anointed and circumambulated the deceased’s body.  A musician was beating a drum, adding to the already febrile quality of the moment; it was hot, the sun was scorching even mid-morning.  The family picked up the body and began a small procession as they carried the body of the deceased in a circumambulation (pradakshina in Sanskrit) around the funeral pyre.  Finally, they rested the body of the deceased back on the pyre and began to douse it in what appeared to be ghee.  An older man, presumably the oldest son of the deceased, came forward, with a younger man guiding him by the elbow.  He lit a taper, and I found myself involuntarily holding my breath.  He performed pradakshina around the funeral pyre once, twice, a third time, and pranammed.  Finally, he held the taper to the mass of flowers covering the body of the deceased.  As the pyre began to burn, the drumming ceased, and a temple monkey screeched in the silence.

“Om namah shivaya, shivaya namah om,” I whispered.

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On Food and Reading

That first day in Nepal set the pattern for most of my stay:  long walks in the morning, often to a temple or historic site, followed by trying to escape the heat of the day by staying at the guesthouse.  From 6 p.m. to 8 p.m. shops would open, which was a blessing.  After my second day, I was unable to obtain hot meals.  Restaurants were closed, and the closures were being enforced by packs of young Maoist youth that would roam the streets, poking their heads into the doors of any business that appeared to be open.  Because the café in my guesthouse faced the street, and was clearly visible from the street, it remained closed, too.  So, during the evenings I would shop for dry food:  granola bars, peanut butter, chips, and crackers.  There were a lot of a sugary foods and sweets available, though I couldn’t quite stomach them.  I was able to find dried apricots in one store, and able to buy fresh bananas from a street vendor once.  There was no other fresh produce to be found and, even if I could, I lacked the iodine solution to make fresh, uncooked vegetables safe to eat.

Since I had a lot of downtime, I was reading quite a bit, including a copy of Eat, Pray, Love I was able to buy at Pilgrim’s Bookstore.  A close friend had gifted me an audio copy of the book for the trip, but because the power sometimes went out at night I was saving the use of my iPod.  If you’ve read it, you know that the author spends the first third of the book eating her way across Italy.  Reading her descriptions of Roman gelato, Neapolitan pizza, and all manner of amazing pasta is a cruel experience when you are dipping granola bars into cheap peanut butter.  To his credit, the friend took me out for a three-course dinner upon my return, but there was a lot of plotting appropriate revenge in the moment.

A note about the reading I did while I was there.  Because I knew that on my trek there would be a fair amount of time to read in the evenings, I’d taken along a copy of the Bhagavad Gita as well as Douglas Brooks’ commentary on the text, Poised for Grace .  I wanted to give both a close read while in the mountains.  I took to reading both, first the chapter in the Gita and then the relevant chapter in the commentary in the mornings and during the heat of the day.

Early in my trip, as I was struggling with hope that bandh would be lifted quickly, worry that I would not be able to leave for my planned trek on time, and dread that I wouldn’t make it out of the capital at all, I came across the following line in Douglas Brooks’ commentary: “No matter what we are doing or where we find ourselves, we can, and indeed we must, create an experience of alignment” (p. 35). I was seated in the abandoned café, and I laughed aloud as I read it, startling one of the guesthouse employees as he walked by on some errand.  I’ve been known to miss subtle points in my day, and am always grateful when the universe is clear in its message.  So, I’d try to seek alignment during this trip, mindful of Grace, even as I traversed those intersections where I had no choice but to walk between Maoists and armed soldiers.  Arjuna was invited to this opportunity, on the battlefield between the opposing forces of the Pandavas and the Kauravas.  I could, after all, at least try.

So, alignment.  As asana is my primary practice, what about yoga during my trip?  I’d not brought a mat, not wanting the extra weight during my trek and figuring I could improvise along the way.  My hotel room was carpeted in an industrial carpeting of some sort that allowed for no traction, and the rooftop terrace where I spent a fair amount of time was tiled in something that seemed to contain ground glass for some reason, so that was out, as well.  I did what I could with forward folds and standing poses, though I was never able to quite achieve the intensity of practice I usually need.  There are a couple of yoga studios in the Thamel but they never opened while the bandha was on, so buying one was out.  (By the way:  there’s a Bikram studio in Kathmandu.  I can only assume they just leave the doors and windows open during the summer?)

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On Ganesha, Hanuman, and Krishna

I had come to Nepal determined to find a statue of Ganesha, one of my ishta devatas, for my puja altar at home.  I have a Nataraj and Mahadeva, one sent by my friend while she lived there and the latter purchased during my first trip to the country.  Ganesha is a popular deity in Kathmandu, and there are small shrines to Ganesha at almost every corner (this is probably one reason why I love Kathmandu so much).  I had hoped to find a Ganesha.  I looked in the shops that carried statues, some of which would open during the evenings, after I’d gone to the market for bottled water and to check, yet again, if there was something fresh, even bread, to be had, besides the dry foods I’d already found.  None was quite right, though, and I’d about given up.  I was in a shop buying a small Tibetan prayer wheel when I spotted, on a high shelf in a corner, not a Ganesha but, rather a Krishna (of course!).  Between the reading of the Gita I was doing and my growing love of bhakti, it was the perfect choice.

Hanuman, curiously, does not seem very popular in Nepal.  There’s a statue of Hanuman in one of the historic sites (the Hanuman Dhoka), whose symbolism I’ve not been able to decipher and not found a good explanation of in any of the books I’ve read (why is he blindfolded?).  There appear to be no roadside shrines to him, nor are there any statues of him in the public areas of Pashupatinath (unlike Ganesha, that has a couple, including his own, smaller temple).  This has always seemed disappointing to me, Hanuman being my other ishta devata.  Among the stories of Hanuman I most love is the tale of how he once leapt across the whole of India, from Lanka to the Himalayas, in search of an herbal cure for the mortally wounded Lakshmana.  I have a postcard with the traditional image of Hanuman carrying Dronagiri Himal as he leaps back to Lanka on my puja altar at home.  As I continue to plod along in my seemingly NEVER ENDING series of prerequisites to go into nursing, this image inspires me (Hanuman leapt across all of India, I can get through anatomy and physiology) to continue forward, and is the image I hold when I consider the kind of hospice nurse I want to be.

One morning while out for my walk, I passed by one of the hospitals in central Kathmandu.  Because there were so few people out, I was walking more slowly than one usually does, and was able to take in more.  There, on the outside of the hospital, was a huge mosaic:  Hanuman leaping back to Lanka, carrying Dronagiri Himal.

I wouldn’t be leaving Nepal with the statue of Ganesha I’d hoped for, but I would be leaving with a statue of Krishna, and picture of Hanuman exactly where he is supposed to be:  on the outside of the hospital.  I carry a copy of that picture in my school binder now.

Hanuman Leaps!

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On Changing Plans…

Although I was finding ways to fill my days with exploring Kathmandu, reading, the study of the Gita, and a bit of asana, I was also restless.  I still hoped to see the mountains!  Early on the morning of my third day there, my guide appeared.  I might be able to get out of Kathmandu, after all.

_______________

To be concluded in Part 3.

Related posts:

1. Opening to Grace in Nepal: Part 3
2. Opening to Grace in Nepal: Part 1

Back in April, I had the opportunity to assist Stacey Rosenberg at the graduation ceremony for her most recent Teacher Training. It was a powerful and moving moment, watching her students – some of whom are friends, some of whom I was meeting for the first time – step across the threshold and more fully into the seat of the teacher.  Some of those graduating are already teaching (some yoga, one dance, one elementary school), some are actively seeking to teach yoga, and some were just looking to deepen their yoga practices.  It was a striking thing, because regardless of whether they go on to serve their communities by teaching yoga or some other discipline, or become certified Anusara teachers, or never teach yoga at all, their commitment and adikara – their studentship, was inspiring.  Stacey’s teacher training involved one weekend a month for six months and hefty homework assignments.  These students had just finished a lot of work, which was reason enough to celebrate.

In watching as the students were handed their certificates by Stacey and anointed with kumkum powder from Chidambaram and water from Ganga-Ma by Hareesh Wallis, I was struck most, I think, by those new teachers who are uncertain if they are going to actively pursue teaching. It is a striking statement of commitment to possibility, to commit the time and resources these students committed, while not knowing for certain that one wants to teach.  It is, I think, an especially beautiful expression of opening to grace, to work hard to prepare for the unknown.  The idea of preparing for the unknown is one which has very much dominated my life for the first four months of the year, as I was training for a trek in Nepal.  From past experience, I know that all of the physical training one can do at sea level translates very differently above 8,000 feet, and that the mountains often have their own plans for us.

Macchupuchare

Two years ago, a friend was living in Nepal doing research.  She invited me to visit her and I took her up on her offer.  I was there for two weeks, visiting Kathmandu and its environs and spending seven or so days in the mountains, in the Annapurna range around Jomsom.  I have always loved mountains, and to visit the Himalayas – The Mountains – is a singular experience.

My first sight of the mountains, from Pokhara at the foot of the Annapurna range, was of Macchupuchare. The sight of Fishtail Mountain, as it is known, brought tears to my eyes.  Over the coming week, each day brought new sights and new mountains. Dhualagiri, a lesser trekked range to the west, loomed as the reminder of possibility.

Nilgiri

I spent an hour contemplating Nilgiri from the roof of my lodge in Kagbeni, and felt my spirit soar in a way it had never before soared.  And the Annapurna range stood as the living testament to the experience of purnatva – fullness – which so defined my time in Nepal (although Annapurna is usually poetically translated as “Mother of the Harvest,” it literally translates as “full of grain.”)

Since leaving Nepal two years ago, I knew I must go back, must see those mountains one more time.  And so, earlier this year I picked a trek: Annapurna I, from Besisahar to Jomsom, through the Manang province on the east and northeast side of the Annapurna range, going over Thorung La at 17,769 feet.  I’d spent months training, often doing cardio twice a day in addition to strength training and stepping up my yoga practice.  I wanted this, and committed deeply to being as prepared as possible.

Part of the Annapurna Range

My preparation was not, however, only physical.  I spent a lot of time contemplating what I hoped for out of the experience while reminding myself to be open to whatever might come.  I also prepared by following a widely held bit of wisdom in the kula:  when undertaking something difficult, do it while holding in your heart someone you love.  The night before I left, I prepared by setting down on cards those who and that which I love.

The first part was easy:  my “kids.” I am lucky to have some amazing friends, and their children have become my “godkids.”  Each of them are precious and dear to me, and they invite me to be a better person, to be the kind of adult I would want in their lives.  So:  Joseph, Riley, and Claire were the first names I wrote, and I included their pictures.

The second part was a bit more abstract at first.  I wanted to hold in my heart my practice, honoring the ways this practice of yoga has transformed my life so fundamentally, so radically.  In order to make the broad concept of my practice more concrete, I started by writing the names of the people I most associate with my practice.

The first card was for the teachers I practiced with during the first year of my practice:  Stacey Rosenberg, Darcy Lyon, Sianna Sherman, Kenny Graham, Abby Tucker, and Laura Christensen.  Yes, those are a lot of teachers during one year. Truth is, the fact that I now have a yoga practice would, once upon a time, have seemed unimaginable, and I needed a LOT of help.

The second and third cards were for my Immersion kulas: with Laura Christensen in 2007, and Stacey Rosenberg in 2009. The fourth card was for the kula that formed on a retreat with Darcy Lyon in the Sierra Nevadas in 2008, after my first trip to Nepal. That kula, some of whom have become dear, dear friends, is especially important to me, for the ways in which they so sweetly held space for someone they didn’t know very well to transform in a bit of a messy way.  And I still owe them an interpretive dance (it’s a long story).

There is only one grace. There is only love.

The fourth card was for the “maha-teachers” of my practice, those wise and deeply skillful beings who inspire and guide so many: John Friend, Krishna Das, Paul Muller-Ortega and Douglas Brooks.

The fifth card was for the studios I practice at and for this site, BayShakti.com.

The final card was for Scott Marmorstein, that incredibly gifted, sweet, and powerful healer in our community.  At the time I was leaving, Scott was just beginning to come out of a serious health condition, and I was so moved by our kula’s response to his condition, rallying messages of love and support from across the country for him.  I had read that Scott had written, in one of his few statements during his ordeal, that,”There is only Grace.”

There is only Grace. I would think about that statement a lot during my trip.

All of the cards went into an envelope, on the outside of which I wrote, “There is only Grace.”  To that I added, “There is only Love.”

_____________

When I woke up the next morning, the restaurant in the guest house informed me they were having a hard time getting food because of the strike, and could only offer me toast.  I wasn’t terribly concerned and had toast and Nepali tea for breakfast, and then went for a walk in the Thamel (the tourist district).  I’d only gotten about ten minutes down the road when I heard shouting voices.

Thamel

I walked back towards the guesthouse, and saw, down a road that dead-ended into the road that there was a group of Maoist youth, dressed mostly in black with red handkerchiefs around their throats, marching about twelve abreast – so that they filled the breadth of the road – and easily twelve more deep.  Some were carrying bamboo canes.  My Nepali isn’t nearly good enough to understand what they were chanting, but I recognized the word “bandh” for strike.  My friend that used to live in Nepal had counseled me that should I find myself in such a situation, to walk the other way.  I headed back towards my guesthouse, and hoped that they would turn left when they reached where that road dead-ended into the road that I was on, rather than turning right, towards my guesthouse.

Of course, they turned right.

Related posts:

1. Opening to Grace in Nepal: Part 3
2. Opening to Grace in Nepal: Part 2
3. The Power of Sankalpa

Kurma, the tortoise avatar of Lord Vishnu

Recently, I’ve felt unexpectedly called by the water, and in particular the ocean.  This is a big surprise as I’ve always felt the call of mountains and deserts, but not so much by the sea.  However, when beckoned by nature, I heed her call. Two weeks ago, I traveled to be with and in the ocean, to receive what she was trying to offer and whisper into the ear of this land lover.  To quote Jimmy Buffett, “Mother mother ocean, I have heard your call.”

For a few days, I sat on the sand watching the waves; I snorkeled for the first time, and on the ferry ride back to Long Beach, I experienced something I’d always dreamed of—a whale making itself known to us.  During these days, my thoughts and heart turned to the Gulf of Mexico and the epic tragedy that is unfolding there.  In particular, my thoughts turned to sea turtles and the many ancient stories from far flung cultures—stories from the Americas, Northern Europe, even India– tell us that the world is carried on the shell of a tortoise. Yoga mythology’s offering of this idea comes in the character of Kurma, the tortoise avatar of world sustainer Lord Vishnu.  Kurma makes his appearance in the story of the Churning of the Ocean of Milk.

I began to ponder the story I’ve heard so many times, and how it can help us in our response to the disaster that is the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico.  No, it doesn’t suggest sending golf balls or airbags or anything else into the spewing mess.  Yoga never hand feeds us, but invites us to make the leap and to engage the ancient tales into our world and our lives as they are today. Perhaps there was no BP, but, conveniently there are demons!

The tale of the Churning of the Ocean of Milk finds the gods distraught at the loss of Amrit, the nectar of immortality.  The gods, at one of the grand council meetings they so love, decide to ask the help of the demons in churning the great Ocean of Milk from which the treasured elixir would spring.  Having been promised half of the nectar, the demons agreed to help.  They helped to dig up the great Mount Madura to use as the churning stick, and placed it upon the back of the tortoise god Kurma (the fate of the world on the back of the turtle). Then, Vasuki, a sea serpent, was enlisted as the churning rope, and wrapped around the mountain.  Vasuki’s tail was held by the gods and his head by the demons (this positioning, of course, was no coincidence, but an advantage Vishnu concocted through trickery).  Through the violent churning, Vasuki’s breath began to steam and the demons were nearly suffocated by the noxious heat.

As the constant churning continued, poor Vasuki began to feel quite queasy, and soon began to vomit a poison that threatened not only the Ocean of Milk, but all life, and all the Amrit.  At this moment Lord Shiva, drinks in the spewing poison, holding it in his throat, causing it to turn blue.  As Shiva held the poison, it began to be transformed by the powers of yoga.  As it transformed in the blue throat of the yogin, amazing treasures, including the Amrit began to arise from the ocean.  The sea bounty continued spewing forth, just as before the poison had seeped and stained the waters, but now, the offering arose on a lotus as the Goddess of Beauty and Abundance, Laksmi.

Shiva, the yogin, drinks the poison that is spewing into the ocean. The Ocean of Milk is restored, and beauty and abundance in the form of the Divine Feminine arise.  Now this is a story, that’s starting to look like it might have a good ending . . .

I’ve been going over and over the story and our current situation.  I’m not here to offer some sappy Pollyanna story of how this will all work out … my heart is breaking for the Gulf.  But, how can I, as the yogin, do as Shiva did, and drink the poison, hold it in the realm of my expression, so that nothing less than a massive shift of Consciousness can happen and the Goddess can arise from it?  Will we finally enter the age when we return to the Mother? Can we transform the poison into the very nectar of life?

I was born and raised in the South, and have felt sad and puzzled for a long while that so little interest is paid to environmental concerns there, despite a deep sense of home and the land from which we sprung. For many in my home region, environmental issues are for Liberals.  If the spill had happened off the coast of California, would it have gotten the attention of those not inclined to notice?  Being green really has nothing to do with being from a blue or red state.  Some may not care about sea turtles, but not only are the magnificent creatures of the ocean threatened, whole ways of life are threatened. People who have worked the sea for generations are seeing their livelihoods poisoned by the spewing vomit of Vasuki.  Has Consciousness given a wakeup call that cuts across divisive lines of politics?

You see, as a tantrika, I can’t just align to Consciousness when she offers herself as the Amrit.  To Open to Grace, as we say in Anusara Yoga, is to open to Consciousness as it offers itself in all forms—even in the form of the spew of millions of gallons of oil into the sea.  I do not have to like it. I do not have to pretend that all is well, or that one way that the Universal offers itself is as good or as pretty or as life affirming as the next. It’s not, and it would be ludicrous to imply that it is. But, the unlikeable and ugly IS an offering nonetheless, and my opportunity and invitation as another form of that offering is to open to the possibility held within it, and then to engage with it.

Like Shiva, I can take the poison and hold it. I can hold it, and churn it, and engage with it. I can hold the poison in the throat of my expression, so that I offer my energy towards healing. I can hold the poison in my throat to make way for the beauty and abundance of the shift that will happen as the Divine Feminine arises again, on her lotus, out of the Ocean that was poisoned by the convenience of cheap oil and a forgetfulness of the natural world.

May we as a community of hearts, as a community of engaged yogins, as creatures of this Universe, remain open to the world as it offers itself.  May we turn towards that which is life affirming, aligned to the Highest, and an expression of the Divine Love which embodied us.  May we offer our love to the creatures of the deep, the fluency of water, and to all who are hurting.

“Mother Mother Ocean. I have heard your call…”

Related posts:

1. The Radiance of Yoga with Carlos Pomeda
2. Rebuilding Security: Using Muscular Energy to Heal from Trauma

Shakti and her colorful hoops

Shakti Sunfire–her name says it all, she is electric with energy, a mega-watt personality and performer tour de force. Her signature appendage, the hula hoop, has spun her into an orbit of high esteem in the Anusara community. Every revolution of the hoop is a spin in some of the highest of vibrations. Her gravity defying hooping inspires us to believe that we can be literally uplifted just like her hoop, as we shake and shimmy through this thing called life.  In this sense, Shakti Sunfire embodies Lila, the dance, the play of our lives, as she steps into the flow, the rhythm of life, sensing what the hoop needs to stay uplifted and responding to it with the subtlest of movements. This moment to moment awareness is the true mark of the yogi. Being ever vigilant and present to the rhythms and vibrations of life to create art and beauty. This is movement-art, yoga and hooping, realizing the pulsations, the divine play and creating beauty from the polarities in life.

During the week that I got to know her at Esalen’s 6th Annual Yoga Festival, I found Shakti to be warm, affectionate, articulate and full of life–she is an impressive being. It is so rare that you meet someone you feel so at ease with, and I can’t help but think it is because she is so grounded and at ease with herself. A true artist, business woman, blogger, hooper, yogi, Shakti has got it goin’ on! So much fun to interview her and get to know her at Esalen. You will see that our interview unfolds organically and conversationally. A true Shakti-treat!

In the first video, Shakti gives us her story, how she got started hula hooping. And *gasp* she reveals that she was uncoordinated once upon a time. Shakti gives credit to yoga for creating more body awareness, which yielded us the Hooper Extrodinaire, Shakti-Sunfire, who we know and love today!

If you have never seen her perform, check out her impressive videos on YouTube. The full length of the video interview has been divided into 4 parts below for ease of viewing.  Enjoy getting a rare glimpse into the performer, herself!

(If you’re reading via email or rss, please visit the blog for the video.)

In this second video, Shakti answers how hooping came to be so popular in the Anusara community.

In the third video, Shakti relates her blogging to other art forms, including hooping.

In the forth video, Shakti discusses the power of the hoop and what’s next on the horizon for her.

To find out more about Shakti Sunfire, visit her website. To visit YouTube for video performances of Shakti Sunfire, click here. To learn to hula hoop with Shakti Sunfire at the Wanderlust Festival at the end of this month in Lake Tahoe, CA, click here.

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