me ever fresh, ever new, ever young

without a doubt i have a beautiful life. but if i really had to say, if only i could and would, i would say i want to live the life of this seven year old. he is living and studying with a distinguished brahmin priest, vivek godbole. all day long he recites hymns from the vedas, the over five thousand year old indian scriptures. in between he milks cows and plays. i watch him in a study session. along with other students he sits cross-legged on the floor. an instructor walks back and forth. the students recite the mantras out loud. from these tender young vocal cords flow out these ancient sounds that shine bright and vibrant. every so often the instructor would gesture one student to recite on his own. the fresh, happy voice moves and melts my heart.

i may not have mastered the perfect pronunciation of the mantras. i probably will never be able to memorize a long mantra the way this little kid will be able to do in a few years. yet when i wave the flame to the great gurus who show me the way to my own flame within, i hear my own voice, fresh and young, rising within. i feel that part of me, that essence, that is ever new, ever fresh, ever young, shining and singing. it is my great good fortune that i was able to capture some of it on video. every time i watch it i am reminded how bright and beautiful i can be and ought to be, how fearless i am.

waving light in sari

this is not exactly the picture showing me waving light. but with me elbowing hwubby waving light it's close enough.

how did the sari situation go? marvelous. what happens was kate generously came in and watched me. the day before during practice on my own i could see there were two points where i was not clear which way to turn the fabric and to place the pleats. turns out, with kate's two decades of pujari experience, i should pin the pleats over the left shoulder on the upper back of the blouse. also i had to turn the fabric to the right, not to the left in order for the pleats to land properly over the chest.

even then i could see i wouldn't be able to do it beautifully on my own. not yet. because i couldn't execute that pinning on the upper left back of the blouse. i would have to be able to bend my limbs like a pretzel. :)

the most thrilling part is hwubby came to see me wave the light. i heard his voice rising above the rest as i happily swayed the light. and then i got to give out chocolates to hwubby and everybody there. i am serious when i say i truly feel the inner devi is released.

puja in satara

besides doing 46 days of panchakarma in india what else were we up to? how about this. a six hour puja. performed by a very esteemed and beloved brahmin priest. we have the joy and privilege to call him vivek bhau. the indian lady who chaperoned us was stunned in awe when she first found out this was the brahmin priest we were going to. she calls vivek bhau guruji. anyway my point is it is our great good fortune that he would do the puja for hwubby's book. later when hwubby was talking to the dean of a college in pune about marketing, he mentioned he did a puja. the lady immediately says, you did puja, that's big marketing.

where am i? vivekbhau. his chanting of vedic mantras  is, literally, awesome. his sound fills up the atmosphere, reaches out to all ten thousand corners, touches the far edges of the universe, draws in nectar and lifts my heart to the seventh heavens. i can feel the presence of the deities coming upon us. they are very pleased.

when i think i know, i know not.

here's a smarty pants episode. i think i know a bit about indian customs. after all i have had a guru, who's indian, for two decades. right? wrong. here's how it goes down. there i am in satara, india, in a museum which was created by a local maharaja. it houses an amazing collections of objects and paintings including copies of mona lisa and works of rembrant. this maharaja really traveled around the globe. so after browsing through a series of probably hundreds of elaborate and intricate paintings that depict the story of ramayana i am more than ready to...pee. a quick glance tells me my hostess is sitting on the other side of the spacious courtyard. i say to myself, hey, i can handle this, i'm just going to pee. so i go straight out of the museum and ask the security at the entrance, toilet? with gestures supplementing his english he says, go around. i think, okay, no big deal, i'll just go around. turns out i have to go around a couple of corners, almost the length and breadth of the museum. at times i am trodding unpaved mud path between knee high weeds. finally i enter a block of brick structure. it is clean. four stalls. the one furthest from me is closed. i go up to the first one, gives the half-closed door a gentle push. what do i see? a cubicle tiled wall to wall. a faucet. a tiny trench against the wall. no hole. i go to the second stall. same thing. third stall. same thing. by now i realize i have two options. turn around, seek clarification. but i am already feeling i can't hold it for the long walk back. i take a deep breath. it takes quite a bit of washing everywhere to clean up the mess.

later that evening i ask sadhana, my hostess. she says, those stalls are for people to wash their feet and even bathe before entering the museum. she is absolutely certain that the fourth stall is a latrine. i will never find out that one but i know this much. when i think i know, i know not. 

why no road rage?

how many hairpin bends our driver has negotiated so far, an hour or so climbing up the nilgiris mountains in karnataka, south india. i sit in the front seat next to the driver. i don't play video games but i kind of guess this is somewhat like playing advanced level in a game  that is all about moving at high speed through hair raising traffic and road conditions. i have my ipod on govinda jaya jaya all the time. that helps because at least i don't have to be bombarded by the sustained horn everytime the driver spins through yet another almost ninety degree narrow-as-can-be turn. this is actually not a dangerous move compared to the times when moments before our car is about to make a sharp turn a huge truck that is loaded with goods like sugar canes appear from around the corner and our car is on the outside, up close to the edge. the bright side is i get to have spectacular, unobstructed vistas. i recall my great grand-guru, bhagavan nityananda, roamed south india in his younger days. i let my vision relax into the expansive lush green landscape that is shimmering in the afternoon sun. aaah. all this is my guru. all this is my guru. all this is my guru.

later i ask hwubby, have you noticed there's no road rage in india, at least the parts that we have been in so far, pune, satara, coimbatore, mysore and so on an so forth? he says, yes, there is the spirit of sharing, acceptance and surrender and totally present, whereas in america, with all due respect, it is like, i am not going to share the road with you and i am multi-tasking while driving.

it's true. scanning the environment there are so much chaos and craziness constantly unfolding and material poverty is visible and rampant. yet when i pay a little attention and look a little closer it i never fail to experience a sense of tranquility and harmony suffusing the chaos. whoever i make eye contact with i always receive a kind and sweet smile in return. whoever i interact with he/she is welcoming, patient and more than ready to share and help.

all this, all this and all this is for me to anchor myself into who and what i really am. it's never about what i have and don't have. the same state of peace and contentment and joy exist in all.