Day 15: another day

I had intended to only stay at the ashram for three nights, but due to unforeseeable circumstances I was not in the right mood to be on the road again. So I stayed another day. I didn’t sleep very well. There is a picture of a guru, Mataji’s deceased partner hanging in my room. He is seated in meditation pose with his eyes closed. Laying in my bed, my eyes a little wet, at night, and looking at the photograph on the wall made me think that his eyes kept blinking. I was blinking to confirm what I am seeing. I fell asleep with my headphones on and when I woke in the morning the battery of my ipod was almost out as it was running all night. I was up at 6:30, earlier than usual since I arrived in the ashram. I went to the yoga room, class is at 7 and laid on the ground. My mind blank. Staring at the ceiling. One by one four of the women at the ashram quietly come into the room as well as Mandakini, Mataji’s daughter, who was to lead morning yoga today. It was exactly what I needed this morning. Class was about two hours and combined elements of hatha and vasana, breathing exercises and meditation. I felt very good after.

I realized I have tons to laundry so I put my dirty clothes in a bucket, add water and some fair trade organic soap. Sitting outside by the hammock, washing. Then comes out the american guy topless wearing a little white wrap around his waste covering only his groin and thighs. He never talks, never makes eye contact, so enigmatic yet boring, im actually not curious to hear his story having convinced myself it is probably mundane and uninteresting. Despite having lived here for a year, in relative isolation sleeping or doing whatever all day in his room and only having one meal a day, despite all that he doesn’t feel transformed to me. He still exudes an aggressive almost annoyed vibe just by having someone like me in his sphere. The cows! Something is happening with the cows and he starts making these primitive noises waving his stick, like father time. Then runs down and controls the heard yelling gibberish. It was so comedic for me, I am just not buying this guy, nope. It was so nice to wash clothes by hand wring them and put them on the line. It reminded me of helping my mom hang our laundry in my balcony in Alexandria. The middle of the day was not memorable, which is probably a good thing, there is no reason to always do something here, you can just be.

The bell rang around 4pm. I thought it was food, I was hungry. When I arrived I realized that it was class time. Mataji was about to give a talk on the Chakras. I am such a novice that I will not even try to relay what she was talking about. It was very soothing. Yet I was so much more aware of my restless legs, my sore back. Sitting on the ground, on a cochin with legs crossed. My left leg below the knee was so numb it didn’t feel like it was part of my body anymore. I went in and out of listening to Mataji. She sat opposite us, with an open notebook sitting on a carved wooden book stand. Her eyes closed the entire time. She spoke in a continuous flow with no interruptions. Her voice so soft and subtle that you had to pay attention. Only the spinning fan above was making its own subtle noise and I had to listen to that too. At times I felt as though she was talking directly to me. It is hard not to personalize and apply the little bits and pieces that my ear catches of her speech. I felt as though she filled the room with words and I was only able to capture some here and there and try to make sense of them. She talked about the illusion that we create that is life. She talked about the spirit and its independence from the body. I can’t give it justice, if I try to remember what she said it will sound trivial and simplified so I would rather not. As she was talking about not being totally devoted to bodily pleasures I catch a glance of that boy again. Wearing that pink shirt again. He is working out in the garden and I can see him through the bamboo shades. My attention kept going back and forth between the lesson and the object of desire. I am a bad student.

After the lesson I was calm, my walk was light, like I was just touching the ground enough to move forward. I was surprisingly in a good mood. My stomach growled, protesting that fact that I haven’t given it something to breakdown and consume.

Being in such a good mood and before dinner, I made one last call to peace. Sending an email and making a call offering a hand, I am willing to accept anything. Alas, no response, no answer, voice mail.