Mysuruuuu!

Hello from Mysore/Mysuru!

I'm temporarily back on the blogging circuit after a 3 year hiatus! As many of you know, I started practicing Ashtanga yoga over a year ago with an Authorized Ashtanga teacher in Hamilton. But wait -- don't run off to Google 'Ashtanga Yoga' just yet! The results will include a never-ending stream of sites and sources focused on the 'asana' or physical posture part of Ashtanga. And if you think of yoga as a thaali, then asana is like that one tiny compartment just for the chutney. Um, that was a strange metaphor. Sorry, everything I eat these days seems to come in a metal cup or plate. Anyways my point is that Ashtanga yoga should be understood in the same way that we see yoga: as a way of living and not only a physical practice. Ashtanga yoga** literally means 'eight limbs' which refers to the eight aspects of daily practice: Yama (self-restraint), Niyama (personal observances), Asana (postures), Pranayama (development of energy), Pratyahara (withdrawal of the mind), Dharana (concentration), Dhyana (meditation), Samadhi (enlightenment). A commitment to all eight limbs is the true practice of Ashtanga yoga. Some of you may also be familiar with the ancient philosophical text known as Patanjali's Yoga Sutras. It is the first text (that we know of) in which the great sage Patanjali wrote about Ashtanga yoga.

There is currently no accepted unbroken lineage of Ashtanga yoga as it was transmitted mostly through an aural/oral tradition. You will find many classes and schools that either identify themselves outright as Ashtanga yoga or as lightly based on the Ashtanga yoga system. The Ashtanga tradition that I have been following is from Sri K. Pattabhi Jois (Guruji) and is most commonly accepted as the 'authentic' Ashtanga yoga program. In 1927, at the age of 12, Guruji began what would eventually span a 25 year tutelage under the guidance of Sri Tirumali Krishnamacharya -- often referred to as the grandfather of modern yoga. Krishnamacharya also taught his brother-in-law: B.K.S. Iyengar (who later founded Iyengar yoga) along with Indra Devi and T.K.V. Desikachar. For the instruction of asana in particular, Krishnamacharya famously used a method called 'vinyasa krama' which links postures together in sequence by numbers (counted in Sanskrit). It is said that Krishnamacharya was taught by his teacher (Rama Mohan Brahmachari) an ancient text called the Yoga Korunta written by Vamana Rishi. The text supposedly contained lists of many asanas which solidified Krishnamacharya's understanding of the vinyasa method (and what he eventually passed on to Guruji). Regardless of the veracity of these claims, I suspect that based on a deep desire to honour the sacred teacher-student relationship, Guruji eventually went on to teach his students the same sequence of asana that was given to him by Krishnamacharya with an emphasis on other essential elements to the practice such as drishti, bandhas, mudras and philosophy (and is what Guruji called Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga). In 1948, Guruji established the Ashtanga Yoga Research Institute in Mysore, India (his hometown). The location and external buildings have changed over the last six decades to accommodate increasing cohorts of aspiring Ashtangis (Ashtanga Yogis). The current shala in Gokulam, Mysore (constructed in 2002) is known as the K. Pattabhi Jois Ashtanga Yoga Institute (KPJAYI). It is regarded as the Ashtanga yoga 'authority' for lack of a better word and it is where hundreds of Ashtanga students practice annually. In 2009, Guruji passed away at the age of 93 and left the institute in the hands of his daughter, Saraswathi and his grandson Sharath.

Then there's me. I decided to keep my travel plans this summer fairly quiet until about three weeks before I left for Mysore. But when I started to tell friends and family, a common response was: 'Oh wow, are you going to get some kind of teacher certification at the end of it?' When I would answer with 'No, I'm just going to practice there' it seemed to cause some confusion along with follow-up questions like 'But, do you not have a teacher here?' I guess it doesn't seem to make much sense to spend such a huge amount of time and money to travel all the way to India and study yoga without receiving some kind of tangible end result. As with any spiritual practice tied to a specific lineage, I think there is a difference between how you approach your regular daily practice and then the more intense studying you accomplish in the presence of your teacher or your teacher's teacher. A student of art may paint beautiful canvases every day of Canadian landscapes and even take art lessons locally from a talented artist. But they may also feel a strong pull to travel once a year to Italy and take a one month painting class from the same school where their local teacher studied, and to paint the same Italian landscapes that the most famous artists of our time have painted. Similarly, I'm here to study Ashtanga yoga from the source, not to gain any certification but simply to be in the presence of one of my gurus and to deepen my understanding of this particular tradition that I follow. Oh and in case you're wondering, I'm learning from Saraswathi (her son, Sharath, is currently on leave). More on that in another post as I've only had one practice with her so far.

And so I find myself writing to you from Gokulam, Mysore, in a beautiful flat that I rented from my teacher's friend. I will be here for the rest of the summer (or 62 days by mom's count -- the last time I left my parents alone for this long was over three years ago when I lived in England). It's technically monsoon season in India which is a distinct season from summer (Mysore's summer, as with most of India, is from March to May). Surprisingly, monsoon in Mysore is nowhere near as wet as monsoon in other parts of India. I'm only two days in but so far the weather has been gorgeous -- high 20s, low 30s -- with not a drop of rain (the friends I've met so far who have been here longer say this is fairly common). The evenings cool down quite a bit so although I rented a flat with air conditioning, I've been quite happy to sleep with just the ceiling fan. I'm still trying to recover from the jet lag along with getting a stronger sense of direction for the area but I've made some very lovely friends already who have helped a lot!

It's 10:30pm here in Mysore and for us yogis that is quite late so I should be getting to bed but I will leave you with a few photos from my trip thus far. I hope you will join me this summer in my adventures: as a yogi, as a traveller, and in many cases as an extremely wimpy dork who, for example, took about 8 hours to muster the courage to kill a cockroach in her kitchen yesterday (in my defence, it was a HUGE roach that made a disgusting crunch sound when I whacked it with a straw broom and yes I cried). There are many moments of my day where I think to myself "Gosh I wish _____ were here to see this" or "______ would relish this meal" or "I bet ________ could have bargained for a better price". So I'm hoping my posts will help to keep us connected while I'm away and perhaps give those of you who can't be here right now a taste of life in Mysore. More to come!

The cook at our family friend's place in Bangalore made this delicious aloo paratha for me the morning I arrived, along with my first of many cups of 'garam garam (hot hot) chai masala'!

This is the flat I'm renting in Mysore. I'm on the second floor. 

This morning I decided to be a 'bad lady' and watch Orange is the New Black. Guruji used to call women 'bad lady' or men 'bad man' when he would adjust them (lovingly, of course). Apparently one woman confronted him about this and said "I have discovered your secret, Guruji. 'Bad Lady' really means 'good lady'." "Oh, haha," he laughed. "Smart lady."

This is my favourite place in the flat. It's a little 'puja closet'. Most of the pictures and murthis (statues) were there before but I brought the picture of Swami and Lalita Ma and my japa mala as well. There is such an echo in that space when I said my first 'Om' I thought there were five of me praying together! I love to say my Sanskrit chants in here now. Dad's bhajans would sound incredible in this closet.

 Ah, my second favourite place in this flat. If you've spoken to me on the phone since I've been here, I was probably sprawled across that window bench. I love to sit there and look at all the people going by. There are women in saris carrying the world's largest picnic basket of fruits and vegetables on their heads, families taking their kids to school on a scooter, men peeing against the wall opposite the road (ok...that last one is not so charming). 

 My room, which just so happens to have a bedspread that matches my yoga mat :)

The kitchen, where the famous roach incident of July 1st occurred. 

 

Sharing a rickshaw with my friends Julie and Zac. They took me to a franchise store here called Fab India and it took all my yogic mind control powers not to go absolutely retail crazy in there and buy everything. It's just so cheap and the clothes are perfect for wearing to bhajans at the Sai centre back home and they have an entire section with, wait for it, EXTRA SMALL: soft cottons with delicate patterns and stretchy churidar pants in every possible colour you could want or need. I 'finished' shopping within 20 minutes and left with three items. THREE ITEMS, PEOPLE. Be impressed.   

And last night I came home to find this horse eating watermelon right outside my front door. I named him 'Tarbooja' which means watermelon in Hindi. He was very cute and dad suggested I use him instead of a rickshaw to get around from now on. If my bargaining skills don't improve I may just do that :)

**The information I provided above regarding Ashtanga yoga was written in consultation with Matthew Sweeney's "Ashtanga Yoga As It IS" (third edition published in 2005), Guruji's "Yoga Mala" (first English paperback edition published in 2002) and the KPJAYI Website (links open in new windows).

Never Quit

Shocking isn't it? Two posts in one month! This one is going to be brief, and mainly someone else's words rather than my own. I am often sent very profound words of wisdom from others, and this story I find particularly inspiring and uplifting. Unfortunately, I don't know the original author of the story, but my dad found it posted on the Sai Bhakti Radio website.

So often we find ourselves comparing our own accomplishments with others. We struggle to understand why 'bad' things happen to 'good' people, why success reaches some of us more easily than others, why we seem to fail even when we try our best. Maybe after reading this story, you can reflect on such moments, and remind yourself that those encounters you thought were bad things, failures, struggles, were not actually negative - they were opportunities for growing stronger.

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One day I decided to quit...quit my job, my relationship, my spirituality... I wanted to quit my life. I went to the woods to have one last talk with GOD. "GOD", I said. "Can you give me one good reason not to quit?" His answer surprised me... "Look around", GOD said. "Do you see the fern and the bamboo?" "Yes", I replied. When I planted the fern and the bamboo seeds, I took very good care of them. I gave them light. I gave them water.

The fern quickly grew from the earth. It has brilliantly covered the floor green. Yet nothing came from the bamboo seed. But I did not quit on the bamboo. In the second year the Fern grew more vibrant and plentiful. And again, nothing came from the bamboo seed. But I did not quit on the bamboo." GOD said." In year three there was still nothing from the bamboo seed. But I would not quit.In year four, again, there was nothing from the bamboo seed. I would not quit." GOD said. "Then in the fifth year a tiny sprout emerged from the earth.

Compared to the fern it was seemingly small and insignificant...But just 6 months later the bamboo rose to over 100 feet tall. It had spent the five years growing roots. Those roots made it strong and gave it what it needed to survive. I would not give any of my creations a challenge it could not handle." GOD said to me. "Did you know that all this time you have been struggling, you have actually been growing roots?" "I would not quit on the bamboo. I will never quit on you." "Don't compare yourself to others." GOD said. "The bamboo had a different purpose than the fern. Yet they both make the forest beautiful." "Your time will come", GOD said to me. "You will rise high" "How high should I rise?" I asked. "How high will the bamboo rise?" GOD asked in return. "As high as it can?" I questioned. "Yes." GOD said, "Give me glory by rising as high as you can." I left the forest and bring back this story.

Vipassana: Part Two

So I think I covered quite thoroughly the basics of a Vipassana retreat in my July post - the code of conduct and the reason for Noble Silence. But as I also mentioned, these are not really the most important parts of the course - they are just practices which help one to develop the Vipassana meditation technique. By now you're probably wondering 'what exactly is Vipassana?'. Apparently, it was the type of meditation that the Buddha was practising when he reached enlightenment (I don't exactly have the space or time to tell the entire story of Buddha here, but if you aren't familiar with his life or teachings, I highly recommend doing some reading, even via online resources). Apparently, the Buddha went through all kinds of meditation techniques in India, in order to find one that would allow him to attain enlightenment. Finally, he sat under a Bodhi tree and vowed never to arise until he found the truth. Fourty-nine days later, at the age of 35, it was said that he became awakened to the truth (known in Buddhism as The Four Noble Truths) and was from that point onwards known as Buddha, which roughly translates to 'the enlightened one'.

Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately), the Vipassana retreat doesn't supply Bodhi trees for each student to sit under for 49 days until we too become like Buddha. What we do learn however, is to simply observe our selves and our surroundings with equanimity. Having an equanimous mind means that you lack craving and aversion. Why is it important to be equanimous? To answer that I probably need to explain what the Four Noble Truths are:

1) suffering is an engrained part of existence

2) the origin of suffering is craving for sensuality, acquisition of identity and annihilation

3) suffering can be ended

4) following the Noble eightfold path is the means to accomplish this

I really don't want to also explain what the Noble eightfold path is (because they are quite basic teachings that stem from all religions, and also because this post isn't meant to be a lesson on Buddhism). My point is though, that if all suffering comes from craving (or being averse) to various experiences, then logically, it would make sense that by eliminating those cravings and aversions, you eliminate your suffering. Make sense so far?

So here's how you put it in to practise. All over the surface of the skin there are constant little bio-chemical reactions taking place. We sometimes feel these as itches or tingling sensations, muscular twitches, or sometimes it feels like maybe an insect is on us but when we look there's nothing. In Vipassana, they refer to these sensations as 'sankhaaras'. Throughout your life (and if you believe in reincarnation then you can add your past lives as well), we have moments where we react to things either positively or negatively. Vipassana meditators believe that all these reactions get stored in your mind as sankhaaras. Some of your reactions are very superficial, and they come and go quite quickly, think of ripples on water. But there are other moments in our lives where we carry these cravings or aversions with us for very long times, and we hold on to them forever (some people even believe that at the time of death, these very 'heavy' sankhaaras get taken with you to your next life and continue to cause misery and suffering). These type of sankhaaras are described as being like a deep line etched into a stone. When you sit quietly, and still both your mind and your body, sankhaaras slowly start to bubble up to the surface of the skin and manifest themselves in the form of sensations. Some of them (the 'lighter' sankhaaras) are subtle sensations while others can be quite gross, intense sensations (such as pins and needles). The idea is that when you feel these sensations arise, the reactive part of your mind will always want to pay attention to them, it will want you to either develop a craving for them or an aversion.

This is where equanimity comes into play. You have to teach your mind how to observe these sensations without reacting to them. If you feel an itch on the tip of your nose, don't scratch it, don't react to it. Just sit and observe it. If you feel a pain in your leg and you want to change your position, don't. Just sit and observe it. You have to remind yourself of the law of impermanence. Nothing in life is forever, nothing stays the same. Everything changes, or as they say in Paali: Anitchya. When you realise that whatever sensations you feel are bound to dissipate eventually, you can learn to accept them, and observe them, without reaction. This is how you get rid of your 'old stock' of sankhaaras. But again, you have to be careful that even this doesn't become a craving. It's very easy to sit for meditation and crave freedom from your sankhaaras. That's not the point though. The point is to become equanimous, so that you desire nothing, and you are averse to nothing.

Perhaps I sound like a crazy person. Even if you don't believe that your cravings and aversions are stored in your mind and bubble to the surface in the form of tingles and itches (and I don't blame you if you think this sounds like utter 'bull'), anyone who sits in one position for long enough, in silence and stillness, will eventually feel the kind of sensations I am talking about, and will desperately want to react to them. There were days towards the end of the retreat where I could feel subtle sensations throughout my entire body (and apparently these sensations are constantly there but our mind is too cluttered to even notice them). There were also days where I had such a severe pain through one of my legs that I thought would never go away, and it didn't. But I experienced some moments where even though I had the pain, my mind had become so equanimous that I knew the pain existed, and I could feel it, but it didn't matter to me, because I knew eventually it would pass. Anitchya.

I can feel the scepticism already and I haven't even posted this! Is all that I learned from these 10 days, and 100 hours of meditation, how to sit and detach from pain? Not at all. Because when you realise that physical suffering is impermanent, you begin to apply your equanimity to other non-physical situations in the 'real world'. It is so much easier to learn this lesson by feeling it physically, before you can learn to apply it to more abstract experiences and reactions. And I'm not in any way completely equanimous in every situation. I still find things upset me or hurt me - but the reaction is nowhere near what it used to be. I'll give you an example. About six weeks after the retreat, I went to Vancouver for my friend's wedding. The flight there was extremely turbulent (and it was quite late at night so the sky was pitch black). I am not a very confident flyer, and a flight that turbulent would normally have been grounds for some serious freaking out. But instead, I sat quietly in my seat, and I thought about my life, and I asked myself:

"Divya, in the unlikely event that this plane doesn't make it, would you be all right with your life ending now?"

And normally I would have expected a response like this:

"Of course not! There's so much more I want to do. I still need to finish my PhD, and I need to find a job, and I need to meet a nice person and get married, and I need to become enlightened" and so on and so on.

But instead, I felt so...so strangely fine with everything. And maybe I knew that the idea of a domestic, 5 hour flight crashing and killing everyone on board was so impossible that I made peace with a rare outcome, but the even stranger thing was that during all the turbulence, I actually fell asleep for the rest of the flight (and slept quite well oddly enough). Have I overcome my fear of flying because of Vipassana? Of course not. Turbulence is scary, and the idea of falling thousands of feet to your death or exploding in an airplane is something that nobody wants to happen to them. But I think the little pocket of peace I managed to find was more about accepting that life doesn't last forever, and that death isn't a demotion, it's a promotion - so why fear it? Yes there is grief, yes there are tears in those sad moments, but why do we develop aversions to them? If you're grieving, just observe your grief, don't react to it, don't try to fight it, just accept its impermanence. Anitchya.

Vipassana: The Basics

It's officially been four weeks since I returned from my Vipassana meditation retreat. After putting off this post, I have forced myself to finally sit down and write about my experience, all the way from Miami, Florida! As a side note, my parents and I decided to run away for the week to get some beach-time in, and it's been lovely so far (more on my summer travel adventures another time).

In short the retreat was, quite easily, the best 'thing' I have ever done in my life. For ten days I was put through quite a mental/physical/spiritual challenge. But there is no greater feeling than that of overcoming challenges - and by the end of the retreat I was full of peace, harmony and happiness. So here's how it happened...

On the evening you arrive (which doesn't count as part of the 10 days, by the way), the centre explains the code of discipline you are expected to keep for the entire duration of the course. This is known as 'sila' which means 'moral conduct'. As I mentioned in my previous post, Vipassana is a Buddhist meditation technique. During the time of Buddha, the commonly spoken language was Paali - which is a sister language of Sanskrit (that's why some of the words have a similar sound and/or meaning as Sanskrit). Sila includes 8 precepts. They are:

1. to abstain from killing any being;
2. to abstain from stealing;
3. to abstain from all sexual activity;
4. to abstain from telling lies;
5. to abstain from all intoxicants.

6. to abstain from eating after midday;
7. to abstain from sensual entertainment and bodily decorations
8. to abstain from using high or luxurious beds.

The eight precepts are followed by all students who attend the course (meaning new students who are attending for the first time, as well as old students who have previously attended other 10 day courses). However there is a slight difference for the sixth precept. All new students are allowed to have some fruit and tea with milk after midday (this is served around 5 in the evening) while old students are only allowed tea without milk. Trust me when I say that the fruit doesn't really make much of a difference. Our days started at 4 in the morning, and ended around 9:30 pm. Ten of those waking hours are spent in meditation each day, with small breaks in between for breakfast, lunch, time for showering, interviews with the assistant teachers (if you have questions) etc. Even though technically, you shouldn't require much food since you aren't really moving around, I found myself on many nights quite hungry, and learned early in the course to eat as big a lunch as possible. Another note about the food is that despite the lack of dinner, the rest of the meals were absolutely delicious. Everything was vegetarian, but extremely tasty, freshly prepared and healthy. Most of the lunches were Indian dishes like dhaals and curries served with rice. There was always a salad bar with such a variety of options and even desserts on most days. The kitchen staff go out of their way to accommodate all kinds of dietary restrictions and allergies - the food is cooked with so much love and selflessness that on some days I nearly started crying after a single bite (it may also have been the sheer joy of eating that I came to appreciate so much). The lengths that the volunteers will go purely in the service of others is truly inspiring and uplifting - especially when you're going through your own personal struggles during the course!

The question I've been asked most often since returning from the course is: Wasn't it hard not talking for ten days? The answer is always the same. No. Not talking for ten days is easy. Ten days of Noble Silence on the other hand, is very hard. Noble Silence means no talking, no gesturing to others, no eye contact, no smiling, no laughing, no exercising, no reading, no writing, no singing, no dancing, no physical contact with others, no praying, no music, no TV, no phones, no computers. You truly realise how alone you are in this world when you are forced to dis-connect from everything that you think is part of your identity. Even something as simple as not wearing your make-up or the jewelery you normally do can really deepen whatever vulnerabilities or insecurities you may already have. On the plus side, I actually learned to enjoy not having to follow my usual 'getting dressed' routine for ten days (and it was also nice to not interact with any males for 10 days as the course is completely segregated!). The other point I wanted to clarify was that although the retreats are often referred to as Noble Silence retreats, this is not really the main goal or purpose of the course. The Noble Silence is, like Sila, part of the foundation for successfully acquiring the Vipassana meditation technique. In order to fully understand how the technique works and to maximize its benefits over the ten days, you first need to be in complete isolation - this is what Noble Silence allows you to do. If you really want to go deep into your mind, deep into your unconscious mind (which I learned is actually the most conscious part of your mind), then you need to work in isolation, you need to dissolve your ego, even just a little bit, to gain better focus and concentration. For ten days you live like a monk or a nun - you accept what food you are given, you wear modest and simple clothing, and you live off the charity of others (which is why there is no cost to attend a Vipassana course - you can offer a donation to assist future students, but they do not charge any fees to attend).


Unfortunately I'm going to hit the pause button for a few days - mainly because it's getting late and tomorrow morning we are headed to Marco Island. But also because this post would get quite long if I tried to cover everything. What I've attempted to do so far is briefly explain the 'superficial' elements of the course, and next time, I will do my best to describe in more detail, exactly what Vipassana meditation is, and some of my personal experiences. Maybe what I've written up to this point makes it sound like a horrible, torturous experience - I felt that way during the first couple days of the retreat as well. But I promise that the 'good stuff' is coming up, just as it did towards the end of my course. Hope you have all had a wonderful July - stay tuned for part two in August!

Resolution One

Back in January, I made three resolutions for 2011. Usually I am quite open about my goals and intentions and I share them with my friends and family. One morning though, as part of my breakfast routine, I was watching a TED talk by Derek Sivers (it's only 3 minutes long and worth a watch). He explains why our goals should be kept secret based on some very compelling research. Essentially, when you articulate your goals to others, a part of your brain is tricked into thinking that you're closer to achieving that goal, which makes you less likely to take the necessary steps towards making it happen. With this in mind, I have decided to keep my resolutions to myself until they become a reality. But as of tomorrow, I will have begun my 10 day journey towards fulfilling resolution number 1, and thought it was about time I shared it with you all (also, if I don't write something today, I'll miss my June post!).

Resolution Number 1: Attend a Vipassana sitting

For a few years now, I've wanted to attend a Vipassana Noble Silence retreat. For some reason, it has never materialised for me - either due to work commitments or a wedding or some other obstacle. This summer though, it seemed that everything aligned to allow me the time (and courage!) to register for a course. What is Vipassana? It is one of India's most ancient meditation techniques, which was rediscovered by the Buddha over 2500 years ago. The word Vipassana means seeing things as they really are. This is done through a process of self-purification by self-observation. All over the world there are Vipassana centres which offer 10-day silence retreats throughout the year. I'll be attending the centre in Egbert, Ontario from June 22nd until July 3rd.

Some of the few friends and family I have told about my plans were a bit confused as to why a relatively quiet person like myself would need or want to be in noble silence for 10 days. Noble silence is not limited to vocal silence, but silence of the mind and the body. Maybe I'm not a big talker, but I'm almost always engaged in some kind of 'noise' be it watching TV, listening to music, reading a book or writing (case in point). By detaching from all of these distractions, we allow ourselves to experience the universal truths of impermanence, suffering and egolessness. This truth-realisation by direct experience is the process of purification which is meant to occur during the course.

I have never written a single lie or false-truth on this blog, so I won't start now. Of course I feel anxiety about going. Ever since I registered for the course back in February, I've been contemplating whether or not I am ready for such extreme discipline and detachment. It will probably be one of the most challenging experiences of my life. But since Swami's physical passing, His omnipresence is even clearer to me now than it was before, and whatever little doubt or anxiety I may feel bears no comparison to the magnanimous voice within me which is shouting: go! go! go!

While I'm away, I know there will be many special occasions and events I will be missing. Celebrations of new life and birthdays, long-weekend festivities, rehearsals and deadlines - and I apologise in advance for my *physical* absence during this time. You will certainly be in my thoughts and prayers, and I'm sending you all my love and well wishes for the rest of the month! Wish me luck, and I'll definitely post a follow-up when I return in July.

Embodiments of Love!

Preface (written on April 24th, 2011):

Less than 24 hours ago, I wrote and posted the following entry. This was during the time when Sai Baba was in a critical state of health. As we know now, early this morning, on Easter Sunday, Swami passed away. I don't want to change anything I have written below, because it still remains true, though asking for His immediate and full recovery as I have done, is clearly no longer possible.

Swami always said, 'My Life is my Message'. Though His life as this avatar has ended, let His message live on forever, and let us continue to follow His teachings, and to raise our children, and our children's children with the same love, compassion and divine guidance we have been blessed with in this lifetime.

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When I was about 12 years old, my parents took my sister and me to India for the very first time. We went on a spiritual pilgrimage to Prashanti Nilayam, the ashram where Bhagawan Sri Satya Sai Baba resides. Some of you might be asking, who is Sai Baba?

'I am God. And you too are God. The only difference between you and Me is that while I am aware of it, you are completely unaware'

This is His response when asked about His identity. Providing an entire summary of His life and mission would be an entry on its own and not the intention here (especially since most of my readers already know about/are devotees of Swami). But for further reading, I highly recommend the Sai Radio website, which provides a truthful explanation. My purpose is not to try and convince or instill belief in those who do not believe, but to merely express my own experiences and devotion.

Up until my visit to Prashanti, Swami's presence in my life was only in the form of pictures, prayers, bhajans (spiritual singing) and stories I was told by others about Him. Every Saturday morning, we would have our Bal Vikas classes with the other children. Bal Vikas means the blossoming of a bud into a flower - and so too we blossomed through spiritual education. We would learn about epic stories such as the Ramayana and Mahabharata, practice singing bhajans, and mould our bodies into various asanas during yoga class (not all at the same time of course!). Most importantly though, we were taught the importance of Swami's five-fold path for leading a meaningful life: Satya (Truth), Dharma (Righteousness), Shanti (Peace), Prema (Love), and Ahimsa (Non-Violence). Adherence to these five principles in all aspects of our life would keep us on the right spiritual path. One of the most beautiful aspects of Swami's teachings is that they are applicable to all faiths and religions. His aim is 'not to disturb or destroy any faith, but to confirm each in his own faith, so that the Christian becomes a better Christian, the Muslim a better Muslim and the Hindu a better Hindu'. I prayed to Swami every night, thanks to my parents’ reminders, and tried to embrace the five-fold path to the best of my abilities.

But suddenly I found myself at the tender age of 12, implanted into the birthplace of all my spiritual education. Before this, Swami had come into my world. Now, I had come into Swami’s world and something felt radically different. On the first day we went for darshan (blessings from Swami) we sat amongst the hundreds of devotees in the darshan hall, patiently waiting to see Swami walk past us. We were so many rows behind His path (everyone draws numbers in order to determine the seating) but you could not miss Him in His bright orange robe. Suddenly this being who I had only seen in pictures and videos, this being who I had prayed to every night, whom I sang the praises of in bhajans, was walking only a few metres in front of me. Tears were falling from my eyes, and I was overcome with a deep love for Swami that I suppose was hiding inside me for many years.

On one of the days as we lined up, waiting for our turn to pull a number for darshan seating, someone in my family (perhaps my mum or one of my aunts who had come with us) had pulled out either a number 1 or 2 (the details are foggy). This was very exciting – finally one of us would have the opportunity to sit so close that we could maybe speak with Swami or bow to His feet, with His permission. Through the generosity of my family, they let me take the number and sit at the very front. They passed me several letters we had been taking with us every day, from other family members, hoping that Swami would collect them personally from my hands. My heart was racing, and a thousand thoughts were going through my mind: What if He asks me something? What if I can’t understand Him? What if He lets me ask a question? What do you ask God? And so on and so on.

Then Swami appeared and began to walk on His usual path. Once I saw Him, all the thinking stopped. He slowly walked past us, with His right hand lifted, showering His divine blessings upon us. My hand was stretched out with the letters, just like the hands of those beside me, and my focus was on His face –trying to take in this moment of closeness that I may never experience again. He looked at me, with an endearing gaze, His dark eyes filled with pure love, and a slight smile. My eyes brimming with tears, my mind completely empty, I could think of nothing to say. He continued walking along, and the letters remained in my hand. I will never forget that moment, because it reminds me so much of the way my mother looks when she is immensely proud of me. The literal translation of Sai is mother, and it was that brief moment, a moment that could not have lasted more than two or three seconds, in which I most clearly understood the meaning of His name, Sai.

This is the only story I have to tell of my experience with Swami. I don’t have dreams about Him, He has not spoken to me, He has not materialized anything for me. But I don’t really need anything else to know that every cell of my body, every inhalation and exhalation, every word I speak, is one with Swami. When I pray, I do not pray to Him, but I pray in salutation to the oneness of our divine beings. When I feel lost or frustrated, I say to myself ‘Swami, I surrender everything to you, do as you wish’ and I find solace in my unwavering faith that He knows what He is doing.

But this month, that faith has definitely been tested. On March 28th, Swami was hospitalized and continues to be in a critical state of health. All over the world, millions of his devotees have been praying for His physical well-being. We are all puzzled as to why He has chosen to suffer in this way, what is the meaning and intention behind His condition? For the first time in a long time, I find myself praying to Swami, asking Him to please, get better. I feel a depth of sadness and grief that I’ve not felt before. Even writing this entry has been a long process, filled with many tears. In my mind, I know that we shouldn’t be so attached to forms, and I know that Swami’s existence is beyond His form. But in my heart, when I close my eyes, I still see the image of Him smiling down at that 12 year old girl, and part of me is unable to detach. I know many of you reading have probably been feeling the same way over the past month, and I’ve been reading about the many prayers and bhajans that have taken place for Swami, longing to be with you all during this very difficult time.

If one thing has become clear, it is the pure, all-encompassing love that we share for Bhagawan. Let us channel that love in our prayers for His immediate and full recovery.

Om Shanti, Shanti, Shanti (Let peace prevail everywhere)

Sai Ram

Switzerland!

If you want to go to a place where you can get spoiled beyond belief, to a place where you can sample the most delicious and beautifully-prepared food, relax in luxurious spas and take in picturesque views of mountains kissed with snow, then go to Switzerland.

My flatmate Kheira did her Master's in Geneva, and invited me along for a trip there to visit some old friends and escape from the stress of our PhDs (more on that another time...). The first week of December we took six days off and pampered ourselves silly in Montreux - a lakeside city at the foot of the Swiss Alps. There we stayed for three and a half days...well the reality was that even if we wanted to leave, we couldn't because of the snow. The day we arrived in Montreux, it had been snowing heavily. Roads were closed, even the trains had stopped for several hours. The beautiful mountain views I had been dying to see were shadowed by a blanket of fog and snow for the first twenty-four hours of our stay. So we did the next best thing - we booked ourselves some appointments in the hotel's spa and spent some time walking along Lake Geneva. Even in the blizzard conditions, walking along the Swiss Riviera was an absolute joy! The outlines of mountains were barely visible across the lake, but strolling along the water, in the stillness that only snow can bring was such a peaceful feeling.

The following day we had better conditions and were able to do some sight-seeing in Montreux. One of the advantages of travelling in Europe during this time of year is the Christmas Market. Most countries have some type of open market with kiosks and vendors selling all sorts of Christmas goodies. The market in Montreux was set up right along the water, and aromas of roasted chestnuts, mulled wine and fondue filled the air. Of course, I made sure to sample some of everything! Switzerland is famous for their cheese fondue. They specialise in a particular type of cheese called Gruyère – named after the city. Unfortunately, I’m not a big fan of Gruyère because it’s quite aged and sharp (and stinky). But Kheira took me to the best fondue restaurant in Montreux to try ‘moitié moitié’ (which means half/half, as in half Gruyère mixed with half of some milder Swiss cheese) and it was delicious! I must say that in general, I had some of the most exquisite food I’ve ever eaten. Every meal was cooked to perfection, and the combination of flavours was so inventive, and yet really palatable. One of the desserts that I will never forget was a dark chocolate lava cake served with passionfruit coulis – I was so in love with this dish that I took a picture of it!

As the snow and clouds started to disappear and the sun came out, we decided to head to the famous Chateau Chillon – an historic castle. It felt like we owned the place because it was absolutely empty inside! I guess with all the snow, most people had the good sense to stay indoors. It did end up being to our benefit, as we avoided lines and wandered the castle freely. I managed to get some picture-perfect moments of the castle with the sparkling water and mountains in the background...I wish everyone could experience such an enchanting view first hand.

On Friday we left Montreux and headed for Geneva – which is about an hour away by train. And again, upon our arrival to Geneva, we were greeted with relentless snowfall! We barely made it to our hotel in one piece (I’m not exaggerating – the taxi behind us got into a serious accident due to the snow, six seconds later and it would have been us!). We didn’t really venture very far from our hotel that night, but on Saturday we were able to do some shopping and also met with some of Kheira’s friends who still live in the city. Geneva (and Switzerland in general) is extremely expensive. Since the Swiss franc is practically on par with the dollar, I figured most things would be priced relatively similar. This couldn’t be further from the truth. If you are cheap, don’t go to Switzerland. Your wallet will bleed.

Anyways, back to Geneva. Though the city is also surrounded by mountains, (with Lake Geneva running between the ‘old town’ and the city centre) I still preferred Montreux. Geneva is extremely busy and commercial. Everywhere you go, there are stores selling expensive watches and jewelry, the buildings have massive signs on the top advertising brands like Cartier, Rolex, etc. People there seemed a bit pretentious. It also has to do with the fact that Geneva is a business centre – so it attracts a certain crowd. Fortunately I was with friends who were able to point us in the right direction, and despite the snow we had a lot of fun! More pictures are coming tomorrow, my internet connection is really bad at the moment and I'm not able to upload very quickly.

Overall I must say it was a much needed holiday. Since I started my PhD I haven’t had a chance to do any travelling within Europe, so I was grateful to have this opportunity (and the free time!). The minute we got back though, it was straight to work again. I’ve had an extremely busy semester with teaching and my own research. Luckily it’s time for another break (and it couldn’t have come any sooner!). Tomorrow I fly back to Canada for three weeks for the Christmas break, and I am looking forward to seeing all my family and friends again!

A few more pictures:

Apparently, behind these buildings in Geneva is the tip of Mont Blanc, the highest mountain in the Alps.

Crossing Lake Geneva to the Old Town

On the train from Montreux to Geneva

Snapped this one whilst on a Ferris wheel in Montreux's Christmas market!