Lord Ram

Lord Ram

Tuesday, October 12^th

India is if nothing else a country of festivals. And it seems that there are as many festivals as there are gods. We are just at the start of a nine day celebration of Lord Ram, the personification of all virtue. At the culmination of the celebration is a major celebration called Dashahara in which people are said to experience an awakening of the Kundalini energy.

So, it is completely ironic that I should be out walking with Angelo, another ashram cohort, and run into an acquaintance of his named Ram, whom he met here two years ago. He is a shop owner and was supervising the renovation of his store that was completely destroyed during the month long rains of September. The two recounted their last meeting, and this gave me time to take stock of this man with a rather imposing name. Tall and slender, he sported a long pony tail and a low cropped beard. He had an easy smile and exuded an air of quiet confidence. There was something very attractive about him that lay beyond his good looks.

Ram began to talking about his travels in Europe and shared the observation that there, everyone related from the head, whilst here in India, people communicate from the heart. In India, much of the communication he said happens telepathically, and on the level of feeling. What is conveyed in the etheric realms is just as tangible as the spoken word. I immediately began to wonder if he could read my thoughts or worse, interpret my body language and know that I was lusting after him.

The conversation became a blur, as I waited for an exit cue. I tugged at Angelo's sleeve reminding him that we had to be somewhere and hastened to say goodbye. With a hand to my chest and a slight nod of the head I gestured my farewell. I looked on as the two men shook hands and embraced, and felt a pang of jealously. It is not the custom here for men to embrace women in public. The most one can hope for is a shake of the hand. Taking Angelo by the arm I dragged him away, and made well my escape.

We made or way to currency exchange and then did some window shopping, before returning to the ashram. The whole time I was plagued with thoughts of this man. But knowing this to be a mere flight of fancy;I took refuge in the knowledge that with his charm and good looks he was accustomed to having women ogle him. 

Meditation this afternoon brought me to an even deeper level of stillness. However, I am still struggling to maintain a seated posture, cross legged on the floor. Supported by just two small pillows, I find that my knees cramp, and my feet go numb, and my hips pulse with pain. This sitting still, demands a quietening of the body as well as the mind. Today I follow the movement of my breath with single minded focus and again enter into an ocean of silence. My senses reach out, seeking the familiar clamor of mental chatter, but encounter only the ambient noise of the room.

There is a sense of falling, and I allow my self to float, adrift in the silence. The pain that still pulses through my body, no longer sits in the foreground and registers as a dull sensation. This has been my destination all along. At last I am letting go of my aversion to pain and discomfort. I am exploring my edge and making the discovery of what lies beyond sensation.

To my great relief there has been a marked improvement in the food. A variety of dishes are being served up that have not previously graced the table. Curry tofu, aloo mattar, lentil stew, pakora, rice pudding, and fresh fruit. And now there is salt and spice, adding flavor to the food. But, I have acquired a taste for chilli peppers, and they are a necessary compliment to my meal. Life on a whole is good and I really couldn't ask for more. I have reconciled with the absence of certain amenities; their absence is barely noticed. What I don't miss is the TV and radio. I am completely disconnected from events taking place in the world, and the world is doing just fine without me.

Another night of celebration as people sing and dance through the night. Restless, I attempted to write but the words eluded me. I gave up and lay on my bed contemplating how to get past this writers block. I am left wondering if my attempts to write a blog isn't just a big mistake. It is beginning to feel like work, as I try to find something interesting to write about. How to achieve this, when my days are punctuated by the monotony of routine. These are that thoughts that clutter my mind, as I drift off to sleep.