Today the sun must have been feeling the moon. The moon was already up in the sky when the sun began descending. The moon, almost full, rising above the palm trees in a clear blue sky. It is Friday eve, On Sunday the moon shall appear full. It is full every night, shining with all its glory, yet we get to perceive it as full only once a month.
The moon does not seem to mind. It keeps on with its motion, with its fullness and nakedness, circling the earth, playing with the oceans, and a bit with our moods.
The sunsets in the past few days were nice but not remarkable. The sun set in full orange/red, but left no real trace in the sky. Only the waters kept a hint of pink in them after the sun was gone. Subtle sunsets.
Tonight. The sun was playing with the clouds, in and out. Appearing half, turning bright red, leaving streaks of warmed tone brush strokes within the cool colored clouds, reappearing, and just when the drums are roaming with the ocean waves, the sun speeds up its move and instead of waiting for the curtain to come down, it sinks behind the ocean.
Not sure where it went, or if it went anywhere at all. So much of life is just an appearance.
Was this real?
Big Vagator, one of the last beaches that have a long stretch of sand, with no cafés and beds on it, palm trees, some rocks, and Chapora fort on the hill behind. It’s a beautiful place to watch the sun kiss the ocean, letting light fade away, as we welcome the stars.
The stars, unlike the sun, will accept their low appearance as the moon glows, and will wait silently for another few days till the moons’ reflection of the sun dims away.
(Hmmm, nice to think of the stars waiting, when it’s us really that see all these different appearances. The stars are just the stars, as the moon is just the moon, each floating in its space, within its own rhythm. That’s one part of nature, we humans have not managed to tame…thankfully)
Friday, December 21, 2007
Friday, December 14, 2007
Watsu
Roger welcomes me with a smile and a glass of water. Well the glass is made of metal, aluminum probably, as many dishes are here in India, but has a fancy rim to it, with three rings around the top.
We leave the main house, a beautiful white structure, a bit Indian, but with some Guggenheim museum affects, and light blue trim.
We head down to the Watsu pool. On the way we pass the area that he uses for dance parties, one of his great hobbies. “Now I am trying to master tango”, he tells me. “I love it, but have some difficulty with the structure. I am more used to free form dancing”. I remember learning to dance salsa in Cuba, and for the first time had to learn to keep my torso steady, move my legs in the right form of steps. It was indeed difficult for me. My body wanted to melt into the music, flow with its own rhythm. I understood that it shall happen later, when the form becomes part of me, but did not have enough curiosity to stick with it. I think that what attracted me most to it, is the partner dancing, how close two people share space, moving closer and away, touching, and looking into each other creating a new harmony.
The pool is chemical free, with warm water, blue with all white around. The place has a clean and safe feeling, as white walls and a black fabric awning like those used for green houses, close the area.
Watsu is a treatment, like a massage or a healing treatment that is done in the water.
After Roger kindly explains all that I should expect, we are both in the water, and I surrender.
I float in his hands, letting him take me around. I close my eyes, diving inside. I feel the body move, twisting, legs held up, arching of the back. I am held close like a child or let loose and floating about. Always I feel secure with him guiding the way.
After sometime of this soft relaxing floating, I get the nose clip. Now is underwater time. At Moments, feeling like a dolphin, eyes closed yet a deep blue surrounds me.
Then I am curled into a ball, and moved underwater like a baby in the womb. The sound of underwater, the warm touch holding me in mid water, really create the experience of being in the womb. Deep purple fills my mind, my essence. I become it, seeing nothing more.
Later when Roger will ask me how it was, my first words will be “rebirth”.
My breath seemed to slow down, felt like I could live underwater. Spinning, moved about, rolled around, flipped and let go, floating head down, almost like being dead.
It was hard to come out of the pool, even when the session was over. Such calmness, and a smile that just got glued on, felt very blissful.
This was a dance in the water. Roger leading, somewhat free form, intuitive, yet there are many techniques involved as well, a tango in which I get to surrender to Rogers lead.
I mounted my scooter, letting the wind blow my wet hair dry, caressing my body as I smiled towards the world with joy.
We leave the main house, a beautiful white structure, a bit Indian, but with some Guggenheim museum affects, and light blue trim.
We head down to the Watsu pool. On the way we pass the area that he uses for dance parties, one of his great hobbies. “Now I am trying to master tango”, he tells me. “I love it, but have some difficulty with the structure. I am more used to free form dancing”. I remember learning to dance salsa in Cuba, and for the first time had to learn to keep my torso steady, move my legs in the right form of steps. It was indeed difficult for me. My body wanted to melt into the music, flow with its own rhythm. I understood that it shall happen later, when the form becomes part of me, but did not have enough curiosity to stick with it. I think that what attracted me most to it, is the partner dancing, how close two people share space, moving closer and away, touching, and looking into each other creating a new harmony.
The pool is chemical free, with warm water, blue with all white around. The place has a clean and safe feeling, as white walls and a black fabric awning like those used for green houses, close the area.
Watsu is a treatment, like a massage or a healing treatment that is done in the water.
After Roger kindly explains all that I should expect, we are both in the water, and I surrender.
I float in his hands, letting him take me around. I close my eyes, diving inside. I feel the body move, twisting, legs held up, arching of the back. I am held close like a child or let loose and floating about. Always I feel secure with him guiding the way.
After sometime of this soft relaxing floating, I get the nose clip. Now is underwater time. At Moments, feeling like a dolphin, eyes closed yet a deep blue surrounds me.
Then I am curled into a ball, and moved underwater like a baby in the womb. The sound of underwater, the warm touch holding me in mid water, really create the experience of being in the womb. Deep purple fills my mind, my essence. I become it, seeing nothing more.
Later when Roger will ask me how it was, my first words will be “rebirth”.
My breath seemed to slow down, felt like I could live underwater. Spinning, moved about, rolled around, flipped and let go, floating head down, almost like being dead.
It was hard to come out of the pool, even when the session was over. Such calmness, and a smile that just got glued on, felt very blissful.
This was a dance in the water. Roger leading, somewhat free form, intuitive, yet there are many techniques involved as well, a tango in which I get to surrender to Rogers lead.
I mounted my scooter, letting the wind blow my wet hair dry, caressing my body as I smiled towards the world with joy.
Hot shower
It is the first hot shower I took in 4 weeks. The warm water is releasing my muscles, softening me, entering my body and melting me inside.
The drops hit the white marble floor, creating little puddles, waiting for them to grow so they can join the stream heading underground. Flowing to reunite with more of the same.
The water flows with no resistance. When hitting hair it goes around it, following the routes that are open. When enough water is there, it flows over the hair, not with aggression, but more with acceptance, just flowing in the direction that is naturally available for it.
Some drops fall into the empty clear bucket standing near my feet, making little sounds like that of a sewer overflowing with rain,
I did not miss the hot shower. It is hot in India, and the cold water stimulated the body, awakened it for new activity, new life.
But when it appeared, showering its warmth, like a mother, like a girlfriends kisses, it took me away, away from my thoughts into a land of constant flow, of streams uniting, connecting to a greater vessel, where the individual drops could not be separated any more.
Standing naked, I let the drops fall from my body. The knob turned to the right, keeps more water from running. I shake my body and use a clean towel to dry.
The sun is setting, and I am ready for a new day.
The drops hit the white marble floor, creating little puddles, waiting for them to grow so they can join the stream heading underground. Flowing to reunite with more of the same.
The water flows with no resistance. When hitting hair it goes around it, following the routes that are open. When enough water is there, it flows over the hair, not with aggression, but more with acceptance, just flowing in the direction that is naturally available for it.
Some drops fall into the empty clear bucket standing near my feet, making little sounds like that of a sewer overflowing with rain,
I did not miss the hot shower. It is hot in India, and the cold water stimulated the body, awakened it for new activity, new life.
But when it appeared, showering its warmth, like a mother, like a girlfriends kisses, it took me away, away from my thoughts into a land of constant flow, of streams uniting, connecting to a greater vessel, where the individual drops could not be separated any more.
Standing naked, I let the drops fall from my body. The knob turned to the right, keeps more water from running. I shake my body and use a clean towel to dry.
The sun is setting, and I am ready for a new day.
Gratitude
Gratitude is not about saying thank you. Not about words.
It is being grateful, being with the whole body mind and beyond.
Looking at the food, a sense of joy and appreciation arises.
The list of things and people to be grateful for is too long, it is a list of the mind.
Being grateful is a knowing, a meditation, and unity with all that is there for you.
Being humble, not taking anything for granted, not even the toilet you use or the bed you sleep in, bowing to your Yoga mat, to the earth you walk on, to a flower in bloom, accepting all the generosity around you and within you, is gratitude.
A thank You can be beautiful when the words used are transcended, where the intention of the heart and the look in the eyes are riding the words with a sweet energy, like a dolphin riding the waves, symbolizing more than what meets the eye or ear.
I bow before you all, my hands to my heart, and my heart to the world.
It is being grateful, being with the whole body mind and beyond.
Looking at the food, a sense of joy and appreciation arises.
The list of things and people to be grateful for is too long, it is a list of the mind.
Being grateful is a knowing, a meditation, and unity with all that is there for you.
Being humble, not taking anything for granted, not even the toilet you use or the bed you sleep in, bowing to your Yoga mat, to the earth you walk on, to a flower in bloom, accepting all the generosity around you and within you, is gratitude.
A thank You can be beautiful when the words used are transcended, where the intention of the heart and the look in the eyes are riding the words with a sweet energy, like a dolphin riding the waves, symbolizing more than what meets the eye or ear.
I bow before you all, my hands to my heart, and my heart to the world.
Goa, Yoga with Ralf and Marci and books
Sitting outside the shala (Yoga studio) with 15 other students. We are the second shift, the 8:00 am one. Next week we will be the third one as more students arrive.
The Yoga community increases here from December 15th, because of the holidays, but also because there is a migration of students that arrive from Mysore (The main Ashtanga shala) as they close till January 7th).
The morning drive on the scooter is beautiful, driving little streets between villages and palm trees, rice paddies, ponds reflecting the sunrise, cows, goats, dogs that chase with a loud bark and other students hurrying to get their spot.
“One more”, calls Ralf from inside. First come first practice. I enter, set my mat at the empty slot between 2 others that have started in the first shift and silently chant the invocation.
Students of all levels are practicing here, some indeed have super flexible bodies, some beautiful practices, but mostly, all are very dedicated.
It is a classic Goan house, hard dark maroon tiles, balconies (where we do the finishing poses in fresh air), hidden in lush nature of coconut and papaya trees, singing birds and crying crows, a blind dog and a dirt path lined with Honda scooters and the occasional Enfield (a classy British motorcycle with a sweet rolling engine sound).
Ralf has been living in Goa too many years to count. A German that looks more like a Hindu Sadhu, and Marci an American that joined him on this Journey much later.
They both are gifted teachers, and have taken me to places I never thought possible.
After practice is breaky time, as my dear friend Fiona would say. Sometimes it’s with other practitioners at a fun café (usually run by westerners that settled here), and other times, wanting some silence, I go home, cut a papaya and savor every bite. Fresh curd, a banana, at times a watermelon or some muesli, all are favorites.
Days go by here without any apparent destination. Writing, going to the Internet spot, meeting friends, going to a market or the beach, reading a lot and of course, eating. Eating indeed occupies so much time. Deciding where to go, ordering, the long wait for the food to arrive, and then the blissful chewing…
Just read an article that a college chef wrote about the long hours he works and not having really time to eat. Grabbing something while standing, chewing fast and getting ready for the next task. We say “the shoe maker walks barefoot”, but here indeed the cook does not go hungry. Much time and dedication are devoted to food.
Haruki Murakami’s “Kafka on the shore” is a highly recommended book I just finished reading (thank you Zohar). Any of his books really, but this one especially.
A journey of a 15 year old, that is like no other, honest, sensitive, crazy, fun, sexy…
Paul Auster’s “Leviathan” is another one I recently enjoyed, by the same author that wrote “smoke”, known as the movie with Harvey Keitel. This sends me back to life in America with lots of NY stories.
Last recommendation for this time is Lian Hearn’s great Japanese novel "Across the nightingale floor, first of a trilogy called “Tales of the Otori”. Couldn’t put it down. Indeed I am a big fan of all old tales about Japan, honor, love, rituals, and especially a certain way of thinking and acting. Placing all these in Japanese scenery, with some Ninja like powers, and I am happy.
The Yoga community increases here from December 15th, because of the holidays, but also because there is a migration of students that arrive from Mysore (The main Ashtanga shala) as they close till January 7th).
The morning drive on the scooter is beautiful, driving little streets between villages and palm trees, rice paddies, ponds reflecting the sunrise, cows, goats, dogs that chase with a loud bark and other students hurrying to get their spot.
“One more”, calls Ralf from inside. First come first practice. I enter, set my mat at the empty slot between 2 others that have started in the first shift and silently chant the invocation.
Students of all levels are practicing here, some indeed have super flexible bodies, some beautiful practices, but mostly, all are very dedicated.
It is a classic Goan house, hard dark maroon tiles, balconies (where we do the finishing poses in fresh air), hidden in lush nature of coconut and papaya trees, singing birds and crying crows, a blind dog and a dirt path lined with Honda scooters and the occasional Enfield (a classy British motorcycle with a sweet rolling engine sound).
Ralf has been living in Goa too many years to count. A German that looks more like a Hindu Sadhu, and Marci an American that joined him on this Journey much later.
They both are gifted teachers, and have taken me to places I never thought possible.
After practice is breaky time, as my dear friend Fiona would say. Sometimes it’s with other practitioners at a fun café (usually run by westerners that settled here), and other times, wanting some silence, I go home, cut a papaya and savor every bite. Fresh curd, a banana, at times a watermelon or some muesli, all are favorites.
Days go by here without any apparent destination. Writing, going to the Internet spot, meeting friends, going to a market or the beach, reading a lot and of course, eating. Eating indeed occupies so much time. Deciding where to go, ordering, the long wait for the food to arrive, and then the blissful chewing…
Just read an article that a college chef wrote about the long hours he works and not having really time to eat. Grabbing something while standing, chewing fast and getting ready for the next task. We say “the shoe maker walks barefoot”, but here indeed the cook does not go hungry. Much time and dedication are devoted to food.
Haruki Murakami’s “Kafka on the shore” is a highly recommended book I just finished reading (thank you Zohar). Any of his books really, but this one especially.
A journey of a 15 year old, that is like no other, honest, sensitive, crazy, fun, sexy…
Paul Auster’s “Leviathan” is another one I recently enjoyed, by the same author that wrote “smoke”, known as the movie with Harvey Keitel. This sends me back to life in America with lots of NY stories.
Last recommendation for this time is Lian Hearn’s great Japanese novel "Across the nightingale floor, first of a trilogy called “Tales of the Otori”. Couldn’t put it down. Indeed I am a big fan of all old tales about Japan, honor, love, rituals, and especially a certain way of thinking and acting. Placing all these in Japanese scenery, with some Ninja like powers, and I am happy.
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