Author Archives: greatgeology

Mindfulness on a Modern Camino

Posted on by under Adventure Travel, camino de santiago, CaminodeSantiago, Hiking, spain, spirituality, travel

As I left Santiago and headed down the Camino Frances, I thought of the struggles I might face on the way. Walking backwards might not only pose a bit of a navigation problem, but as a fairly introverted person I feared it might get rather isolated with no way to make a Camino family. Turns out neither of those worries would be a problem because a) turns out tracking 1000’s of people is really easy, and b) it was really easy to struck up conversations with people knowing I would never see them again. What I wasn’t prepared for was the sheer number of pilgrims on the trail and the logistical problems that resulted. Even at it’s busiest after crossing the Portugal/Spain border, the number of pilgrims on the Camino Portuguese paled in comparison to what I would face on the Camino Frances, and as I headed against the crowds, the number of pilgrims seemed to multiply by the day as I was headed straight into one of the busiest months on the Camino, not to mention by year end 2016 would mark the most pilgrims on the Camino in recorded history (~278 000). The official number of pilgrims that arrived to Santiago via the Camino Frances the month I was walking was 21, 309, meaning that on average I was crossing paths with 710 pilgrims per day!

The number of pilgrims walking the trail had doubled in a short seven years, and as I began the Camino Frances I quickly learned that the number of albergues and beds were hard pressed to keep up with the hundreds of pilgrims on the Camino per day. This shortage (or perceived threat of shortage) created a rat race culture on the Camino; pilgrims would wake up at ungodly hours in the morning and rush to the next albergue to ensure they got a good bed, and after 3PM I was lucky if I was to come across a pilgrim on the trail. While the Camino Portuguese had more of a laid back atmosphere, we rarely booked beds in advance, were in bed by 10PM, or out of bed by 8AM, the Camino Frances had a somewhat militant structure. The accommodation created a culture on the Camino Frances that to me, was all to similar to the culture than many pilgrims were trying to and needed to get away from in their daily lives. At home, many have a fairly strict schedule leaving little room for the unknown, and on the Camino with morning wake up, departure, and arrival times strictly planned out, many pilgrims were allowed to continue on with their habitual routines, allowing the Camino to pass under their feet in a haze.

My first stay in an albergue on the Camino Frances, I would be irritatingly woken up at 4:30 AM by the “bag rustlers” shining their lights and packing up to head out for the day, falling back asleep I would be rudely awoken at 7:30AM by the receptionist and informed that all pilgrims must be out of the albergue by 8 AM! This I had most definitely not signed up for. I am not a morning person so I was pretty peeved to learn that on my vacation I would have start setting an alarm. As I made no move to get out of bed calculating I could sleep for another 20 minutes and make it out by 8, the clearly thought otherwise as she looked dubiously at my belongings that were strewn on top of my bag. What she didn’t know that my bag was similar to a children’s puzzle, and while it may look like it would take a bit of time to put together to someone who hadn’t seen the picture on the puzzle box,  I could put my bag together in about 5 minutes.

The number of pilgrims on the Camino France route and resultant culture was so overwhelming, that after a few days on the trail some pilgrims would hop a bus and start down a different route to Santiago such as the Camino del Norte or the Via de la Plata. If you’re looking for a quiet enjoyable hike that may be a fine thing to do, but if you are doing a pilgrimage it is important to trust that everything on the Camino is exactly as it should be for your journey. For myself although there would be some growing pains and grumpy early mornings as I got used to the Camino Frances, I knew that if I was mindful enough there were lessons one could learn that could only be taught through crossing paths with 100’s of pilgrims everyday on the path. As I worked to change my perspective of the number of pilgrims on the Camino from negative to positive, I realized that the growing number of pilgrims in recent years was a reflection of our modern lives. With internet we find ourselves interconnected with more and more people than ever before, with social media we may interact with 100’s or 1000’s of people a day when pre-internet we would be lucky to talk to 20 people a day. It was only fitting that the Camino had changed over the years to mirror this. Much like the Camino, in our lives we can choose to distance ourselves from others and try to hack it on our own, or we can use the increased interconnectedness to our advantage.

On the Camino Portuguese I had learned not to rush from point A to point B, and the Camino Frances tested this as I tried not to worry about arriving to albergues early enough to ensure a bed. It was a practice in releasing control and having faith that everything would work out, something easier said than done. Luckily, I had brought an air mattress, so I knew if worst came to worst I could sleep on a floor or outside, and with this backup I was able to step away from the bed races and hike the Camino on my time. As it would turn out, despite some late arrivals after 6PM, I always managed to find a bed! I would end up using my air mattress to camp out some nights, but that was a result of deciding I would camp when I set out that day, not due being turned away at albergues. It was amazing how having a little faith could reduce so much of the stress and worry that many pilgrims had on the trail. Once I stepped out of the Camino rat race, I had very little worries and my Camino experience would transform for the better in other ways as well.

While many pilgrims on the trail could be heard complaining about the sheer mass of people on a narrow trail (especially after Sarria, the 200 km point and last place to start the Camino to receive a compastella). As I was hiking in the reverse direction, if anyone was going to have a right to have an annoyance at the number of pilgrims on the trail it would be me but I was having a completely different experience! Though I had to leave most albergues by 8AM, I would usually only hike to the nearest cafe to get a tea, only really starting on the Camino by 9AM and being out of the bed races meant I could hike well into the afternoon, often stopping between 5 and 6PM. While I would pass many pilgrims in the morning, often getting weary of the pilgrim’s greeting on the trail when passing of “Buen Camino” as going in reverse I passed every single pilgrim, after 12PM pilgrims on the trail tapered off significantly. By 2PM I often found myself hiking in solitude for hours, enjoying the mild May temperatures and beautiful scenery in complete silence. One didn’t need to uproot and head to Santiago on a completely different route to find solitude, all one really needed to do was change their approach and one could find all the solitude in the world on the Camino Frances.

Potential pilgrims often find themselves turned off of doing the Camino Frances route because of the numbers and stories that circulate the internet. For myself, the Camino Frances was exactly as it needed to be for me to learn what I was supposed to learn on it. It is challenging to maintain mindfulness on the modern Camino Frances, more so than quieter routes such as the Camino Portuguese, but not in a bad way.  If one can learn to maintain mindfulness on the Camino Frances, they will be better prepared to maintain that mindfulness as they return to the hustle and bustle of their homes. For some it may be too overwhelming to start on the Camino Frances and like myself it may be better to start on a quieter route before heading down the Camino Frances, but I strongly recommend not to completely discount it based on the number of pilgrims walking it. Even if it is not clearly describable why, there is a reason it was in medieval times and still is the most traveled pilgrimage route and the Camino Frances will always be a special experience whether there are 1, 1000, or 100 000 pilgrims on the way.

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It’s Not the Destination

Posted on by under Adventure Travel, camino de santiago, CaminodeSantiago, spain

Although Santiago was never my end point, as I neared Santiago I started to think about what might await me at my destination, that something might await me at my destination. Millions of pilgrims had traveled for 100’s of miles for 100’s of years to Santiago, there must be something spectacular at the end that people continue to make the journey. I knew inherently, that anything I expected to happen would not happen. Traveling to new places taught me that very quickly, things would never turn out as I expected them to. Sometimes for the good, sometimes for the bad. Regardless that didn’t stop me from thinking about what might happen when I got there. While many Pilgrims that I talked to who had already made the journey once said that it was often a let down (if I had actually bothered to finish watching the movie “The Way” I would know that), still there was the odd story of pilgrims who upon arrival burst into uncontrollable tears, experienced bliss beyond their wildest dreams, or had a spiritual awakening. I thought since I had done all this spiritual work in Peru and India beforehand, I would be a shoe-in if any pilgrim was to be chosen to have a strong experience upon viewing the Cathedral. I was very wrong.

My arrival into Santiago was about as anticlimactic as it could be. The last 20 km started on enjoyable natural pathways, but as with all urban centers on the Camino, the path quickly turned to asphalt and trudging along the shoulders of busy roadways. There was very much an upside though, the path into Santiago was on an enjoyable gentle down-slope, with one final uphill push as you neared the cathedral. The day was grey and dreary, and as was within a few km of my final destination for the day, it started to rain! I can’r remember if it was just plain hardheadedness or for some unknown spiritual reason, but instead of stopping to take my raincoat out my bag I plodded on unimpeded, rain slowly soaking through my cotton sweatshirt. Needless to day, I arrived at the cathedral cold and sopping wet. To add even more to the anticlimacticism, upon my arrival at the cathedral I was quickly turned away at the door, no one was allowed inside with a bag. Maybe a way to avert terrorism or theft, but I think it had more to do with getting pilgrims to go to their hostel and and showered before showing up. As a pilgrim we had all grown accustomed to the musty smell of sweat and body odor that took on not only us but our bags as well, deodorant long ago used up or abandoned in hopes of reducing weight, and though we no longer recognized it, the smell was often found offensive by the general public.

 It would turn out that the most climatic event of my arrival into Santiago would be my accommodation for the three nights I would be there. Tipped off by a fellow pilgrim along the way I had called and booked a room at the San Marinto, a beautiful monastery converted into a hotel adjacent to the Cathedral. With regular rooms ran upwards of 100 Euro, I learned one could book a special “pilgrim room” which for 30 euro included a buffet breakfast, a private room, and one’s own shower! Though the room was small and basic compared to the ones I had seen on the website, it did little to ebb the ecstatic feeling of finally being in a private room! It was the first time I had been in a private room since India, and the first thing I did was there my bag on the chair, stripped down and just lied in bed. Seeing the Cathedral could wait, as for someone who regularly sleeps sans pyjamas, being able to strip down after weeks of sleeping in the confinement of clothes was nearly enough to bring me to the tears of happiness that pilgrims of legend had upon entering the cathedral.

The next day after gorging on the buffet breakfast and obtaining my pilgrim credential (I would somehow be blessed with only three people ahead of me in line at 9Am, other days at this time the line would extend out the building and require a wait of hours) I saw a sign in English for a meeting called “Camino Companions,” a time to reflect with other pilgrims about the journey. Eager to discuss with others their thoughts upon completion of the pilgrimage (and the sign promised free tea and cookies!) , I attended the meeting that afternoon. Run by a order of Irish nuns, we were given a few questions about our pilgrimage to reflect on and then discuss as a group including why we had walked the Camino, what was the most difficult part, and what was a significant moment. It had been easy in the excitement of reaching Santiago, and the subsequent disappointment upon arrival to forget everything I had learned in the four weeks it took me to reach there. Sitting down and reflecting with the Camino Companions and fellow pilgrims reminded me how much I had learned along the trail.

In the four short weeks it had taken me to reach Santiago from Lisbon, I had increased my present moment awareness tenfold, more so than mediation in India and ayahuasca in Peru had. I had begun to observe how what I surround myself with affects my thoughts, and how my thoughts affect me physically, while also making lifelong friends along the way! I realized that the actual city and Cathedral of Santiago had very little to do ones spiritual grown on the Camino. Other than providing a direction to walk, a place to stop (or one might cont me walking forever), and the opportunity to receive a piece of paper stating how far one walked to show their friends, reaching Santiago was not the point of the Camino. Though the remains of Saint James could be viewed there, kneeling down before them did not bring one any closer to him even if they had walked 10, 500, or 2000 km to get there. Saint James was present during every step on the Camino, if one took the time to look.

I still couldn’t shake the idea that something miraculous should happen in Santiago, and on my final day I found myself wandering around the city aimlessly, trying to let my feet guide me to something I might have missed. I wandered in and out of the many old churches throughout the city, appreciating the 500+ year old architecture at a level only someone who grew up in an area where the oldest building was only around 100 years old could. As I strolled through an open garden I found myself looking to the hills of Galicia on the horizon, and in my heart grew that familiar feeling, the itch to be back on the trail. I didn’t know what I was looking to find or where I would find it, but I knew it would not be found within the stone walls of Santiago. The Camino beckoned me onward, I still had almost 800 km before I would cross the Pyrenees and reach my end point at St Jean Pied de Port in France. Though it’s not the destination but the journey that would be the truly exciting part.

Back to Camino de Santiago blogs.

Desecelerao

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About a week into my Camino, I soon found myself hiking consistently with a group of 5 other people. There were only a few pilgrims on this part of the Portuguese route at this time of the year, and we were what seemed to be the only pilgrims hiking that section of the trail each day. It was an interesting joining of people for a group, 2 Australians, 2 Canadians, an American and a Britt. We ranged in age from 27 (me) to just over 60, and came from a diversity of backgrounds that made for consistent conversation. Apart from some tense mornings after an all night session of chainsaw snoring in the dormitory bunk bed style albergues from certain members of the group (I will not name names!), long lasting friendships were formed. 

With a Camino family, the miles and days started to rapidly pass by. Evening meals were spent telling stories and making plans for how far we would hike the next day and which albergue we would stay at. As we entered the city of Porto, marking only 230 km until Santiago, I couldn’t help but be excited to visit what was dubbed the mos beautiful bookstore in the world. Upon arrival and payment of an entrance fee, I was faced with scaffolding covering much of the exterior and interior architecture, making it all but impossible to understand how it held the most beautiful in the world claim. Not one to was a visit to a bookstore (especially one I had paid to visit), I pursued the shelves searching for a potential hidden gem, a hard task with the majority of the books in Portuguese. As luck would have it (I did NOT need to add anymore weight to my bag), I didn’t find a single book worth buying. In my search I did come across a set of Portuguese tarot cards, and seeking some wisdom for my Camino, I pulled out a card. The card titled “Desaceleracao” (slow down in English) depicted a turtle making his way towards a rainbow. I had to stifle back a laugh, anyone who saw me hiking on the Camino would be hard pressed to identify a way I could go any slower. Despite being the youngest in the group I was hiking with, I was exponentially the slowest. I had to wonder, was that card meant to have an ironic meaning, that maybe I should be speeding up, or was there something I was missing on the Camino even at my already slow pace?

Before getting to the city I had started to notice that the Camino had turned into a process of getting from A to B. Hiking with a group it had been easy to fall into a daily routine, planning our next stops, and I started to notice that I was more focused on where I was going each day than where I was during the day. Pulling the desaceleracao card maybe was poking a little fun at my meandering pace on the trail, but I saw it as a reminder to keep my awareness present, and it was also was a suitable preclude to the next exercise from “The Pilgrimage” titled “The Speed Exercise” where one would hike at 1/3 of their normal pace for 20 minutes, while trying to observe everything around them. I was a bit apprehensive to start this exercise, as I was already making my way down the Camino in record slow time the idea of spending 20 minutes each day walking at 1/3 of my already very slow pace seemed like it could add hours to my day (which it didn’t)! My mind resisted starting as it usually does when it comes to things that are good for it, trying to convince me not to start each day, that it wasn’t a good spot on the path, someone might come along and ask what I was doing, or that I would be late for dinner. The mind can be very convincing, but I managed to stick to my resolve and once I started the exercise I was fascinated by it.

Walking at a snails pace I tied to take in every possible detail I could, I was amazed to immediately find a whole world that I was missing while walking at a normal pace. Even if I sat all day in one spot I could not appreciate all the detail that the landscape offered, each bit of moss, every tree, even the flow of the water was a detailed mosaic, a masterpiece of art. I had to laugh to myself as I thought about all the people who had walked this portion of the path before me, claiming it as beautiful yet they were only actually seeing maybe 1% of its true beauty. Did they notice the subtle changes in color and grain size in the rocks, the layers of different mosses on a branch, the subtle movement of the tree tops as a slight wind passed? Even at my reduced pace I knew I was seeing only a small portion more and still missing out on so much detail, how easy it was to get caught up in observing every branch of a tree whilst missing the blades of grass where my feet were being placed. I practiced this exercise for 7 days on the Camino, and beyond the obvious lessons of taking time to smell the roses and appreciate the small things in life, though this exercise I found a much greater life lesson.

Over the days I became acutely aware of how much information my brain had to process. Regardless of whether I was able to consciously be aware of the minute details of each leaf and branch of every tree, these details were being taken in and processed in some part of my mind. Bringing my awareness to these details on a very quiet and natural area was overwhelming, and I began to understand how in my daily life I was overwhelming myself with information and stimulus. From social media, to TV, to driving, in my day to day life I was moving much faster and processing significantly more information. A few pilgrims I had talked to on the Camino noted how strange coincidences always seemed to occur when on the Camino. I soon realized that these coincidences were not some phenomenon restricted to the Camino, but were present in our daily lives. It was only on the Camino that we slowed down enough for our awareness not to be overwhelmed with information, allowing us to notice the subtleties of life. We were starting to listen to the language of the world.

This exercise had more long lasting impacts than I expected. I had set out on this journey to change my life, and this exercise started to teach me how to become more in-tune with my intuition so that the changes I would make in my life would start to draw what I wanted, rather than continuing in the same cycle just in different scenarios. I became acutely aware of the amount of stimulus I had in my life causing unnecessary noise, distracting me from answers I was searching for that could be right in front of my nose. How easy it is to completely engulf the mind in stimulus, from concerts to sports games to movies and social media. Being alone with ones own thoughts and feelings can be uncomfortable so these outlets provide a way to distract us, filling our mind with the useless noise of the thoughts, ideas, and feelings of other people, but really does nothing to help us achieve our own goals. Thanks to this exercise, I knew that going forward I would need to reduce these distractions and focus my awareness to my immediate surroundings, the answers I was seeking would only come from within, if I would only let myself listen.

 

Fear and the Solo Female Traveler

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Oh you’re planning a trip? Who are you going with?? Are you meeting someone?

These are the common questions I was faced with when I told anyone about my plans to travel around the world. To some it was unfathomable that traveling to remote corners of the world was something that could be done alone even as a women, and going alone was something I actually wanted to do. It seemed like they would rather get a root canal than venture out into the great unknown without some form of companionship. When they finally did believe that my plans were serious, there was a common opinion of me; “You must be really brave.”

Me. Brave? I don’t think so. I had been traveling solo to Peru and Ecuador for the past four years, and never once thought of myself as brave. Stupid, yes, often. But brave, never. There seems to be this stigma held that traveling is this big scary thing, and when you’re traveling without planned tour, not in a resort, and on your own, especially as a women, you must be narrowly avoiding rape and near death at every corner. Traveling solo as a women is painted as this big scary thing, I can’t put a number to the amount of blogs written on the subject, telling one what to do, what not to do, advice making one afraid to leave their trip-advisor approved hostel, turning traveling into a chore rather than fun.

The majority of the people you will meet anywhere in the world are just REGULAR people, though cultural norms and certain idiosyncrasies may be very different than home, at the heart the majority of people will be governed by the same moral compass. What does this mean for a young solo female traveler? Don’t do anything you wouldn’t do at home and trust your instincts if you are. Many of the horror stories one hears about solo travelers arise when people see travel as an opportunity  to let out their inner wild child with people they will never see again. An important part of traveling is the opportunities that push you out of your comfort zone, but there is a striking difference between bungee jumping or hitch hiking with friendly locals and taking drugs at a club or going somewhere with someone because they pressured you (prepare yourself to be assertive in saying no to men’s advances, being a tourist you will experience an aggressive level of pressure from locals not only in markets, but all the way to romantic offerings as well).

I only started travelling when I was 23, so maybe I never put off the same vibe to attract the same frequency of negative situations as a more naive 18 year old might, or maybe more stories sell when they focus and elaborate on the negative side of situations, but on my travels, the majority of the time I felt safe. I wandered cities at night, took local buses, hitchhiked, drank the water, drank some alcoholic beverages, and talked to people (including men) that I met. All alone. I never felt I was in any danger, though not all my encounters with the opposite sex on my travels were positive.

On a trip to Ecuador, I had a rather uncomfortable run in with a local male. While wandering the beach in broad daylight I became aware of a young local following me. I had wandered off the main beach onto a rocky outcropping, though two other tourists were visible a few hundred meters ahead. I continued on though not completely comfortable with the man now following me, and just to be safe I picked up a “walking stick” off the trail. As I wandered among the tide pools attempting to catch some of the little crabs, the local started to try to engage in conversation with me. The polite Canadian in me could not just tell him to go away, as he started speaking to me in Spanish I figured he would soon clue in to my terrible understanding of Spanish and give up.

He was not to be deterred that easy though, and with broken English he pushed on, inviting me to dinner at his house that night. Unable to shake my polite Canadian demeanor and just tell him to %$&* off, I had to get creative in my evasion tactics. Drawing on my grade 7 curriculum of a semester of mandatory french class, I decided that posing as a French Canadian was a viable option, “Solo hablo Frances” I responded to his invite shrugging my shoulders with a blank look (I should mention I would have failed French class had I not seen the final exam the day before I had to write it). Thinking I was finally in the clear I started to walk away, he called me back and I turned around to see him holding out a crab he had caught. I couldn’t deny my inner 5 year old that was desperate to catch one, so I walked over and took it from him.

As I looked up from the crab I had so desperately wanted to catch, I was shocked to find that the local had pulled down his pants and was giving me a full view! I quickly dropped the crab and while grasping my multi-functional walking stick said “umm no thanks!” while turning and walking quickly away towards the other tourists. He seemed to finally get the hint and did not attempt to pursue me. I was in a very touristy area known for partying, drugs and alcohol, so as much as I couldn’t fathom this approach to women ever working, I knew it must have worked once down the line for it to become something attempted in broad daylight.  I had wanted to catch some crabs on my walk, but not the type of crabs he was offering!

While some of the men I had met in South America seemed very forward, they had nothing on how men treated solo females in India. Many young men I crossed paths with seemed to think that foreign females travelling on their own must be desperate for male companionship, despite them vocalizing the opposite. Whether walking down the street, sitting at a cafe, or riding on a train; doing anything without a males companionship was the equivalent of wearing a big red sign saying “single and ready to mingle.” It was not uncommon to be approached by a local and interrogated about ones marital status. I learned to never, ever say that I was single. Though claiming a boyfriend or even wearing pretend wedding ring did very little to deter their pursuits, often claiming that when one is on holiday those commitments are as well.

I was surprised at the aggression that could result if I tried to politely dismiss their advances like I would do at home and had done in South American countries. One evening I ended up being invited to an Indian wedding by a tour operator. I was told that other tourists would be coming, and having heard that Indian weddings are not to be missed I accepted the invite. As soon as I arrived I felt the urge to leave, it was not the spectacle I had been led to believe, as soon as I arrived the tour guide ushered me into a small room where illicit alcohol was being served. Only one fellow tourist had managed to make the wedding, and feeling rather out of place I took a seat beside him and made conversation.

Not long after, and a few shots of whiskey later, the tour guide who had brought me pulled me away from the other tourist. He told me that he was offended that I would be talking to another man when he had brought me as his guest. Feeling really uncomfortable and knowing this night was on a crash course for a finale I did not care to be a part of, I demanded that I drive myself back to my guesthouse immediately. A younger me would have stayed to avoid hurting someone’s feelings, part of me believing that the tour guide had honorable intentions, but the few years of traveling I had under my belt had wizened me to nip these situations in the bud. In India especially, anything that was not a clear and aggressive “no” was interpreted that there was still an opportunity to pursue.

A few weeks later at the guesthouse I was staying at, over the course of a few days the cook had gotten progressively aggressive to another female tourist, not taking no for an answer. Finally, one morning things escalated after he had tried to lure her into his room, matters were dealt with in a rather western justice manner, a couple men showing up and “discussed” the matter with the cook in his room. Some time later, the cook emerged stiffly from the room sporting a freshly forming black eye, and was fired on the spot with his wages for the month given to the girl. Though I had been experiencing some of the Indian male forwardness, it was the first time I had witnessed it escalating to that level. Within the context of the spiritual hub of Rishikesh, it was a shock to the system to witness how the situation was handled, and a part of me sympathized with the cook.

For any female considering travelling solo to any country (especially India), be forewarned that it will be a challenging experience, but don’t let that deter you. Travelling solo will be the most rewarding thing you ever do, and something that is only possible at certain points in your life (I am told that the average person will spend a very little proportion of their life single (slightly hard to believe as a perpetually single person, who’s longest relationship lasted 3 month, with two of those months spend building up the courage to break it off), then factor in kids, and solo time will be a thing of the past!). Unless you have never lived outside of your parents basement, you will have the skills and instincts to travel solo without mishap, while wandering more than a block from the hostel, going out at night, and riding local transit despite what online articles and blogs may say. Just be prepared for local women looking at you like you have a terminal illness upon learning you are not married!

What I Learned

Posted on by under Adventure Travel, India, spirituality, travel

When I decided to make India a stop on my tour this year, it was to try to find out why Steve Jobs and other famous people like the Beetles attributed their time in India so much to their successes. On the day I was flying out to India, I was discussing with my friend who was giving me a ride to the airport why I chose India. They asked me, if Steve Jobs was so successful and spiritually in-tune, why did so many people not like working with him?  At the time I didn’t have a good answer, but the question stuck in my head. Was it that Steve Jobs didn’t find his success by following his interests and passions, but by using and abusing people like many CEOs of large corporations? I based my trip to India on the fact that Jobs had said it was influential for his career and I was desperately seeking some type of insight into my career path, but was I idolizing the wrong person? Through my time in India, I found an answer to my friends question of the validity of Steve Jobs’ success, an answer which would also prove insightful at a scale beyond just my career path.

First, what comes to mind when you think of someone who is successful? People’s answer to this question will vary slightly but most likely involve an aspect of 1.financial security and status 2. physical appearance and 3. having a spouse with the first trait (if you’re a woman) and the second trait (if you’re a man).  To be a success, one must be head of a multi-million dollar company, liked by all who meet them, have invitations to dinner with royalty, married to someone deemed physically attractive, and have 2.5 kids, all who are in the 95th percentile, and master’s at the cello and signed by a professional sports team at age 12. We rarely judge someones success based on their personal fulfillment, society will always see someone who lives in a log cabin without electricity as less successful as someone in a multi-million dollar house.

I spent a year living in the UK and couldn’t believe how much people were limiting themselves based on societal ideals (probably a problem in every first world area including my home, but easier to see as a foreigner coming in). From going to a proper pre-school to living in the right neighborhood to having a specific accent to looking to the royals for what to wear, lives were cookie cutter and full of how things needed to be done, leaving no room for people to follow their intuition and find true personal success outside the box. I found it interesting coming across an article studying graduates from Universities across the UK, how those who went to lower class Universities had more career and financial success than those at the prestigious ones. Why? Because the graduates from the lower class grew up with less of the pressure of the “proper” (and often expensive) way to approach life, and could think outside the box. More of these graduates started up their own businesses and took career risks, while the prestigious grads having had their life mapped out for them since birth didn’t have the same out of box thinking style required to be successful once out into the world. Having a strong ideal of what success looks like and how to achieve it ultimately inhibited ever being successful. Now what does any of this actually have to do with my time in India, spirituality, and Steve Jobs?

Lots. These ideals and mimicry of deemed successful attributes are not only limited to the un-spiritual western world, but very prevalent in the world of spirituality. In India this mimicry was often very visible, with physical appearance closely tied with spiritual practice. In the Hindu culture, the color saffron color represented purity and non-attachment and thus saffron colored robes were worn by many following the path of spirituality (or pretending to for begging reasons). I seemed to be the only one who found the irony of being attached to wearing a color to symbolize non-attachment completely comical. If one has reached the spiritual state of non-attachment to the material world, would what color they wear remotely concern them? There is also a strong stigma around a spiritual master and what they can and cannot do; they must be celibate, have no earthly desires, and can never make a mistake. We hold on to these almost impossible ideals of what is necessary to be spiritual, then find ourselves discouraged when we fail to meet them. We think we should see white light and auras, talk with other consciousnesses, and have no desires when we reach a spiritual state, and in our journey when we don’t experience these things we worry and think we are not on the right track.

These spiritual ideals are no different than the western ideals of success, and their impact on our lives and actions are one of the same (we just think we are better off than the guy taking a loan out to buy a fancy new car). The ideals lead us astray and away from our intuition. Spirituality has many different faces, and wearing a orange robe chanting mantras everyday will not make you more spiritual if the reason for the action is based in fear. Many people will feel stuck in their life and/or spiritual practice and think that is has nothing to do with their actions, that it is the universe playing some cruel joke or that they are just destined to lead an average life. Being stuck is actually a sign your making the wrong decisions, rather than your choices being based on your intuition and personal truth they are shrouded with what you think is needed. Its like solving a basic math problem, but instead of reading that its a + sign, you think its a – sign as someone told you their problem had been a +. Though you are trying to solve the problem, you are only getting further from the answer. The problem is not changing or getting harder with every attempt you make, you just keep repeating the same mistake and getting frustrated that you still haven’t gotten the right answer without ever properly reading the question.

So should we really be looking at Steve Job’s external life as a measure of his success? Is a spiritual master less of a master if he doesn’t walk around in an orange robe? What I realized what the most important was to look at how he lived life. He never set out with the intention to become a billionaire, and that is probably the biggest reason he did end up so financially successful. He didn’t build any of his products with the goal of making the most profit he could, he made the products as innovative as possible with a complete disregard for costs. He did the best he could in that moment without thinking of what future gains or falls it might bring (and yes, some of his choices ended up being poor, but instead of regretting them he saw them for the value they served for learning). As per being liked by his peers, from a psychological standpoint one of the first signs of success will be having people strongly dislike you. Dislike has nothing to do with the person you have that feeling towards, but stems from yourself. To have a strong dislike of a person is a reflection of yourself, that person is exhibiting a trait you hold yourself back from embracing. Many find themselves jealous of successful people following their dreams and passions as they are too afraid to follow their own.

What I learned is to let go of the idea of what success or spirituality looks like, to learn as much as I can at every opportunity without wondering when and how it might benefit me in the future. To make choices based on the best I can do at the present moment in time, not basing a choice for some possible outcome that may come as a result. How often we think in stories when making decisions in any aspect of our life; if I do this, then this will happen, then this will happen, then this, and then I will be happy. Lots of times this happens subconsciously if we haven’t put the self work in and started to understand the basis of why we do and think what we do. How often do things go to plan and we even get to that second story layer, the first then this will happen? Never. Life is unpredictable and changes rapidly. All we can do is make the best choice right now.

All Paths Lead to the Same Place

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I had an idea in my head that while I was in India I would find my “Guru”. This idea had been put into my head from recently half finishing a couple books related to spirituality in the area; The Autobiography of a Yogi and Surfing the Himalayas. The authors of these books described the key role that finding their Guru had on their spiritual quests, how it was through divine intervention that they met their Guru, and hence, I decided that to fulfill my spiritual quest I would also need to find my Guru. I failed to remember the part in Steve Job’s biography describing his similar quest to find a Guru, only to end up finding his Guru when he quit looking for him, and his Guru would actually be from California, pretty much in his back yard.

I never did find what I envisioned “my” guru to be in India, but on my quest I met many gurus, delving deeper into knowledge of spirituality and philosophy than I had ever considered doing. I found myself constantly floored upon learning spiritual practices in India that mirrored practices of the Shamans in the Amazon. Even one of the more popular gurus giving satsangs at the time admitted to using ayahuasca in their spiritual development. All mind altering plants and substances aside (see this natgeo article on the use of cannabis by Sadhus in the Himalayas), the Shamans of the Amazon and the Swamis and holy people of India followed some very strange and strikingly similar practices for day to day living.

If you haven’t read any of my blogs from my time in Peru, there is one practice that the Shamans seem to have a great affinity towards; purging. There is one guarantee if you plan to go work with Shamans in the Amazon, you will puke, you will shit, and sometimes you may even uncontrollably do both at the same time. It could be that they just enjoy seeing naive tourists suffer, but they claim that the purge process is important to cleanse the emotional and energetic body, a way to release stuck patterns and thoughts when we are release them with our own willpower. While purging in the remote and wild Amazon didn’t seem out of place, I was surprised to learn that it was also an integral yogic process, right alongside the endless breath control and elegant body postures performed in immaculate studios and $100 outfits. Funny how when yoga was translated to the western world, the purging or shatkriyas practices were conveniently left out. While the Shamans used different plants to induce these purges, in India they were a bit more creative, invoking purging through methods such as swallowing a thin piece of cloth over 3m long and pulling it out, or using a oil, honey, and salt mixture as an enema. In our yoga teacher training course they encouraged us to try all the yogic practices, but having just been in Peru I felt that I had done enough purging for a while.

While in the Amazon I had to follow a strict diet, which is easiest to explain by the few things that are allowed, pretty much anything that dosent have a taste; rice, potatoes, plaintains, and the occasional amazonian bottom feeder fish. Oh, and this strict diet also extends to prohibit other areas of life, aka. no sex. I had never given the diet much thought apart for the scientific reasoning for no red meats (the Monoamine Oxidase Inhibitor component of ayahuasca blocks the enzymes that digest red meat), and the common sense that sugars and processed foods just are not good for you. So I found it very interesting when I started learning about the yogic diet and how (apart from milk) it had all of the same restrictions as the diet in the Amazon. These restrictions had nothing to do with any chemical interaction with a plant, but were based on energetic usage in the body. The bland diet and lack of sex minimizes the amount of energetic consumption taking place, allowing for all that energy to be focused upward rather than inward, towards achieving a higher consciousness state.

Beyond the similarities of the physical practices, there were many similarities between the ceremonial and spiritual aspects. In the Amazon, going into Tambo (a isolated hut in the jungle) was a key part of one’s spiritual growth, similar to a type of medidation developed in India called Vipassana involving 10 days of isolation with no talking or contact with others. Icaros were songs used by the Shamans to connect with spirits and cleanse energies, while in India they used Mantras to achieve much of the same. Both had a respect for the masculine and feminine, the solar and lunar, and finding a balance between the two. I was astonished that what I learned in India would bring light to an intense experience I had in Peru, explaining the exact state of consciousness I experienced. A state that was attainable through serious meditation and was not just a “high” feeling from the hallucinogenic aspect of ayahuasca as anyone reading about the experience might think. Was it no coincidence that Buddha achieved enlightenment by sitting under a tree and that plants were such an integral part of spiritual connection in the amazon?

I had to think, how could two cultures on completely different sides of the world have such similar practices? Many people discount spiritual practices as there is no scientific proof or observable cause and effect relationship, but these similarities pointed at some universal truth or language that all spiritual practices derive from regardless of culture or locality on the globe. Were all spiritual and religious paths actually leading to the same place? My year traveling around the world to different spiritual and religious centers had been with the aim of finding healing, but I realized that  I might gain much more than that by the time I was done.

Pickup Lines and Translations of the “Enlightened”

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Rishikesh, India is a very special place… And with that comes some situations and experiences you would never have the privilege to stumble across in your home country. With the influx of lost westerners searching for meaning, Rishikesh has turned into a spiritual “resort” destination. A result of this is that (as much as we may say we try not to) westerner culture has had a significant impact on the local culture, and our attempts to merge the two cultures results in (at times) some pretty comical outcomes. Firstly; dating. I don’t mean to sound cynical as I fall into this crowd, but about 70% of the population in Rishikesh consists of single western women searching for meaning in life, and lets get really honest, most women are going to tell you their number one goal in life is to find their soul mate/twin flame/other half/pool boy or whatever definition is trending these days. Having this type of demographic has made Rishikesh a dating hot-spot for the more forward locals and tourists alike. This, combined with the saturation of spirituality in the area makes for a whole different dating ball game than typical, requiring a vast new approach and vocabulary of spiritual pickup lines.

Now, spiritual pickup lines have the same cheesiness and validity along the lines of “Did you fall from heaven, because you look like an angel,” but if you throw the right spiritual terms in, somehow credibility ensures. Here’s a quick look at some of the classics:

  • I just met you, but I feel this connection that I know you from a past life;
  • I saw your aura from across the room, and it was like a magnet drawing me to you;
  • I can feel our souls are vibrating on the same, higher frequency;
  • OMG, you’re a (insert astrological sign here)! I’m a (insert astrological sign), our signs are the most sexually compatible match up possible in the zodiac world;
  • In my dream last night I had a vision we would meet like this;
  • The energy between us is so strong, I can feel it pulsating in my heart chakra (but really most likely pulsating in the root chakra… Spiritual humor.);
  • Would you like to practice tantra yoga with a master?; and,
  • I can help awaken your kundalini.

Really, this list goes on and on, and maybe one day I’ll come back to it. You are probably reading this thinking, yeah right, none of those actually work, but I assure you, in Rishikesh they do. I was inspired to write this blog post by a couple I met at the guesthouse I was staying at. The girl was eastern European, late teens to early twenties, somewhat typical of the gypsy millennial generation, directionless with the naivety that all young adults have. Nothing really much different than many other of the women travelers passing through Rishikesh, what was different was her traveling partner she was sharing the one-bed private room with. He was a much older Indian man, probably somewhere in his late 40’s, whose appearance and demeanor just screamed sleazeball. Naturally, me and some of the other guests were curious as to how this pairing came about. While the man was a bit avoidant on personal questions, the girl immediately and rather adamantly told us that they knew each other from a past life and had a deep soul connection. The man never confirmed nor denied this fact, but just seemed to enjoy the all expense paid tour of India he got to take part on as a result of this past-life connection. As I write this I wonder what happened down the line. Did they maintain their “connection” once she had to return home, did she stay in India, or was I correct in my thoughts that the pairing was indicative of repressed daddy issues that needed to be faced rather than having anything to do with a soul connection? I will never know.

With the abundance of spirituality in the area, not only does one need to change their approach to the dating game, but there is also a entire “spiritual” language that one must translate when having or listening to conversations in the cafes. With at least two or three different self-proclaimed enlightened masters giving satsangs every day (including the Canadian who (as an embarrassment to all Canadians) gave himself the title of “God”), and 90% of the people taking a yoga teacher training course, many of us tourists even start to speak this language. Some key translations to remember that will bring a new light and clarity to the conversations you might hear in Rishikesh or someone just returning from there are:

  • My lunar energy is high.
    • Translation: I’m acting crazy as $%#@ because I have PMS
  • It’s nearing a full moon
    • Translation: I’m acting crazy as $%#@ for no reason
  • I experienced ego death
    • Translation: My ego is so big and out of control that it has convinced me it’s dead
  • I connected with the divine
    • Translation: I took some really really good drugs
  • I have really good karma
    • Translation: I’m only nice to you and do good things because I believe I will get some future spiritual reward, I don’t actually like you or would do those things without incentive
  • I’m one of (insert Guru name here)’s most loyal and favored students
    • Translation: I’ve given him my life savings
  • Mercury is in retrograde
    • Translation: Again, my current level of craziness is in no way related to my actual personality
  • He helped awaken my kundalini
    • Translation: I had the most intense orgasm of my life
  • I saw ____ in my dream, it was a sign I should do ____
    • Translation: I am looking for a way to justify my actions so if I fail I have something to blame

Again, this list can go on and on. One day there may actually be a Rosetta stone program; learn to speak Spirituality in 30 days (any takers to invest in developing this with me??)! As with any language, there is a bit of skill and experience required to know when someone is bullshitting you, but if the situation involves some type of monetary exchange or sex, 9 times out of 10 (especially in India) whatever they are saying no matter how “spiritual” it sounds, is BS.

Satsangs and the Uber-Spiritual

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While in the planning stages of my year off, I had mentioned to a person I met that I would be traveling to India in January to which they told me that someone named Mooji would be hosting a satsang around the same time and I absolutely MUST go. I had no idea who Mooji was or even what a satsang entailed and a quick google search didn’t help me out any. The only Mooji I could find was some guy from Jamacia and I had the assumption I was looking for an Indian. I didn’t bother looking up what a satsang was, I got the just of what might go on from the name, and though I didn’t understand why it was a big deal, I made a plan to attend one as I did actually somewhat enjoy sitting and singing.

As it would turn out, what I had envisioned a satsang to be and what it actually turned out to be were two very different things. My visions of sitting in a circle singing mantras with some Indian swami were pretty far off from the satsangs I attended (though there was usually some singing involved, so the name was not a complete mis-advertisement). Many satsangs were being held in Rishikesh at the time I was there, and my biggest surprise was that none of that were hosted by actual Indians! The “gurus” that everyone came to partake in a satsang with were from all over the world including Europe, America and South America (turns out I had the correct Jamacian Mooji to begin with) and people traveled from all over the world to see them in India. I have to admit, I was slightly cynical of the people that traveled all the way to India just for these satsangs, when the person they traveled so far to see lived most of their time in a country much closer. But, there are some mysteries of the world that will remain unsolved and its probably for the best not to delve into it.

The first satsang I attended was that of Mooji’s, which was probably the worst one to break my satsang virginity with. He was like a rockstar of the enlightened world (with westerners, not the locals but that is another story) and lining up hours before the satsang was essential to get a seat. Things I will wait hours in line for are few and far between, but I thought if I was going to do this satsang I was going to do it right. I arrived 2hrs before the scheduled time only to find myself about 2hrs late, standing in line behind hundreds of people a few blocks from the actual gate. The line provided enough entertainment to pass the hours though, local vendors knowing a good money making opportunity when they saw it, set up fruit stalls along the queue, and I was able to enjoy some fresh coconut juice as I partook in one of my favorite activities of people watching/listening and interrupting in random strangers conversations. Within 25 m of my place in line, there seemed to be someone from every continent in the world. Though I had no idea what it was exactly that Mooji did, numerous people were there as without even directly meeting him, they claimed he had significantly impacted their lives. His fame was so widespread that the satsang that day would be attended by approximately 1000 people, translated into 4 languages, and streamed live on the internet.

Finally it was time to enter the building and find our seats for the satsang. We had to maintain silence as we entered, shoes were removed and we were ushered to our seats by people in white flowing robes (as I write this I can’t help but realize that this was probably the closest I have ever been in my life to a cult setting, but somehow this never dawned on me at the time). Thanks to my late arrival into the lineup, I found myself in the back half of the room, craning my neck to see around a pole so I could get my first glimpse of the person everyone had flocked from afar to see. I had been prepared slightly for what was about to ensue. The satsang would be done in the format of a question and answer session, and it would be luck of the draw who Mooji would call on to ask a question. No one had been pre-selected based on their question, which I heard from others who had attended his satsang in the days preceding my visit, could result in some pretty interesting situations. As Mooji had this rockstar following, he also had the fans that took things to the extreme, including people having what could only be described as an orgasm just from Mooji acknowledging them, to others begging him just to let them kiss his feet, claiming the one thing they wanted more than anything in the world was to just touch him. Sometimes though, someone with a legitimate question would be picked, and an informative session would ensue. From daily issues of jobs and relationships to furthering one’s spiritual practice, Mooji had a unique skill of explaining the unexplainable in a way that resonated with the general masses. For some, he could explain something so simple in a way that could shift someones perception of an issue previously seeming solution-less.

Some of those that flocked to this satsang made the uber-spirituals I had met in peru (“The Characters You’ll Meet“) seem like boring 9-5 businessmen in comparison. In the amazon, its possible that the combination of the remote jungle settinng, ayahuasca, and puking tended to humble the most egotistical person. In India these things did not exist (except for the occasional bout of food poisoning) and the absolute worst type of uber-spiritual people existed here, the ones who were so egotistical they actually believed they had no ego. While the facilitators told anyone asking questions to keep it general so the response would be applicable to more of the audience, the questions asked often involved the person giving a detailed account of their spiritual journey, sometimes not even getting to a question but more seemingly seeking Mooji’s approval of their lives. I remember one woman’s interaction with Mooji very clearly, she was visibly an uber-spiritual type, though her desperation to talk with him showed attachment (the nemesis of the uber-spiritual, who almost are attached to detachment). She expalined to Mooji how she had done so much spiritual work, transcending states of consciousness, releasing all physical attachments, that she had overcome her ego, blah blah blah, but now she didn’t know what was the next step. Up to this point I had been listening to Mooji’s responses and knew that he was legitimate, but his response to this woman showed that he was absolutely brilliant. “My dear, if you had truly overcome your ego you would not feel the need to tell me about it.” I couldn’t hold back my laughter, he had a magical way of calling out people on their bullshit without crushing their spirit. I respected that, but not quite enough to warrant standing in that line again to attend another one of his satsangs while I was in India. One time was enough for me. 

What is Yoga?

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As the time approached to start my yoga teacher training course I had a lot trepidation. Though the website application had said that all levels of yoga were welcome, I couldn’t suppress the fear that as I lacked the ability to put my foot behind my head I would be holding back the rest of the class. As a fairly competitive person, I often avoided doing things where I knew I would be at the back of the pack, and yoga was not something I thought myself to be good at. Also I only had one item of Lulu Lemon attire, a far cry of the almost required head to toe garb plus accessories to fit in the western world of yoga.

I really didn’t know what I was getting myself into with this training, I had decided to do the course more to have a structured yoga program than to actually become a yoga teacher in the future. For myself I find if I don’t have some type of structure I can very easily become distracted and not get around to do what I’m supposed to be doing (like writing this blog…). Also I figured if my plan was to do yoga and meditation anyways, why not get the yoga teacher training certificate as who knows, maybe one day I would change my mind and want to teach. I would soon find out that I was not alone in my reasoning for doing the teacher training course, the majority of the 12 people in the class were around my level of yoga and didn’t have any immediate plans to start teaching. We all seemed to have a few things in common that may or may not have influenced our decision to give up everything and practice yoga intensively for a month, 1)all but one of us was female, 2)all but three of us were born in the 1980’s, and 3)more than a few of us were at a crossroads in our lives involving recent relationships with the opposite sex.

Yoga in the western world may consist of Lulu Lemon, bending awkwardly, and contemplating how it can be so hard to do something as simple as focus on one’s breath, but we quickly learned that there is so much more to yoga than that, and in fact our yoga teacher performed jaw dropping postures without a stitch of lycra, rather bearing loose fitting cotton clothing. Our days consisted of 1.5 hrs of yoga before breakfast, 4 hours of classroom time covering philosophy, physiology, mantras, another 1.5 hrs of yoga, finishing with 1 hr of meditation. Oddly enough, philosophy would become the favorite of the majority of the class; maybe a function of the absence of religion and philosophy most 80’s western children grow up with or the lack of connection to religion resulting from the wordy and easily misinterpreted teachings of Christianity/Catholicism combined with a very mired  recent past, but we couldn’t get enough of it. We would often be found discussing through meal times the differences between the five pranas or how to apply yamas and niyamas to our daily lives. Conversations in the local cafes between strangers often migrated to these topics, a nice relief to the gossip and complaining that would be heard at a cafe in the western world (I will admit though, after spending 2.5 months in the area I might have gladly welcomed a conversation on Taylor Swift’s latest affairs).

In philosophy class we learned that the word “yoga” actually meant the union and balance of the mind, body, and soul, which could be achieved through practicing the eight limbs of ashtanga yoga. The physical body posture part of yoga we focus on in the western world was actually only one out of these of eight limbs, and it was slightly comical to realize that by having this unbalanced focus on only one of the limbs, we were achieving the opposite of the balance that yoga is meant to be. The practice of yoga consisted of the yamas (ethical practices), niyamas (self discipline and spiritual practices), asanas (postures that we focus on), pranayama (use of breath control), pratyahara (withdrawl of the senses from the outside world to within), dharana (concentration of ones thoughts on a single image or thought), Dhyana (complete awarness without focus), and finally samadhi (a state of merging with the divine and ecstasy).

Each limb is progressively more challenging, beginning with the yamas, similar to the ten commandments including truthfulness (satya), non-stealing (asteya), non-violence (ahimsa), non-hoarding (aparigraph), and living in moderation (brahmacharya), actions we can easily control. The niyamas are slightly more challenging, including purification of the mind and body (shaucha), contentment with ones life (santosha), putting full effort into any task (tapas), study of the self (svadhyaya), and finally complete faith/surrender of self to god (ishvara pranidhana). The third limb, the asanas or postures that often come to mind when we think of yoga, are not used as a tool to get in shape, but are used to focus the mind and bring balance to the physical body, which are skills important in some of the other limbs. The fourth limb is pranayama, the practice of breathing techniques used to clear and balance one’s energetic body as well as focusing the mind similar to the practice of asanas. The fifth limb is pratyahara, which is the concentrated effort of withdrawing ones senses from the external to the internal world, further testing the focus of ones mind gained through asanas and pranayama. The sixth limb is dharana, the complete focus of one’s mind on a single object, sound, or thought and the seventh limb is dhyana which is the complete unfocus of the mind, the state of thoughtlessness and complete awareness we are told to strive for in meditation. The final limb is samadhi, a state of consciousness impossible to describe, a merging with the divine, though the experience is nothing like what will come to mind when you think of merging with the divine, we lack words to describe it accurately. Samadhi is a state rarely achieved, even by those who practice yoga religiously for their whole lives, it requires something referred to as divine grace, better known as pure dumb luck.

The teachers in the course always amazed me at their passion for teaching yoga philosophy. They must have seen hundreds of clueless westerns come through, every month starting from scratch with new students, probably asking all the same questions as the last batch. It was typical of us westerners to think we had even the slightest grasp on yogic concepts by the end of the month course, when our teachers had dedicated their lives to the practice, for them it was a way of life, and for us it was something we scheduled into our day to do. I had to wonder what they truly thought of us westerners, full of ideas of yoga molded by western society and after just a few philosophy classes talking like we knew what was going on, I assume it might be something like this.

I Could be on a Beach Somewhere…

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I’ll admit, I did about zero research on India prior to jumping on the plane, as my travels the past four years had been to the same country I had completely forgotten the basics one needs to know before going to a country they have never been before. I like to think that not doing any research prior to going is good in some ways, I didn’t get a chance to build up any expectations or unnecessary fears, but the downside was that I was very unprepared for some elements.

I knew vaguely that India had severe pollution problems, but that did little to prepare me for the actual reality and extent of the pollution. Flying into New Delhi I was taken aback by the brown haze that seemed to engulf the area and the inability to see more than a couple hundred meters in the distance. As I waited in the airport for my domestic flight connection to DehraDun, the smog made it impossible to even see the planes taking off and landing. A shock for someone coming from Alberta, Canada with its big blue skies and vast horizons. Thankfully I would only be spending a couple hours in New Delhi waiting for my connection before flying to the north of India, to an area in the foothills of the Himalayas where I had been told had better air quality.

Though the air quality in the north seemed a bit better, I was shocked by the physical pollution. Landfills and waste management seemed non-existent, rather garbage was pile in any vacant space where no infrastructure existed and when these piles would be occasionally burnt. No regard was given for the type of material that had been dumped, often including old tires that would result in the emission of thick, black, and toxic smoke. I could only imagine what other toxic materials were being dumped in this manner, my education and experience in contaminated site assessment kicking in as I thought about the contamination risk to the soil and groundwater. I watched as a truck drove slowly down the road spraying the ditches with some liquid, very reminiscent of the photos I had seen from the 60’s when the use of DDT had been common. I held my breath as they passed. This pollution would take its toll on me, after a few weeks I would develop an ear infection that would persist despite numerous trips to a specialist and would only disappear when I finally left India.

Cattle roamed the streets, most being malnourished and some with untreated injuries as they were the equivalent of what we would call stray animals. Cattle being considered sacred were not eaten though their milk was consumed, this practice resulting in farmers often releasing bull calves as they served no purpose to them while keeping the cows to milk. These abandoned cattle could often be seen hanging around the rubbish piles, sifting through for anything that they might be able to digest into some form of nutrition, one eating the paper bag I was holding right out of my hand. I had to wonder how much little accumulated in their stomachs that they were unable to digest, a question that I would later find an answer to when a video showed up on my facebook news feed showing the removal of 20 kg of plastic from one bull! I had once heard a rumor that cows could not go down stairs, this was quickly disproved monitoring the cows in India as they would go everywhere! Up stairs, down stairs, through doors, even over the two main and rather busy pedestrian/motorcycle suspension bridges over the River Ganga, often causing massive traffic delays as they traversed at a meandering pace. As there were cattle everywhere on the streets, there was a proportionate amount of manure on the streets as well that one had to try to avoid! I was lucky as I had arrived in mid January, and the flies would just be coming out by the time in left at the end of March.

Coming to India in January was great for the fly and mosquito situation but another challenge arose that I had not prepared for. I arrived to the ashram I would be spending my first week at very unprepared for the drastic temperature changes between night and day that were a result of being near the highest mountain chain in the world in the middle of winter. When packing for India I had quickly check the average temperature forecast for the area, showing daily temperatures between 20-25oC, and my clothing was chosen accordingly. What I had failed to do was to look at the low temperatures, which would dip to near or below freezing during the night, and with temperatures reaching above 40 oC in the summer, houses were designed to keep cool not warm or with any type of heating systems. The last item that had been cut from my bag had been my touque, and my entire first night in India I regretted that last minute decision! These freezing temperatures made me very unwilling in the morning to get out of bed and go to the first yoga class of the day at 7:30AM (I won’t lie, I never even once considered making the morning prayers and worship at 6:30).

I would also learn that making the 7:30 yoga class was one thing, surviving it was another! I had been doing yoga on and off over the past couple years and had been to a few yoga classes, but the westerner yoga I had experienced paled in comparison to the yoga I now found myself struggling to do. Where was the gentle cat/cow and downward dog? This yoga was a test of strength and athleticism at a relentless pace. Despite the cold mornings, everyone in the class worked up a sweat and a few times I found myself sitting in awe watching the more advanced students perform poses worthy of circ de soleil. With my yoga teacher training course starting in less than a week, I was starting to think I had maybe gotten in over my head. Thailand and Bali were a short plane ride away, and I heard that there was warm temperatures, beaches, and mai tais there, which was starting to look very appealing in comparison to my current conditions! These doubts were fleeting, as I had learned in Peru that these doubts and wanting to quit were usually indicators that I was on a path of self improvement, a path which requires facing many challenges which will always bring out doubts. I took these doubts as a good sign I was on the right path, I could be on a beach somewhere having a enjoyable time and relaxing, but I knew it would not help better myself and I would be closer to achieving my goals through challenging myself practicing yoga and meditation with masters in one of the spiritual capitals of the world. Also, I had already paid a deposit for my yoga teacher training course.