Ashram Life

A snippet from my January 14th journal entry:

'I'm sitting on the outdoor patio of the 350 rupees deluxe Rastafarian hotel we managed to find in high-season Varkala. My feet are up and I'm watching and listening to the wind-blown palm tree grove in our backyard. Today has consisted of meditation, yoga and pineapple juice. I can't really complain.'

...which is when I decided to compile a list of things I take for granted.

1. My feet
2. Juliana's awesomeness
3. Listening to the birds

Oh, my feet. My feet - or rather, my right foot, made it onto the Cast of Characters list, as it had a starring role at the Sivanandra ashram last week.

At first glance, the Sivanandra ashram in Kerala seems like paradise. I couldn't hear any city noises or rickshaws or trance music that seemed to always pop up in the middle of the night, and I was learning about yoga and living with like-minded souls. In the first few days, I was able to do a headstand for the first time in my life and I was looking forward to perfecting my locus position. I was, however, complaining about Satsang, which was meditation and chanting between 6:00-7:30 am and 8-9:30 pm. I was all for the meditation, but I never got into the chanting. I've never been able to say/sing/chant anything if I don't know the meaning... and all the chanting was in Sanskrit... so I mean... ?

Be careful what you wish for. On the third night I tripped on the stairs in the girls dorm and fell. I don't know how it happened, but in a second I was on the ground, somewhat hysterical, and couldn't move my right foot. This somewhat intense Spanish woman with red-penciled eyebrows who wakes us up at 5:30 am every morning comes over to me and says: "You don't really have a foot. Pain is an illusion." She waved her hand over my foot and told me to get up and walk to my bed.

I appreciated what she had said; I know that pain is an illusion... but something was still wrong with my foot. I didn't make a big fuss and just went to bed. My right foot/ankle region grew dramatically in size during the night and I was taking some serious pain killers the next day as I hobbled around the ashram. Most of the asanas we practiced were not standing poses so I decided I could still go to class, and just do the positions that did not use my foot. Wrong. My foot just got worse, and I just got more frustrated.

There is no better time to throw in a little proverb here: When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. I decided a new perspective was in order.

When the crazy Spanish woman woke everyone up in the morning to chant prayers that I didn't understand, I just pointed at my foot. "Can't go." Instead, I practiced Vipassana meditation in the dorm.. and practiced seeing reality as it was, not as I wanted it to be. So the reality was that something was wrong with my foot and I would not be able to participate. And that's that. I meditated, read, did some easy asanas in my room... I slept... which I was in dire need of, still sleep deprived from the epic bus rides of Tamil Nadu.

My foot wasn't getting any better and the Ayurvedic doctor at the ashram was not exactly to be trusted. When I asked him what to do about my foot, he looked at it, pressed it a little and, with utmost faith and assurance, looked me in eye and said, "Just rub some oil on it."

.....?

So I took matters into my own hands. I got an "out" pass from the ashram and took a rickshaw 10 km to a hospital. I had a momentary lapse of calmness when I realized I was walking by myself into an Indian hospital. The first counter I walked up to, labeled "Inquiry," kind of rejected me. I caused somewhat of a scene, as the nurse and I were not exactly able to communicate. I pointed to my foot and said "I need x-ray," and she just stared at me. As this continues - of course - the whole waiting room seems to get involved, as I'm practically playing charades and manically hoping around on my left foot. The madness stops when an English-speaking doctor walks up to me and asks what I need. I explain the situation and he walks me step-by-step through getting an appointment with a foot doctor.

The foot doctor spoke incredible English. He was super helpful, led me to the x-ray room... where two young and talkative women worked the machinery. I was in and out, with a $3 x-ray in-hand, in fifteen minutes.

So, thankfully, no fracture. I just did something. Who knows what. And I need to stay off of it a few more days.

The ashram was a good experience. Although I rarely participated in any ashram activities, I dealt with reality. Which is always good.

And we made some really funny friends. In one of those, loud-Americans-always-finding-other-Americans manner, we met Avery and Nick. Avery is 25 and just finished the Peace Corps in Kenya, and Nick is 23 and is traveling around China and India on the Watson Grant, studying Green architecture, or something. Watching these two is literally like watching stand-up comedy. In our Cast of Characters, we describe them as:
"Nick and Avery, the Seinfeld and Woody Allen live-running sitcom, complete with: magic tricks, glitter, short shorts, sarcasm, German accents, peanut balls, skits and hiding in unlit bathrooms to avoid going to Satsang."

So they were great. It's funny because we never exchanged contact information and Juliana and I left somewhat suddenly so they'll probably be put in that category of single-serving friends, who I'll probably never see again but for a limited amount of time, becomes your good friend.

Like I said earlier, I can't really complain. The sun is about to set over the Indian Ocean, so it's about time to wrap this one up. Oh! For the first time, I (more or less) know where I'm going to be until I get home:
Traveling through Kerala, Goa and Karnataka until Feb 3rd-ish
Volunteering in Pondicherry until March 3rd-ish
Beach lounging in the Andaman Islands until March 18th-ish
Flying to Bangkok and seeing my sister (!!!) on March 19th
Vipassana Course in Thailand until April 4th
Flying home... April... 15th? ish?