Yoga - Here and There

There is something unique here. It is hard to grasp what I exactly feel, but I shall try now. Frankly, at home I did not really like yoga classes. For those, who are just a little bit sensitive, a class was a gathering of miseries, disturbed energies, unfounded hopes, desires, baseless expectations and prides. And only sometimes a little bit of real tapas (one of the ten yogic principles; meaning more-or-less: burning zeal in practice). More often than not it was just boring how the good teachers struggled to channel the distracted energies of the pupils – not to mention the bad ones... Classes were compromised; Compromised for the sake of ego.

First time in my life I have been feeling something different here… Have I changed, or the place is magical..? I felt this difference during my Buddhist meditation retreat, at the Iyengar Institute, and in my personal discussions with sadhus, who have devoted their entire lives to have access into the divine. In every bit of their teachings I feel some wisdom beyond expression, rooted in experiences of thousands of years of thousands of extraordinary minds; Rooted in age-old traditions of this land that are not partial imports but are at home here. And one can sense these living roots to the past. To the past where the irrational part of our consciousness was much more encouraged, when it was simply acknowledged as a valuable equal part of our existence. We had it, too, in the west. But we lost our connection to it to gain something else. 

Meanwhile, however, we remained the same human beings as we used to be, still having this ancient part of ours, deep within. And we leave it to be starved. We try not to accept its existence, but suppress it. Instead of real integration, when we ‘let our-selves’ to see the world from a vastly different point of view, and simultaneously express this hidden part through its own language; the language of conscious rituals, of powerful symbols/archetypes, such as, for instance, the fire, water, sacred animals, flowers, wonderful and terrifying visions, etc. Rituals, which clearly express our link to this organic world. Rituals, which after all for nothing else, but expressing that we all are part of the whole.

This ritualistic path of understanding is missing, even from the good yoga classes in the west (at least from those I used to visit). But it is all present here. The rituals, which are still organic parts of the present Indian society, shine in their bests when they are joined with deep intellectual understanding, uncorruptedly aiming the ultimate; that is, in the best yoga practices here. I feel some vast, pure force in all these classes, which is so powerful that it does not struggle with the individual distractions but aligns them with wonderful ease; or destroys…

Both the Theravada traditions and Iyengar’s yoga techniques are enormously powerful, pure, and divine. I feel my smallness very clearly when facing them. My most personal reactions, aversions, excuses, are all taken into account in the know-how of these techniques. For thousands of years they knew them… How unique I am? How unique a man is? Countless men and women went into the depth of their existence, in vastly different times and spaces, and yet, we all have been finding the same… Same weaknesses and strengths. What I think to be my most personal fears, progresses and fails are all explained in those holy texts in great detail, with no mistakes. This firmness of knowledge, this vast wisdom is just overwhelming. These ancient techniques know far more of me than I do of myself. This is embarrassing for my ego. It thought to be unique. Precious. But thousands of such tiny egos thought the very same, and thousands will, too, until they realize the truth: it is not like that.

Can the I (with capital letter, heh? :) bear it? It must. It must if it wants to carry on these paths. And they know it. Teaching is fundamentally different here. Masters know that those who remain in the class, they are serious students. They know that we all have taken a bath in the vision of our own hells and we all decided to go forward; That we are kind of over of a certain threshold. The very reason we all gathered here is to practice. Just to practice. For as long as it takes; For hours, for years, tens of years, tens of lives... So, they handle us accordingly as an adult; A matured adult.

These teachers are inhuman; Impersonal. Something immeasurably vast compare to any animated wisdom; A channel; Channel to the purity of existence itself. Both Theravada meditation and Iyengar yoga are hubs of this Light. And through them one can link to this eternal Light, the very same that was present thousands of years ago and shined for the ancient saints.

As It Is

I am sitting in my room and just over there is the garden bathing in the silver light of almost full-moon. A month after the monsoon started this country starts to look like a 'real land'. I mean the burned fields and pure hot rocks give place to life: the green color of life everywhere. Harsh sprawling green colors in various tones, calm the soul and says: We live again!

For days there is an impression growing in me; one serious difference between 'our' attitude and 'theirs' here. A fundamentally different approach to life. Certainly, this is generalization, and as such, it is oversimplification. Still...

Here they are opened up. Extremely social. We are more, much-much more individualist. We try to separate ourselves. In every level of our existence. Look at the cars, for example. Fancy design, luxurious interior which place of our body in full comfort. Perfect noise insulation. Soft music from the high quality sound system, and the car senses and judge by itself more and more situations (from the rain sensor to BLIPS) just to give us the illusion of separated perfect existence, the heaven. Everything goes as we would like to, and at last we believe for a moment that there is something eternal in this world. That this world is after all not a dark and cold vacuum, but a soft, warm home covered by beige leather on the seats and expensive wood on the dashboard. Or have a look to the shopping malls. Everything is carefully kept dust-free. They look pretty, harsh, and ever-new. Natural decay excluded... Brilliant lights, soft music, tons of goods to buy and finally you believe that you are happy. What do you really buy? Some stuff you need or satisfaction? To fill up something. Something that cannot be filled by this way...

Here the life and its tools are more rough. There is not enough resources to build up the illusion of everlasting goods. You feel the elements everywhere around: in cars, in homes. You are bound to encounter with masses of people everywhere again: at homes, while travelling, while working. The smells attacking you everywhere, too; smells of people, the heavy steam of trash water, and your own sweat. There is no illusion created. This is rough as life itself.

A sharp mirror. This roughness pushes you to face with reality. You are not separated, not alienated from the world, but deeply engaged with it. It is around and within you. In Europe you are bound to soften the environment otherwise you die. It led us to the creation of the illusion of security. What we are so stucked to. Here you can stay alive without altering the environment too much. For the price that within the natural tolerance of human body one has to deal with and accept much wider extremes. The roughness of life. No fancy car, no goretex cloth, no well insulated walls. You feel the cold of the winds, the wet of the rain, the burn of the sun, the ups-and-downs of existence. Hundreds of millions live like that.

But we humans do need some secureness, don't we? Where do they find it? Maybe inside? Inside... Beyond the complaining layer of personality in the layer of dreams and believes. And some special souls even deeper, beyond needs, beyond believes can face with what is there. The tranquil space of existence. Where everything is just as it is...

a Whole New World

Simply shocking... I will work for the Indian Institute of Geomagnetism in the following few years. They sent a fancy jeep for me to the airport. Now we are on way back to the Institute, through the city. City... For a long time I was keep thinking that we are passing through some kind of ghetto or slum - but now, this is the city... Dust, trash everywhere; people are by the road sitting around fires on dust; chaos everywhere: in the traffic, among the buildings; shops in such huts which look dirty and like to be abandoned for ages. I have the very strong impression that the whole city was left behind by people hundreds of years ago and they just came back yesterday and started to occupy it again and rebuild from the ruins to match to human condition. This poverty is simply unthinkable for us in the west - at least it was for me.

We stops by a bodega to take a chai (Indian tea with milk). A few people are sitting/standing around. They are smiling from heart and the whites of their teeth brilliantly radiates out from their dark skin (except those who chew bethel; they teeth are strongly reddish). I smile back from my heart, too, and spontaneously realize that even in this dusty, chaotic environment all depth and richness of human emotions, ups-and-downs, understanding and experiences exists. Then a sudden flash strikes through me: I and actually we (generally us middle class people in Europe) have everything what we could or should have to live a happy and balanced life. And in this very moment some deep strain releases; I had to travel thousands of miles to understand that it does not matter where I am. Wherever I am I do have everything I'd need - within me...