Western body, Hindu heart

Cross-posting

2010-04-20T08:19:00.000-07:00

I really appreciated this blog entry:

http://wakingupnow.com/blog/bryan-brown-hates-himself-so-gays-cant-marry

I am baffled by Christian theology, but am able to appreciate Christian music, and Christian stories, and Christian liturgy. This blogger gives words to some of that.

Believing and Belonging

2010-02-09T09:55:00.000-08:00

Sermon delivered at the Church of St John the Evangelist
Stewardship Sunday - October 1995

You may gather that I'm trying to make a point by wearing a sari this morning. Bear with me, and I'll tell you how I came to be witnessing in a Christian church, dressed as a Hindu.
I was baptized and raised as a Roman Catholic, but from the late 1960s on, described myself as a card-carrying atheist. I was seriously opposed on principle to all things religious . . . and I reserved particular venom for Christianity and for the Christian God who had apparently abandoned me.
In 1984 and 1985, I became deeply interested in Eastern spiritual practices, and in Hinduism; in April of 1985, I became a disciple of an Indian teacher. In the West, we draw distinctions between theology and philosophy and physical health and getting through the day. We have a special word, "religion," which refers to things which are about God. There is no such word in Hindi or in Sanskrit, since it is simply inconceivable that there could be anything about anything which would not also be about God.
In 1987, my friend Jennifer suggested that I might enjoy visiting her parish. At first, I came to St. John's as a skeptical and cynical visitor. I kept coming back for several reasons . . . first, because I found God here, in a way I thought possible only via an eastern path. Perhaps equally important, I visited again because I found something here I had not known, or had forgotten over the years . . . what it means to truly live the gospel, to find Christ in living and in dying, in fellowship and in loneliness, in prayer and in sexuality and in problems and in joy and in anger. Spiritual work in the Eastern traditions is often interior and solitary . . . there is a maxim that you cannot save others who are drowning until you yourself have learned to swim. Here at St. John's, I found a community which took the dictate "Love one another" very seriously indeed. If others are drowning, physically or emotionally or spiritually, this is no time for swimming lessons… Yell for help! Grab a rope! Do everything you can . . . and do it now. This sense that "we're all in this together" pervades this community, transcending differences of lifestyle and income and even faith. There is a saying . . . when we teach a child not to step on a caterpillar, it is as good for the child as it is for the caterpillar. When a body begins to understand that its boundaries are illusory, and that there is room enough, and nurturing enough, for all, and all are welcome... it is as good for the body as it is for those who might otherwise have been excluded.
Please do not get the impression that some years ago I just arrived at St. John's, felt right at home, joined right in. Not so at all. To say that I was less than comfortable here understates the situation considerably. I continually questioned whether I wanted to be here, and why. I was not at all sure I belonged. I was trying to unravel my complicated feelings about Christianity, both emotionally and intellectually. Richard and Jennifer were endlessly patient with my endless questioning. They just kept reassuring me that I was in a safe place with them and with their church and with this community. So I kept coming back .. . but also kept the faith and the community at arm's length. I drew limits for myself. First, I just worked on remaining in the church through the entire liturgy . . . and for some months, that was quite hard enough. I sat in a back pew and listened and watched and kept quiet, and bolted out the front door immediately after the liturgy. But then it started to feel O.K. to sing a little. Then some of the prayers started to seem familiar and even comfortable. After a year of tiny, tentative steps toward involvement in worship here, I finally felt comfortable sharing communion at your table.
Then it was pointed out to me that since I was now attending regularly, and putting small sums of money into the basket regularly, it would be helpful to the church if I would pledge my tiny offering so that my contribution could be included in planning for the next year. Pledging felt too much like "joining" my first year here… I wanted to avoid any hint of commitment to the parish! By the second year, I understood that I did not need to "join" in order to belong… and I finally got my own little envelopes. By then, my self-imposed limits around participation were receding rapidly. One of the last limits involved my assertion that I would do anything at St. John's which did not require my wearing an alb, an act which seemed altogether too Christian for my Hindu self. But then I became friends with Karl. When Karl died, I wore an alb for the first time so that I could carry a torch the night we received his body here at the church.
I wear my Hindu prayer beads all the time. I am open about my strong ties to Hinduism. Even so, as I began to get to know some people here at St. John's, I felt a bit like an imposter . . . waiting for a heavy hand to land on my shoulder while a loud voice said "You don't really belong here, you know." But every time I tried to talk to members of this community about how I didn't really belong here because I wasn't really a Christian, they all just told me not to worry... of course it was fine for me to be here.
In a wonderful sermon several years ago, Jennifer preached about the tree of heaven which is big enough for all the birds of heaven . . . even the odd ducks. Some people fly into St. John's seeking God, or community, or peace . . . and rest here for just a minute, leaving before we've even learned their names. For others, St. John's offers a haven... a branch to rest on, out of the rain, with nourishment and support for the eventual continuation of the journey. For some, the haven becomes safe enough for a nest, and St. John's becomes, in a very real way, home.
When I first found Hinduism, I thought I loved it because it was so different from Christianity. After I came to St. John's, as I prayed and meditated and tried to integrate these very different spiritual practices and traditions, the differences became less distinct. The three ash marks on my forehead remind me that the Holy One is creator, sustainer, and transformer... not so very different, after all. I still struggle with theological questions... but when I can quiet my mind, and listen to my heart, I find myself nurtured and content here. I am most grateful to have found a safe haven in which to reestablish diplomatic relations with Christianity. I am grateful to have found a place where diversity is not merely tolerated, but welcomed. And I am profoundly grateful to have found a Western Christian community where we almost do not need a separate word for religion... because it is inconceivable that anything about anything would not also be about God.
In India, the word "namaste'" is used for both greeting and farewell… Namaste means "I bow to you. I honor you. I honor the divinity which I see shining in and through you." And I do honor all of you here at St. John's. Namaste.

Finding time in my day for God

2009-04-08T10:32:00.000-07:00

I wear a mala of rudraksha beads. When I put them on, I pray that my mind will be quiet, my lips guarded, and my heart open - so that I will find God everywhere in my day.

But on all too many days, that and grace before meals (in Sanskrit. I like that.) pretty much comprise my formal practice. Not enough time for reading, or puja, or sitting quietly in meditation and prayer.

Even blogging here can be a form of practice for me... my posts from 2007 include both my travels to India and my thoughts and feelings about Hinduism. If I start posting regularly on the latter, that would be a good first step.

The spiritual part of me is not being nourished. I need to work on that. In the 1980s, I found myself (to my great surprise) sitting in the presence of God, after a long, long time of estrangement from that Presence. That was the most important thing that had ever happened to me, and I decided that I really needed to pay attention to that - so I resigned from my high tech job and went off to Divinity School to study and pray for a couple of years. That was the right thing to have done, and I have never regretted it. Now... I do not need to make a dramatic change like dropping everything... but being in that Presence is still the most important thing in my life, and I need to pay more attention to that.

Kripalu and Amrit Desai

2008-01-28T06:11:00.000-08:00

The "Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health" was founded as simply "Kripalu," by Yogi Amrit Desai. The ashram was named for Yogi Desai's guru, Swami Kripalvananda. At that time, the disciples called Yogi Desai "Gurudev," and Swami Kripalvananda, "Bapuji."

I first visited the ashram in the mid 1980's. I was completely stressed out with my high tech job, and saw an article about this place with mountains, yoga, and vegetarian food. Sounded like heaven to me. I signed up for a week long class... I don't remember the name, but in general, the class was "fitness and bonding with a group of women." And to get the feel of the place, I signed up for a "Welcome Weekend" a few weeks prior to the class.

Kripalu was built as a Jesuit seminary -- it's a large, blockish building, not particularly attractive -- but located on a hill overlooking a lake. Lovely location, not-so-lovely building.

That first weekend, I found that I liked many things about the ashram - the food, the yoga, the peaceful atmosphere, the lovely surroundings. I was uncomfortable with the enormous attention paid to the guru - virtually every room, every hallway, had a picture of Gurudev, and many also had a picture of Babuji -- and much time was spent bowing to those pictures.... foreheads on the floor. I had never seen anyone "pranam" before - the prayerful bow with forehead on the floor. It was all very strange to me. This was all very strange for me.

The last day of my "Welcome Weekend," Gurudev visited our class. He performed what they called a posture flow -- some years earlier, while Gurudev was still an art student, he practiced hatha yoga. One night that yoga practice spontaneously evolved into a "meditation in motion," where one pose just flowed into the next. I watched the posture flow, and was drawn into that meditation with him -- the room was incredibly still.

I enjoyed my class a few weeks later, and began visiting the ashram regularly for their Rest and Relaxation program. Over time, I also began reading a bit about Hinduism -- I had read "Be Here Now" in the far distant past, and now re-read it -- and also found many other books on Hinduism and Hindu practice. About a year later, I was at the ashram one weekend when Gurudev showed up to give the dharma talk on Saturday night. I had never seen him in person -- and was really attracted by what he had to say. (And bowing to the guru was not seeming so strange to me anymore!)

Some six months after that, Gurudev was leading a weekend workshop in Chicago, and I signed up. I would never have that kind of exposure to him at the ashram in Lenox -- so I just took myself to where he was going to be. The facility for the weekend retreat was pretty bad -- very very run down. The shag rugs were not clean. The food was *terrible.* But I enjoyed his talks, and that was ok. And at one point that weekend, he began a session with a meditation. I closed my eyes and followed his voice - and one minute I was sitting on a dirty shag rug in Chicago, and the next minute I was in the very presence of God. It was a completely transformative moment for me.

SYDA Yoga - the (mostly) good parts

2007-12-07T06:08:00.000-08:00

In 1988, my friend Prajna introduced me to SYDA Yoga (aka Siddha Yoga), the tradition founded by Baba Muktananda based on teachings from his guru, Nityananda. By the late 1980s, Baba had taken samadhi, and SYDA Yoga was led by Gurumayi Chidvilasananda. As I began attending programs at the Boston Ashram, I was strongly attracted to the practice. Much of the focus was on chanting, which I love... also meditation, and what might be considered academic study, and only a tangential interest in hatha yoga. I began to learn the chants... the Guru Gita, the Shiva Arati, Jyota se Jyota, and all of the call-response chants. I was in the ashram most Sunday mornings for the Guru Gita -- and when I traveled, I took a chanting book and a tape with me. Chanting the Gita by the ocean was a special joy for me.

I also attended many programs in South Fallsburg, the US home of SYDA Yoga. At that time, SYDA Yoga was huge and growing, due to Baba's strong foundation of the community, and Gurumayi's charisma. The ashram in Fallsburg consisted of the original ashram plus several adjacent hotels. I would stay in one of the hotels - sometimes alone, sometimes with my friend Jennifer or my friend Prajna. I would rise around 4 to take a shuttle bus to the main ashram for Arati and the Guru Gita, then breakfast. The ashram encouraged all devotees to perform seva -- selfless service - from 9-noon and 1-5 -- I was not willing to work quite that much, so would schedule some seva but also some down time for relaxation and meditation. When Gurumayi was there (rather than traveling or staying at the ashram in Ganeshpuri, north of Mumbai), literally thousands of devotees would be at the ashram on a summer weekend. In the evenings, there would be a chant, a dharma talk, then hours of darshan, when devotees waited in line for the opportunity to bow at Gurumayi's feet.

I attended meditation intensives, a wonderful course on Kashmir Shaivism, and many weekend programs. Attire for women was Indian formal - the evening programs were filled with women in gorgeous gold-trimmed saris. Attire for the temple was either a sari or at least salwaar kameez.

The practices felt like coming home. The single-point focus on the guru... not so much. In the temple, the primary murti was not Shiva, but Nityananda. When the folks chanted the Guru Gita, many of them had small photographs of Gurumayi in their chanting books. The best way I can explain this -- I saw the Guru as the stained glass, not as the light. Baba's writings made sense to me. Gurumayi's writings and her dharma talks made *much* sense to me. But I felt that they were teachers, showing the way to God... and it seemed that for many, the gurus were themselves the object of devotion.

This did not really impact my practice.... it was just a point of interest for me, and "You pray your way, I will pray my way."

Every practice ends with Sadgurunath Maharaj ki Jai -- loosely -- Life/Victory/Praise to the True Guru -- when I chant that, I see Mahadev in His ring of fire... but I think that is not the perception of the majority of SYDA Yoga practitioners.

Hanumanji

2007-12-04T05:52:00.001-08:00

What a perfectly lovely way to spend an hour... chanting the Hanuman Chalisa with friends at my friend Prajna's house. Blissful.

Hanuman is the hero of the Ramayana, the Indian epic which tells the story of Rama and Sita. The matchbook cover version of that story: Rama loses his throne and is banished; his wife Sita is kidnapped to Lanka by the demon-king Ravana; Rama, his brother Lakshman, and an army head for Lanka to rescue her. Hanuman plays a pivotal role in the story - he flies ahead to Lanka with Rama's ring to tell Sita that help is on the way. With his tale ablaze, he sets Lanka on fire. When herbs are needed for healing, he flies to the mountain to the the herbs... and brings back the entire mountain. Many of the images of Hanuman show him flying, carrying the mountain back to Rama. After Rama rescues Sita, they all return to Ayodhya. (Fair warning -- the story does not have a happy ending... )

Hanuman is the perfect servant of God... living only to serve Ram.

Some of my favorite Hanuman things...

The Hanuman Chalisa, available on many chant CDs. (Particularly recommend Flow of Grace by Krishna Das)

"Where did you get that ring?" Delightful contemporary song about Hanuman - on Flow of Grace, and also on other Krishna Das CDs.

Hanuman's Tales -- fascinating book of His stories.

I have a lovely batik of Hanuman, which I think I found in Benares.

Hanuman is just... sweetness. Hanging out with him, reading about him, chanting about him -- bliss.

Hanumanji

2007-12-04T05:52:00.000-08:00

What a perfectly lovely way to spend an hour... chanting the Hanuman Chalisa with friends at my friend Prajna's house. Blissful.

Hanuman is the hero of the Ramayana, the Indian epic which tells the story of Rama and Sita. The matchbook cover version of that story: Rama loses his throne and is banished; his wife Sita is kidnapped to Lanka by the demon-king Ravana; Rama, his brother Lakshman, and an army head for Lanka to rescue her. Hanuman plays a pivotal role in the story - he flies ahead to Lanka with Rama's ring to tell Sita that help is on the way. With his tale ablaze, he sets Lanka on fire. When herbs are needed for healing, he flies to the mountain to the the herbs... and brings back the entire mountain. Many of the images of Hanuman show him flying, carrying the mountain back to Rama. After Rama rescues Sita, they all return to Ayodhya. (Fair warning -- the story does not have a happy ending... )

Hanuman is the perfect servant of God... living only to serve Ram.

Some of my favorite Hanuman things...

The Chalisa, available on many chant CDs. (Particularly recommend Flow of Grace by Krishna Das)

Where did you get that ring? Wonderful contemporary song about Hanuman - on Flow of Grace, and also on other Krishna Das CDs.

Hanuman's Tales -- fascinating book of His stories.

I have a lovely batik of Hanuman, which I think I found in Benares.

Hanuman is just... sweetness. Hanging out with him, reading about him, chanting about him -- bliss.

Factoid about India

2007-11-27T05:43:00.000-08:00

India is approximately one-third the size of the United States.

300 million people live in the US.

India has 1.2B people -- four times as many people in 1/3 the area.

Hmmmm. No wonder it seems crowded there....

Returning to India -- 2001

2007-11-05T12:00:00.000-08:00

I live in Massachusetts, but I spent about a year working three or four days each week as a project manager on a large customer engagement in Charlotte, NC. I decided to focus the air travel on Delta -- and at the end of that gig, I had quite an impressive collection of SkyMiles. So for our next trip to India, we used SkyMiles to purchase two business class seats. Delta flies to Mumbai from Kennedy, via Paris... so we started in Boston with a short hop from Logan to Kennedy. Arrived at the airport way, way early, as is our custom. If memory serves, we were scheduled for about a two hour wait between flights once we arrived at Kennedy. Our Boston flight was late... and later... and later. There was barely controlled pandemonium at the gate, since it seemed that just about every traveler was taking that flight only to make some complicated international connection out of Kennedy.... and now all of those connections were in jeopardy. We waited in the line to talk to the agent.... but it was pretty clear that our flight from Boston to NY was not going to arrive in time for us to make our connection to Paris. So, being calm and reasonable sorts of travelers, we returned to our comfy plastic chairs to see when/if we would make it to NY, and just figured that we would figure it out from there.. probably spending the night near Kennedy, and going into NYC for a while the next day until it was time to go to Paris. Then a voice above the melee called my name - and there was an agent, beckoning us urgently to the desk. She asked if we would be willing to fly Air France to Paris instead of Delta to NY to Paris, connecting in Paris with our originally scheduled flight. Sure! You bet! Absolutely! The Air France flight was in a different wing of the airport, and was leaving immediately. Our agent zipped us up to the main ticketing desk, where another (very, very confused) agent could not understand why we were switching, where we were switching... and the minutes were ticking by. Finally our first agent managed to get it straightened out... and then zoomed us through security (again), and we literally ran up to the gate for the Air France flight which was at that point being held for us. We entered the plane and the door slammed shut behind us.

We figured that our business class seats were a memory... but were happily surprised to be seated in business class on the Air France flight. Now we knew that our luggage was on the flight to NY, and that we were now luggage-less.... but we were prepared for a luggage emergency, and had toiletries and some clothing in our carry-ons. No problem at all.

Six or so hours later, we're at Charles de Gaulle, several hours ahead of our original flight from NY. I checked with ticketing, explaining the whole story... that we were NOT on the flight we were supposed to be on from NY, but would need to join that same flight when it left Paris for Mumbai. No problem, they said. I checked several times, with different people. Each told me No Problem. When our flight to Mumbai was called, we joined the pushing crowd ready to board the plane. Got all the way up to the desk... and then (imagine my surprise... ) were told that we were not on the manifest from NY. Went through the story two or three more times... and then mirabile dictu, we boarded the plane and again, our business class seats were available.

Another uneventful flight, and we landed in Mumbai. Now we *knew* that we had no luggage. We also knew that we had a flight to Jaipur the following morning which would need to be rescheduled, since our luggage would not arrive until the following night. As we deplaned, a Delta guy was looking for us. He was full of apologies for our missing luggage... I mean, this man was just abjectly apologetic about the situation. This was intriguing and amusing, since we had no idea that anyone would even *care* about our luggage problem! He walked us over to Air India, and explained that we needed to move our flight out one day... the Air India agent gave us (I kid you not) a *note* to bring back with us. (Ha, we said, as if THAT has any chance of working!!!!) Our friendly Delta guy booked us a reservation at a lovely hotel near the airport, and saw us to a cab. The surprising part of Delta's extraordinary customer service - these tickets had cost us nothing, we were flying all on miles.

We spent the next day sleeping a bit, and also hired a car to drive us around Mumbai just so that we could see where we were. At midnight I returned to the airport (no one seems to know why all flights in and out of India are between midnight at 3AM), and with only a minor scuffle with security (who did not want to let me in to get my luggage, since I did not have a ticket for that day... sigh.... but we straightened that out), was able to find our luggage and return to the hotel.

Quite an adventure. The next day... back to the airport, with our luggage and with our note from the night we arrived.... and to our great relief, the agent took the note, and with no difficulty, turned our note into two tickets.... and we were off to Jaipur.

Benares - 1998

2007-10-27T12:20:00.001-07:00

I had been thinking about another trip to India in 1998 or 1999. When my partner and I decided to have a commitment ceremony in 1998, we planned that trip to India together. (At the time, I was unaware that this was her first vacation of more than one week, and also her first time out of the country.... nothing like a couple of weeks in *India* for your maiden voyage... )

I had loved Benares, and decided to take April to Delhi, Benares, and Agra - pretty much the same route as my first trip in 1996. We gatewayed into Delhi, then flew to Benares the following day. Took a cab to our hotel. At the hotel, waiting for us... my driver from the first trip, Prakash. We had corresponded only a few times over the intervening years, but were very happy and excited to meet again.

That hotel was not a happy experience -- the room smelled terribly of mold/mildew, and it was obvious that we would not be able to stay there. So the next morning we sallied forth in Prakash's autorickshaw, in search of a hotel down near the Ganges. Looked at a couple of places which would not have worked for us. Then tried a hotel way downriver at Assi Ghat - the Hotel Temple on Ganges at Assi Ghat. Pretty close to perfect. We booked a room -- view of the Ganges, Indian style bathroom (*that* was a challenge), very clean. Prakash let it be known that he was not at all happy with this decision, and I was never able to get him to articulate *why* he objected to that particular hotel. Most mornings I got up very early, and from our little balcony, watched the sun rising over the Ganga. (This is a very blissful thing to be doing, if you're me.) The hotel had a very basic little restaurant... just a couple of tables for guests of the the hotel. But we could get breakfast there, which was good.

The great cricket infestation... one day we woke up, and there were crickets pretty much everywhere .... an unbelievable number of crickets. This lasted about three days, and then they vanished as quickly as they had appeared.

Diwali came... and we went shopping. The shopwallas were VERY excited to have us in the shops on Diwali, since we were thought to bring good luck. Each would offer us a sweet - sweets which had in most cases been sitting out on a plate, open to dust and flies and whatever. And we would smile and accept the sweet. Our mantra became "Don't think about it... just eat it." Over that week, the mantra was generalized to "Don't think about it... just do it."

I particularly appreciated my connection with Prakash on Diwali -- it was lovely to take gifts out to his family on the holiday. I had brought a watch for him, and backpacks filled with school materials for his kids, and cosmetics for his wife. Prakash's sister-in-law had just had a baby boy -- they handed me that baby and asked me to name him. (! ! !, I thought.) I named him Amrit - "nectar" -- which made them all beam. I have a picture of me holding this tiny infant, standing in front of Prakash's doorway. I know now that Indian kids have many names, and this was mostly a gesture they family was making to honor me... but I still got a kick out of the experience.

We bought sparklers, and that evening we went to the courtyard outside the hotel and had a great time sharing the sparklers with some of the children who lived in the courtyard.

Pilgrims flock to the gold-domed Visvanath Temple around Diwali, and I wanted to join them. Non-Hindus are not allowed in the temple. (This is true in many of the Hindu temples in India.) So April and I found the LONG line of devotees, and got into line. Within minutes, a soldier came over to me and gestured me out of line, since this line was only for Hindus. Pretty much exhausting my Hindi, I told him Nahin, mai(n) Hindu hun(g).... "No, I am Hindu." He insisted. I insisted. He looked more than a little puzzled, but finally backed off. A few minutes later, we repeated the experience. And again. And again. After the Nth time, a middle aged Indian man in front of me in the line took up my cause... and each time a soldier/guard tried to remove me from the line, he told them in fluent Hindi that I should stay there, because I really was a Hindu. I thanked him many times! April stayed with me for a long time, but she does not consider herself Hindu... so after a while, we agreed on a meeting place and she left the line. She took my shoes and hers with her... and remember the crickets? I was walking barefoot on a veritable carpet of crickets. (Don't think about it.. just keep walking.)

Finally we entered the temple grounds, winding our way through a series of alleys. I was happy to note that the soldier guards were gone by then, so I was not hassled in the line! We came into the temple, and each devotee had just a few seconds in front of the sanctum, where priests were worshipping the Shiva lingam. I stood there for my few seconds, awestruck... and then one of the priests pointed to the rudrasksha mala I was wearing around my neck (sort of a Hindu rosary... one says mantra on the 108 beads, and I have worn those beads since the 1980s), and gestured that I should hand it to him. I did... and he blessed it by wrapping it around the lingam, and then returned it to me.

I walked out of the temple with two primary attributes - I was totally blissful, and I was utterly lost. I had *no* idea how to get to my meeting place with April. My lovely defender and guardian from the long waiting line saw me standing there in bliss and befuddlement, and asked in Hindi where I was going -- I gave him the name of the place in the local market - and he (God bless him *very* much for his ongoing kindness to me!) took me briskly through a snarl of walkways and alleys and tiny streets... and delivered me right to April at our meeting place.

That day remains one of my most precious memories of India.

Agra and Fatepuhr Sikri

2007-10-27T12:17:00.000-07:00

From Varanasi, back to Delhi. I traveled to Agra by train - a one day trip. This turned out to have been *way* too much for one day!!! The train ride was uneventful, as are most Indian train trips! Again, my name was right where it was supposed to be on the printed list. Was met by a driver in Agra, and we went to the Taj. We have all seen the pictures - over and over and over again - but I was still a bit overwhelmed by the reality of being there. I was perfectly happy to sit at the side for a long time and just be there... watching the people. This was my first experience of Indian families wanting to take my picture, which has now happened to me a number of times. First, someone comes up looking almost beseechingly and gesturing to their camera, indicating that they want to take a picture. I am confused as to *why* they might want to do that, but I agree... and then from nowhere the entire family appears and jumps to my side so that we can all have our picture taken together. It's a very strange phenomenon.

In the afternoon, we drove to Fatepuhr Sikri, an ancient and deserted city. I'm usually not so much for old archeological stuff, but actually found this very interesting.

Then back to Agra. By then it was very late in the afternoon, and I was just exhausted. The driver turned on the charm, wanting to take me to his uncle's shop or factory or whatever. I declined. He insisted. I declined. He insisted some more. If memory serves, I was only able to end that scene by being pretty harsh with him. They dropped me at one of the nicer Western-style hotels, where I sat in the lobby for an hour or two until train time - and actually fell asleep sitting up. (This was more than unusual behaviour for me - I was *really* tired.) Then back to Delhi. The train part was fine - but it would have been worth paying for two hotels for one night - ie leaving most of my stuff in Delhi and just taking an overnight bag to Agra. Just way too much for one day!

In Delhi, spent a lot of time walking around Connaught Place. I was just so happy to be in India... it did not even matter much what I actually did, which placed I actually visited. It was just lovely being there.

From Delhi back to Boston, with a heart filled with Indian memories.

Varanasi, Benares, Kashi

2007-10-27T12:15:00.000-07:00

So there I was, on a train to Benares -- very tired from the long trip from the US. (And on that first trip to India, unaware of the need for a buffer day between disembarking from the plan, and embarking on the next stage of the adventure.) The train ride was uneventful ... I slept for much of the time. When I was awake, stared happily at the passing landscape... "I'm in India... I'm in India... I'm in India.... "

Arrived in Varanasi around dinner time -- straight to the hotel. The Hotel Paris is a little rundown, but clean. Very safely located in the Cantonment, along with the other, more upscale Western-style hotels. On that first trip to India, staying in an Indian-style hotel close to the river was just beyond me. The hotel room was not luxurious, but huge and clean and airy and just fine for me.

The next day... I took a cab into Varanasi, and told the driver that I needed to have Indian clothing made. He took me to a fabric/tailor shop -- and was visibly taken aback when I told him not to wait for me. I spent a long time in the fabric shop. It's quite an experience... the shopwallas take down bolt after bolt of gorgeous fabric (or saris - but that day I was shopping for fabric), flipping each bolt out to display several yards of fabric. I chose some lovely silks, and the shopwalla said that they would "take care of the stitching." I arranged to have the finished salwaar kameez delivered to my hotel, and leaving the shop, set off on foot. For a few blocks, I was happily just looking at the people and the little shops and the animals and... and... I'm in India! I'm in India! But then the neighborhood seemed to be more autoparts than anything else... and I was getting very tired. I spotted a stand of autorickshawwallas by a small hotel, and the first guy in line took me back to my hotel. He seemed pleasant, and had at least some English, so I asked him whether he would be available to drive me the following day. This turned out really well for me. In the morning, he would be waiting for me. He took me to many temples, various other tourist sites, shops, etc. around Benares. When I would wander off to explore an area, Prakash (and many other drivers) would just hang out and wait. Sleep. Tell stories. Smoke. Wait some more.

We also spent a whole lot of time down by the Ganges. Prakash took me to Kedar Ghat - not a big tourist attraction, so not crowded. His friend was the local chai-wallah. We spent hours sitting at Kedar Ghat, talking some. He helped me practice my devanagari. We chanted to Ganesh. (We knew the same chant... Jai Ganesha, Jai Ganesha, Jai Ganesha deva... Mata jaki Parvati, pita Mahadeva.). It was very sweet.

Toward the end of my stay, I wore a sari when Prakash picked me up. We headed for the Ganges so that I could bathe. So I started down toward the water... and I was unsure of my footing where the steps went into the water ... and the water was *cold* .... and I was suddenly all too aware of the amount of pollution and bacteria in Ma Ganga near Benares.... and I hesitated. I heard Prakash behind me, and he was using words and hand signals to try to tell me that it would be ok if I did not enter the water. But I called back up the steps to him... "I came a *long* way to do this!" And slowly entered the water and submerged. As I came up, I noticed a boat full of tourists ... taking my picture! (Who is that big white lady, and what is she doing in the sacred river with all of the Indian devotees?) I was actually very glad that i had followed through. It was not a transformative experience for me - -but a very good one.

I drank chai by the Ganga daily -- not without a bit of trepidation about the Ganges water - -but I watched the water boiling, so that was ok. I survived my bath in the river. And I stayed healthy for the whole trip.

Prakash drove me to his home on the outskirts of Benares, where I met his wife and his two small children. They lived in a single room, with his mother and other family members living in the other room.

I spent ten happy days in Varanasi, and then left for Agra. Saying goodbye to Prakash was difficult - having him as my driver and guide made a huge difference to me.

First trip to India - 1996

2007-10-27T12:13:00.000-07:00

I have studied and practiced Hinduism since the 1980s, and I had dreamed and dreamed of someday going to India. In 1996, I found (to my surprise) that I could actually afford to go! I did not have a playmate for that trip, so I booked everything solo. I'm not so much on moving from place to place (if this is Thursday, this must be Jaipur... ), so I planned on visiting only three cities -- Delhi, Benares, and Agra. This turned out to be an excellent plan.

A friend drove me to the airport, and was impressed that I had only one suitcase and one small carry-on. I told him that I wanted to be mobile, and able to take care of my own luggage. This also turned out to be an excellent plan.

After an exhausting 18 hour plane flight, I arrived in Delhi at 2AM, found my luggage, and headed for the door.... and walked out of the airport into Bedlam. Complete sensory overload -- heat, smells, and above all, NOISE. A rope separates the crowd from the arriving passengers... and behind that rope, an enormous and LOUD crowd of people attempting to get my attention (and the attention of anyone exiting that door!). Each person had an urgent message for me about his hotel, his taxicab, his services. After a few *very* confusing minutes, I spotted a man holding a sign with my name on it. This was an enormous relief -- a note of sanity and familiarity in the midst of utter chaos. (I had prearranged transfers from airport to train station, train station to hotel, etc. for the entire trip. Excellent plan #3.) So my driver whisked me and my bag to his taxi, and drove me to the train station. En route, he handed me an envelope of vouchers for pre-paid elements of my trip. We arrived at the train station, maybe 4:00AM or thereabouts. He took me to the "Ladies Waiting Room," wished me a good trip, and left. (If I have managed to convey a configuration of CRAZY WILD LOUD CHAOTIC suddenly dropping off to very very very quiet, then I have painted that transition reasonably well.)

This part of the trip was not such an excellent plan. Since I planned on spending most of my vacation in Benares, I thought it would make sense to just go directly to the train from the airport. I know now that it makes *much* more sense to go from airport to hotel for one day of rest and recuperation before traveling on... but this was my first trip!

So there I was, in the middle of the night in a train station in New Delhi, all by myself, expecting to board a train to Benares in a few hours. That was the *one* time I seriously questioned my own sanity in thinking I could do this trip alone, without even a tour guide as an anchor. There was NO way I was going to sleep!!! So around 6AM my suitcase and I headed down in the main area of the train station. I found a chai wallah, made my way to the counter, and asked for chai. The chai wallah handed me a cup of hot chai, and I gave him 100 rupees -- I only had 100 rupee notes. He took my note and happily walked away. When I realized that he had no intention of giving me change from that note, I said one of my very few Hindi words - "Nahin! nahin!" Or "No! No!" complete with slapping the fingers of my right hand against my left palm as if to show where the change was expected to be placed. The men at the counter laughed uproariously, and were calling out to the chai wallah. I can imagine that they were saying something like "She's got your number, brother!" With no further ado, he returned to me with my 97 rupees in change from my 100Rs note.

I wonder how many tourists pay 100 rupees for their first cup of tea in India - since at that time 100 rupees was only one dollar and change, it actually would not be an unreasonable price. But the price on the chai walla's stand said 3Rs, and that's what I expected to pay! It was an interesting introduction to commerce in India.

Then off to the train platform... and more chaos. Unbelievably crowded on the platform. Another (shorter this time) moment of concern... then I found my way to the agent who deals with non-Indians, found the list of passengers for my train - and there was my name again!

When the train boarded, someone helped me find my place. I was in a first class sleeper -- four bunks. I have no memory of the other folks in that car -- I was so exhausted by then that I actually slept.

Traveling in India

2007-10-27T12:09:00.000-07:00

There seems to be a whole range of ways to experience India. At one extreme, we have encountered people who are seeing India from within a bubble. The worse example: at the Taj Mahal, we noticed a group arriving whose guides were carrying signs "Around the World by Concorde." This was a *wealthy* tour group. And at the Taj, instead of removing their shoes like everyone else in the world, as a sign of respect in a holy place, these folks donned little disposable booties over their shoes. India from a bubble.

I suppose at the other extreme -- folks who see India on a shoestring. It is certainly quite possible to eat well for a dollar or two a day, and to find *extremely* inexpensive places to stay. I'm just too old for that, I think... my backpacking days are far behind me. I've learned that I need to stay in a reasonably good western-style hotel.

Part of the reason for that... I really do enjoy being out and about in India. No bubble for me. I like to wander around on foot, eat in Indian restaurants (not just western-style hotels), etc. But as much as I love India, and love traveling there, I do find it stressful. The body is on full sensory overload much of the time - noise, heat, body contact, dirt, concerns about safety -- and at night, I do better if I can retreat back to a quiet, secure, reasonably comfortable resting place.

One interesting thing about traveling in India - Americans should assume that they will *not* find the various consumables which we take for granted. There is no CVS pharmacy on the block. We deal with this by taking way too much stuff with us. It works out ok - we leave it all there when we leave the country, neatly lined up in the last hotel room - which also leaves more suitcase space to bring home Indian stuff.

Stuff we take:

The obvious stuff -- shampoo, toothpaste, soap, etc
First aid stuff -- bandaids, a couple of bandages, bacitracin, etc
Bug stuff - repellant with DEET, and also bug itch stuff
Sunscreen
For the ladies - any sanitary supplies which even *might* be needed... napkins, tampons, whatever
Medicines -- headache stuff. Pepto-bismol. Immodium. Serious antibiotic - Cipro. Some OTC meds for upper respiratory distress -- sore throat lozenges and the like. (One time I had the *worst* sore throat in India - I thought I might die - could not find *anything* to ease the pain in my throat. Finally did take Cipro -- and either the Cipro worked or the bug had just run its course, but I was better the next day.)
Small packages of tissues
Small bottle of hand sanitizer

For me, one of the absolute essentials - - my "bathroom kit." On my first trip to India, I was in a store, and of course barefoot, having removed my shoes at the door. I asked for a bathroom. the Indian style bathroom would have been a major challenge for me in any case (I was wearing a sari, and using the floor level Indian toilet was... well, actually more than just "challenging.") But what put me right over the top -- the floor was wet, and I have always been very skeevy about bare feet on wet floors -- even *clean* wet floors, like in the shower room near a pool. This was beyond skeevy. So my bathroom kit is right on my person, in my shoulder bag or fanny pack - and includes the following: 1) a pair of thin, disposable slippers - the type one uses in a manicure shop work fine, 2) cleansing towelettes (no tissue paper in Indian-style toilets!), 3) a couple of small plastic bags to hold the towelettes or tissues after use, for later disposal, 4) a small bottle of hand-cleanse gel. This kit is actually very small and compact, and I've only used any of it once or twice - but after that first experience, I feel *much* more secure knowing that it's there and available!

Rules about water and eating...
Before my first trip to India, I had a helpful travel nurse who just *drilled* me on all of the rules about water.
* Bottled water is ok, but YOU break the seal on the bottle
* Other bottled beverages are ok... same rule about breaking the seal yourself
* Water in restaurants.. mostly not ok, stay with bottled
* Fresh fruit is ok ONLY if you can peel the fruit. (I buy a cheap jackknife in India and carry it with me)
* Salads are not ok.
* Food from street vendors is generally not ok... rare exceptions if you watch the food being cooked, and eat it while it is still burn-your-mouth hot.
* Shower water counts as water -- keep your mouth closed, and wipe your face as soon as you turn off the water.
* Ice cubes count as water. No ice cubes.
* Toothbrushing involves water. Use bottled. (If you goof, let the toothbrush dry completely before you use it again. That kills the bugs. I think.)
Any of these rules may be broken in five-star hotels, where all of the water is likely filtered... but it's *always* ok to just follow the rules wherever you are!

We also take one step which some folks might consider "over the top" - we sign up for health coverage with one of the international providers. If you get sick or injured and need care, a call to them will lead to referrals to reputable healthcare providers. And if you get *seriously* sick or injured, they will fly you out of India. We have never actually used their services, and arguably this is an unnecessary expense - but on the other hand, it really does not cost very much, and (for us, at least) provides a goodly amount of peace of mind.

And a suggestion for women travelers.... cover up. This is simply a cultural thing... the American women who are wear shorts and tank tops are not perceived well at all. Lightweight clothing is fine... but long pants (or skirts) and long sleeves. Good solution -- buy inexpensive salwaar kameez suits. The "suit" includes drawstring pants, and a long-sleeved long tunic top, plus a scarf. Really comfortable and easy to wear. (A sari is a bit trickier!) If you are a usual size, and therefore can buy these off the rack in a store, you can really outfit yourself very inexpensively. If you are taller or shorter or heavier... you can have suits made for very little money. The more elaborate suits, with embroidery, etc., are of course more expensive. (And for American women... these salwaar kameez suits work *very* well for dressing up in the US. I have received so many compliments on my various salwaar suits!)

So those are the guidelines that have worked for me - pack all of the care and comfort consumables that you might need; stay in a mid-range (for India!) western-style hotel; be very careful about what you eat, and be careful verging on paranoid about the water; sign up for international health insurance/services; dress comfortably and conservatively.

And stay *out* of the bubble, as much as possible!

How a Catholic Girl from Lewiston NY grew up to be Hindu

2007-10-27T12:06:00.000-07:00

I was raised Roman Catholic. This blog entry is based on a paper I wrote around 1990 when I was studying Hinduism and World Religions at Harvard Divinity School:

During high school, I became increasingly devout, attending Mass at the crack of dawn on weekday mornings whenever I could. Around this time, quite apart from my formal Catholic practices, I became increasingly aware of a numinous Presence which surrounded me all of the time. This Presence (which I never conceptualized as "Jesus" or "Christ" or any other personification of deity) was a completely available listener with Whom I frequently communicated praise, petition, and thanksgiving... and simple observations and thoughts... sort of an ongoing conversation with an active Listener. As a young Catholic believer, I would have described my practice in terms of sacraments and formal prayers and a great many exterior manifestations of belief... only after I reached adulthood and endured a profound and lengthy faith crisis did I come to appreciate that my ongoing communication with this sense of Presence was the deepest and most powerful aspect of that practice. I did not label my experience as "prayer" -- it was simply a part of my everyday life, much like eating or talking or sleeping.

... In college. I took required courses in theology and philosophy, and began to come to terms with the mythological aspects of Christianity... virtually all of which I had accepted as verbatim truth as a youngster. I abandoned the remnants of formal Catholic practice (to the great consternation of my family). One afternoon when I was 19 or so, I spoke to that Presence which had always surrounded me ... and found myself alone for the first time in my life. The term "faith crisis" does not being to encompass the sense of isolation which I felt at that moment. This occur ed about a year after my mother's death. (Many years later, a yogi teacher of mine said, "When we are angry with God, we make God go away.")

I was not part of a spiritual community at that time. It's been said that a connection to a community can help an individual stay connected to the Light even while personally sitting in the dark. When I found myself out of the light, I concluded that the light did not exist. I spent twenty some years out there, in sort of a dark agnostic/atheist place.

So -- fast forward to the mid 1980's. I was working in high tech, lots of pressure/stress. I read about an ashram (an Indian term for a home for a spiritual community) in Lenox MA, which sounded wonderful to me... out in the mountains, great veg food, yoga. I found that I loved being at Kripalu, and I returned frequently -- although I was baffled and boggled by the guru component of the practice. Lots of pictures of their teachers. Lots of bowing and reverence to those pictures. All very alien to me. Then one weekend I attended a gathering with their teacher -- and thought he made a great deal of sense. I began reading more about Hinduism and eastern religions (an area where I had dabbled back in the 60s). In the fall of 1988 or, I flew to Chicago for a two day retreat with this teacher. We were sitting for meditation. (Bear with me here... ) One minute I was sitting on a dirty shag rug in Chicago. In the next instant, I found myself sitting in the light which was the presence of God, crying and saying from my heart "Why did You leave me?" That experience is called shaktipat. Shakti is a feminine noun in Sanskrit, and means energy or power. Some Hindu teachers are able to transmit that energy -- it's sort of the spiritual equivalent to being in a field of radio waves, and those waves affect some of the people who are on the receiving end. Shaktipat is the transmission of spiritual energy from a guru to a disciple. Receiving shakitpat was a life-transforming event for me. Somewhat to my own bemusement, I searched for a place to study Hinduism -- and found a program at Harvard Divinity School. I applied, and was accepted... and in January 1988 I left my high tech job and began studying at Harvard. I completed a masters in theological studies in Hinduism and World Religions in 1990.

Someone once asked me "What attracted you to Hinduism?" I suppose it could be called "attraction," in the way that a powerful magnetic field is attraction ... a force over which I really had no control. Once I began studying Hinduism, I found that so many aspects of the theology and the practice spoke to my heart. You might wonder how I was able to handle multi-armed, multi-hued deities, when I had so much trouble with Christian theology. I just know that the stories and the gods and the chants and the very language make my heart sing. When I made it to India in the mid-1990s, I had the strongest sense of coming home. I spent hours in the temples, and just sitting by the Ganges, surrounded by spirit and incredibly happy. In English, we have lots of words which mean "religion," or things about God. In Sanskrit, no such words exist... because everything is about God, so why would you need a separate word at all?

At Harvard, I also took courses in Buddhism. I found them interesting, in sort of an academic way -- but I never found the same passion about Buddhism. Truth be told, I think it's easier to be an American Buddhist than an American Hindu. First, there are a lot more folks with whom to find and form community. Second, you can be a Christian, or a Jew, or whatever, and still study and practice Buddhism. Hinduism is distinct from those other faiths... although the spacious arms of Hinduism allow room for them all!!! Part of the issue -- Hinduism is inexorably tied to India, and to Indian culture. Buddhism can be more culture-neutral. Finally, when you say "I'm a Buddhist," most Americans have a clue (however slight!) about what you're saying. Hinduism, with its pantheon of gods, is SO remote from anything most Americans have ever experienced.

In the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad, the sage Yajnavalka is asked how many gods there are. He says 33 million. No, really - how many? 33 thousand. And so on until he gets down to three... one and one half.... one. And notes that everything he has said is true... there are many gods... there is one. Both true.

For me, at the heart of Hinduism, there is only One... one God, one soul. One. And that One is within us, and all around us, and is the breath we breath. The Atman is the soul of a person... and it, too, is that One. When you see someone dancing and chanting to Krishna, Krishna is that One for her. When you see someone bowing to a represenation of the Goddess, that is the One. When you see a picture of a Hindu worshipping at a stone or a tree in his village... that part of nature is the embodiment of the One for him.

This is a quote from a god-crazed Hindu guru named Nityananda: "One must seek the shortest way and the fastest means to get back home -- to turn the spark within into a blaze, to be merged in and to identify with that greater fire which ignited the spark."

For some folks, the way home is Christianity... or Judaism... or Buddhism. For me, it's Hinduism.