The Ashram and Me

I am in quiet, lovely, adorable seaside Cochin after a week at the Sivananda Ashram in the foothills of the Ghats in Southern Kerala. It was a trip.

The Sivananda Ashrams and Centers were founded by a yogi named (aptly) Sivananda, and his apostle Vishnu Devananda. These men are respected for reviving the yogic way of life, as well as recognizing the West was "ready" for yoga and spreading it all over the world. Vishnu Devananda came to Canada in 1957...he is also known as "the flying guru" because he flew an ultra-light plane over conflict zones in the world, such as the Berlin Wall, and dropped peace pamphlets and flower petals. From what I learned, I think I can really respect these men. They stressed the importance of the full spectrum of yoga (of which asanas, the postures, are just one of five parts) and of yoga's connection to spirituality, and as it were, Hinduism. What I was not prepared for was being one of many white people chanting "Hare Krishna" (and MANY others) and venerating different Hindu gods and goddesses for hours every day, in the middle of India. Sometimes I felt foolish. Sometimes I felt like I was in a Saturday Night Live sketch.

I'm happy to have had an ashram experience in India. It is so much apart of the culture here. The traditional (pre-colonial) education was that of studying with a guru (which translates to bringing light into the cave, or darkness). The effects of this are everywhere. It seems so easy for people to be elevated to a god-like status: yogis, Bollywood stars like Shah Rukh Khan, NGO directors, cricketers, prime ministers, spiritual leaders. I learned so much about the incredibly complicated, beautiful, inspiring world of yoga, and consequently, Hinduism. I met interesting people from all over the world: Investment brokers/traders who left their jobs from Ireland and Switzerland, two American girls our age who were on their way to a pancha karma (3-4 week intensive Ayruvedic cleanse) in the Tamil Nadu jungle, an Indian family with their 8 year-old daughter, and lots of other backpackers from all over the world. I also feel quite good after a week of four hours of asanas and pranayama(postures/exercises and breathing) a day, sparse, healthy vegetarian food, and hours of meditation. Also, the alarm bell went off at 5:20 and it wasn't even that hard to get up.

Both the high and low point of the week was a silent night walk we took on our last evening during satsung (like Vespers). We ended up walking right past a LARGE and brightly lit Christian revival. We walked behind the stage, then right alongside it, then all along the vast crowd of Indians listening intently while their leader shouted, "Halelujah! Thank you Jesus! Praise the Lord!" through LOUD speakers. (I often marvel that not everyone is deaf in this country.) There we were, a bunch of white people, carrying yoga mats and meditation cushions, preparing to chant "Jaya Ganesha" in the dark in India, interrupting their tent revival. They stared and I don't blame them. I think we were quite a sight. It was one of the odder moments of my life.

There is so much I appreciate about the incredibly diverse, aesthetically rich, Hindu spirituality. The religion of Ghandiji. Still, I was interested to realize how uncomfortable I was with certain beliefs. One is that of the need for humans to recognize our ability to merge with the gods (This is my simple understanding of something incredibly complicated...something that needs to be translated by teachers, another thing that is hard for me to digest, though I think it is present in all spiritualities...a struggle for me.)...involving the yogic belief of freedom: that you are able to do what you don't want to do, and that you don't have to do what you want to do. In so many ways, this makes much sense to me. I can understand how this is freeing, and I think to a certain extent, I try to push myself in these ways to be more happy. Still, I think some of life's purest, simplest joys are God-given and are to be LIVED fully, and humanly. Love, music, natural beauty, good food...this is it. For me. Like my Grandma making cinnamon rolls every Friday. I'm happy for people who find freedom in this more Hindu life, who find happiness, fulfillment. My God has to allow me to simply be human. It has to forgive, it has to involve grace. And, as it turns out, the one I was born with provides this. What a phenomenon.

It reminds me of a conversation I had with Shafi, the driver, at Visthar. (Consequently, Ambryn has said that if she were going to follow any guru, it would be Shafi. Though I don't think he would allow it.) He asked me, "Are you Christian?" (It's taken me a while to realize people aren't asking me if my name is "Christine" when they ask this.) I explained that this is my culture and tradition, my family, how I was raised, but that my beliefs are actually probably more agnostic right now. Shafi (a muslim) replied, "Not Good." He said (in broken English) that it was okay for individuals, but that it is so central to have an identity, especially for children. That you needed to know where you come from, wherever that is. He then explained that he thinks God is like a tree. There are many branches, different ways of expressing God, but all the same God. I told I thought he was right.

So, this week did actually leave me with some clearer ideas of where I come from, and where I'm at now. Interestingly enough, Ambryn and met an incredibly sweet young Catholic priest named Nadhil on the train, who chatted us up almost the whole trip to Cochin. We both felt better about the future of the church knowing he will be a priest (after he completes his 11 years of study). We talked about our families, about our personal relationships and friendships, about translation of scripture, and about the ordination of women.

I realized I'm really an "all or nothing" kind of girl. I found that if I couldn't accept the whole schbang hook, line and sinker, (and if I couldn't decide to live the rest of my days in that ashram wearing only yellow) that it was hard for me to be a part of any of it. Though, slowly I think I was able to accept what was beautiful...the RICH worship involving flames, flowers, sweets, conch blowing, chants, the centuries old wisdom, the health of the yogic way of life, the emphasis on peace...and leave what didn't jive with me. Hopefully I can continue to learn to do this with my own spirituality of origin.

I'm also hoping that this experience will give me a greater understanding of the Beat poets whom I appropriately fell in love with around the age of 20. We'll see.