I failed to mention earlier that this course is actually "Intermediate." Something I am not actually qualified to take, but after three or four emails with the school professing my interest and providing my background they made an exception (thank you!) I Reeeeeeheeeely wanted to do a meditation course while in Dharmsala!!
Background: while in Jammu I got the email just in time to say I was accepted to take this course and emailed my thanks. Then I went on my pilgrimage to the Vishnodevi temple (wireless in the most literal sense) and didn't check my email for a bit. Sorry I didn't change my "out of office" to On Pilgrimage. I guess I didn't think of that. But the next email also said I need to pay a deposit online (okay, I skimmed over that part and definitely WOULD have paid my deposit...buuuuut didn't). So now that I re-read things I realized there was no luck for the course. BUT now that I had a GREAT room lined up I'd make my own course!
Thus the not-so-hidden talent of list-making was called to centre stage and last night I thought "I'll make this work! I'll throw something together!" and then it hit me - like a tsunami wave (no current event reference intended): the perfect schedule. I trotted down my 12 moderately inclined steps and promptly paid for two more nights and the cook-top/gas. Done. I mean, I was going in to the meditation centre for the free drop-in class and my "inquiry" for the course was really just going to be an apology for wasting their time in my initial assessment. The class was full and I was satisfied with the way things were working out.
My course approximately as follows:
5:15am - wake up alarm (with a 15 minute buffer)
5:30am - meditation, mantra and toothbrushing/related duties
6:05am - yoga asana practice
7:05am - mindful breakfast (fruit and porridge)
7:30am - go for a walk
8:00am - do some writing (stop for tea)
(9:00am - drop-in meditation class)
10:30am- alternate: silence or exploring or reading
11:30am - lunch
afternoon - some combination of the morning (minus waking up) ... let's not get TOO carried away with this planning stuff! I AM trying to Go-With-The-Flow here.
Except for today, the first day... I already changed the schedule - with 24hour hot water the temptation to do laundry was too great! At 6:00 I was scrubbing clothes and pushing my schedule back a bit. But it was the right choice judging by the colour of the post-wash water. Ugh. One bad thing though... the detergent I bought must have been super-strong-ultra power and my new grey pants turned white! Oh... wait.. no. Those were the white pants. Ewww. Nevermind.
While eating my breakfast (not on schedule) of an overpriced and under-ripe mango I observed with sharp accuracy a delightful cut on my lip. While getting dressed I noticed yet MORE grime on my allegedly-laundered clothes. While stretching in yoga postures I realized just how steep these hills really are! And after all this mindful observing I noticed I should get going since it was already 8 o'clock and planned to walk the approximately... uh... triple-than-the-bus-depot-on-my-free-(potentially)-not-to-scale-tourist-map distance. On uhh.. meditation-centre road? Yeah, I needed to give myself a bit of "getting lost" time. At least an hour! I put on my shoes and for good time's sake even tossed the map into my bag (and an orange should I get REALLY lost... or just need to re-locate that Lip-Cut again) and headed out.
After about 10 minutes of walking (backpackless) I was at the bus depot. I made a note and removed my previous hatred to and mental curse on the author of the subjective phrase about "accommodation," "near," and "easy." It was really just the pack-horse role I had been playing last time. This distance twice over? Ha! I was practically whistling on the main road out of town towards my second check-point: the church of St. John in the Wilderness. I was glad to see the meditation centre was past this way because I wanted to see when the service was because for some reason I felt drawn to it when I had first read about it online. I guess it was the Flow-in-Advance. There had been a government sign indicating it was only 1 km past the bus depot so I was confident I'd see it in about 15 minutes. The landmark that shouted to me on the way into town would be easy to spot again: the Only-One-I've-Seen-In-India Cemetery.
With my shawl wrapped around me the sun was starting to feel warm, but the air that ran past my arms was a contradictory chill that managed to keep things homeostatic. There was comfort in the quietude of the morning walk and adventure in the unknown road ahead. Then I heard some footsteps coming up behind me, quickly, and the comfort evaporated like spit on a Las Vegas sidewalk in August. People, generally do not "go jogging" in India so my usual explanation was out. My real first thought though, I'm proud to say as it makes me feel well-adjusted culturally-speaking, was "Grumpy Monkey(s)!" I was scared for a second but knew what I would do, kinda. Before I could pick up my Don't-Come-Any-Closer Rock (that-I-could-never-actually-hurt-you-with-cute-little-monkey) something was at my left hand (which I slipped into my pocket (for safety?) only to find a very non-threatening raspberry lemonade chapstick). A dog.
At this point I didn't feel at all relieved but HAD re-assessed the value of my purse as a weapon of force with the wallet, camera and journal spinning around me as the centrifuge. Trying to avoid any use for violence my steps quickened... and the dog's slowed. Until it matched my pace. Great. But at least it wasn't attacking (yet). It politely listened to me say "Stop!" and "NO!" in both English and Hindi (Hindi first, of course) and then circled behind me once and happily led the way. I took a breath and again felt secure with my choice NOT to get the rabies vaccine back home. I kept walking and it occurred to me that maybe this four-legged lone blonde female had just wanted company and I was a safe choice. I decided this was it and changed my projected-energy field of hatred to one of appreciative satisfaction. At least this company was not staring at me, trying to sell me something or asking awkward personal questions. Simple camaraderie and a bit of guidance. I could use that. After 10 minutes my mammalian friend knew I'd be alright and wandered off back to town just as the first stones of the cemetery came into view.
It was really beautiful too. Crumbling concrete crosses, one hundred years in the sun shine-y hills just Allowing. No paths to guide. No judgments to make. Accepting all that came from the ground and the sky and the blunt force of the Universal Flow. The caretakers were not far off though. I could see the three of them working close together - dark skin contrasting all the bright glowing greens and light memorial stone. They tended a set of four graves: two with small up-standing headstones and two with stone partially outlining the rectangular plots. All were flat as pasture on a small plateau of this Himalayan hillside, which was particularly convenient for the custodians' hooves and the grazing process they performed habitually, effortlessly, fluidly.
Walking on I passed the stone church with a red roof and noted the service time posted on a sign near the road: tomorrow, 11:00 AM. Then I greeted the little town that was introduced to me by a sharp left turn of the road. The atmosphere was relatively quite but I was once again the Oddity. It surprises me that this still, well, surprises me. The discomfort grows in my torso somewhere and then triggers an emergency maneuver to "look busy" to avoid the onlooking stares. Staring (as a woman FROM India told me) is something of a National Past-time here. That is hilarious because it's true. ONLY because it's true. This time my tactic for avoiding the acknowledgment of said past-time was to pull out my map and look engrossed. Within five seconds I wasn't faking it. I was riveted. I was confirming I was going in the correct direction: turn right soon and then second left... turns out I should have pretended to need my map a lot sooner... that right turn had been just BEFORE the bus depot and the second left not far after. Ooookay. I am definitely not meant to be at that meditation centre. By my watch I barely had enough time to get back to town and find that left hand turn, let ALONE get lost three more times which is my personal average. But. Maybe. One.... ofthesetaxis? no. They are not stopping for me. Alright. Alright! You win, I'll go with the Flow.
Then the third taxi stopped, let everyone out and called to me, "taxi?" Well, my name's Lyndia but let's talk. "How much to the meditation centre?" 100 RUPEES! You've GOT to be kidding me! Yeah, I am definitely not going to make it on time. Sorry. I politely declined saying it was too expensive and walked on. He called again, "just into town?" That was also quite appealing and likely only half the fare or less. I considered but skeptically asked, "kitana?" To which he nodded, "Free. I'm going there anyway." I couldn't refuse that kind of wave pushing me in the right direction.
Uncharacteristically I sat in the front seat. Uncharacteristically the driver spoke quite a bit of English. So we chatted. Nothing fancy but more conversation than I'd had in two days. He even indulged my question about the distance from the bus depot to the meditation centre. (3km, uphill). Judging by the time that was not going to be possible without some automobile convayance. And I really did want to do some meditation here in Dharmsala... I concented to the outrageous fee and was driven up to my destination. Five and a half kilometres, steep incline (he threw it in at least second gear for parts) AND my propensity of getting lost? Probably worth the $2.75 Canadian. I'm sure I'll find a way to recover from the dredges of bankruptcy this luxury is leading me to.
Two small white buildings and a chain between were the main entrance of the meditation camp. The welcome "May All Beings Be Happy" was painted with a floral flourish on the clean concrete. I walked into the biggest building with the biggest door assuming size mattered and would lead me to the place to ask questions. Wrong. But there was a kindly sign announcing it was SATURDAY (which alleviated my fear of this all being in vain if it were no-drop-in-class SUNDAY as I have been known to be a day off in my arrivals...). I walked out again. I saw a fairly obvious sign with a very informative arrow "reception." Ah. I went around the corner and readied myself for the apology I was going to make.
"Sorry we're closed" was smiling back at me from the glass office door, as it would be for another 45 minutes until 9:30 as the Office Hours sign indicated. I casually read the posters and notices on the windows with course details, annual schedules, rules and likely began to look suspicious but wasn't sure where to go or what to do. In the course of my readings I also learned that the 9AM drop-in class was actually at 9:15 so I had a bit more time to kil...enjoy. Then a staff person snuck through the door beside me with a tea in hand. It was definitely the "darting" style of movement which felt as though to say, "oh, we are definitely still closed." I could wait until after the drop-in class. I had time.
I opted to do this waiting on the patio with a few other uncomfortable looking people who I assumed were also there for drop-in. They were sitting on the plastic patio furniture enjoying the natural surroundings and watching the monkeys. It's always wise to keep one's eye on the monkeys. So I did the same - sat down, enjoyed the beautiful trees and hills and kept tabs on the monkeys, but they were calm so I pulled out my journal. I had a table to myself because I was in the corner. Corners are places where I feel safer for awkward waiting situations so that brown plastic chair was all mine. After three lines of writing about how I finally made it to the meditation centre the atmosphere changed with the shouts of perturbed monkeys. I was about to look up when my peripheral vision announced it would be better to stand up, quick! as one of the feud-ers (a big mama monkey toting her infant) was headed toward... my head. As casually as can be assumed with a potentially aggressive, nursing wild animal is in close proximity and all human eyes are turned toward it (in this case 8 including my own) I picked myself up, avoided eye contact with the monkey by spinning around it and found myself a new brown-plastic, non-corner chair. Turns out my theory of corner-safety does NOT always apply. One pair of eyes I did make contact with belonged to a compassionate dread-locked young woman who smiled knowingly and compassionately.
By 8:55am my unofficial-BoyScout-ness kicked in and the "Be Prepared" motto was in full gear. I had to go to the not-yet-open-but-still-staffed office. I didn't know where this drop-in class was happening. I peeked in apologetically and was informed the class was "upstairs." Okay good. I could deal with the other bit about missing the course registration later. But now, which stairs? The stone steps back by the front gate seemed accurate but not appropriate but I climbed them anyway to get a better view of how many other steps of stairs I might have to choose between. More than three. Shoot. I felt a bit of panic at the potential of having to go back to "Sorry We're Closed" to clarify this, likely obvious point. But having no idea I resigned myself to ask again and was back on the ground when obvious arrow caught my attention, this time with the message "Meditation Hall." Ha, yeah. Of course. The stairs right above the office. That makes sense.
Meditation Hall door is not open so I sit and wait. This time the sitting is more comfortable because there are no monkeys around but less comfortable because I am sure the wooden bench that is both narrow and wobbly will not hold both me and the spray bottle of glass cleaner that was already seated there. I hold out for the Windex to move and sit precariously mentally noting a few things:
The teacher arrives and the class starts. Three quarters of an hour fly by and the meditation practice is really good. There is a chance for questions and answers and all of a sudden... I'm feeling anxious again. Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan, a HUGE FAN of listening and contributing to discussions about Religion, really! But something isn't clicking. The room is beautiful but a bit foreign. The energy is positive but also a bit daunting. Then I realize this opportunity for processing all-kinds of new, intermediate knowledge drains the post-meditative rush right from me. It's not anxiety I'm feeling... it's a sort of dread. Another question leads to an announcement about a fundraiser calendar being sold for Tibetan-prisoners. My mind is re-occupied with the present and leaves the dread behind: 12 great Buddhist images and 365 proclamations of the type and intensity of daily auspiciousness? For 100 rupees? Cool! The point-of-sale is the library and I wanted to check that out anyway. I'm 90% sold on the calender too, as long as "May" has a good picture and my birthday happens to be Auspicious this year. I'm unabashedly judgmental of calendar this way. But for two dollars??
The Meditation Hall empties and the dread returns. I'm going to have to return to the office to be directed to the library. Shoot. I *should* simply be excited: a library, a calendar, an easy apology. But it's all dread. Of what? The only way to find out is to go in... and make the apology and get it over with. They aren't going to lynch me or fine me or jail me! I'll just walk in, introduce myself and ask to speak to the author of the considerate emails I received, apologize to her and float on over to the library. "We're Open" has ousted it's other half and someone's already taken advantage of the office hours. An older gentleman is talking with the staff person from earlier. Super polite Lyndia waits outside a minute but no break in conversation. However, I do notice it's about country of origin and recent countries of residence - not too critical - so I knock and ready my apology, "Excuse me again, sorry to interrupt but I'm... not sure of my way around and want to go to the library." Reply. Close door. Walk off.
Wait. What? That was it? I didn't say anything? I ditched out? No. Sure I didn't. I'm just waiting until the office is empty and will return after I visit the library. Yeah, after the library.
It checks out, the library and I check out, two books. May 12th is auspicious this year and I also have a copy of the calendar in hand. I also learn that although my birthday Thursday is gonna be a great day the typical-celebratory Friday is totally inauspicious for having guests over. So DO NOT expect a party that day! I head back to the office with my stuff and take a slight detour, following yet another new sign "Shortcut to Mcleod Ganj" instead. Yup. I walked away. I totally did not apologize. What a jerk!
Now the Flow is back to stable. Good. I know I'm not going to be in the course and probably that I'll have a bit of bad karma for being so mindfully rude too! I head to the Internet cafe to do some blogging and will then go back to rest in my room (it WAS a 3km walk back!). Email #2: "yes there is one more space left. Please come and see us in the office this morning." Wha?! Holy Crap! If I would have said something I still could have registered! I could still register! Maybe I could run down and get my bags and be out the 800 rupees for the two pre-booked rooms and the 300 rupees for the cooking gas and the 100 more rupees for the taxi back up to the centre... wait. Wait! Think for a second here. I was just there. I didn't even ask.! Actually, I don't wanna go. Yes, after ALL that. I don't even want to take the course!? FLOW WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!
Background: while in Jammu I got the email just in time to say I was accepted to take this course and emailed my thanks. Then I went on my pilgrimage to the Vishnodevi temple (wireless in the most literal sense) and didn't check my email for a bit. Sorry I didn't change my "out of office" to On Pilgrimage. I guess I didn't think of that. But the next email also said I need to pay a deposit online (okay, I skimmed over that part and definitely WOULD have paid my deposit...buuuuut didn't). So now that I re-read things I realized there was no luck for the course. BUT now that I had a GREAT room lined up I'd make my own course!
Thus the not-so-hidden talent of list-making was called to centre stage and last night I thought "I'll make this work! I'll throw something together!" and then it hit me - like a tsunami wave (no current event reference intended): the perfect schedule. I trotted down my 12 moderately inclined steps and promptly paid for two more nights and the cook-top/gas. Done. I mean, I was going in to the meditation centre for the free drop-in class and my "inquiry" for the course was really just going to be an apology for wasting their time in my initial assessment. The class was full and I was satisfied with the way things were working out.
My course approximately as follows:
5:15am - wake up alarm (with a 15 minute buffer)
5:30am - meditation, mantra and toothbrushing/related duties
6:05am - yoga asana practice
7:05am - mindful breakfast (fruit and porridge)
7:30am - go for a walk
8:00am - do some writing (stop for tea)
(9:00am - drop-in meditation class)
10:30am- alternate: silence or exploring or reading
11:30am - lunch
afternoon - some combination of the morning (minus waking up) ... let's not get TOO carried away with this planning stuff! I AM trying to Go-With-The-Flow here.
Except for today, the first day... I already changed the schedule - with 24hour hot water the temptation to do laundry was too great! At 6:00 I was scrubbing clothes and pushing my schedule back a bit. But it was the right choice judging by the colour of the post-wash water. Ugh. One bad thing though... the detergent I bought must have been super-strong-ultra power and my new grey pants turned white! Oh... wait.. no. Those were the white pants. Ewww. Nevermind.
While eating my breakfast (not on schedule) of an overpriced and under-ripe mango I observed with sharp accuracy a delightful cut on my lip. While getting dressed I noticed yet MORE grime on my allegedly-laundered clothes. While stretching in yoga postures I realized just how steep these hills really are! And after all this mindful observing I noticed I should get going since it was already 8 o'clock and planned to walk the approximately... uh... triple-than-the-bus-depot-on-my-free-(potentially)-not-to-scale-tourist-map distance. On uhh.. meditation-centre road? Yeah, I needed to give myself a bit of "getting lost" time. At least an hour! I put on my shoes and for good time's sake even tossed the map into my bag (and an orange should I get REALLY lost... or just need to re-locate that Lip-Cut again) and headed out.
After about 10 minutes of walking (backpackless) I was at the bus depot. I made a note and removed my previous hatred to and mental curse on the author of the subjective phrase about "accommodation," "near," and "easy." It was really just the pack-horse role I had been playing last time. This distance twice over? Ha! I was practically whistling on the main road out of town towards my second check-point: the church of St. John in the Wilderness. I was glad to see the meditation centre was past this way because I wanted to see when the service was because for some reason I felt drawn to it when I had first read about it online. I guess it was the Flow-in-Advance. There had been a government sign indicating it was only 1 km past the bus depot so I was confident I'd see it in about 15 minutes. The landmark that shouted to me on the way into town would be easy to spot again: the Only-One-I've-Seen-In-India Cemetery.
With my shawl wrapped around me the sun was starting to feel warm, but the air that ran past my arms was a contradictory chill that managed to keep things homeostatic. There was comfort in the quietude of the morning walk and adventure in the unknown road ahead. Then I heard some footsteps coming up behind me, quickly, and the comfort evaporated like spit on a Las Vegas sidewalk in August. People, generally do not "go jogging" in India so my usual explanation was out. My real first thought though, I'm proud to say as it makes me feel well-adjusted culturally-speaking, was "Grumpy Monkey(s)!" I was scared for a second but knew what I would do, kinda. Before I could pick up my Don't-Come-Any-Closer Rock (that-I-could-never-actually-hurt-you-with-cute-little-monkey) something was at my left hand (which I slipped into my pocket (for safety?) only to find a very non-threatening raspberry lemonade chapstick). A dog.
At this point I didn't feel at all relieved but HAD re-assessed the value of my purse as a weapon of force with the wallet, camera and journal spinning around me as the centrifuge. Trying to avoid any use for violence my steps quickened... and the dog's slowed. Until it matched my pace. Great. But at least it wasn't attacking (yet). It politely listened to me say "Stop!" and "NO!" in both English and Hindi (Hindi first, of course) and then circled behind me once and happily led the way. I took a breath and again felt secure with my choice NOT to get the rabies vaccine back home. I kept walking and it occurred to me that maybe this four-legged lone blonde female had just wanted company and I was a safe choice. I decided this was it and changed my projected-energy field of hatred to one of appreciative satisfaction. At least this company was not staring at me, trying to sell me something or asking awkward personal questions. Simple camaraderie and a bit of guidance. I could use that. After 10 minutes my mammalian friend knew I'd be alright and wandered off back to town just as the first stones of the cemetery came into view.
It was really beautiful too. Crumbling concrete crosses, one hundred years in the sun shine-y hills just Allowing. No paths to guide. No judgments to make. Accepting all that came from the ground and the sky and the blunt force of the Universal Flow. The caretakers were not far off though. I could see the three of them working close together - dark skin contrasting all the bright glowing greens and light memorial stone. They tended a set of four graves: two with small up-standing headstones and two with stone partially outlining the rectangular plots. All were flat as pasture on a small plateau of this Himalayan hillside, which was particularly convenient for the custodians' hooves and the grazing process they performed habitually, effortlessly, fluidly.
Walking on I passed the stone church with a red roof and noted the service time posted on a sign near the road: tomorrow, 11:00 AM. Then I greeted the little town that was introduced to me by a sharp left turn of the road. The atmosphere was relatively quite but I was once again the Oddity. It surprises me that this still, well, surprises me. The discomfort grows in my torso somewhere and then triggers an emergency maneuver to "look busy" to avoid the onlooking stares. Staring (as a woman FROM India told me) is something of a National Past-time here. That is hilarious because it's true. ONLY because it's true. This time my tactic for avoiding the acknowledgment of said past-time was to pull out my map and look engrossed. Within five seconds I wasn't faking it. I was riveted. I was confirming I was going in the correct direction: turn right soon and then second left... turns out I should have pretended to need my map a lot sooner... that right turn had been just BEFORE the bus depot and the second left not far after. Ooookay. I am definitely not meant to be at that meditation centre. By my watch I barely had enough time to get back to town and find that left hand turn, let ALONE get lost three more times which is my personal average. But. Maybe. One.... ofthesetaxis? no. They are not stopping for me. Alright. Alright! You win, I'll go with the Flow.
Then the third taxi stopped, let everyone out and called to me, "taxi?" Well, my name's Lyndia but let's talk. "How much to the meditation centre?" 100 RUPEES! You've GOT to be kidding me! Yeah, I am definitely not going to make it on time. Sorry. I politely declined saying it was too expensive and walked on. He called again, "just into town?" That was also quite appealing and likely only half the fare or less. I considered but skeptically asked, "kitana?" To which he nodded, "Free. I'm going there anyway." I couldn't refuse that kind of wave pushing me in the right direction.
Uncharacteristically I sat in the front seat. Uncharacteristically the driver spoke quite a bit of English. So we chatted. Nothing fancy but more conversation than I'd had in two days. He even indulged my question about the distance from the bus depot to the meditation centre. (3km, uphill). Judging by the time that was not going to be possible without some automobile convayance. And I really did want to do some meditation here in Dharmsala... I concented to the outrageous fee and was driven up to my destination. Five and a half kilometres, steep incline (he threw it in at least second gear for parts) AND my propensity of getting lost? Probably worth the $2.75 Canadian. I'm sure I'll find a way to recover from the dredges of bankruptcy this luxury is leading me to.
Two small white buildings and a chain between were the main entrance of the meditation camp. The welcome "May All Beings Be Happy" was painted with a floral flourish on the clean concrete. I walked into the biggest building with the biggest door assuming size mattered and would lead me to the place to ask questions. Wrong. But there was a kindly sign announcing it was SATURDAY (which alleviated my fear of this all being in vain if it were no-drop-in-class SUNDAY as I have been known to be a day off in my arrivals...). I walked out again. I saw a fairly obvious sign with a very informative arrow "reception." Ah. I went around the corner and readied myself for the apology I was going to make.
"Sorry we're closed" was smiling back at me from the glass office door, as it would be for another 45 minutes until 9:30 as the Office Hours sign indicated. I casually read the posters and notices on the windows with course details, annual schedules, rules and likely began to look suspicious but wasn't sure where to go or what to do. In the course of my readings I also learned that the 9AM drop-in class was actually at 9:15 so I had a bit more time to kil...enjoy. Then a staff person snuck through the door beside me with a tea in hand. It was definitely the "darting" style of movement which felt as though to say, "oh, we are definitely still closed." I could wait until after the drop-in class. I had time.
I opted to do this waiting on the patio with a few other uncomfortable looking people who I assumed were also there for drop-in. They were sitting on the plastic patio furniture enjoying the natural surroundings and watching the monkeys. It's always wise to keep one's eye on the monkeys. So I did the same - sat down, enjoyed the beautiful trees and hills and kept tabs on the monkeys, but they were calm so I pulled out my journal. I had a table to myself because I was in the corner. Corners are places where I feel safer for awkward waiting situations so that brown plastic chair was all mine. After three lines of writing about how I finally made it to the meditation centre the atmosphere changed with the shouts of perturbed monkeys. I was about to look up when my peripheral vision announced it would be better to stand up, quick! as one of the feud-ers (a big mama monkey toting her infant) was headed toward... my head. As casually as can be assumed with a potentially aggressive, nursing wild animal is in close proximity and all human eyes are turned toward it (in this case 8 including my own) I picked myself up, avoided eye contact with the monkey by spinning around it and found myself a new brown-plastic, non-corner chair. Turns out my theory of corner-safety does NOT always apply. One pair of eyes I did make contact with belonged to a compassionate dread-locked young woman who smiled knowingly and compassionately.
By 8:55am my unofficial-BoyScout-ness kicked in and the "Be Prepared" motto was in full gear. I had to go to the not-yet-open-but-still-staffed office. I didn't know where this drop-in class was happening. I peeked in apologetically and was informed the class was "upstairs." Okay good. I could deal with the other bit about missing the course registration later. But now, which stairs? The stone steps back by the front gate seemed accurate but not appropriate but I climbed them anyway to get a better view of how many other steps of stairs I might have to choose between. More than three. Shoot. I felt a bit of panic at the potential of having to go back to "Sorry We're Closed" to clarify this, likely obvious point. But having no idea I resigned myself to ask again and was back on the ground when obvious arrow caught my attention, this time with the message "Meditation Hall." Ha, yeah. Of course. The stairs right above the office. That makes sense.
Meditation Hall door is not open so I sit and wait. This time the sitting is more comfortable because there are no monkeys around but less comfortable because I am sure the wooden bench that is both narrow and wobbly will not hold both me and the spray bottle of glass cleaner that was already seated there. I hold out for the Windex to move and sit precariously mentally noting a few things:
a) I can't see the mountains from here. This is, apparently, a big deal to me. I can see the trees and hills which are enchanting but it feels a bit like being in the Rocky Mountains - nothing wrong with that, of course, I'm a fan actually. But I'm pretty sure I didn't take 7 busses in India to feel like I was in my home province for a week.
b) it's not just this bench... but I don't feel comfortable here, not Right Now. Something is making me anxious
c) the sign says "Silence Please" but so many people seems to translate that as 'whisper.' Hmm.
The teacher arrives and the class starts. Three quarters of an hour fly by and the meditation practice is really good. There is a chance for questions and answers and all of a sudden... I'm feeling anxious again. Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan, a HUGE FAN of listening and contributing to discussions about Religion, really! But something isn't clicking. The room is beautiful but a bit foreign. The energy is positive but also a bit daunting. Then I realize this opportunity for processing all-kinds of new, intermediate knowledge drains the post-meditative rush right from me. It's not anxiety I'm feeling... it's a sort of dread. Another question leads to an announcement about a fundraiser calendar being sold for Tibetan-prisoners. My mind is re-occupied with the present and leaves the dread behind: 12 great Buddhist images and 365 proclamations of the type and intensity of daily auspiciousness? For 100 rupees? Cool! The point-of-sale is the library and I wanted to check that out anyway. I'm 90% sold on the calender too, as long as "May" has a good picture and my birthday happens to be Auspicious this year. I'm unabashedly judgmental of calendar this way. But for two dollars??
The Meditation Hall empties and the dread returns. I'm going to have to return to the office to be directed to the library. Shoot. I *should* simply be excited: a library, a calendar, an easy apology. But it's all dread. Of what? The only way to find out is to go in... and make the apology and get it over with. They aren't going to lynch me or fine me or jail me! I'll just walk in, introduce myself and ask to speak to the author of the considerate emails I received, apologize to her and float on over to the library. "We're Open" has ousted it's other half and someone's already taken advantage of the office hours. An older gentleman is talking with the staff person from earlier. Super polite Lyndia waits outside a minute but no break in conversation. However, I do notice it's about country of origin and recent countries of residence - not too critical - so I knock and ready my apology, "Excuse me again, sorry to interrupt but I'm... not sure of my way around and want to go to the library." Reply. Close door. Walk off.
Wait. What? That was it? I didn't say anything? I ditched out? No. Sure I didn't. I'm just waiting until the office is empty and will return after I visit the library. Yeah, after the library.
It checks out, the library and I check out, two books. May 12th is auspicious this year and I also have a copy of the calendar in hand. I also learn that although my birthday Thursday is gonna be a great day the typical-celebratory Friday is totally inauspicious for having guests over. So DO NOT expect a party that day! I head back to the office with my stuff and take a slight detour, following yet another new sign "Shortcut to Mcleod Ganj" instead. Yup. I walked away. I totally did not apologize. What a jerk!
Now the Flow is back to stable. Good. I know I'm not going to be in the course and probably that I'll have a bit of bad karma for being so mindfully rude too! I head to the Internet cafe to do some blogging and will then go back to rest in my room (it WAS a 3km walk back!). Email #2: "yes there is one more space left. Please come and see us in the office this morning." Wha?! Holy Crap! If I would have said something I still could have registered! I could still register! Maybe I could run down and get my bags and be out the 800 rupees for the two pre-booked rooms and the 300 rupees for the cooking gas and the 100 more rupees for the taxi back up to the centre... wait. Wait! Think for a second here. I was just there. I didn't even ask.! Actually, I don't wanna go. Yes, after ALL that. I don't even want to take the course!? FLOW WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!
to be continued...
by LyndiaP April 2011 (part 3 of 4)
Enjoying this. :)
ReplyDeleteTHANK YOU! :) Hope you like the last bit!
ReplyDeleteGood old life. You can't make this stuff up :)