Friday, October 12, 2007
Sorry
I had photos for all of these posts but for some reason, dehradun internet isn't cooperating. One day the pictures will make it on here, promise.
Path to the Buddha Field
The last week I have been working really hard with the website and teaching English to the teachers, I have essentially had no time to myself, so the last couple days I have taken a break and wandered the mountains after dinner.
Anand ji told me about this clearing on the northern slope, named, quite appropriately as I would find out, 'the buddha field,' so the mission was clear; I must embark on the path to the buddha field.
So I fastened up my camera and headed up the steep incline of the path behind the ashram looking quite arbitrarily for a path that headed north. I found a couple but they didn't look promising. Actually, the path that I did choose had more to do with awkwardness than inclination: I saw a couple school girls walking home, with a look of, 'my god who is this strange bearded white dude doing in the middle of the forest!' so I jetted off on the nearby northbound path. It looked well worn so I decided to follow it. I tried a few side paths, but found that they all were up to my chest. I soon figured out the reason why: during the day, villagers let their water buffalo wander the forest to graze. I learned this because there were two huge water buffalo in the middle of the path munching on some shrubbery, not wanting to let me pass. So I stood there for some time, telling them to go ahead, but they apparently didn't understand English. So I picked up a rock and quite literally herded them to a clearing probably a couple kms away. It was good practice for my हट-हट's and hisses that I hear herders shout constantly.
So, all of the paths around here remind me much of those in my home in NW Washington. For those NW Washingtonians, they are much like all parks, with dense evergreens, but I guess with more scratchy shrubbery that were attracted to my sandaled feet and hat . This path was no difference, but all after passing over a few creeks and abandoned stone fences, the whole forest opened up. But, It was strange, the effect that the change in scenery had on me. My whole mind cleared, and suddenly rushed with joy, and remained, in the same manner as the honey like sunset that was descending like sap over the spectacular views of the endless mountain ranges. There were these sparse expanses of deciduous trees much like those in South West Oregon and Spokane alternating with dense spots of eucalyptus trees. The mixture produced beautifully sweet lingering smell. At this point, I didn't know that I had stumpled upon it, but it was pretty apparent that I had found the buddha field.
So I walked around for a bit, took in the views of the mountains and Chandrabadni temple, threw out a couple namaskar's to some of the old pahari men walking past with their Nehru caps and thick lathi walking sticks, then headed on back, for I feared the sun would set soon.
Actually on the way back, started to realized that I passed a couple stone fences that I didn't remember. I got a little nervous, and started to jog down this trail that snaked alongside a little creek. The trail was pretty worn so I knew it would take me somewhere familiar, and luckily it did. It spit me out right next to this creepy abandoned home that I had explore the previous week. I had a little time, so I went in, got creeped out, then continued on past another creek back to the ashram, where I took in the last bit of the orange half light of the sunset, and talked with Anand ji about how he can cure any injury with nettle and urine treatment. Weird. He also told me that I had, indeed, found the Buddha field. Rad.
So I used the last of my rare free time to type out this last blog before I head out to Dehra Dun tomorrow, where, with stable internet, I will finally post all these blogs (I have been writing them on my laptop when electricity prevails). Horrah!
नमस्कार
Anand ji told me about this clearing on the northern slope, named, quite appropriately as I would find out, 'the buddha field,' so the mission was clear; I must embark on the path to the buddha field.
So I fastened up my camera and headed up the steep incline of the path behind the ashram looking quite arbitrarily for a path that headed north. I found a couple but they didn't look promising. Actually, the path that I did choose had more to do with awkwardness than inclination: I saw a couple school girls walking home, with a look of, 'my god who is this strange bearded white dude doing in the middle of the forest!' so I jetted off on the nearby northbound path. It looked well worn so I decided to follow it. I tried a few side paths, but found that they all were up to my chest. I soon figured out the reason why: during the day, villagers let their water buffalo wander the forest to graze. I learned this because there were two huge water buffalo in the middle of the path munching on some shrubbery, not wanting to let me pass. So I stood there for some time, telling them to go ahead, but they apparently didn't understand English. So I picked up a rock and quite literally herded them to a clearing probably a couple kms away. It was good practice for my हट-हट's and hisses that I hear herders shout constantly.
So, all of the paths around here remind me much of those in my home in NW Washington. For those NW Washingtonians, they are much like all parks, with dense evergreens, but I guess with more scratchy shrubbery that were attracted to my sandaled feet and hat . This path was no difference, but all after passing over a few creeks and abandoned stone fences, the whole forest opened up. But, It was strange, the effect that the change in scenery had on me. My whole mind cleared, and suddenly rushed with joy, and remained, in the same manner as the honey like sunset that was descending like sap over the spectacular views of the endless mountain ranges. There were these sparse expanses of deciduous trees much like those in South West Oregon and Spokane alternating with dense spots of eucalyptus trees. The mixture produced beautifully sweet lingering smell. At this point, I didn't know that I had stumpled upon it, but it was pretty apparent that I had found the buddha field.
So I walked around for a bit, took in the views of the mountains and Chandrabadni temple, threw out a couple namaskar's to some of the old pahari men walking past with their Nehru caps and thick lathi walking sticks, then headed on back, for I feared the sun would set soon.
Actually on the way back, started to realized that I passed a couple stone fences that I didn't remember. I got a little nervous, and started to jog down this trail that snaked alongside a little creek. The trail was pretty worn so I knew it would take me somewhere familiar, and luckily it did. It spit me out right next to this creepy abandoned home that I had explore the previous week. I had a little time, so I went in, got creeped out, then continued on past another creek back to the ashram, where I took in the last bit of the orange half light of the sunset, and talked with Anand ji about how he can cure any injury with nettle and urine treatment. Weird. He also told me that I had, indeed, found the Buddha field. Rad.
So I used the last of my rare free time to type out this last blog before I head out to Dehra Dun tomorrow, where, with stable internet, I will finally post all these blogs (I have been writing them on my laptop when electricity prevails). Horrah!
नमस्कार
Bonding with the kiddus
I finally had a breakthrough with the children the other day. I really haven't had much experience with little kids before, and I guess the language barrier has added another layer of difficulty. Since I have gotten here, during the school time, I have kind of sat back and observed, but not interacted much with the students. Of course, like all children, they have been very curious and bombarded me with all sorts of questions in Hindi, and from what I could understand I responded in terrible Hindi (a year is nothing for learning a language, at least for me), but I never felt really comfortable with them.
This all changed with when I met adorable Ritu. In the beginning of our daily morning assembly, we all meditate for about twenty minutes or so. One day, I opened my eyes slightly to see this adorable tiny little kindergartner, Ritu, sitting directly opposite of me on the other side of the assembly hall with this huge grin on her face. This obviously was ridiculously cute, so I cracked a smile, which she responded by laughing hysterically. For the duration of the meditation whenever I opened my eyes she would giggle, which would make me giggle; this happen probably 8 times. After the assembly, she ran up to me jumped in my arms and said खिलाओ! खिलाओ! which basically means play with me. I threw her up in my arms a couple times, and a new best friend was born. She insisted I come to class with her and I obliged, and every day since I have carried her on my shoulders to class. Anyways we get to class, where I found a high concentration of all of the hard hitting cuties in the school who instantly showing me all of the English, math, and Hindi that they knew. Soon the class devolved to us all dancing and me chasing everyone around. I learned a valuable lesson about children: Although I had been so self conscious about my Hindi, they didn't care. The only language that I needed to know was the language of play I guess.
So, after the class, on the way up the hill to my room to do some work on my computer, I was walking behind a couple third grade girls, who all of a sudden yelled 'मुझे पकड़ो!' essential 'grab me or let's play catch' and sprinted off. So, I started chasing them. Gradually kiddus started joining in, and next thing you know, I have about 45 kids chasing me around the school (even the sixth graders who are 'way too cool' for पकड़ो). Since then, I have a school load of new friends, some of the sweetest smartest kids to teach, learn, and play with. I really wish that I didn't have so much office, administrative work to do, so that I could spend more time with the kids, but I will have to find a way to mediate my time with them.
But it is nice to establish a close relationship with the children so that later, I will be able to develop lesson plans and hopefully teach. Right now, I am just learning about the educational philosophy of the school, but from what I gather, it is very demanding of the teachers. A main piece of the pedagogy of the school is to link government syllabuses, made up of dry rational concepts that are tested at the 5 and 8 grade level, to the right, creative side of the brain, to avoid rote memorization. This is typically done by explaining the processes (at least in maths and sciences) then linking it with a physical demonstration so that the concept is not just an abstract equation, but something felt, experience, and thus retained. So, for example, we all know that 1/2 + 1/3 = 5/6, easy right. But if I were to tear a piece of printer paper in half, than another into a third and give you, how would you go about explaining that these two pieces equal 5/6? It just looks like two disjointed different sized pieces of paper. If you try it, (which I suggest you do if you get a chance) it is quite frustrating, the concept is so simple and has been drilled into our brain, but when you need to find out what it truly means in the physical world, it very difficult to answer. I don't think that any adult that we have asked this question to, has been able to answer it sufficiently. (If you do try I can give you the answer later).
Also, these syllabuses are that they are constructed at the national level, and thus also with a large degree of uniformity. This is problematic given India's great diversity (If you travel from one end of India to the other, you will find that every 50 miles, there is a different dress, language, diet, God, etc.). A centrally administered syllabus denies the rich local knowledge and material available in each region. Therefore, the teachers here try to link the syllabus to the children's local experience as well.
It really takes a lot of creativity to come up with valuable lesson plans, creativity that I really don't have now. Anand ji says that it will come back to me, it can be developed with meditation, which I am getting plenty of. We'll see.
But, anyways, Ritu is the greatest, the apple of my eye. Lately, I had really considered not having any children, but how can this mindset remain when I am surrounded by adorable and brilliant children?
नमस्कार
This all changed with when I met adorable Ritu. In the beginning of our daily morning assembly, we all meditate for about twenty minutes or so. One day, I opened my eyes slightly to see this adorable tiny little kindergartner, Ritu, sitting directly opposite of me on the other side of the assembly hall with this huge grin on her face. This obviously was ridiculously cute, so I cracked a smile, which she responded by laughing hysterically. For the duration of the meditation whenever I opened my eyes she would giggle, which would make me giggle; this happen probably 8 times. After the assembly, she ran up to me jumped in my arms and said खिलाओ! खिलाओ! which basically means play with me. I threw her up in my arms a couple times, and a new best friend was born. She insisted I come to class with her and I obliged, and every day since I have carried her on my shoulders to class. Anyways we get to class, where I found a high concentration of all of the hard hitting cuties in the school who instantly showing me all of the English, math, and Hindi that they knew. Soon the class devolved to us all dancing and me chasing everyone around. I learned a valuable lesson about children: Although I had been so self conscious about my Hindi, they didn't care. The only language that I needed to know was the language of play I guess.
So, after the class, on the way up the hill to my room to do some work on my computer, I was walking behind a couple third grade girls, who all of a sudden yelled 'मुझे पकड़ो!' essential 'grab me or let's play catch' and sprinted off. So, I started chasing them. Gradually kiddus started joining in, and next thing you know, I have about 45 kids chasing me around the school (even the sixth graders who are 'way too cool' for पकड़ो). Since then, I have a school load of new friends, some of the sweetest smartest kids to teach, learn, and play with. I really wish that I didn't have so much office, administrative work to do, so that I could spend more time with the kids, but I will have to find a way to mediate my time with them.
But it is nice to establish a close relationship with the children so that later, I will be able to develop lesson plans and hopefully teach. Right now, I am just learning about the educational philosophy of the school, but from what I gather, it is very demanding of the teachers. A main piece of the pedagogy of the school is to link government syllabuses, made up of dry rational concepts that are tested at the 5 and 8 grade level, to the right, creative side of the brain, to avoid rote memorization. This is typically done by explaining the processes (at least in maths and sciences) then linking it with a physical demonstration so that the concept is not just an abstract equation, but something felt, experience, and thus retained. So, for example, we all know that 1/2 + 1/3 = 5/6, easy right. But if I were to tear a piece of printer paper in half, than another into a third and give you, how would you go about explaining that these two pieces equal 5/6? It just looks like two disjointed different sized pieces of paper. If you try it, (which I suggest you do if you get a chance) it is quite frustrating, the concept is so simple and has been drilled into our brain, but when you need to find out what it truly means in the physical world, it very difficult to answer. I don't think that any adult that we have asked this question to, has been able to answer it sufficiently. (If you do try I can give you the answer later).
Also, these syllabuses are that they are constructed at the national level, and thus also with a large degree of uniformity. This is problematic given India's great diversity (If you travel from one end of India to the other, you will find that every 50 miles, there is a different dress, language, diet, God, etc.). A centrally administered syllabus denies the rich local knowledge and material available in each region. Therefore, the teachers here try to link the syllabus to the children's local experience as well.
It really takes a lot of creativity to come up with valuable lesson plans, creativity that I really don't have now. Anand ji says that it will come back to me, it can be developed with meditation, which I am getting plenty of. We'll see.
But, anyways, Ritu is the greatest, the apple of my eye. Lately, I had really considered not having any children, but how can this mindset remain when I am surrounded by adorable and brilliant children?
नमस्कार
A day in the life...
Here is an intensive breakdown of my life on the ashram.
3:30 AM- Wake up call, I roll around for a couple minutes and then do a couple push ups to wake me up.
4-5 AM Meditation- watching my busy mind, and surprisingly not squirming much.
5-6 AM: Yoga with Joseph ji, a wandering spiritual, abandoned Christian Keralan, who has settled here to live on the ashram. Great Guy. Realize that the sun has yet to rise and the nearby mosque has already conducted two prayer sessions over the loudspeaker.
6-7 AM: SLEEP...Although I am trying to train myself to work on less sleep. For those that know me and my sleep patterns well, then you will also know that a dark cloud of failure lingers over these ambitions.
7:00-7:30- All of the teachers gather for breakfast, which they call lunch, and is more like dinner. Rice, Dal, chapati (Indian bread), a couple subzis (vegetables), and a sweet dish. It is are largest meal of the day, which is fine with me. And are bhagwan, the food is delicious! Which probably has something to due with me not cooking, although I am suppose to. I instead do a terrible job cleaning dishes and have three 19 year girls hysterically laughing at me. good times.
7:30-8- Make some great Keralan coffee (thank you Joseph ji, way better than terrible NesCafe that everyone drinks here) and sit out and look out to the morning mist in the valley. Then it is music with the teachers. I am surrounded by a group of amazing musicians, which is fantastic! I am learning dholak, a two sided India drum, whose son, the tabla, gets all the glory. But I am taking to the harmonium and picking it up pretty quick. Strangely, I find myself longing for a harmonium much of the day, wishing I were playing it. They also have a guitar, which the male teacher's keep insisting that I teach them to play. There country songs are coming along nicely.
8:00-as short as humanly possible- First I take my bucket bucket of fresh Himalayan spring water. Delicious tasting but terrible feeling. ooohhhh the coldness. I spend the next 15 minutes screaming profanities and wishing I were dead. And it isn't even that cold yet, winter's a coming.
8.15-9.15- My only free time of the day, or Chad Time as I like to call it. I am constantly with teacher and students so it is nice to get away for a while. Typically I read, recently I have been engrossed with Orientalism by Edward Said. A fantastic read basically about the misconceptions in which the West has constructed perceptions, history, and an academic field of the East reflecting the dominating social structures and the West's fascination with categorical sciences. I wish I could spend more time with it. I typically have to lock my door to my room to keep the hordes of children that love through my stuff, mess with my phone and send text messages unwittingly to random people. Those kooks.
9:15-10:00- Assembly time, we meditate with the children for about ten minutes then sing songs, with the headmaster/guru Anand ji on harmonium, and the children on drums and tambourine, ADORABLE!!! My heart melts everyday at this time, the kids are so precious. What Anandji has done here is something truly unique and impressive. Definitely my favorite part of the day.
10am-1pm- Sit in classes with the teachers, help teach in whatever capacity I can. I am a pretty awful teacher at this point and my spoken Hindi is even more awful, but I try. Recently, I have been given many assignments more on the administrative side, creating a website and material for distribution to interested parties, applying for grants and the like.
1-2pm- Chai break, sit in teachers lounge with all of the teachers drinking chai, eating a few chapatis, and looking confused at the fast Hindi/Garhwali language spoken around me that makes no sense. After chai, I chase kiddus around the school until I am physically exhausted. They love it, but the perception of me is slowly turning into everyone's play toy, which I don't know if I have the stamina for. But it is hard not to, I will reiterate, these kids are ADORABLE!
2-4:00- Back to work, like for instance, we just got a grant from Plan International, an international development funding agency, to implement our progressive model in rural government schools. We are going to conduct a survey at 12 schools in two districts to access the situation at the school before we give teacher trainings and materials, so that when we return in 6 months we can compare if anything has substantive changed from our program. So right now I am working on a questionnaire to administer to teachers and students.
4:00-4.30- Second and last meal of the day, a dinner much like breakfast. Again delicious, I like this eating twice a day, it is the perfect amount of food.
4.30-6:30- After dinner, I dedicate my time to the teachers. Typically this is in the form of English. I also help them with lesson plans or teach them how to use computers and different programs. Every once in a while, I try to wander about in are foresty back yard, in search of panthers, black bears, wild fruit, and perfect look out views for the sunsets. Usually all I find is two scratched arms from the overabundance of prickly things in the forest, and nasty side aches, but it is worth it.
6:30-8- All of the teachers meet up in the meditation room to work on their english. I bring my Hindi books, but typically I just help them.
8-9- More meditation, I like how both of the times we meditate together are the times when I am the most exhausted. This session usually goes a little better, I have a tad more energy.
9-9:45- I have started a conversational class to work on the teachers spoken English, which is going well and the teacher seem to really enjoy it. I am trying to get them to articulate their thoughts on social issues in simple english, and then talk about how we can present these issues in class. And right now we are writing songs in English, that I will later put to music on guitar, which we will teach the children. By this time, my eyes are barely open, but the dedication and drive of these students definitely keep me going. They are all amazing.
9.45- 10.15- Typically I will bravely battle the hand sized spiders that move into my room during the day. Then I pick up a book or maybe type out a tasty blog, then call it a day, or more likely pass out from fatique.
This is during the workweek (mon.- sat.), during the 'day off' replace 5am-1pm with weeding the playfield, creating something for the kids to play on, farming, and other physical labor. Life's a bit intense but I love it.
3:30 AM- Wake up call, I roll around for a couple minutes and then do a couple push ups to wake me up.
4-5 AM Meditation- watching my busy mind, and surprisingly not squirming much.
5-6 AM: Yoga with Joseph ji, a wandering spiritual, abandoned Christian Keralan, who has settled here to live on the ashram. Great Guy. Realize that the sun has yet to rise and the nearby mosque has already conducted two prayer sessions over the loudspeaker.
6-7 AM: SLEEP...Although I am trying to train myself to work on less sleep. For those that know me and my sleep patterns well, then you will also know that a dark cloud of failure lingers over these ambitions.
7:00-7:30- All of the teachers gather for breakfast, which they call lunch, and is more like dinner. Rice, Dal, chapati (Indian bread), a couple subzis (vegetables), and a sweet dish. It is are largest meal of the day, which is fine with me. And are bhagwan, the food is delicious! Which probably has something to due with me not cooking, although I am suppose to. I instead do a terrible job cleaning dishes and have three 19 year girls hysterically laughing at me. good times.
7:30-8- Make some great Keralan coffee (thank you Joseph ji, way better than terrible NesCafe that everyone drinks here) and sit out and look out to the morning mist in the valley. Then it is music with the teachers. I am surrounded by a group of amazing musicians, which is fantastic! I am learning dholak, a two sided India drum, whose son, the tabla, gets all the glory. But I am taking to the harmonium and picking it up pretty quick. Strangely, I find myself longing for a harmonium much of the day, wishing I were playing it. They also have a guitar, which the male teacher's keep insisting that I teach them to play. There country songs are coming along nicely.
8:00-as short as humanly possible- First I take my bucket bucket of fresh Himalayan spring water. Delicious tasting but terrible feeling. ooohhhh the coldness. I spend the next 15 minutes screaming profanities and wishing I were dead. And it isn't even that cold yet, winter's a coming.
8.15-9.15- My only free time of the day, or Chad Time as I like to call it. I am constantly with teacher and students so it is nice to get away for a while. Typically I read, recently I have been engrossed with Orientalism by Edward Said. A fantastic read basically about the misconceptions in which the West has constructed perceptions, history, and an academic field of the East reflecting the dominating social structures and the West's fascination with categorical sciences. I wish I could spend more time with it. I typically have to lock my door to my room to keep the hordes of children that love through my stuff, mess with my phone and send text messages unwittingly to random people. Those kooks.
9:15-10:00- Assembly time, we meditate with the children for about ten minutes then sing songs, with the headmaster/guru Anand ji on harmonium, and the children on drums and tambourine, ADORABLE!!! My heart melts everyday at this time, the kids are so precious. What Anandji has done here is something truly unique and impressive. Definitely my favorite part of the day.
10am-1pm- Sit in classes with the teachers, help teach in whatever capacity I can. I am a pretty awful teacher at this point and my spoken Hindi is even more awful, but I try. Recently, I have been given many assignments more on the administrative side, creating a website and material for distribution to interested parties, applying for grants and the like.
1-2pm- Chai break, sit in teachers lounge with all of the teachers drinking chai, eating a few chapatis, and looking confused at the fast Hindi/Garhwali language spoken around me that makes no sense. After chai, I chase kiddus around the school until I am physically exhausted. They love it, but the perception of me is slowly turning into everyone's play toy, which I don't know if I have the stamina for. But it is hard not to, I will reiterate, these kids are ADORABLE!
2-4:00- Back to work, like for instance, we just got a grant from Plan International, an international development funding agency, to implement our progressive model in rural government schools. We are going to conduct a survey at 12 schools in two districts to access the situation at the school before we give teacher trainings and materials, so that when we return in 6 months we can compare if anything has substantive changed from our program. So right now I am working on a questionnaire to administer to teachers and students.
4:00-4.30- Second and last meal of the day, a dinner much like breakfast. Again delicious, I like this eating twice a day, it is the perfect amount of food.
4.30-6:30- After dinner, I dedicate my time to the teachers. Typically this is in the form of English. I also help them with lesson plans or teach them how to use computers and different programs. Every once in a while, I try to wander about in are foresty back yard, in search of panthers, black bears, wild fruit, and perfect look out views for the sunsets. Usually all I find is two scratched arms from the overabundance of prickly things in the forest, and nasty side aches, but it is worth it.
6:30-8- All of the teachers meet up in the meditation room to work on their english. I bring my Hindi books, but typically I just help them.
8-9- More meditation, I like how both of the times we meditate together are the times when I am the most exhausted. This session usually goes a little better, I have a tad more energy.
9-9:45- I have started a conversational class to work on the teachers spoken English, which is going well and the teacher seem to really enjoy it. I am trying to get them to articulate their thoughts on social issues in simple english, and then talk about how we can present these issues in class. And right now we are writing songs in English, that I will later put to music on guitar, which we will teach the children. By this time, my eyes are barely open, but the dedication and drive of these students definitely keep me going. They are all amazing.
9.45- 10.15- Typically I will bravely battle the hand sized spiders that move into my room during the day. Then I pick up a book or maybe type out a tasty blog, then call it a day, or more likely pass out from fatique.
This is during the workweek (mon.- sat.), during the 'day off' replace 5am-1pm with weeding the playfield, creating something for the kids to play on, farming, and other physical labor. Life's a bit intense but I love it.
Chandrabandi Mandir
I had one of the most memorable moments of my life, one of the few times in my life when I was truly happy, the kind of happiness that permeates throughout your whole body, through every single cell, it seems. So let me explain.
Living here on the ashram, we, as you might imagine, follow a fairly strict ashram schedule. At 3:30 we wake up, at 4 we meditate. This has definitely been an adjustment, but the meditation I believe has been very beneficial. I have not meditated for quite a long time, but I have just thrown myself back into, meditation at least two hours a day. Anand ji, my boss/guru, has also given me great questions about the mind in relation to the body and brain, and given me his interesting insight into his perception of reality and the role of meditation.
So after an invigorating meditation session, I had decided to explore a bit in the time before breakfast, given that the ashram's backyard is a vast network of forest trails, rudimentarily linking villages and amazing vantage points. We ended a little early and it was still dark out, so climbed a bit to a higher clearing and laid on my back taking in the vast blanket of stars above. And I have never seen so many stars! The ashram uses very little outside light, when there is electricity, as well as the surrounding small townships, so the night sky is absolutely pristine. I waited until the raising sun painted the sky a light purple color, and utilized the half light to make my way to the top of our mountain as to see the other side. I was greeted by a striking view of himalaya stacked upon himalaya, with such a dense forest cover, I couldn't imagine anything inhabiting such terrain but animals. In the valley lay the early morning mist sneaking up the mountain side. I hiked up a bit to take a seat on a rock to take in the sun rise. When the sun hit the cloud cover it shot godshine into the valley turning the mist a brilliant orange, and spreading pastels across the sky. It was amazing, simply put.
About five kilometers away, on the next mountain peak, is located a seventh century BC Devi temple, Chandrabadni. For those familiar with Hinduism, this is a very important temple in the story of Shiva ji and his first wife, Sati. For those not familiar, basically, Shiva and Sati were madly in love with each other, to the disapproval of Sati's father, Daksha Prajapati. Later, he conducted an important yagya prayer ceremony, involving the construction of a fire, and invited all of the important Gods, except for, of course, Shiva and his own daughter. Sati, being quite stubborn, forced herself into the ceremony, even after suffering much verbal abuse from her father. Once inside and blinded with anger, she obliviously ran into the ceremonial fire and was burned to death. When Shiva received the news, he was filled with tremendous rage. He, first, chopped of the head of Sati's father, and picked up the charred remains of his wife and flew around the HImalayas, weeping and beyond consolation. Now, in this state of immense grief, Lord Vishnu and Lord Brahma became worried that Shiva ji was losing his Godly force, or Shakti, which was dangerous to the world order, given that Shiva is the powerful God of destruction. Vishnu and Brahma summoned up their shakti, sending a heavenly fire bolt (sudarshan chakra) down to earth, piercing Sati's corpse into 108 fragments that were scattered across the world, every place becoming a holy site (some priests contests that stonehenge is one such site). Chandrabadni is where the largest piece, her torso, settled.
When I got to the base of the mountain, I rang the bell on the gateway of the paved path to the temple and began to navigate the zigzags to the peak. When I got to the top, अरे भागवन!, I don't know how to describe the feeling. It really felt like I was perched up in the heavens, peering down on all of what is pristine and good on this earth. The air was fresh and cool, and a small breeze flapped the red triangle flags surrounding the outer perimeter of the temple walls and sailed the fragrant smoke of dhoop, an incense used for pooja in the main temple's altar, into my nostrils. I got there just in time for morning pooja, so I got to watch the priest preform arthi, a fire offering, recite some Sanskrit hymns to the Devi, Durga, then he gave me a bell and I shook it continually while he poured Ganges water on all of the ten or so murtis around the outside of the temple. When the pooja was completed, I wandered around the temple, to find the cloud cover had dissipated, unveiling probably six or so of the big guys, the snow capped Himalayas. I have seen them before in Mussoorie and Darjeeling, but never with such clarity, and never so close. All I can say is अरे वाह.
All of this just in the first couple days in the ashram. This is the happiest I have been in a long, long time. I really hope that this will continue.
Living here on the ashram, we, as you might imagine, follow a fairly strict ashram schedule. At 3:30 we wake up, at 4 we meditate. This has definitely been an adjustment, but the meditation I believe has been very beneficial. I have not meditated for quite a long time, but I have just thrown myself back into, meditation at least two hours a day. Anand ji, my boss/guru, has also given me great questions about the mind in relation to the body and brain, and given me his interesting insight into his perception of reality and the role of meditation.
So after an invigorating meditation session, I had decided to explore a bit in the time before breakfast, given that the ashram's backyard is a vast network of forest trails, rudimentarily linking villages and amazing vantage points. We ended a little early and it was still dark out, so climbed a bit to a higher clearing and laid on my back taking in the vast blanket of stars above. And I have never seen so many stars! The ashram uses very little outside light, when there is electricity, as well as the surrounding small townships, so the night sky is absolutely pristine. I waited until the raising sun painted the sky a light purple color, and utilized the half light to make my way to the top of our mountain as to see the other side. I was greeted by a striking view of himalaya stacked upon himalaya, with such a dense forest cover, I couldn't imagine anything inhabiting such terrain but animals. In the valley lay the early morning mist sneaking up the mountain side. I hiked up a bit to take a seat on a rock to take in the sun rise. When the sun hit the cloud cover it shot godshine into the valley turning the mist a brilliant orange, and spreading pastels across the sky. It was amazing, simply put.
About five kilometers away, on the next mountain peak, is located a seventh century BC Devi temple, Chandrabadni. For those familiar with Hinduism, this is a very important temple in the story of Shiva ji and his first wife, Sati. For those not familiar, basically, Shiva and Sati were madly in love with each other, to the disapproval of Sati's father, Daksha Prajapati. Later, he conducted an important yagya prayer ceremony, involving the construction of a fire, and invited all of the important Gods, except for, of course, Shiva and his own daughter. Sati, being quite stubborn, forced herself into the ceremony, even after suffering much verbal abuse from her father. Once inside and blinded with anger, she obliviously ran into the ceremonial fire and was burned to death. When Shiva received the news, he was filled with tremendous rage. He, first, chopped of the head of Sati's father, and picked up the charred remains of his wife and flew around the HImalayas, weeping and beyond consolation. Now, in this state of immense grief, Lord Vishnu and Lord Brahma became worried that Shiva ji was losing his Godly force, or Shakti, which was dangerous to the world order, given that Shiva is the powerful God of destruction. Vishnu and Brahma summoned up their shakti, sending a heavenly fire bolt (sudarshan chakra) down to earth, piercing Sati's corpse into 108 fragments that were scattered across the world, every place becoming a holy site (some priests contests that stonehenge is one such site). Chandrabadni is where the largest piece, her torso, settled.
When I got to the base of the mountain, I rang the bell on the gateway of the paved path to the temple and began to navigate the zigzags to the peak. When I got to the top, अरे भागवन!, I don't know how to describe the feeling. It really felt like I was perched up in the heavens, peering down on all of what is pristine and good on this earth. The air was fresh and cool, and a small breeze flapped the red triangle flags surrounding the outer perimeter of the temple walls and sailed the fragrant smoke of dhoop, an incense used for pooja in the main temple's altar, into my nostrils. I got there just in time for morning pooja, so I got to watch the priest preform arthi, a fire offering, recite some Sanskrit hymns to the Devi, Durga, then he gave me a bell and I shook it continually while he poured Ganges water on all of the ten or so murtis around the outside of the temple. When the pooja was completed, I wandered around the temple, to find the cloud cover had dissipated, unveiling probably six or so of the big guys, the snow capped Himalayas. I have seen them before in Mussoorie and Darjeeling, but never with such clarity, and never so close. All I can say is अरे वाह.
All of this just in the first couple days in the ashram. This is the happiest I have been in a long, long time. I really hope that this will continue.
First Day
Meghan (the other fellow at my site) and I reached Dehra Dun on an overnight train, where we met up with Mohan, one of the founders of the APV school who assisted us on our trip up the windy path from DD to the hamlet we live in. The trip was pretty sobering, coming from the relatively clean and very modern, metropolis, and most importantly flat Delhi. Dehra Dun, for one, was pretty disgusting, dirty, congested, a really suffocating small town (which in India means probably more than three million), but once we started ascending into the mountains, things really changed. At first there were lush flatlands with what appeared to be rice patties (actually, basmatic rice is unique to this area) and tea fields, then we started zig zaging through the rolling hills, which fluxuated between the flora of what I could only describe in terms of familiarity with the evergreens of the cascades, to the dry decidious trees of southern Oregon.
But as we started to ascended even further, the views became absolutely breath taking. These Himalayas are no joke, the are the most massive mountains I have ever seen, much larger than the Olympics, Cascades, and Rockies, or at least appear that way. We were snaking through these really terrifying crumbling roads, with little protection from plummeting hundreds of feet to our death. The only thing that kept my semi sane driver from crashing were probably these fantasticly clever road signs saying, drive slow or die, life is a long journey, continue it, license to drive, not fly etc. But the views were spectacular during this portion.
Also, I notice quite a lot of landslides that were being cleaned up by crews equipped with very remedial tools like picks and small hoes, it really must take ages to get anything done. Mohan told me that these roadslides are a recent phenomena and I am sure that I am sure are because of a slew of environmental issues that I am not yet acquainted with. Also, one of the most amazing sites is when you get into the real high rural regions, there are this small townships with the liveliness of any other smaller Indian city (albeit on a much smaller scale), literally etched into the sides of these massive peaks, something I have never seen in any of the mountain systems that I have lived in. But in any case, from these observations, I learned a very obvious lesson about physical barriers to education in the rural mountainous area, which is how the lack or disregard of infrastructure plays into the lives of many students. On one hand the roads are few and far between and cannot connect the network of small villages to the schools, markets, hospital, etc. in an efficient manner. But also, In the chaotic milieu that I have described, of roadslides, lack of guard rails, the neglected roads, the craziness of my driver, and with all of the regular Indian traffic of bicycles, scooters, animals, and workers, I actually feared for the safety of these hordes of children that I saw just get out of class and were heading for their homes. I couldn't even count the times my driver almost hit a child.
Oh and I got to see the second largest dam in Asia, one of Nehru's temple of modernity. It was actually terribly depressing. The dam was constructed over a pretty sizeable city, Tehri, that had to completely relocate and become one of the aforementioned teetering mountainside towns. On the ride down to the dam, I saw many abandoned roads going into the artificial lake, roads to the homes and farms of, what I was told, 200,000 people who were displace and barely compensated. The dam itself was a concrete monstrosity, lumbering over the valley, and despite thirty years of work, is still bustling with construction, a testament to the inefficiency of the Indian bureaucracy. I have recently heard that there are something like 70 more dams planned for this area. But the funny thing is despite this massive dam in our neighboring city, where is the power? Not here obviously, there hasn't been power in my room since I have been here. The problem is the electricity goes to the cities, while the mountains and its people must endure the adverse consequences of such construction, without much of the benefits.
But I am slowly adjusting to my new lifestyle. Let me tell you that this place is REMOTE, I am about 5 km away from a market where I can get some things, but other than that there is only maybe 100 people living in our immediate area. But for now, as I type this by candle light I am listening to the Muslim call to prayer in a mosque which I cannot locate, looking at the lights of clusters of villages trickle down the slopes of these massive peaks like christmas lights on a tree, with more stars overhead than I have ever seen before. And at least for now, I have nothing to complain about.
But as we started to ascended even further, the views became absolutely breath taking. These Himalayas are no joke, the are the most massive mountains I have ever seen, much larger than the Olympics, Cascades, and Rockies, or at least appear that way. We were snaking through these really terrifying crumbling roads, with little protection from plummeting hundreds of feet to our death. The only thing that kept my semi sane driver from crashing were probably these fantasticly clever road signs saying, drive slow or die, life is a long journey, continue it, license to drive, not fly etc. But the views were spectacular during this portion.
Also, I notice quite a lot of landslides that were being cleaned up by crews equipped with very remedial tools like picks and small hoes, it really must take ages to get anything done. Mohan told me that these roadslides are a recent phenomena and I am sure that I am sure are because of a slew of environmental issues that I am not yet acquainted with. Also, one of the most amazing sites is when you get into the real high rural regions, there are this small townships with the liveliness of any other smaller Indian city (albeit on a much smaller scale), literally etched into the sides of these massive peaks, something I have never seen in any of the mountain systems that I have lived in. But in any case, from these observations, I learned a very obvious lesson about physical barriers to education in the rural mountainous area, which is how the lack or disregard of infrastructure plays into the lives of many students. On one hand the roads are few and far between and cannot connect the network of small villages to the schools, markets, hospital, etc. in an efficient manner. But also, In the chaotic milieu that I have described, of roadslides, lack of guard rails, the neglected roads, the craziness of my driver, and with all of the regular Indian traffic of bicycles, scooters, animals, and workers, I actually feared for the safety of these hordes of children that I saw just get out of class and were heading for their homes. I couldn't even count the times my driver almost hit a child.
Oh and I got to see the second largest dam in Asia, one of Nehru's temple of modernity. It was actually terribly depressing. The dam was constructed over a pretty sizeable city, Tehri, that had to completely relocate and become one of the aforementioned teetering mountainside towns. On the ride down to the dam, I saw many abandoned roads going into the artificial lake, roads to the homes and farms of, what I was told, 200,000 people who were displace and barely compensated. The dam itself was a concrete monstrosity, lumbering over the valley, and despite thirty years of work, is still bustling with construction, a testament to the inefficiency of the Indian bureaucracy. I have recently heard that there are something like 70 more dams planned for this area. But the funny thing is despite this massive dam in our neighboring city, where is the power? Not here obviously, there hasn't been power in my room since I have been here. The problem is the electricity goes to the cities, while the mountains and its people must endure the adverse consequences of such construction, without much of the benefits.
But I am slowly adjusting to my new lifestyle. Let me tell you that this place is REMOTE, I am about 5 km away from a market where I can get some things, but other than that there is only maybe 100 people living in our immediate area. But for now, as I type this by candle light I am listening to the Muslim call to prayer in a mosque which I cannot locate, looking at the lights of clusters of villages trickle down the slopes of these massive peaks like christmas lights on a tree, with more stars overhead than I have ever seen before. And at least for now, I have nothing to complain about.
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