Kathmandu

Some places are the crossroads of the world, centerpoints of the wheel, fed in all directions by activity of an infinite variety that incessantly assaults the senses and energy field, until one adapts. Kathmandu is such a place. Nestled in a valley some 2200 meters up, this tourist fed city is beyond bustling...it demands attention. It would be easy to get swept into its no name streets and never be heard from again. And yet it is one of the friendliest places on earth. Everyone here is here to serve. Ask for it and it is there in spades within the hour...

But I am ahead of myself. We arrived at the Dwarika Hotel in southeast Kathmandu and were all pretty tired from the travel demands...so most chose to wander around the delightful inner compound of this remarkable, hundreds of years old, hotel. Red brick and dark wood, pad locks on the door, cobbled floors with throw rugs, nooks everywhere, gardens of exquisite orange blossomed flowers that blend so pleasingly with the walls and windows and structure of the 5 floored historical landmark. An inner garden with shops and a stunning pool with mosaic thanka designs embedded in its rich blue colored floor. Does one really swim in this? or just experience it? Altars , four of five of them, spring up around the yard...a square shaped, hollowed out enclosure with the inner relics representing male and female and the constant fertilization of life. Mystical, spiritual, sensual...

Dinner at the Nepalese restaurant in the compound affords us our first taste of the local quisine. A definite cousin to Indian and Tibetan food with some decided twists, Nepalese food, like most places, is defined by the topography, fauna, and flora of the region. So far I have sampled wild nettle broth (a thick, darn green mixture that would be similar to eating hay off the ground in the barnyard...the buckwheat bread with the strong garlic, olive oil, and basil made it palatable...still only finished half), yak cheese (bam!...it strikes the nose first and the body begs to not pursue this path...but pressing onward it lays on the tongue and slowly gives a parmesan like experience...did it...check)...

Post breakfast the next morning, we are met at 9:30 AM for our first excursion into the city. Into the Toyota bus and then yeeeehaaaa...swept into the city flow to the left...(I live at the Pacific Ocean in California and I enjoy watching how water moves in tiny streams created by runoff or from the waves. From the edge you can see a tiny bit of the sand bank collapse and then get quickly swept into the current to blend magically into the water's flow...this is what it felt like). There are so many cars and motorcycles on these narrow two lane streets...driving is more than an adventure, it is Le Mans in slow motion, bumpercars at the fair without the bumps, a video game, motorcross, the X games...let's just say I am glad I am not driving

Free to see the city drift by I see Old Delhi with shops in every possible nook...little 8-10's of product that will certainly serve the needs of someone, somewhere. Most are there to serve tourists so there is cloth and statuary and malas, and gems and jewels and beads and film, and snickers and lays chips and necklaces and bracelets, and thankas and daggers and velvet paintings of the Himalayan peaks, and shawls and scarves and rings and holy relics and...you get the picture...

Multiple storied buildings with shops below and quarters above, the sea of people survive and thrive in the bequeathement of the now, embracing what life gives them and using it to create the next experience. For the most part they wait, are not pushy...until one gets to the many squares. The city is sections, based upon culture...neighborhoods of common influence, exuding a similar but flavored scene. It is rich and colorful...and overwhelming. Turn the corner and see unthinkable squalor and filth and garbage...and people living in groomed quarters right in the middle of it. Children playing in the stream that flows through town...banks of trash sorted here and random there paint the ground that leads to the streets. The deeper into town we go the more the sidewalk vendors appear...on both sides of the bridge on the sidewalk..fruit and peanuts and trinkets and shiny baubles...and squatting people...and the chainsaw buzz of the flood of motorcycles...tiny buses crammed with humanity who have never experienced the luxury of a personal boundary

We are out of a bus, parked in front of the oldest junior high level school in Kathmandu. Uniformed children playing while armed soldiers watchfully stroll the grounds and tend the entrances. We move into the stream of life...look out...the pile of feces is forewarned...having already been violated by some foot...one must watch one's feet as well as pockets and the sights. On goes my audio recorder to catch our walk into the waiting arms of the city...heads swinging to catch this and to see that...color and movement and glistening brass and gold leafed statues

There are stupas throughout the city, spiritual/religious spires and linghams rising above the streets. They are focal points, landmarks, spotted with long serving altars where the locals pray and give homage and offering with bright orange and yellow vermillion. The schtupas often accompany temples and formal worship spots. Circling out from each like the spokes of the wheel are the streets, each an invitation to adventure or the blues...

Our guide leads us through a doorway...many are short, causing one to stoop to enter...the foot is also raised (word is that evil ones have no knees so they cannot stoop or lift their leg to cross over)..there is this sound that is noticed, a cooing rumble...into this inner mystical courtyard shrine there are hundreds of pigeons...on the ground, on the roofs, on the altars, everywhere...they move as one...walk through them and they part and then flow back together...a man moves through them and claps hands and they take to the air...a flurry of wings and wind is felt...magic..a never before experienced kiss from the winged ones...I am in bliss...the camera clicks rapidly like a fashion shoot...work with me...yes, hold that pose...everywhere they fly...called now to the food being laid out by the old woman in red...a beehive of pushing and shoving to get the grain. A mother and her little girl now move through the carpet of pigeons and twirl in laughter as the pigeons react. They fly and adjust, all around, never striking any passersby. I am mesmerized by the experience. This one goes in the special memory bank...

Onward to the oldest Temple Square in the city...an awe inspiring visual of perfect architectural designs of 600 years ago...placed in the best feng shui manner to elicit a constant energetic reminder of the power of the Presence...in these squares there are no beggars or vendors...so one is free to experience...We are led to a special temple where a young girl is kept...she is a human representation of the Divine..a goddess kept in this location until she reaches puberty and her first blood. Every need met, this child is selected via a long process of aligning to the 22 qualities and then having the same horoscope as the previous king...she is revered by the people and celebrated. Periodically through the day she comes to the window to let the people see her for one minute... throngs show up...amazing...the whole thing feels very strange to me...but custom is custom and must be viewed through the hearts and minds of the people it serves.

Off to a shopping focus...each of the group wants something in particular...I want singing bowls..so i am led to a shop down a street to the left to the right and then into a courtyard behind a street to a tiny cubicle with wall to wall bowls...and left to rendezvous back at the square in an hour. The shopkeeper is a delightful man who knows his stuff. For 40 minutes he plays the bowls...I listen and feel...no, I do not feel that one...yes...set that one over there...the pile grows...time is pushing...I experience the bowls...he digs for one over there on that shelf, his small body stretching to get to the one high up...he now knows what my sound palette is..and he brings them on..decide...how? but I must narrow them down...it is down to three bowls and two tingshas...how much? American or Rupees he asks? $350 American...barter...expect 20 percent reduction...I know what these are worth, and even now this is a good price...because they are hand hammered and special chosen to the frequencies I am aligned with...but i listen one more time..no, these are too close to one another...again I listen...this one...yes, this one...aaaah...and that tingsha...yes...$145...I will give you $120...the dance begins...$130...$120...$125 he counters...$120 I say...no $125 he crosses arms...tick tock...the square beckons...sold I say...smiles and hand shakes. Turn around and access the money belt and six $20 bills are passed. Farewells and directions back to the square

I am one who knows directions and it usually only takes one trip to know my way, by landmarks or signs or feel. But these streets are a winding quagmire of confusion...on first sight. He said left then right then left...OK was that quick left or the second street...did we come this way?  that feeling starts in the pit of the stomach and then sweeps over the mind...a curtain of growing fear...visceral...I do not have a phone...do not not know the name of the square...everything starts to look suspect/menacing...even the children..stop it...go back to the store...I find my way back and at the door tell him I am lost...he smiles, starts to tell me again...I give him the look...he smiles and says i will show you. He shuts off the light and walks out, and with store door wide open he walks me back to the square, choosing to walk me by the bigger store he owns on the way...I get his card and then turn into the square where I see the rest of the party...adventure...check

Lastly, after lunch, we go to a major stupa overlooking the whole of the city. It is a magnificent swirl of sight, color, sound, prayer flags, prayer wheels, monkees, tourists, locals, priests, monks, statuary...all on the top of the hill. It is amazing...around the center circular stupa are a ring of prayer wheels. People walk around the circle whirling each wheel to send out their prayers...I want to do that...around I go, hand touching the shiny place on each that has been touched and spun millions of times...I feel the vibration as I reach completion, to be greeted by two monkeys who stare at me with satisfaction...

What a day it has been...and one more full day tomorrow...out of the city to different experiences...I am full... I take my bowl to the room and sound fills the walls of this haven...it is a good day...Kathmandu, I'll soon be seeing you, with your strange, bewildering eyes...

Travel Stuff and Kathmandu

Traveling is about making adjustments, reacting to the scenarios as they flow in and out. Depending on the kind of travel and where it is and who you are with and how big is the group and the weather and the mood and the food and the money and...on and on...so many influences. Taxing at times, and also, part of the grand adventure. There are cliches about the journey, not the destination,  being the real learning road. When a trip includes a host of destinations, rather than a single one, there are stops and starts all the time. It is the transportation to and from the airport, the hotel, the airport with the wide variables of customs and security, the flights, living out of a suitcase, drinking the water...

Some people are born to travel and have done it so much that they flow, anticipating the next situation, responding calmly because their experience has shown them it all works out. Others do it occasionally and do not have much experience to draw from. Despite their inner makeup and how they deal with stress, much of the journey is new and there is no predicting the outcome. Bottom line is that travel is confrontive and rich in opportunity to see how one does in the moment.

This is a magnificent trip that is visiting 5 separate destinations, all of a mystical and spiritual quality that embrace the end of the year and the arrival of that 2012 portal of change and transformation. And each place still has it culture and way of life and people and setting that supports its day to day existence. It's a lot to absorb. I could not ask for better accommodations and travel companions and conversation and fun and flow than this one that Sonia has provided for me and all of us. Yet, sometimes, one just yearns for a break and leans towards the routines and comforts of home. Just for a moment...

I have learned to travel reasonably well. I prepare for the unexpected and flow pretty well with what is laid before me. I can deal with the unexpected. I still have a tendency to travel with too much, because I like to get back to the hotel and have a bit of the familiar to decompress with: a computer, an ipod, a book, a tablet and pencil, some personal business to tend to, a hard drive to download the photos... It tends to balance me so that I can hit the streets again with an openness. I have been pretty even on this trip so far.

These last two days have been about traveling to a new destination. We left Ananda and its serene care and pampering and descended to the Durdhan airport and their significant military presence on our first leg to our coming to Kathmandu. The planes we travel between cities are small. And the carry on I have, though regulation carry on rollerboard size, is too large for the overheads. So I take out what I want to have with on the plane, mostly the electronics that are fragile and easy to steal and I put them in a blue canvas bag. This is a minor annoyance as I have to unpack and repack with each flight. There is just stuff required at each airport, local flavor dictated by local people. It is not necessarily consistent. So, each time has a bit of reinvention.

The TSA here is military...gun toting and all about nusiness. One man tells me to leave the shoes on, the next one tells me to take them off. And all we can do is flow...no waves...don't want to be staying somewhere longer than intended.Pieced together we hang in the lounge. Same vibe as anywhere, there is a bookstore and a jewelry store and some food items...Lay's potato chips...cumin flavor...I am having a hard time with the language...English is not the first language here and the accent is strong. The money thing is a bit confusing. I get a water and some cashews and ask how much. The clerk says something and it just not register. I take out a 100 rupee note and he looks at me. I do not know if this means not enough or too much. I ask a local next to be, "Can you help me?"...he laughs. Turning back the man opens the money drawer and indicates there is not change for my hundred. The water is 20 rupees, about 50 cents. I have a 50 so I give that and the transaction progresses...moments in time..outside on the tarmac a small crew works on the runway by hand with shovels and tar...soldiers are standing around and the crew that works the incoming plane are sauntering into position. The turbo prop lands and pulls in. In most airports here you take a bus from the terminal to the plane...amusingly the plane settles within spitting distance of the terminal. Yet still the deplaning passengers are required to board the bus for the "ride" to the terminal. Off they go and moments later they are out and walking to the terminal. The bus follows them...huh?

We are called and we board the blue curtained bus. Full flight and the bus is packed. I peel back the curtain and see the plane 50 feet away. The bus moves forward and we start driving...for about 5 minutes...we must have gone out to the end of the runway and back...it is comical...laughter peppers the bus...off we go and into the plane for the one hour flight to Delhi. Easy flight and because we are in country, the deplane and access to bags is quick and effortless. We meet the tour company reps and they walk us to the bus that will take us to the Grand Hotel. The drive is through the streets of Delhi at rush hour. We are 15 minutes from the hotel by way of the crow, but today we are 45 because everyone wants to be somewhere at the same time. This affords us a beautiful opportunity to observe. Only in the large cities do you see the strong western influence. Most noticeable is the fashion teasers. Against the backdrop of squalor and local robed people the glaring Gap add seduces with a ripply abbed young man in low fitting blue jeans beckons...next to other absurd adds for Target, Wrangler, Sears...etc. The only fast food place I have seen is McD. Fast food here is mostly a pile of peanuts on a stove, a pan of heating samosas, a cart of fruit...

The hotel is modern...black marble on brown wood, striking. We eventually get to the rooms and then, after a brief refresh, meet for dinner downstairs in the in-hotel Indian Restaurant. Well appointed, we are ushered to a table for 8 in the back...the only people in the restaurant. 6 waiters and 3 cooks and one barman. We proceed to experience what can only be termed "a failure to communicate" We are a weary group, and having been cared for so lovingly by the Ananda staff for the last 4 days, have little patience. Please just bring us some garlic nan...OK...let us just say that things moved very slowly..and honestly, not knowing the local flavor and the way things flow, it is easy to get impatient...and you know that when anyone feels dissed the quality of the service heads south. We were showing signs of being the "ugly american", laying our demands on the people to meet our own needs...let's just say it was awkward...though it eventually worked out fine...and the food was really very good. Just before the last glass of wine was poured, the room went black...India is know for short lived blackouts...and here we were for five minutes...slowly the eyes adjust...kinda fun...something to add to the legend of the evening

Back in the room and off to sleep...I wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of gurgling water. I seek the source and find it is my own digestive tract. The slithering mass is headed across the transverse colon toward the burst of freedom. I can feel its journey...oh, no! what did I eat? am I going to get one of those legendary disorders here? The inevitable happens and I find that on the other side i feel just fine...Deborah says do you have tremors or chills...no...then don't worry about it...my mind takes over and starts to look for symptoms...suddenly it feels warmer and I feel clammy...my stomach burns a little...goodness I feel some rumbling...one more visit...happy to say, that despite some mild discomfort and indeed, some sweating, my formidable immune system conquered whatever was seeking domicile and it passed like the wind

Took my bags down to breakfast for in prep for the departure...ate lightly, even having a glass of some kind of probiotic. Happy to say my Tigger riding bag led the way out of the hotel onto the waiting orange tour bus that would whisk us to the airport for the anticipated trip to Nepal...the airport at Delhi was crawling with travelers. sticking together we followed misinformation to the wrong area...no, to the other end...International...unpack the carry on...what about the money?  Nepal does not use Indian rupees...it will not accept notes of 500 or 1000 denominations...its a crime of sorts to even take them in...off to the currency exchange...sorry, can't change them...a run on hundreds...stress...please jet India rep, help us...a money changer comes over...one of our party has 9000 to change...there goes all the money changers 100's...aargh...down at the other end of the terminal we are led by the rep...only will change 10000 for all 4 of u...ok 2500 each...then to another one...rest is changed...scoot back to the rest of the waiting and now irritated party we step across the line to passport control where the scowling men hold your future in their hands...through...now security...through...now to the gate...Delhi airport had a significant makeover last year...it is beautiful...and big...we are in gate fourteen...and I swear it was 2 miles away by foot...drenched we arrive to find the gate is changed...only 5 away...and now the plane is delayed...geeez..but thanks as now we can recover...need water...10 rupees in the machine...bill goes in, bill comes out, unfold the corner and try again...out...smooth it over the edge...accepted...water....then i try at another machine...takes a 5 and then spits the other 5 out 20 times...a woman employee comes up and through the miracle of communication helps to understand that the machine is not working...but it ate my 5...come with me...two gates away to another machine...she takes my 50  and crumples it up in her hand...into her purse for a 10...into the machine...water out...smiles...my 50?  please keep it...i could see it all along...happy to serve...I have water...

Flight to Nepal is tight and full...one side sees the Himalayas, one side the plains...I see the plains....read and while away the 75 minute flight.

Arrival and customs...aargh...forms...pay $20 US for visa....do you have a separate pic...no, do I need one?...yessss...back there to the picture booth...what...smells like scam...do you want to get in?...yes, how much 230 Nepalese rupees...no, take Indian rupees...go to currency exchange...tick tock goes the time and patience...finally through...baggage handlers swarm...hey where is my bag?!...not in sight...look for the green tag...a man comes from another carousel...is this it? ...huzzahh goes the crowd...out into the Kathmandu afternoon...strains of Cat Stevens fill my inner air "Kathmandu, I'll soon be seeing you, with your strange bewildering eyes"... the mystery is about to begin...

Back to Rishikesh and Departure

Inevitably, a day comes when the mundane takes the spotlight. Little details that bring balance to a life must get attended to. Sleep in a little longer. Make a Skype call to family. Send off delinquent emails. Do the laundry. Sit on the deck and look out over the scenario and just chill. Organize the suitcase. Take a long walk. Take a breathing class. Do the breathing out under the tree...think about home and the routines. Drift to going home and what to do when the return happens. Curious little snippets that drift through the mind like puffy cumulous clouds on a warm day.

Thinking about this writing process. It has been a really important part of this travel for me as I am able to walk back through the experiences of the day and reflect and integrate. I have been moved in the writing where I wasn't in the experience. It is a daily wash that feels necessary. I am grateful that you who are reading along with me are there. It is a sweet comfort...I did notice that as the writings have progressed they have gotten longer. When I switched from FaceBook to the blog I noticed that some chose to stop following. Too bad, as the deeper experiences are just beginning as the adventure expands out into the destinations to come...

I have a tendency to invest my own experiences in a candid way in my writing. Since it has cathartic and integrating effects for me I include it. Sure I could be a court reporter and tell just what I see here. Or I could be a new age guy and spin the holy in everything. But there is something about sharing the experience from all places that feels good to me...like something I would like to read and follow. I like to see how people handle things when put into challenging circumstances. I like to see how someone evolves. And I love to feel the emotional responses to living....in a land that is so different from my home in Cambria, California,  stuff happens...and challenges are met...and experience builds up in staccato bursts. Let's deal with it together...because we do live vicariously from one another and we do store information for personal use down the road. And we do connect and love one another in large ways...anyway, just woke up with that. It is 6 AM here in India

After yesterday adventure into Rishikesh for the aarti ceremony we collectively decided to go back today. But this time we, as resourceful humans, went back with a bit of preparation, having learned from our experience. Different shoes, slip ons for the temples and ceremony at the river...instead of the coat with the zippered pockets for camera lenses and recorders, I brought my blue canvas bag to put my stuff in. My stuff today included water (got really dry yesterday), throat lozenges (smoke and dust irritated), a little bit of chocolate, an apple, and Tigger...my daughter, Gabriela, brought me an authentic stuffed Tigger from a trip to Disneyland a while back. Normally, I travel with Brownie, the dog that accompanied my birth and has been with me ever since, but he has taken to staying behind on some trips...staying behind here would create monumental challenges in getting him home...so I brought Tigger because he brings me joy and I just love his ability to find lightness in all the moments forms...

And, before I knew it a new photo series was born, Travels with Tigger. I am photographing him doing what Tiggers do in all the locations  we will find ourselves in. He is sooo willing, even engaging the locals to pose with him...stay tuned for some samples.

Though the bus trip down the mountain was smoother, I found myself a bit more queazy, and that stayed with me until we crossed the bridge over the River Ganga. This trip was more about supporting the local economy and the amazing resourcefulness of the people...shopping. Each had a small list of desirable items. Once across the bridge we set a meeting place and time and broke into smaller wandering groups. I am more about the experience of being there and photographing what catches my eye. I like the mala beads and I enjoy a few bracelets on my arm. So I was watching for them. As we are going to Nepal next, I am holding out for some of the bowls and sound healing items that may present themselves there.

Somewhat a cross between New Delhi where the steet vendors were aggressively confrontive, and the Old Delhi laid back come to me vibe, the vendors in Rishikesh gave a soft sell presence. A couple words just to see the level of interest. And when interest is shown, they jump to action to show the possibilities. And when there is more than interest, one is taken to the back room where the good stuff awaits...these are the gem laden malas and statuary, the fine cloth, the treasure. Out front you get malas that have been dipped and painted to portray quality.

I have worn a brass and copper and silver Tibetan bracelet with some red coral on it for many years. It has become worn and I was looking for some replacement...I showed the first vendor what I was looking for and there it was on the shelf with hundreds of others. Now I do not require one of a kind items...I like what I like. This bracelet was $15 when i picked it up in Pacific Trader catalogue. I asked the man how much and he indicated 100 rupees...two bucks. Now some really enjoy the bartering process and I have witnessed enough to know some strategy...but we are talking pennies here. So I asked for 4 of them and parted with 500 rupees for the satisfaction that I had a stash now of something I value. And I can give several to Gabriela, because she likes them too..

That is all I wanted on this excursion, though I was taken by a couple of malas, one of Lapus, and one of clear crystal...but Deborah says wait till you get to Kathmandu....she knows some people there. More on that as it unfolds.

From then on it was simply a leisurely stroll of photography through the streets until the rendezvous time. Earlier in the day there is much more activity than we experienced in the late afternoon yesterday. Saddhi's, Holy Men, in all shapes and sizes and conditions move from ashram to ashram through the narrow corridors. Beggars with palm extended or cup jingling a dancing coin beckon to one so moved by their presentation or life circumstance...blindness, lost appendage, crippled, scarred, on and on...I thought of the guy who works the street corner at the entrance to Trader Joe's back home... his Need money for beer and smokes! sign ever present...

Many children work the streets peddling items, flowers, food, maps, photos with them, postcards..sometimes parents are nearby and sometimes it is a family business. Locals will even come up to get photos with the Westerners...they don't pay at all...most of the westerners in a town like this are spiritual seekers. And as such, they are dressed in the robe of the ashram...but some just have a turban or a shirt or vest that speaks of their journey...over blue jeans and Nike's. It is a curious place, peppered with tastes of the West as people seek some inner alignment and attempt to make sense of what they have manifested in their own lives up till now. Sadly, they do not make much eye contact...I would think that this would be a sign that something has been found.

The monkeys are out today. A man feeds one apple slices. The monkey settles and poses for the photos that come. Perhaps they are in business. The vendors offer free samples...and then suggest a small pittance when taken. The little boy with the cherub face beckons you to buy the flower basket fish food offering. Just down the steps his family runs another store as they keep a watchful and proud eye on their little entrepreneur. Down on the steps by the river a huddled group of turbaned holy men in orange and white share a smoke...the smell punctuates the air...perhaps this is the secret to their visions. They shoo away photos with waving hands and harsh facial expressions. Here and there smartly dressed men gather in pairs and just watch people. Travelers sit by the river, watching the moments of their life drift by. The motorbikes force their way through the crowds with those annoying horns. The cows gather by the river, a small herd of 11, whiling away the late afternoon...awaiting the coming chant, perhaps, or gathering like the seagulls back home at sunset...to turn as one and face the last rays if the day...codings from the galactic center

Snapshots of life in a far away land...memories etched and waiting to be retold in lands they will never see. Life lived in its infinite myriad of forms. Nothing matters...nothing at all. The flow speaks and everything and everyone surrenders to it...the rebels will eventually get caught and swept into the incessant river. I am getting the feeling that when I leave this experience I will not be able to look at my moments at home the same. I do not know yet what that means. I have been humbled and educated. It is easy to take this and start to make decisions about what is important, what is necessary.

Some people come to India and know that they have come home...they even drop their lives and move here. Some people come back over and over...I am moved and opened by this experience thus far. It has taught me well, revealing some issues ready to be tossed..and I am grateful beyond belief. And there is more to come...just one third of the way through our journey. But I chose to be born in the United States...and I absolutely love California and the coast in Cambria where I live. I want to take the thin veil between the dimensions and live in that frequency back home. Walk in the Pacific Ocean and remember the Ganges...look at the sunset and see the glistening white statue of Krishna gazing down through the pulsating sounds of chant sung from the wide open fully surrendered hearts and voices of the masses. I get this...and it is my charge to lovingly and devotedly bring all that is for me back home to integrate...to do my part in ushering in this Aquarian age of Oneness...to Moonstone Beach where I end my days in the waves, to Strawberry Canyon where the bench in the trees affirms that God is everywhere, to the Bluffs where the Pacific Ocean vistas stir my heart and soul every single day, in sun or fog or rain or wind.

Today's ceremony was precious, an acoustic version of last night's light and sound assault. Fewer people, more intimate, the guru there the entire time leading chants over the PA, accompanied by harmonium and tabla. Young monks, boys from 8 to 18 clad in robes sporting the colors of the USC Trojans swaying as one to the chant's intoxicating pulse. The sun goes down in that same brilliant orb of red and orange and yellow and the clouds become a slo mo evolution of inspiration...a buttermilk sky, pink and lavender cookie drops in a fading background of blue pranic power. And the river dances, currents moving in time, oscillations of the one true vibration orchestrated by the collective intention of the I AM as represented by every soul who chose to show up to this moment. Never to be repeated in all of eternity we all play our part, this testament to the blending of the breath of life to manifest the sound in all its glory. The fire and incense return...lots of smoke and clockwise circles of flame. The brass fiery cobras dance and the people rush to put their hands through the flame...purify me, burn away the lower vibrational choices...give me this moment of pure possibility, unfettered by any thought or energetic residue of my diversion. I rush forward and sweep hands through one at a time, a choreographed dance of me, too! I catch eyes with the monk...remember this he demands...nothing has power over you when you trust the I AM...nothing!!!

I am at the river's edge...my Flip is videoing the water's dance. I am mesmerized at the alignment of the entire setting to the one frequency that sings yes...it is a good day to die! echoes the Lakota warrior from the plains of long ago...I hear you, man! And I let it all go...daily these ceremonies occur. The great purge of thought, belief, energy and resistance to being that which we are. Note to self: keep doing that daily cleanse you have initiated back home....this affirms its necessity

Back at Ananda for the last dinner. We leave tomorrow. This place has served well. It is for cleansing and transformation and remembering. It has done that...bless you moments, stay clean, and trust the flow...you are loved and valued beyond what you can even fathom. Next stop, Delhi...

Day Four Ananda: Christmas Day and the River Ganga

It was bright and blue, the strong orangish band of color slipping up from the Rishikesh valley below indicated it had been a cold night, indeed it had dropped enough to have to use the in room heater for the first time. Up early, it is Christmas morning. Out for a walk to explore the grounds before breakfast and take photos, which, by the way, are going to be downloaded to the drive today. I can start adding some pix in the next entry hopefully.

Ananda is tucked in the hills. The main offices housed in the former Maharaj Palace at the top of the hill. The road serpentines through lush trees and foliage down to the hotel, spa, and restaurant. These lie on the top of a flattened bluff with panoramic views of the Ganges  River below...on a clear day you can see forever...though, especially during this time of the year that is a rarity. Just off the hotel entrance is an amphitheater, the very one that had the Christmas Eve party last night, I walked down and explored left and right seeking photogenic scenes. There was no shortage. Up the hill to discover isolated overlooks with benches and statuary, simplistic scenes that yearn to be photographed. I obliged and then headed farther up the steep drive. At the top at the same level as the entrance palace is an ascending staircase with trenched water falling down either side, very zen-like. A man is sweeping the 50 or so steps with a rustic, but effective broom. Passing him, he stops and brings his palms together at mouth level and says, "Namaste"...the traditional greeting that acknowledges the God in each of us.

At the top is a pavilion, an open air structure surrounded by a reflecting pool. It faces out into a large open green grass space that is fenced in by flowers. It is a peaceful scene, especially the reflecting pool, which in the still morning air, is showing the sky and trees and the pavilion in beautiful, reversed image Wow! Can imagine impromptu concerts here...time to go back, breakfast at 9:30...

At the bottom of the stairs I meet a couple, he from Malibu, CA, and she from Galveston, Texas. Saw them last night at the party...they are here to escape the bustle of Mumbai, to the south, where they are in the 2nd year of a two year relocation to India, for work and life experience. Conversation is immediately reflective and philosophical, how can it not be...but then heads to California and surfing and guitars..delightful

After breakfast I grab my recorder and head for a waterfall I discovered near the amphitheater. It is potent. I sat near it and recorded 7 minutes of its soothing frequencies. I know I will use it alot in future tracks for ambiance and relaxation and attunements...

The morning is moving towards the body work session I have in an hour. I head for the spa to do a sauna...the inner cleanse is winding down so I want to support its effectiveness by sweating away. But first, a half an hour in the gym to jump start yesterday's professed intentions. Now, 15 minutes of dry heat, and then over to the steamroom where another 15 min softens me up for the Ananda Fusion. Still in the frequency, and now in the living it out steps, of yesterday's revelations, I am led by the man to the room down the long and winding hall. On the way are windows opening to still life's from outside...perfect pictures of peace. Up the steps and to the right I look out the window, and there is my friend, the peacock....reminding me of who I am really, not this temporary experience I have manifested along the journey. Thank you my friend...

This session is remarkable. After establishing the level of intensity I desire...deep, I am given the choice of the oil blend to use...rejuvenating, relaxing, cleansing, grounding, or spicy...spicy, I say without hesitation...but then I think cleansing because that is what I am doing...then I think grounding...but then it hits me...I am grounded...I am cleansing, and truly don't need to support the old pattern of digging deeper...so, spicy it is...that is the new frequency of this man of passion

85 minutes of 5 different techniques...swedish, reflexology, hot stones, acupressure, and damn, that's intense! Needless to say, when completed I feel as if I had knocked 30 years of debris off my life. In the semi, out of body haziness I shuffle my well-oiled body back to the locker room, where I remember that we are leaving grounds in 30 minutes for the land below and our date with the Ganges. Advised to keep the oils on my body and in my hair, I throw on clothes and head out for adventure. My oiled dark hair has me reflecting on Uncle Bill, a Greek man who put olive oil on his hair every day of his life. Though everything he touched was greasy and all who touched had to clean off...he died with a head of jet black hair.

If you have been to Disneyland you may remember a ride right near Dumbo...Mr Toads Wild Ride...this is very much what it was like in the bus on the twisting, turning, bumpy, near-miss 40 minute ride down the mountain to Rishikesh. It was simply in God's hands...into the narrow streets of this suddenly appearing city of over half a million souls we descend and parked. Crossing the road we catch first glimpses of the late afternoon vibration of the holy, swift moving Ganges. Descend further into the narrow market streets...keep track of your belongings the guide admonishes...stay together...our wide eyed party of eight drinking in the panoramic experience that unfolds  with each step towards the river. A quick right and the steps appear that lead us down to a boat that crosses the river. There is a deeply spiritual air of timeless quality that brings to awareness the millions upon million of beings who have walked these very steps to do that which we have come to experience. It is majestic and humbling...it is vibrant, filthy, intense, demanding, moving...it is life. To the left on the river a bridge connects the sides. Upstream there are visible cliffs, as it appears that the Ganges bursts from the Himalayas onto the flatlands...and indeed there is reference to the penetration of the Ganges into the fertile grounds here and beyond...the constant cycle of reproduction and birth and death...it is hard to drink it all in..and to the right the red ball of a sun drops lazily toward the horizon..damn the light is good...the people crowd onto the boat and we embark on the 5 minute crossing. Pilgrims, holy men, tourists, devotees, pick-pockets, children at work, families, seekers, lost souls, temporarily deranged...all are on this ship of fools...intense. And here I am with camera and Flip and digital audio recorder all on to capture this chataqua

Once across, our young lady guide whisks us down the shop lined corridor past beggars and holy men and tourists and entrepreneurs and thieves and cow after cow toward the place where I don't really know what is going to happen is happening. The camera is smoking since I am taking shots so fast...the recorder is grabbing the sounds of life...the horns of the swift moving cavalcade of motorbikes punctuate the voices...and through it all I do not hear one moo from a cow...

We stop along the way to purchase eight offerings, a small bowl of flowers and fish food with a stick of incense stuck in the top, to place in the Ganges. Our intentions/releases put into form to place in the healing waters of this remarkable life spring of God in action. In the middle there is an ashram, a holy place for devotees...just beyond an entrance where we move through large stone gates under the watchful eye of a 20 foot high representation of Hanuman...some words are exchanged by an attendant and our guide... she is frustrated and says we have to place our offerings on the table..cannot take them in...then another man rushes over and, clearly upset, tells us to remove them from his table...we grab our holy offerings and stick them behind a wall to grab later...we do find out that the monkeys ate our offering during the ceremony...ha...the circle of life. Off with the shoes...we are told to take off them and give them to a man behind a scaffold of metal cubbies where he takes them and puts them for safekeeping...just like at the bowling alley. In stocking feet we follow the flow towards the music

A hundred rows of step like seats lead down to the Ganges. Before us a walkway juts out from either end of the steps. In the middle of the expanding walkway there are four musicians giving a chant concert over a powerful high watt PA system...it has the vibe of a major concert in any back home venue...but this one is outside and we are inches away from the swirling, dancing waters of this river. The music is beautiful. Through the crowds we find seating on the step to the right of the stage. 15 holy men in varying saffron and white robes are in the back above us...they peer through the dimensions as they oversee the festivities...all around there is activity. Gold and saffron robed monks , huddled in the center, suddenly arise and head for the back of the crowd. They reappear with brass plates with burning incense and disperse them into the mass. The crowd undulates to the faster paced chant...many chanting along...many moved by the vibration itself..clockwise the incense circles in the hands of the individuals. Now the monks return with brass tiered towers with multiple platforms of incense and disperse them. Then brass incense holders with a cobra head looming over the burning embers...it is a fast escalating scene that is leading to what I do not know. The red ball of the sun has settled right behind the musicians...silhouetting them in a mystical scene...a well buffed marble white 15 foot statue of a youthful Krishna looms over and behind the musicians. The sky shifts color and lights come on...the mood escalates and Krishna appears to be sweating...his body glistens as the incense and fires on brass dance in the darkening light. The smell is strong, the smoke is acrid...suddenly the music stops and a woman announces something in the native tongue...we watch for cues from the crowd. And there they are...movement, and a surge toward the waters. Individuals bringing the unique experiences of their own life moving forward to lay it all down for one moment in time...trusting implicitly that this mighty, magical, mystic river will do the work that they have not been able to do... an Indian man, clad in a Berkeley hat, takes his young son to the water and steps onto the submerged step...the holy water washes over his feet...a ritual is passed on to a new generation...some drink the water...some wash it over their shoulders...some put it on their head...some cup it and speak over and into it, releasing it gently to return to the river...the music, now from the PA, not the musicians, blares loudly over the speakers. The crowd joins in on this obviously familiar chant. The throng moves in time in dances as one like they have done for thousands of years. Each in his or her own reverie they bring special meaning to the moment of union with the water. And we, moved by our own process, inspired by the sound and vibration, peel the socks and head for the water. I stand there before I step in and breathe and reflect and pull up the wisdom of my being to capture the life of this moment and lay down the very thing I have come all this way to surrender...in one hand the audio recorder, grasped so it will not drop into the inviting waters of the Ganges...in between thumb and forefinger the Flip faithfully videos this unrepeatable experience...my Canon Rebel grabs life from the throng and records it to document my presence in this time and this space...hell yes, I was there! Multitasking, I return to my inner agenda and step into the river...mind pulls up warnings about the water and its filth and pollution...fuck that...I am in... the water embraces my feet and I utter something about release...the past...the moment...the future...my body...surrender....and tears fall to be consumed by the river...I feel something deep within me...my attention slips to the Flip video...I look at the tiny screen and see my feet...cleansed by the rivers of life...it is so mystical...it is so powerful...so now...

And then it is over...the guru has come from the ashram and sits in a protected posse to deliver his message...it resounds over the PA in Hindi and then in English...something about saving the earth and pollution...what?...feel like I am at some protest of sorts...it is interesting but i drift away and return to the I Am within me....I lose sight of my group...but I know how to get back to my shoes...Hanuman to my left, the master to my right, I follow the holy man in filthy robes through the throngs. I look back and remember...I do not yet know what it means but i have been changed...later over dinner back at Ananda I say to Sonia...I am not who I was...

We give a donation and receive the dot of colored earth on our third eye...we retrieve our shoes and follow our guide up the narrow walk into the ashram and into a garden area. Everywhere there are statues of deities enclosed in glass...a wax museum walk of spirit...The Canon goes crazy with this...click, click, click...intoxicating. To a man in a well lit single room standing in the middle of it all, we make an offering and receive a blessing from the monk in the form of four clumps of sugar. Into my hand and into my mouth...cool...and then the reminder that hands had been in the Ganges...side track thinking pattern of oh, shit...impulse spits out the sugar...down the road visions of the trots and more....be calm my little one...subsiding and after a few more spits i return to a center and let that all go...now back down through the corridors of cows and shops and motorbikes and beggars to the bridge, a narrow suspension bridge that must provide shared passage for two lanes of travelers and motorbikes, bicycles, and cows...all with very little light to show the way...like some kind of test we follow guidance to reach the other side unscathed. Turning left we wind back to the bus.

We give expression to our experience, but it does not give clarity to what each of us has been through...to whatever degree, we have done something brand new, something that has tradition and pilgrimage and spiritual life and surrender and release and expansion oozing through it...how can words describe...it is a feeling and a knowing that something has happened...something transformational...and like most transformations, the limbo land of the inbetween looms on the horizon..that period of integration where the old frequencies and ways step aside, hesitatingly, to allow the new vibration and subsequent action...we shall see what unfolds

Actually, what started to happen was irritation for the group..suddenly moods fell upon us like nets from above....and we oscillated between the bliss of the experience and the fact that we were tired and had not eaten and had just given our past back to the fish...one is bound to cop a mood...I don't care who you are...something is gonna show up...back to the bus and the mood sat down beside us...I was last to get there and so I earned the back of the buss...damn...I am older so why didn't someone...you know the routine!

The massage was catching up to me. The earlier manhandling of my physicalized past experiences was paying dividends through the inevitable toxin wash though the system as it moves toward clearing...i felt like shit...my cleanse was feeling like the flu..I was a little boy whining about something...wanting only to get extra self care from mama...it was obvious...but the back of the bus...it was Toad's Wild Blind Ride in the Dark in the Back of a Speeding Bus up the insanely twisting ascent to serenity...for awhile looking at the side of the cliff speeding by worked. Then I tried to talk and forgetaboutit...the first hint of queazy...then I stopped that and looked up the aisle and out through the windshield. It was a blur of turns and road markers and lines and signs i could not read...queazy returns...45 minutes...let us get to the washout part of the road and it will only be another mile to the grounds...so, I open the window and suck in the fresh cold air...and I return to a place of balance...breathe grasshopper...stop the monkeymind

Back at Ananda we walk down the hill on the darkened road to the restaurant. I will be in in a minute...my Virgo self is calling for some hygiene. I wash my hands with soap, brush my teeth, take off my shoes and wash off my feet...it softened my mind to have done this...plus I just needed some alone time from the group frequency...rejuvenated, I returned to much needed sustenance. I sat and kind of just stared into the lights...I leaned over to Sonia and said...I am not who I was...she nodded from her own mysterious, personal place. 

Christmas in India

The day had all the makings of something eventful. When the sun came up to reveal the view out the room window there were peacocks...4 of them. Beyond them was the red tinted sky of the valley below, colored by the wood and trash fires of the cold night before. Above the hue was the brilliant blue of the sky at this altitude and latitude, streaked with alto-cirrus wisps of horse tail clouds. Against this backdrop was the silhouette of two perfectly placed trees. It was a still life of substance...breathtaking, original, and wildly inspirational.

My spontaneous cleanse had entered a new phase and though i was a bit nasal, my spirit was happy. Went to breakfast and the mood of the entourage was a mixture at best. This land is famous for laying one's life on the table to examine the parts, being ready or willing has little to do with it. It happens when it happens. second day here, body work yesterday, late night celebration, Christmas far away from home. It was beginning to look like the perfect storm was gathering. Perhaps this was why we had all come...a bit of a quiet meal left everyone going off to do their thing of choice...exercise, yoga, walk, bodywork, photography, meditation, sleep, guitar picking..whatever...but separate...even the couples were drawn apart, as if higher hands were culling the herd to diminish distractions for what lies ahead.

My bodywork, reflexology, was at 1pm so I was gathering a focus to head out. I had been hesitant about getting started...and in the middle of this quasi protest i drifted to some thoughts before the trip even started. i had felt trepidations that something was going to happen over here. It was easy to think negative because this is, indeed, a foreign land to me. It even crossed my mind that i was not coming home. I checked in nervously and my guidance called my bluff...symbolic statement...but change was definitely afoot. I let it all go the best I could and simply vowed to monitor my thinking and experience for further direction. Back to today, I felt again that feeling of change and being different...whatever...cleansing does bring up random toxic thoughts that revisit the consciousness...I decided to go over early and get a sauna before the foot session. Here, in the gents, section, you are met by several attendants to assist the manifestation of intention. They are respectful, gentle and very good at what they do. I was taken to the sauna, given water and sent into the space. It wasn't long before the clouds gathered and the revelations began to come. Dry heat hastens the release of the toxic residue. I noticed a growing sense of self consciousness and self-judgment/criticism being directed toward my physical self. It showed up as a feeling of getting old faster than I wanted to. This is not an issue i have felt conscious energy about before. But today was different and it wasn't long before i was seeing how i had duped myself about it.

These last three weeks I have simply felt and looked older and I saw that i had mostly tried to ignore it. But here it was, and on recognition, a whole host of tearful expression occurred. I had been storehousing personal judgments about my appearance. I was moving past mirrors and not wanting photos taken of me. It appeared that I was slowly giving up on myself. Now, the heat of the sauna was squeezing it all out through my pores. Every bead of sweat seemed to carry some unexpressed personal criticism. I saw how I had created a condition over time. Extreme focus on building the web site had left me quite literally without any physical activity and eating erratically, sometimes late in the night at the computer because i had lost track. So some weight was showing up...and where a month before i was active and feeling really good about myself, that was a distant memory today. I had come all this way to India to see my masterful self abuse. Now, typically when one experiences any child abuse, decisions are made about value and self worth. And these decisions become the rules for living because they must be played out to the child who is just trying to survive. I had slowly been finding fault, and according to Universal principle and law, I was reaping what I was sowing in the physical. My thinking was coming true. Tears and sweat...tears and sweat...water...drink water...tears and sweat, heat...heat...heat..burn it up...burn it up. A bit numb by what was happening, I hear a knock on the glass door...time to go...shower...cleanse me and wash away my tendencies...down the drain...cleanse me now...

In this frequency i am taking to the reflexology appointment by a tall man who looks like he can do the deep work i like. After a brief five element ritual, he puts my feet in water and begins to wash them...bam, tears...immediately the universe calls someone to counter my patterned thinking. Onto the table and 70 minutes later I am done...in a mindless daze I shuffle after him to the Gents room and am given tea. I sit there and drink the tea in silence just looking out the window...at nothing.I must take a steam bath is the voice I heard. So i go and in the marble room with the fabulous acoustics i take my stand against the past and proclaim that which i am becoming. I declare my unwillingness to criticize any longer...on and on it goes in an inspired soliloquy. I claim my maleness and release all the reasons I have used to create a less that desirable condition. I toss away my hesitancy, my sabotage, my interruption of joy, my finding fault...I celebrate my beauty and power and sensuality and prowess and simply reclaim my body as magnificent. The words echo through the steam room. The tears mix with the sweat to accompany my long needed catharsis. Done...shower again and wash away tears . Completed i dress in an obvious afterglow and head for the door.

The moment I walk out the door I am met by a male peacock in display of color and grace and beauty and power. It is a stunning testament to accentuate my just made decision and declaration. I am a beautiful man...show it and walk with that knowing..it will fill my moments. I converse with the peacock until he moves on. To the pool side for some sun baths. There are 20 lounges there all in rows on either side of the pool. As I am lying there I hear a rustle and assume it is new clients getting some sun. I let it go and arise about five minutes later. I turn to my left and there, on the back of a lounge chair, two chairs away, is that peacock, this time in full regalia with all feathers out and his chest puffed out. I am speechless....I get it, I say...I get it....yes, I got it. What a remarkable orchestration of immediate support ...I get it.

It is Christmas Eve here, not a national holiday by any means. But there is ceremony here at Ananda as so many visitors are westerners. A 7 PM gathering down by the amphitheater announcement is circulated among the guests. Deborah and I walk out to hear the strains of music that is definitely not Indian. The combo plays a song...that sounds like rudolph! Two bars into it the lights dim and switches flip and power is lost. Temporary, but I have a little judgment here about the music...geez, let it go! Our group gathers and we head down to see a four piece band of Indian men playing country music...yes, I said it, country music: Christmas carols, gospels, christmas songs, John Denver...all sounding a bit like Elvis...it is so frickin' awesome and memorable. They were good and had about one set's worth. Mulled hot wine is served along with a sea of eats. It doesnt take long to get into the spirit of it all...with a single tree behind the band, strung with 2 strings of green lights, we and all the other guests do a country bear Christmas half way around the world hosted by an obviously respectful and honoring people who don't even practice the custom. Unbelievably beautiful.

But wait, there's more...

Inside at the restaurant, we walk in to be greeted by an incredible feast of food and dessert. Section after section of chef's preparing exotic dishes ...take one from every flavorful station...even a turkey...no beef, though, for obvious reasons. And then the pinnacle was an entire room with these intricate dessert creations, little Santas, trees, Christmas pudding...a gigantic gingerbread house...my...God!...these people love us! They prepared this feast for people so far from home. they were sensitive and compassionate and empathetic and hit a frickin home run with their handling of Christmas. Now I have had some amazing and memorable Christmas's, but this is right up there with the top. I like to think it was a collective celebration of my reclaiming and proclaiming my manhood. I have never experienced a country bear jamboree so far from Disneyland.

Man, there is something about this place...a feeling and a growing experience. Deborah, the shaman, told me that India and Nepal have the thinnest veil between the spiritual and the physical worlds. In other words, they blend easily to reveal a harmonization frequency that simply opens one up and lifts them to a higher place...may your Christmas experience be equally memorable. It is just Love. And when Love is at the foundation of any act, there will be beauty and joy and open hearts.

Merry Christmas from India...tomorrow, a quick dance at the waters of the Ganges

Ananda above the Ganges

Left Delhi yesterday morning. It was a foggy day and many people were huddled in groups off the roads around spontaneous fires to stay warm. Here one does what one must do. It is a humbling reminder to me about standing in my moments with clarity through awareness and choice to take action. At home, when most of the survival needs are met, the mind has the luxury of drifting into the imagined future to plant what-if's or dwell in the past emotional dramas. So many moments are lost in this oscillation. The subtle inputs/gifts/learnings brought forth by our Higher Self often go unnoticed. Note to self to walk that edge of now as the observer so I can flow more smoothly from one now to the next.

Flew Jet India, in a rather classic turbo prop, up to the Rishikesh area. Enroute I caught my first glimpse of the Himalayas. At first sight, this spontaneous welling poured through and out of my heart...tears fell in a series of what must have been past life recognitions and stirrings. It was such a gift. The band of jagged white peaks seemed to sit on the sky and clouds. They appeared to be about the same altitude as the plane...we will be in the higher Himalayas in 5 days when we find ourselves in Kathmandu, Nepal. For now we, will settle for the foothills.

At the airport, there was a pronounced military presence, sub machine guns as I picked up my bag. There watchful eye monitored my bag adjustments with casual interest. Eye contact here felt very different to that of the many I had experienced with people in Delhi. This did not feel as if it was looking to see the God in me...a head nod brought no response....OK.....Into a small convoy of Ford SUVs we slinked our way over the less than well maintained road towards our day's final destination, Ananda, the spa in the hills overlooking the Ganges. The 45 minute was an adventure that brought back a late night wild ride Sonia and I had taken years before in Costa Rica. This time, instead of the 8 people in a Toyota mini van, we sat in groups of three in separate vehicles while Indian music played over the in car video of the History of Ananda. While outside, different moments of living whizzed by...

The countryside here has a distinct feel and look to it as the predominant foliage, at least in the lowlands, are these magnificent large leafed trees...yet to find the name..large river beds criss cross the road, waiting for the July monsoons to swell their banks and wash away the dust of the year. Two lane roads leave little room for maneuvering..and there are many slow vehicles around which we must navigate, or add extensive time to what is announced as a 45 min sojourn. Lots of small motorcycles. This is not Harley land, not even in the city. No greying Boomers in leather and headbands on a joy ride. Here it is the business of getting self from a to be...sometimes carrying passengers or family members. I have seen up to 5 on a motorbike, snuggled in a ball of flesh , scooting down the road pouring out a steady stream of white smoke from engines long on the tooth. One child snuggled between father and mother was particularly interesting...another with the daughter on the back riding side saddle while she attended to cell phone duties. This is a trusting land where riding the edge of life and death is as common as the next breath. One passes when there is just enough room. These newer Fords had some pep, so it was not uncommon for our red-turbanned driver to scoot out there when there was obviously another vehicle approaching. Trust...squared.  Over and over we passed female walkers with a huge mass of green foliage bundled and balancing on their head. Theses walking trees went to the elevations to gather sustenance for the cattle. And it was on this ride that we see our first cattle in the streets. Delhi has all but been cleared of the cattle. Now it is a countryside phenomenon. These holy animals mingled with the folk, as impactful as the dogs we saw in the streets of Delhi. Fascinating.

Busy towns pop up like tumbleweeds around this turn and that one. Each is bustling, shops with little storefront presence in locations along the main streets...a cloth laid down and a mound of peanuts in front of a small fire...a series of classic color renditions of Krishna and Shiva and Kali, a tree limb with fruit still clinging...now for sale...rupees...only 10 rupees...please for my child...and every face behind this makeshift living has a story of wide dimension, no doubt, defined by the luck of the draw...it is a powerful travelogue of humanity that moves in and out of my life from right to left

Before I left while still at the Hacienda Hotel in LA a man told me that India was like the Wild West...I know what he means now. Just waiting for the soundtrack...not the tabla and the sitar and tamboura, but the distinct notes of a Clint Eastwood western

Along the way there are signs about the elephants...not a do not feed, but a watch out for falling trees. The driver informed us that 8 people had been killed in the last six months by the elephants living their lives, seeking the leaves at the top of a tree...felling it by pushing against it. We saw a small herd of three in the field as we turned into Rishikesh...passed by like a billboard...so quickly that I could not get the camera around. Dusty, road worn, they stood looking in different directions each, like a trendy band press photo. And as we wind our way in elevation the small, cute monkeys begin to appear. One here, one there, and then 4 and then a group of 7. On the ground by the side of the road. Like beggars they pose and wait for Providence. We turn the corner and they disappear into a pleasant memory.

The British influence peppers the land here. It is in the language and the architecture and the people...though less and less as time drifts beyond the old forms. But it is the language that reflects so much of the spirit of India. The Western world is filled with signs that define our behaviors and limit our freedoms, classic "don'ts" Here, they say "Be gentle on this curve", "Slow the car or you will fly"...reminders that in every moment we have a choice and consequences...I like that

We catch our first glimpse of Ananda high above us. This is a destination spa for India and the world, having restarted people for a long long time. And we are blessed to have 4 days here. It is a place frequented by the Beatles. The Maharishi had his digs in Rishikesh. So between there and their rest and rejuvenation time here, there were, as legend goes, 48 songs penned in these hills. " We were talking...about the space between us all", The long and winding road", "Day after day, alone on the hill, the man with the foolish grin is keeping perfectly still", "Still my guitar gently weeps"...wow

So, here we are: feels to me like the land at Big Sur, just between Esalen and Nepenthe restaurant. High up on the mountain looking off into a smokey abyss. Visibility is sketchy at best as there is no law regulating the burning of trash or foliage. Constant mildly burning eyes when down in that elevation. Up here there is just the haze. And yet, at a pull off, we see, far below us, a wide glistening silver swatch of the Ganges River. It lures one into its waters from this elevation. I can only imagine the power of her immediate presence. More to come in the days ahead on the Ganges.

I am writing this in the middle of the night...got up to pee and, remembering that I made no entry yet today, I sat down to put up something...1 hour later and here I am..starting to fade so i will wrap it up. I will tell you more about this place in the next few entries. But let's just say that the Universe gives us what we need most. It is our charge to grasp it and immerse oneself in the opportunity for expansion. Yesterday in Delhi as we were getting ready to head for the airport, Deborah asked me if I wanted a pack of Kleenex....what for? I asked...you never know, she said...Now Deborah, a world class shaman, has been to India multiple times. She always brings a stash of giveaways for the children: Curious George band-aids, packs of Kleenex, socks, useful stuff that you won't find here at the corner 7/11...because there aint no such thing! Anyway, the moment we get on the plane, I start to notice some nasal activity. It is obvious, in no time at all, that my body wisdom has initiated a cleanse...toxins no longer welcome are being sent from my own temple...those shamans!...I am laughing as I write this cause I can feel the movement of the past right out the door of my being. That is why one comes here. That which I have not had the awareness to release, is dispelled by the remarkable holy body wisdom...I am blessed that my system is working. Had a sea salt scrub earlier today, followed by a walk through a circle of stones in four separate sections, each of different water temp. One walks clockwise, very slowly, over the stones. The feet are reflexed to release the crystallizations of unexpressed energy in a periodically painful process. Dang...greater awareness of consistent daily cleanse from now on...note to self. Love that body, grasshopper!

I am blessed, I am tired, I am dripping my past all over the table..It is time to sleep. I send you blessings on this Christmas Eve day...no trees, no Christmas carols, no Santa Claus, no elves...just the cleansing of the past resistance to being fully who I am...I am my own greatest gift in this moment... into my own little lap I set my inner little boy, and, with a hearty ho ho ho....I look into his eyes and ask "have you been a good boy?" and, as I write this, tears well up from me...recognition that, no I have not...I have not tended my inner garden as much as I deserve...a new way of being, birthed out of spontaneous awareness...I am being guided to change some deep stuff...New Year's Day is just around the corner...and the Ganges is flowing into my everyday awareness...calling for me to toss the old detritus of so many uninformed choices, that, still, after all the inner work I have done, leach their patterns into my moments to diminish my Light and Love of Self. Well, apparently, India is saying no more...shri ram, jai ram, jai jai ram...I aint gonna carry that load no more, I aint gonna carry that load. There is only Love. It is me and it is you...

Day One, Part two: Old Delhi December 22, 2011

Day One, Part Two

Onto the bus, the guide, Regina, gives us the correct pronunciation for her name, the gates open and we are thrust into the sea of Delhi that moves in constant flux of waves of light and darkness, or so it seems. To judge a city like this on first glance, or even first experience is a fool’s path. After this morning’s sortie into the streets and the invasion of people and their wares for only this many rupees, I was aware that part of me was expecting more of the same. Though I was not up for that, I did feel like I had a greater sense of what to expect and how to be, in the second encounter. I had traded my shiny Canon camera bag for a big blue bag that in no way hinted of its contents or gave blatant secrets to my character.

We moved through the less than common elements of the city, heading ultimately for Old Delhi, where one experiences the “real” Delhi…for those brave enough. Of course, our air-conditioned bus high above the street with water and windows, the eleven of us, with drivers and guide, moved confidently into what soon became the gates of transformation, for me. I brought along my digital stereo recorder so I could record the sounds of the city, a cacophonous soundtrack that shocks the senses. Now, informed that in a moment we would disembark, and take rickshaw rides into Old Delhi, a sense of excitement stirred. The instant we entered this part of town, despite the narrow streets of endless vendors and shops, I noticed that something felt very different….so much different from the strong discomfort in my belly this morning. Contrary to the way it appeared, and despite this rolling oscillation of people punctuating the ambiance with the sounds of living, I actually felt safer.

Two to a rickshaw. With camera on wide angle, and audio recorder poised to record, we entered the place where buildings were up to 1000 years old. This is where people come from all over the world to get what they desire. It is packed main streets with side streets that lead to alleys that lead to dead ends. Everywhere there are shops and the people who work there, and the people there to buy.  Sections organized by product, electronics, media devices, wedding attire, cloth, food, glasses, shoes, jackets, toiletries, cosmetics, pharmacies, computers, car parts, animal parts, men’s ware, ladies wear, children’s wear, on and on and on it goes. Each turn leads to a tighter spot. Rickshaw and pedestrian and scooter moving like red blood cells through the arteries of the oldest section of this massive city. We round a corner, going so slowly that the guide walks beside us, sharing historical facts in that beautiful Indian voice just above the horns and the sounds of selling. Dogs all over the place, simply walking or lying on the sidewalks, coexisting with the locals. Section after section of specialties crawl by. In each, two things become remarkably obvious, the shopkeepers just sit in their respective six foot storefront and conduct business with patrons who sit on mattresses that cover the floors, and the people navigate like bats through the streets. There are quite simply, few, if any, mishaps. It is a dance of life where everybody is a player who knows their part and plays it out with maximum efficiency. There are manners, and there is respect, and there is conversation, and there is direction giving, and there is exchange. And we, 8, glide through it all. The rickshaw driver, a man half my size, strains to move the cart through this everchanging throughway, rubbing wheels with passersby, bouncing through potholes, turning on a dime to miss a sure accident, these masters guide their precious cargo. I am speaking into the recorder and snapping photos  a quick pace. I say what I see. It is such a beautiful experience. 

Even more remarkable is the amount of eye contact between people.  There is something here that feels honorable, a deep mutual respect for one another, a common agreement  to the rules of the game. Even when we became separated from the others, I, at no point, felt uncomfortable. I just knew we were in good hands. We rubbed elbows. People put their hands on my legs to gain balance in a tight spot. Strangers helped pull a rickshaw out of a rut and then disappeared into the colorful mass. There were smiles all over, amidst what could easily have been judged squalor and harsh conditions. Overhead the electrical lines attached to trees and storefronts snaked along the streets in a mass that was boggling…delivering the life blood light to the thousands of shops that relied upon them. It was the most beautiful of dances I have personally experienced. 

On we went, recording and pixing as we go, offering narrative, but often allowing just the sounds of the streets to find their way into the recorder. We turned left to see the oldest house in the area and then the smells hit us, the striking, pungent  fragrances of the Spice Market…the roots of the East India company that brought civilization to the west. Color rich spices and herbs in large gunny sacks being peddled and passed on to buyers. It was intoxicating. 

A side trip through several back alleys lead us to a Jain Buddhist Temple in the midst of it all. A three storied sacred space with unbelievable carvings and statues and mosaics, the buildings themselves over
a thousand years old. Stunning, humbling, inspiring.

Back in the bus, nearing  rushhour.  we inch toward the space where the bus was left. The rickshaw driver looks back and says ,”heavy.” We all smile. I have a deep respect for this young man who makes  a living wheeling people where they need to go . Fearless and competent they do what they do to make  this part of the city flow smoothly

What a lesson for me. Obvious hasty interpretation would likely result in bypassing the area. Instead I was shown the power of resourcefulness, creativity, cooperation, respect, inventiveness, mutual benefit, humans combining efforts to create a way of life that works. It was the ride of a lifetime, as impactful as when I first saw a salmon run.

It is easy to begin to look at one’s own life with different eyes. The challenges I face on a daily basis are not as organic as those that these people face. My impatience and emotional reactions would not fly well in a place like this. Thank you Old Delhi. Thank you, the rickshaw driver in the green shirt.

Tomorrow, we rise early to go to the airport to fly to Ananda, one of the most magnificent spas in the world. I have a lot of attitude and past and memory to wash off…through and through. There is a rebirth in the wind

Day One New Delhi, December 22, 2011

Morning breakfast in a beautiful in house restaurant, strong coffee, assorted Indian flavors and delicacies, small omelette, and a pastry…delightful. First opportunity to connect with Sonia, Patrick, the girls and significant others, and Debra. Post breakfast walk with Patrick and I made my first miscalculation. 

I am from a small town in California and still live in one. Crowds are not known in these towns. I am a gentle person who is very sensitive to energy. The minute we walked out the gate, the real Delhi became evident in increasing washes of humanity. It was a powerful reminder of the conscious use of boundaries. I, being the wide eyed novice, put on my lavendarish Hawaiian shirt and grabbed my camera bag. It has several lenses, a video cam, and a sound recorder to capture the charming sights and sounds, the local flavor. I might as well had a neon sign on me that said fresh meat. Now I fully respect the need for each to make a living and I can see that many have no issues with assertiveness and persistence. But multiply that by each of the vendors and walkers along a given street and it quickly becomes overwhelming. And me and my camera bag are inviting. I am used to giving an answer and moving on. We, Patrick and I, were followed and hounded for blocks to take a ride in one of the small taxis. No does not mean no here. It is an invitation for a more creative approaches. Now Patrick has been here many times and knows the lay of the land. But since the world sporting event last year a lot in the city has been cleaned up.  He found it remarkable, the change since he was here 4 years ago. Whisking through the streets headed for the emporium it’s hard to keep track of directions and landmarks. Something different to see with every blink of the eye. It wasn’t long before we found ourselves going where the driver wanted us to go…apparently, an emporium where he received commissions on sales…it was obvious…so we had him take us back to the hotel neighborhood. Now I am very good with directions and it only takes one time for me to get how to move about. But I am used to the trees and quiet streets and the ocean. But I, for this first sortie into the world of Delhi, am a wet behind the ears novice who, quite frankly, was intimidated.

Calling in my protection by speaking my name, invoking the Tibetan protection mantra , Hung Vajra Peh, singing homage to Durga for protection with the mantra, Om Dum Durgaye Namaha, and calling on “Lions and Tigers and bears Oh MY!” kept me occupied but it did not diminish my discomfort. It was just too much, so I finally told Patrick I had had enough and we turned for the hotel. Like when the rental horses turn and head for the stable, my pace picked up and we scooted toward the gate. Sigh and nervous laughter fell out as we crossed into the property. Hot and sweaty and humbled, I carried my big old camera bag and my new awareness back to the room. Not really proud of my manly trek, but I am a quick learner. I have learned mostly how to not be a neon sign. Be present and smart…

Soon we embark on a group adventure under the guidance and auspices of the travel company. I am travelin light. It’s a process. A neophyte must crawl before he walks and then runs. I am in a high energy place that requires attention to the moment in ways that I have not been required to use. This is good for me. I am awakening a dormant part of my being. I will be a curious watcher of the evolution of my skills. I am alive, that’s for sure. Though a little shaky, it still feels delicious!

Just a quick note to indicate I will start making entries in the next few days about the trip to India i am on...it will be a delight. See you then!

In the Creative Zone

I am preparing for a concert at Unity Church in San Luis Obispo, California on November 4, 2011. I spent almost 20 years there, 15 as musical director. I have endless memories of the experiences at Sunday services and concert events...they are energetically planted in the walls and the stage and the piano. Though I am no longer musical director there, due to my travel schedule, I do love to go back as special music to experience the vibration. I do that 4-5 times a year now.

I was there yesterdayto  practice with Karen and Matthew for the concert. I sat at the Kawai grand piano and started playing the songs we were rehearsing. Distracted by the focus on how it sounded as a group I did not notice my piano playing. Now, I have a piano at home...an old upright with good tone, somewhat sloppy action, and a lovely history that I have painted plum to complement the apricot walls i love in the room. But, due to travel and creating the website this year I have spent little time at it. Thus, I have not really played or practiced on any piano for over a year. One would expect that my technique and fluidity would be a bit rusty...

But that is not what i experienced at the Kawai when i played. I actually felt a bit outside of myself as my fingers supported familiar songs with new flourishes. It was intoxicating as I surrendered to allowing myself to enjoy the obvious flow. It was so gratifying and inspiring that I stayed after the others left for another 3 hours, just playing and singing and noodling and trusting the guidance that was the vehicle upon which I rode.

I have noticed this before about creativity. I have learned that there is a time of productivity and a time of incubation. I find that the period of incubation where i simply get out of the way and, under the guise of life circumstances, do not really engage much in creating anything...more doing. When i am called to return I dicover that I am actually better than when i left...better in that I am capable of more fluid playing, of more compelling ideas, of rich images, of more engaging melodies. It is as if I am being played by some loving force that breathes through me. The more I surrender the sweeter the flow and experience and results.

I learned that events have a vibration and energy that swirls around them the closer it gets to their expression. I simply reach into the creative soup and pluck out a song. It manifests as a piece that, although I have to show up and put the elements together, seems to be a perfect expression as itself. I take the first thing given, guitar or piano...whichever i reach for first. I start a rhythm and build a feel. Then i choose a key to support the content/intention. Then I play with melodies using phrases or nonsense words. At some point the elements align and I know when i have it. Adding the lyrics based on the intention completes the piece. And I, always, take the first thing and do no rewrites. To me, this further cements a bond of trust with the creative sources.

The results are all through my creations, songs that impact and open and bring tears or reflection or connection or inspiration or choice or movement or...I love the dance and have learned to greatly respect the "dry"times when i seem to be empty. I am simply filling my personal reservoir with the infinite potential we are all receptors of. Making the space allows me to have something to draw from when the time is right.It is a delightful process.

Creating does not have to be a challenge. It is, as I have discovered, an engaging dance where I am led into the fertile field full of infinite variety. In this panorama there is always something that catches my eye and ear more than any of the others. I know that that is mine for the now. I grab it and let it flow out into the physical...

Ever have these kinds of moments? Talk about your creation process. Thank you for engaging. Blessings...

September Leans to October

It is Monday and Fall has already arrived. I absolutely love how the air feels different. There is a palatable coziness that fills everything here on the California Coast. Though, in this land of dual seasons, the trees may not get real showy and the leaves may not fall in infinite masses,  there is still that feeling...that homey feeling ...like a calling from deep within, to begin to cuddle up with myself and take honest stock of where and who I am.

Perhaps because I am a September babe the Fall season lures me and lingers in my senses. It reminds me of starts, the first day of school, football season, holiday season...and it reminds me of endings, baseball season, the last fiery kisses of summer...

Several years ago, I traveled with my coleague, Sonia Choquette, to South Africa during our Spring. To my absolute delight I was able to experience Fall there...so I got two that year. My oh my! It felt similar but it also felt upside down. I did not know the leaves and the trees and the weather patterns like I know those that have blessed me in my life on the vital California Coast. Yet, in that freshness I tasted a new kind of Fall. It was nourishing. It was playful. It was childlike. I spent a ;lot of time outside during that trip. Though we were told it was unsafe at times, my being leaned towards the doors and windows wherever we were.

When my inner calendar starts to turn and I breathe in the first hints of Fall, I smile and begin to look with greater attention at the world around me. I search for signs and guidance and messages and callings from the animals. I look for patterns in the falling leaves. I visit the sacred spots in my memory that are wrapped in precious experiences of Fall's past. I dance with who I have become and look long at my reflection. For signs of my own leaves turning...pieces of me that have reached the end of their cycle, pieces of me that life has carved and polished and cracked, pieces of me that reflect a past no longer welcome in the present of Who I Am.

It is such a sweet time. I feel held in unseen arms. I spend hours daily watching the ever changing panorama of the sun's last rays as they celebrate the day past with a cool dip into the Pacific. I smell the flavors of the last pulsations of so much natural life. I get out the cinnamon and the nutmeg and visit the apple ranches in See Canyon just south of San Luis Obispo. I stare into the forest just outside my door and silently call to the elementals in gratitude for such a beautiful year. I invite them in. I leave the door open to feel the first cold fingers that push me under covers that have been in storage the rest of the year.

I cry more. I feel sensitive. I consciously let go and honor the year's variations. I think of the life I desire. I make mental notes of how I might change this or that. I reach for books and stock lots of ginger and peppermint tea. I smudge the house and play songs in minor keys. I stand on the porch and listen to the ocean's callings...telling me to let go. I think of relationships gone and forgotten, almost. I think of relationships to come and think of who to call to get held without expectation or confusion.

I am in love with the earth. The clearer I get, the higher my vibration rises, the more I reclaim my sight and my sensitivity to the new frequencies of nature. And in this year before the 2012 doorway, I realize that I have not experienced nature and her splendor so deeply since I was just a boy. I return to an open state and yearn for playgrounds of endless possiblity and breathtaking beauty and inspiring magnificence. It is profound, this awareness, this reclamation of the precious That I Am. I am happy and peaceful in this reflection. It is a good day to die....for I feel fully alive.

I am going for tea. While I am gone why don't you share any responses to my words that have revealed themselves...what is your experience of Fall? What is your feeling when September leans to October? I really want to know...