I've got to meditate, so tie up the cat

Through every vinyasa today I had a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. Hovering in bhujapidasana with my chin on the floor, my bandhas lifting, my hands planted, my chest expanding, swet dripping down my nose, I could hear one voice in my head saying "ooooh my shoulder" and "I'm tired" and then the next moment, another voice saying "no, I love this! This is great! Rock and Roll!" And then somewhere I just got sick of it and was like "just shut up, will ya!?" And then it all stopped and I was just practicing.

Sharath has a running joke with me about the quality of my mat. I bought a cheap pvc mat while I was here. I didn't bring mine from home because I couldn't be bothered to carry it ( I like to pack light). Also, people said you could buy anything here and I don't like to get too attached to things like the spot I practice in, a yoga outfit, or a mat. I bought a mat when I got here at Sudha's on the Shala road for 300 ruppees, I think.

Its like this story I read about the monks who had a cat and no one could meditate because the cat would be jumping all over everyone. So every day, before meditation, someone would go out and tie up the cat and then they would go meditate. It went like this for years, until one day, the cat died and the monks realize they can't meditate because tying up the cat had become part of the ritual of meditating.

So I got to back bending, did my drop backs, did the ankle grabbing. As I went to sit down, Sharath said, "I'm saving money...to buy you a new mat!" Every few days he says something like this. But I don't know where he expects me to buy a new mat here. He had pointed to the mat belonging to the girl next to me and said, "like that." But, really, where are you going to buy a Manduka mat in mysore?

I was riding on the back of a friend's bike closing my eyes and enjoying the motions of the ride and the wind on my face when she stopped short and said, "fucking Indians don't know how to drive!" In that moment, I realized how used to India I have become. On the car ride from Bangalore to Mysore when I first arrived, I was so in awe of everything. Even though I wanted to sleep, I couldn't. I wanted to remember every street sign, every face, every color and smell. Today I looked around on the bike and tried to separate things that I saw that were different from life back home and things that were the same. I saw the billboards, the quality of the images, the wording. The people by the side of the road, a woman braiding her daughter's hair on the corner. The rickshaws, the smell of exhaust. The fear I had the first time I sat on the back of a bike.

Driving in India is very unique. You don't look back, you just drive. You have to be 100% mindful to watch what's happening in front of you, but you never look back. You honk your horn to let everyone know you're coming or passing by, or that you see them. Or you honk your horn because it feels really good to scream. You don't get mad when someone honks at you or passes you or cuts you off. It just means that that is their pace and this is yours and you're just doing it.

I miss vegetables. Leafy greens. Broccoli.