Looking over edges

Earlier this week I was standing on a balcony with two other people waiting for a table at a certain recommended punjabi restaurant when we turned to hear a real racket coming up the road. We all three leaned over the railing to get a better look. My companions scrambled for their cameras, hoping to capture a piece of the action. As the sound grew closer, we could see that it was a parade with many men in front pounding on instruments. We saw that some men toward the middle were carrying a large altar. My friends were very excited, craning to get a good picture of what they thought was Ganesh (the elephant-god who removes obstacles). (The photo on the left is from a Ganesh Festival in Mumbai that I found on google). Men from the crowd were pointing up at us and shouting something, I couldn't make out what. But something did seem strange, and I realized my feeling was right when I saw that it was not Ganesha at all that they were carrying, it was a dead man.

"Its a fucking dead man!" I said.

"what?"

"huh?"

"Its a fucking dead man!" I said again. Their cameras lowered. One of them really began to freak out.

"I've never seen a dead body before!" He shouted as I tried to shrug off his chin that was now resting on my shoulder as he tried to hide from the grey, sinking figure and the condemnation of an angry crowd.

"Its okay," the other girl said. I think she just kept repeating this.

As we watched, the old man sat under a canopy of flowers. He was covered from head to toe with garlands with only his sunken face peaking out from beneath.

Today we had the day off (its Saturday). We decided (slowly and unreliably until the last second) to pile into a van and drive to some waterfalls somewhere. From behind the window, at this safe distance, I feel like I'm watching life go by like a viewer in a cinema.

I thought about how there are so many things I can't tell you about what its like to be here. Its not just that I don't have the words to describe it; its that there aren't enough words. Sometimes you have to paint a picture, even if it means not everyone will understand the work. So much of being here is more than seeing and trying new things or interacting with new people. So much of it is an indescribable journey through what it means to be alive and in this world. My teacher used to say that in our yoga practice it is good to get right to the edge, right to your edge, and to keep pushing until you get there. This place is like that. Always confronting you with edges.

There are moments that freeze in time, moments when for just a second, you can see your body and realize that there is so much more. A man squatted on a small dirt hill in the middle of a bright green rice field overlooking more rice fields. He just sat there watching the sun and wind dance and flicker over the tips of green green blades of grass. Things can be so simple, so obvious, but we fail to see them.

In the Yoga Sutras translation by Satchidananda, he tells a simple story that I hope I get mostly right. I think that there is this guy who is trying to achieve enlightenment but he's having a hard time. So the God that is helping him suggests that he chant "Mara Mara" because he is standing in front of a tree (mara means tree). So he does. And before he knows it, "mara" transfoms in to "rama".