I didn't just arrive but I am now just getting settled. It is around 3:30am and I'm drinking Indian instant coffee which is loaded with chicory. Not ideal, but it is something. The thing I forgot was how much work it is to get established in a new place in general and India in particular. And this isn't really tough India. Still, everything is just different.
Just being able to write and publish this post counts on many separate parts coming together at the exact moment I want to press "send", which of course, it often does not. The space between the points requires patience and when they keep missing each other and never appear to be able to match up is when people freak out in a big way and leave. I'm here with three of my students. Two are seriously considering going back home.
I arrived with the wrong power adapter. This means no charging my computer. This means no computer. Or it means using the reception's computer at the hotel we stayed at with the hotel manager reading over my shoulder. Finding a new adapter meant I needed transportation because we were staying at a hotel which wasn't very centrally located and I didn't have a scooter (now I do). So we had to hail a rickshaw and argue about using the meter and about how much they would charge and make sure we had small change to pay and think of a place to go to buy the charger and will they even be open because this is India and also Dasara Festival and also I haven't been since 2010 and things change. In the end my new housemate had an extra adapter. It took a few days for her to hear me through her own fog of jet lag and patchouli and culture shock.
So now I have a working computer and cellphone and wifi (occasionally) and time to write (since most basic needs are now in place) and already too many stories. My teacher says one month in Mysore is like a year anywhere else. He's talking about the practice but I can believe it to be about just being here. Even preparing my daily shower - bucket shower - is an epic event. I had my first class yesterday morning at 4:30am which actually means about 4:15am because the clocks are fast at the shala ("Shala Time"). I was "late" which means that the students were no longer waiting outside for the gates to open but class had not yet begun. I moved some mats over and claimed a little real estate up front on the stage. A bit weird at first knowing everyone is looking in your direction even if it isn't at you but once class begins it doesn't matter. There's just me and my teacher counting and my breathing and the sound of 80 some humans moving and breathing together. I just drop into it and at a certain point come up for air realizing that my mind is really quiet and I'm just in it. This is worth it and makes everything else OK. I love being here.
Just being able to write and publish this post counts on many separate parts coming together at the exact moment I want to press "send", which of course, it often does not. The space between the points requires patience and when they keep missing each other and never appear to be able to match up is when people freak out in a big way and leave. I'm here with three of my students. Two are seriously considering going back home.
I arrived with the wrong power adapter. This means no charging my computer. This means no computer. Or it means using the reception's computer at the hotel we stayed at with the hotel manager reading over my shoulder. Finding a new adapter meant I needed transportation because we were staying at a hotel which wasn't very centrally located and I didn't have a scooter (now I do). So we had to hail a rickshaw and argue about using the meter and about how much they would charge and make sure we had small change to pay and think of a place to go to buy the charger and will they even be open because this is India and also Dasara Festival and also I haven't been since 2010 and things change. In the end my new housemate had an extra adapter. It took a few days for her to hear me through her own fog of jet lag and patchouli and culture shock.
So now I have a working computer and cellphone and wifi (occasionally) and time to write (since most basic needs are now in place) and already too many stories. My teacher says one month in Mysore is like a year anywhere else. He's talking about the practice but I can believe it to be about just being here. Even preparing my daily shower - bucket shower - is an epic event. I had my first class yesterday morning at 4:30am which actually means about 4:15am because the clocks are fast at the shala ("Shala Time"). I was "late" which means that the students were no longer waiting outside for the gates to open but class had not yet begun. I moved some mats over and claimed a little real estate up front on the stage. A bit weird at first knowing everyone is looking in your direction even if it isn't at you but once class begins it doesn't matter. There's just me and my teacher counting and my breathing and the sound of 80 some humans moving and breathing together. I just drop into it and at a certain point come up for air realizing that my mind is really quiet and I'm just in it. This is worth it and makes everything else OK. I love being here.
No comments:
Post a Comment