Tag: India

Just Do You. That is the Work.

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17 Camel IMG_4050Daily Prompt: If money were out of the equation, would you still work? If yes, why, and how much? If not, why would you do with your free time?

I was asked this question a million years ago. And I have since turned this question on others. It’s a good one.

About 8 years ago I decided to put it to the test. I quit my job – one in a succession of failed career starts – and decided to become a holistic health coach. That lasted just a few years. But what it did for me was show me that I could do what I wanted and the money would come in. Or as Joseph Campbell said, “Do what you love and the money will follow.” Sounds magical and all together impractical.

At the risk of sounding woo-woo, I now allow myself to be guided by – dare I say it? – the Universe. I have come to see all situations as teachable moments and guidance in one direction or another. I have never lacked food, housing, or transportation. In fact, I own my home, shop at Whole Foods (not every time, let’s be realistic) and drive a nice little Honda.

When I was younger I wanted certain things, specific markers of success: To live in New York City. Or maybe California. To travel the world, especially Paris. And have several homes. One definitely on the beach. All these things required a healthy salary, a particular status. I had to WORK for them, EARN them.

Then 8 years ago I decided to take my passion for natural health to the next level. I attended the Institute for Integrative Nutrition (IIN) in New York. I went just for me, but came away with an optional new career and possibly a whole new life.

I became a holistic health coach. As a health coach many of my clients inquired if I taught yoga when I suggested they try it. I did not. But that changed. I now saw the next step on my path.

When I began to study yoga, the philosophy in particular, I felt I had finally found the belief system that contained within it all that I had cobbled together for myself from various religions and philosophies. Now it had a name. And I was home.

In its teachings I learned to  lean back. I have learned to trust the process of life. I have cultivated compassion and I am free to look at the world through the lens of enchantment and wonder.

Now, when I reframe all those markers of success, I see that I have achieved them all.

– While attending IIN in New York City I had to be there 12 weekends over 16 months. I rented an apartment with a friend for just those weekends. We shopped for food, ate in the apartment, went out to dinner, wandered the streets. I lived in New York City.

– My brother has lived in southern California for over 10 years. I visit him a few times each year. I drive his car. I pick up groceries. I take my niece to the park. We go to the beach. I have made friends there. I have lived in California.

– During all this yoga stuff, the guru I was studying with (and still am) was taking a group of people to India. It was never on my list of places to go, but suddenly I had to go. He was 80 and I didn’t know if I’d have another chance. I went for 3 weeks. Then I went back the year after with a different swami, and on the way played in London for three days. Then this past July a friend flew me on a private jet to the Bahamas where we played on the beach. I have begun to travel the world.

– I have several friends with houses on the beach and I am free to stay in them whenever they’re not occupied. I have a friend with a cabin in the mountains, same thing. I have several homes.

When I let go of the need to work for these things and just leaned back, everything that was to be materialized. Everything I had asked for showed up. Just not as I expected it. I could have missed it completely.

Today I own a yoga studio – another gift – and I write and I take pictures and when I have free time, you know, between 3:15 – 4:45 AM, I make some jewelry. My life is truly enchanted.

I haven’t worked a day in the past 8 years. I do what I love – all of it – and I am taken care of.

 

A Different Kind of Light

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Daily Prompt: You’ve been given the ability to build a magical tunnel that will quickly and secretly connect your home with the location of your choice — anywhere on Earth. Where’s the other end of your tunnel?

Less than two years ago I found my soul’s home. It may not be its only home, I am a Gemini after all. But when I stepped out of the bus onto the streets of Udaipur, India, something in me shifted. I was at once grounded and lighter.

The town itself is built around a huge man-made lake. There are whole buildings; hotels, restaurants and palatial estates rising up from its center. The narrow streets can barely accommodate a car, causing pedestrians to press themselves against a building or duck into a store. A foot bridge crosses the lake at  a narrow point, a welcoming café at either end.

There is Indian life here, dogs roaming the streets, temples full of devotees to various deities, open air markets and street food. But there is something else at work. There is a presence, a light.

I suppose my tunnel would place me at the bottom of an uneven staircase leading to a rooftop café, four or so stories up. Here I spent several days both at dusk and at dawn, sipping chai, deep in rich and sometimes frivolous conversation. The whole city was within my 360 view, the white buildings shimmering as the sun began its decent, the warm glow of interior lights taking its place.

During sunrises those same buildings turned light pink and purple until the sun made its way high into the sky. Its whole purpose to dance on the water below.

Even writing this I am transported back to that rooftop. I can see the foot bridge, I remember the chai wallah who took order then sat down with friends, seeming to forget about us. I recall the walk there, the people we’d ask for advice or direction, the easy smiles and gentle ways.

Yes, this is the other side of my tunnel. It’s where I would go every morning for tea and as the sun rose over the lake I would close my eyes absorbing the Muslim prayers broadcast throughout the city.

Magic Wand Optional

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The Daily Prompt: A literary-minded witch gives you a choice: with a flick of the wand, you can become either an obscure novelist whose work will be admired and studied by a select few for decades, or a popular paperback author whose books give pleasure to millions. Which do you choose?

Does anyone write to become obscure? Certainly not in the I-want-to-be-published kind of way. Obscurity is earned by spending tormented hours hunched over journals made of parchment, struggling to get the thoughts to coalesce on paper. Obscurity is found work, not intentional.

Yet secretly all who journal or write for themselves, have the fantasy of their heart’s pourings being found and made into an art film, I suspect. Or maybe that’s my notion alone.

My mission with my writing and photography is to ‘Share the Magic.’ It’s not that my point of view is so fresh or that my word combinations are unique. It’s not that my photos are technically brilliant. It’s just that I write and that I take pictures and then I share.

At present two books are hovering in fieri; one on finding the magic in the every day and the other my quirky recounting of two trips to India. I am so enjoying the process that it becomes unthinkable at times to finish either one.

I am inspired to drop everything and go look for dragonflies or how the ripples on the lake catch the sun as I tweak and retweak the magic book. Diving back into India is like crawling into crisp cool sheets and leaning back onto a nest of comfy pillows; I am immediately transported to the dreamlike existence of the mother land.

These distractions do not necessarily speak to the eloquence with which I write, but more to the ideas I am choosing to foster and bring forth. I am in love with these projects.

It seems that neither category offered by our literary witch would suit my endeavors. Although paperback does not automatically denote fiction. Perhaps a popular paperback author could fit. After all it’s my intention to share the magic and why not to millions? If millions of people could stop for a moment and consider the beauty and enchantment that surrounds them every day, might they make different choices? I hope one day soon I’ll find out.

Read other’s responses to the prompt here.

Feeling Groovy

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I have not yet fallen into the groove of my life. You know, that comfortable, yet active, relaxed state. Leaning back into life, open and ready but not anxious. Available for the next moment by being present in this one.

I feel it must exist. I have friends who seem to be there, but then that’s my perception. I think I’ve even been there, dipped my toe in on occasion, only I just recognize it as somewhere I’ve been, I don’t catch it in the moment. Perhaps that’s by design. If I notice I’m in it, will that take me out of it? Yearning to recreate it, missing the present once again?

My imagined groove goes a little something like this:

I wake up smiling and refreshed at 5 am. I brew myself a cup of organic free-trade coffee, add a dash of organic cinnamon, raw sugar and organic half and half. I take mug, that I purchased from an extremely talented struggling potter, full of this morning brew, on the deck of my modest ocean front home, or the balcony of my 12th floor upper west side apartment in New York City. Of course I could be traveling, probably I am, so maybe it’s a chai on the rooftop of a 5 story walk up somewhere fabulous in India or a steaming cup of tea in a coffee shop in London. Whatever the case, I am armed with gentle caffeine and settled into a chair, facing east, with my journal and pen, ready to watch the sun rise and let go of thoughts that may be bouncing around creating havoc.

Then I go work out, because I love to, usually dance or some other high energy sweat-making movement. Come home, shower eat a breakfast of organic goat’s milk yogurt with organic granola and a banana from my own tree (why not?).

Refreshed, fed and ready to go, I am at my desk at 9 AM ready and waiting for inspiration to flow through me, which it always does. Sometimes I write, sometimes I edit photos or create photo cards, other times I make jewelry.

I stop for lunch. Something delicious, nutritious and organic, no doubt.

Ok, so this is my groove. The rest of the day just naturally unfolds into a glorious evening of meaningful conversations with great friends back on that deck or balcony. We talk about consciousness and ways to make the world a better place. We share what we’re working on creatively and our processes. We plan to go to gallery openings and take trips together. Maybe we’re drinking naturally decaffeinated organic tea grown since the 6th century, that someone has just brought back from their recent trip to China. Or perhaps a new Malbec from a friend in Argentina. Jazz plays in the background. It’s a band we know personally. Or maybe one of us is sitting quietly plucking the strings of an acoustic guitar, creating on the spot.

The flaw in this scenario? When do I get to eat too much of the wrong thing? Where do I fit in Orange is the New Black? Where’s the struggle that make success sweet?

Truthfully I would be totally okay with this groove. I don’t need to create struggle anymore.  I know enough people who do and they don’t age well. They don’t see that they have a choice. Struggling is a choice. Suffering is truly optional – a state of mind. It’s in their perception. A wise teacher, Yogi Amrit Desai once said something like, “Wanting things to be different than they are is our only problem.”  Acceptance of anything is the key. You cannot change something you refuse to accept, it doesn’t exist.

And so, I accept that I need to move, write, be creative and tromp through wildlife to snap photos. I also accept that I’m in my groove more often than not. I have sipped excellent coffee from ocean front decks, high rise balconies in New York, Chai on rooftops in India and tea in coffee shops in London. I write. I move. I create. I have done all of these things.

It is in those moments that I feel disconnected and outside that I need only remember that this too is part of my groove. It is the recognition of the present moment that is indeed the groove.

[Photo: The magnificent city of Udaipur, India.]

Super Powers for Sale

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In our ever-evolving world it’s no longer necessary to be born with your super powers; they can be purchased and even financed. Once acquired it is difficult to let them go. Fortunately upgrades are usually available.

So what’s always within arms reach?

The romantic side of me wants to tell you it’s my camera I can’t live without. The ego side of me wants you to believe I have a yoga mat slung over my shoulder every waking moment. Sadly, I believe the truth of it might be a bit more mundane, pedestrian.

My super powers are in my phone. There, I said it, but before you judge (those of you that aren’t woefully nodding in agreement) allow me to elaborate.

I, like so many, rarely use my phone for actual conversations anymore, succumbing to the efficiency of the text. I am also fortunate enough to work in a pseudo-retail environment where I have ample human contact on a daily basis. And it’s a yoga studio, so it is 99.999% pleasant and uplifting.

Instead, I use my phone for other communicative conveyances. I take copious photos – it is much more comfortable in my pocket than let’s say my digital SLR with its telephoto lens. I blog – it’s true – the whole time I was in India in February I would recount the day’s events on my tiny little screen, squinting, backspacing and correcting auto-correct, just to get the memories down. It wasn’t ideal, but it was efficient and a lot more portable than my laptop.

I manage a few Facebook pages. Phone. Check.

I schedule events and clients. Phone. Check.

I have to-do lists, too many. Phone. Check.

I have passwords that need managing. When did this become a thing? Phone. Check.

I don’t wear a watch. Phone. Check.

I don’t have an alarm clock. Dogs, first, but when away…Phone. Check.

But like all super powers I too have my kryptonite: no wifi. After my brain empties completely and I stare blankly at the lovely person who meant no disrespect upon informing of such, I take a deep breath and look around. I have learned to use Notes or Evernote and pre-blog my musings, thereby pacifying my need to connect in that moment. Or, I meander wherever I am and snap photos. See? Magic. Powers restored.

I suppose if I were a recluse I could live without my phone. Or use it, you know, as a phone. But if Dorothy had never left Kansas she wouldn’t have needed those sparkly red shoes either. And neither one of us would have any stories to tell.

So, back on the road, finding every day enchantments to photograph and write about, I bring along my little digital world. But don’t worry, it’s all backed up to the cloud, so should I *gasp* lose it I won’t lose it. My super power, that is.

Writing Prompt: Object Lesson. Sherlock Holmes had his pipe. Dorothy had her red shoes. Batman had his Batmobile. If we asked your friends what object they most immediately associate with you, what would they answer?

[Photo: Sunrise in Long Island, Bahamas with my iPhone 5S – Super]

 

Fear, the Final Frontier

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Fear is an interesting companion – at times helpful, but so often very limiting.

I encounter people every day that are in fear about something on some level, maybe we all are. I think I have mostly let go of Worry which seems to be Fear’s insidious cousin, always lurking in the shadows pushing Fear out in front of me, trying to scare me into living small. Without Worry, Fear only shows up if danger is imminent and I can make a reasonable choice about whether or not to proceed.

In recent years I have agreed to do things before Worry and Fear knew what I was doing. They’d show up, all casual a week or a few days before a flight to India or as I was placing my foot into the stirrup of a camel or snorkeling beyond the safety of a cove. They’d nod in that cool, almost sinister way, chin up, just once and say, “Are you sure you wanna be doing that?” They would parade all sorts of scenarios before me: terrorists slowly walking past me on the plane only to turn around and sit right next to me; wandering into the desert on a rogue camel with no water or sunscreen; being eaten by a shark or sucked into a freak ocean floor hole. I mean, come on. At least they were creative.

Each time I would look them straight in the eye and say, “I think so.” Doubt had been cast. I felt myself waver just the tiniest bit and then like a superhero in tights and a cape Captain Confidence would swoop in, hands on hips and say, “Of course you do! Life is about experiences.” Then he’d kick Fear and Worry to the curb where they’d sit like naughty children.

I know they’ll be back. All of them. Already I am planning a road trip up the east coast, a week in Cuba and possibly two weeks in Italy. And every day I make the choice to leave my house, drive my car, walk on sidewalks and cross streets throwing Caution to the wind, who will surely run to let Fear and Worry know they’d better be on their toes.

Today’s writing prompt: Fearless Fantasies. How would your life be different if you were incapable of feeling fear? Would your life be better or worse than it is now?

Losing Myself

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I don’t believe in wrong turns. I don’t believe in coincidences. And I certainly don’t believe in mistakes.

I do believe that everything we have done in the past; each choice we have made has brought us to exactly where we are right now. This gives us a tremendous amount of power. Everything we decide to do now, however we choose to react to our current set of circumstances, is creating our future. That’s the good news.

The bad news is, you can’t blame anyone or anything else for anything. Which is really just more good news. You are empowered, not a victim.

Life is experiential. While we may not be able to control our every move – realistically we’re controlling nothing – we can control our reaction. This makes getting lost and taking wrong turns a part of the adventure of life.

Some of the best experiences come out of wrong turns. I have found secret pockets of wonder inside the woods when I went left instead of right. I found a quaint, mostly unmarked coffee shop when I got lost in Savannah. I made a new friend while sitting at the wrong subway station waiting for the next train.

I have also felt frightened when I found myself in a neighborhood that was known for its active gangs and drug deals. Nothing happened, I drove right through, stopped at stop lights, no one hassled me. I learned something about myself that day, about where I place my power.

Getting lost has become my hobby. I am a wandering explorer. No amount of reading about other’s experiences can replace stumbling upon an elephant outside my hotel in Udaipur, India or finding a fuzzy baby swan in a nearby lake. Yet reading about other’s adventures always uplifts me.

Serendipity is everywhere, we just have to perceive it as such. The most inconvenient event can yield the most life affirming results. Many times I have found myself in a situation that I could never have planned yet everything aligned perfectly as if it was meant to be. Because, I believe it was. This happens with great regularity.

No matter how much I try to schedule and organize my life, it’s all those spaces in between, all the distractions, all the wrong turns, that provide the richest experiences. It is choosing to look for the gifts in everything, the messages, the prompts, that creates the adventure for me.

And so I let go, I follow my inner compass and lose myself in this big, beautiful enchanted world.

From today’s WordPress writing prompt: Wrong Turns. When was the last time you got lost? Was it an enjoyable experience, or a stressful one? Tell us all about it.

Writing Spaces

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When I first read the topic for today’s ‘postaday’ my mind instantly went to the right corner of my living room sofa, where the perfect mold of me awaits patiently each day. On the table to my right, an ebony wood Buddha holding a chunk of amethyst is overseeing my efforts, quietly cheering me on, as Buddhas are known to do. Surrounding him are my mug of steaming hot joe, a camera – I never know when I’ll be called outside by the sound of a cardinal or mocking bird for a photo shoot – and one of million journals. To my left one or two of four bite sized doggies snores softly.

A French door leading to the back patio swings in the gentle morning breeze as the sun reflects off the glass bouncing back into the living room. Occasionally the breeze brings with it the rich smell of the earth, still damp from the previous day’s storms. My painted toenails peek above my laptop screen. Somewhere nearby the coffee maker makes clicking sounds. The light and energy are good here.

But I also saw myself lying on my belly, propped on my elbows with my iPhone wedged between my hands, recounting the day’s events while in India. At a Starbucks on that same device in London as I waited out a spate of rain. I saw myself reaching into my purse for that flat little notebook I bought in a museum, that receives the freshest ideas that I may or may not act upon later. I saw myself sitting on my yoga mat in the middle of class begging that perfect sentence to stay somewhere within reach as I simultaneously tried to let go of everything.

My writing space is fluid, portable. It is my mind, my imagination. It’s between the ears and beyond my vision. It starts with a ping brought on by a word, a sight, a muse, then I just follow it. My writing space is everywhere. I couldn’t write of travel, insights, enchantment and experiences if I stayed in one place. My preferred typing space, however,  is in that light filled living room surrounded by four little dogs, the sound of birds singing in my backyard and the hum of the refrigerator in the next room.

But then, I haven’t had the opportunity to lift the lid of my laptop at a café in France yet.

21 Day Body Love Challenge – Armed and Fabulous

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I really, really want to say I love my arms, but I started shaming them into ¾ length and long sleeve shirts so long ago I don’t even know what they look like.

At some point in the recent past I realized my upper arms were not going back to where I found them in high school. They were not rock hard and sculpted. They were thicker than the business end of a baseball bat, and they had somehow acquired an apron.

So no, I don’t love what my arms LOOK like. From the elbow to the wrist they’re not too shabby. It’s the armpit to the elbow that is most troubling.

I do, however, love the capabilities of my arms. They are masters at holding stuff. Often too much stuff. I cannot leave a single bag of groceries in my trunk for a second trip, they must be stacked and strung on either arm, to the extent that my shoulders have threatened to break up with them over and over again. They pick up more than the rest of me can handle, because sometimes they like to show off. What they lack in beauty, they make up for in attitude.

But they have a softer side too. They have held many wonderful things: babies, puppies, kittens, loved ones, books, camera equipment, a yoga mat and my laptop. They have hugged the hump of a camel, the trunk of an elephant and the neck of a horse. They have do-si-doed, walked arm-in-arm and escorted a friend or two to a safe place to “sleep it off.”

They have allowed me to console and congratulate. They have surrendered blood when needed and endured the weight of my body in handstand or plank.

They’re a great place for sparkly, dangly and shiny bracelets and once upon a time they adored interesting watches. Today, they are mostly bare, teaching yoga has removed the desire to adorn them all the time, but on occasion a meaningful mala may find its way there. In India they were blessed twice and wrapped with string by a Hindu priest.

At the end of my left arm, at the wrist, I have permanently inscribed my Sanskrit name – Damini. It means lightning and when I’m feeling less than powerful it’s a reminder that I am a force of nature.

Other than that, there’s very little visible history located on my arms. A polio vaccine scar the size of nickel I received as a young child and less than a handful of tiny thin white lines here and there indicating some run in with something sharp. Overall they are mostly plain and useful.

On an energetic level, the arms are connected to the heart chakra, so any issues in the arms may be related to the inability to receive or give unconditional love. To others, as well as the self. Especially the self. Yourself.

So give yourself a big hug. Wrap those suckers around your beautiful body and squeeze. And when you’re done with that find someone else or something else to hug. It’s good for the soul. It’s good for humanity.

“A mother’s arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them.” – Victor Hugo

 

 

 

 

Soft Reboot

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I have been home from India for nearly a month now. It’s time I come back. The process becomes slower and slower with each trip. I leave a little more of myself behind so I can carry more of India home with me. The integration is only painful when I have to suddenly be somewhere incongruous with this process – a conference call, listening to someone gossip or accidentally catching a newsbite.

In the almost four weeks since my return I have been writing a lot. And loving it. I have been going through my photos of India and taking new photos of undiscovered (by me) places near my home. Frustrated with my lack of perfection on this one. And generally just ‘being.’

I have been working, yes, but not with the urgency I had before the cleansing of my spirit. There is so much to do that I WANT to do, but those memory-rich corners of my mind have not allowed the organizational part of my brain access to the data necessary to be effective. We must come to a compromise.

It is blending the work, here and now, with the enchantment of the India experience. It’s called presence and I just need to remember that.

Time for a soft reboot. I will make lists. I’m good at lists – it’s the doing of the stuff on them that sometimes eludes me. Here’s my first: My list of the lists I need to make.

1. Make a list of tasks that need my semi-immediate attention (taxes, newsletter for work, blog page for the Sacred India tour group, etc.)

2. Make a list of business and personal goals (really these are all personal, just some relate to the businesses I personally own)

3. Take a look at current food and lifestyle choices – adjust accordingly (same old, same old – cleanse, eat clean, move more)

4. Prioritize the items within each list then take a walk to let it all settle into my cells. Take my camera – just in case.

Just making this list makes me a little sad, but if I want to go back to India, grow as a human, I have to learn to integrate it all. I have eased back into this American life as slowly as I could. I will hold in my heart the images of Indians napping in their rickshaws in the middle of the day, the visits to temples any time for a quick spiritual refresher and the overall feeling of being held by a force so omnipresent and so unconditionally loving that I must infuse my everyday life with its essence.

I will continue to be present in everything I DO so that I may simultaneously BE.

PHOTO: In Rishikesh, up near the Himalayas, the Ganges is pristine and beautiful. Here I am near a cave that many have come to meditate in, including Swami Satchidananda. This is the Ganga Ma – the mother Ganges – just outside the cave.  I have blogged about my entire trip – From London for three days to India for 18 at http://www.allisonswanderland.com.