>My girlfriend Adriana and I totally played hooky yesterday from a group fieldtrip we already paid for. We’re full on spiritual delinquents. When they told us the other night that the trip was five hours each way, and that that bus left at 5:30am, I looked to her pregs belly, its corresponding comically surprised and strained face, and definitively announced: “That’s too much for you. We’re not going.” (Adriana is delivering all natural route, and I joke with her that I am her “pre doula.” A doula provides emotional and physical support for the mother during childbirth. I’m the demanding New York version. Carrying extra organic bars for her everywhere we go, keeping an eye out to make sure she is somewhat comfortable, telling her we’re going to exploit the baby when we really need to get her first in line for things. Putting my foot down when people say things like: tomorrow you’re going to be on a bus for ten hours. Did we forget to mention that?)
We took three more minutes to ask a helper’s advice, confirming our decision to ditch the excursion, and then guiltlessly, chose to give up our 3000 rupees and have a lazy day on campus rather than on an Indian bus. However there is no such thing as a day off when going through a process like this in India. The learning comes to you.
Yesterday I had written several paragraphs about my Sunday morning. It was a cataclysmic happening brought on by meditative processing, and rivers of epic (yet dignified, of course) prose flowed through me, disassembling the majesty and magnificence of the experience, to cart it, illuminated and open into the blogsophere… then I thought to myself : “What a bunch of horseshit. I’m not going to share that.”
It’s not that the experience didn’t shift my reality or my outlook on nature or give me an infinite gratitude for the expandedness and complexity of the universe. I’m not saying I didn’t sob harder than I have in my life, face covered in snot and body immovable in realization. Ok, fine, I was there. So what? Why would someone give a sh** about that if she is having boy problems? Who cares, if your family is undergoing unspeakable loss, or you have been evicted or you are having panic attacks at the side of the road because life is too much? We have to be where we are.
I’m not here in India looking for anything. What I was searching for I found a while ago. I’m not saying there wasn’t a search involved, but I got what I needed. Paths are beautiful and super necessary— but we all need to start from where we are, not where we think we want to be. For this, sometimes we need a tour guide.
To steal someone else’s metaphor: why are we always mortgaging ourselves for some future event? This is it kids.
But, to somewhat contradict the simplicity of that statement (and I must do this, because this is the nature of reality; that both sides of the same truth exist together; oy—so unfair… a bitch of a paradox, I know,) I love to philosophize about where we will go individually and collectively… This little body mind organism (or spacesuit as Ram Dass would dub it,) known to you all as Margaret, mags, Margie, Malgosia, sweetie, hottie, little lady, polka dot, loves to talk. That’s just my programming.
So on our delinquent day off, Adriana and I did what we two together do best. What we have done the world over in Australia, London, now on our second go around in India; we talked each other’s ears off. We chatted endlessly in our dorm room, in the dining hall, on the bus, on steps in front of a gift shop, in the bathroom, on the steps in front of the temple, walking, squatting, yoga-ing, calling from a block away using hand signals, even. Talking about everything from non-dualism, to pregnancy to our penchant for pragmatic boys. Miso soup, maharishis, mud masks, mashed potatoes. Others here comment on how passionate we are. We’re not riled up. We’re not upset. We shrug, looking at each other calmly and contentedly as we explain: “It’s our nature.”
I look at her and it is almost as though we have grown more similar, the way a pet and an owner do, in the last six days. (You would think after six days of non-stop talking we would have nothing to talk about—nope—there is only more.) Against the backdrop of 200 people from a dozen countries, with so many different styles and cultures, although we two are so dissimilar personally, here, we are cutie pattootie petite bobsy twins, with our mouths running off and our pink view of the world. It is utterly remarkable that we can spend so many hours in each other’s presence with our surroundings falling away from us. If I were in prison with Adriana, I don’t think I’d ever notice. That we found each other from across the world and still continue to meet hopefully once a year and pick up where we left off, is all the faith I need in destiny. If I believe in anything at all, I believe in Adriana. If I have ever known devotion, it is for her.
Dri is only a year and bit older, but she is my spiritual mentor. I would not have called her this a couple of years ago, but now I see that is exactly what she is. She’s my tour guide. I think we are equal in each other’s eyes, but I look to her for guidance and trust what she says, and even when I don’t want to hear it, I listen. She scolds me, she praises me, she laughs at me, she laughs with me. There used to be times when I didn’t like this– when it would bring up that agitation… Who likes being told what to do? Who likes being told they may be wrong?
This is what we each need to find for ourselves if we want to make progress. Not a small, gorgeous pregs Brazilian (although, if available, I highly recommend going for that model…) Call it a coach, a mentor, a guide, the other half to your team. Someone who you adore that can be occasionally tough with you. If we’re grounded and smart we will seek a partner who challenges us to look at things differently. If not our romantic partners, at the very least a few close friends who are not afraid to tell you: “You’re wrong.” “I disagree.” “You’re being dumb.” “Look at it this way instead.” “That dress looks awful.” “Put down the 4th cupcake– three is enough, lady.”
This resistance is what pushes us to grow. If we stagnate, in any level of our life, we atrophy. Not only Maharishi’s say that– Woody Allen had it dead on, so to speak. But it’s not only our relationships that die if we don’t move forward, that is true on every level from our foodstuffs to our quad muscles to that little gooey mess in our head we think is our mind. Our greatest teachers are not those who only christen us with love and light, but who bring out the darkness and dividedness in us and then show us how to embrace both. This is why we build community, not just for support but for strength.
Yesterday in all the om shantiness of my stolen day off, I thought I would have a relaxing morning. Needless to say, it was anything but. I tried to record a video message to send via facebook to a sweetie. Within the debacle that was trying to sort things out technically in India, my icamera captured my “om shanti” self, swearing, scowling on film, when 20 seconds before I had wondered if my hair up or down would be a more attractive visage for the video message sent home. I was totally called out on my own humanity— angry, arrogant, vain– it was disturbing and delightful. All the negative aspects are still there. Of course they are. Even facebook video messaging, or lack thereof, can be a teacher. A scowl, seeing the scowl, the subsequent smile, and then the stillness.
Dri and I laughed and laughed over this in the dining hall. Then we dove into a 90 minute debate over free will. We’re small. We like to talk. She likes mashed potatoes. I want to look pretty in a virtual video message. That’s it. That’s who we are now. I’m so glad to have her on my team. That’s it. We’re here. And we’re in bliss. It’s the hardest thing, and it’s the simplest.
