Wish List

I've made a wish list. It's a compilation of the things I'd like to do and accomplish before I leave Mysore next week. There are things on my wish list that are not surprising, like making a final trip to Mylari, the site of B.'s infamous 12-dosa morning, for a rich and buttery breakfast. And then there are things on my list which are a little less conventional, but important nonetheless like finishing the third season of Deadwood with my housemates.

In the process of choosing which places and adventures would help complete my four month journey, I came to something I've been meaning to do, but avoided since about three or four weeks in. I want to learn to drive a scooter. Sort of. Most of me wants to learn, but there's that tiny part that is jumping up and down, arms waving, yelling "Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!"

Fear is there.

However, if there's something to be learned from practicing Ashtanga, here or at home, it's that you have to work through the scare-factor. So, with the help of my two Mysore besties, yesterday was the day. We went down to a quiet, flat road only a few blocks from my apartment. This road, or at least part of it, is fairly devoid of potholes, which is a miracle in itself (hopefully attracting more miracles), and therefore became a safe place for me to take my first scooter-steps. While one of my friends showed me the ins and outs of starting, accelerating and braking, the other stood at the side of the road keeping a careful eye. Let me say now that both of them are experienced and accomplished scooter operators, and so I knew I was in good hands. Intimidating hands (fearing again). Caring hands. The confidence they both had in my ability to actually do this, without wrecking the scooter, or myself, spurred me forward in my venture.

The first few movements were heart-pounding. The controls seemed sensitive, the scooter heavy, the steering impossible. There were cows and water-buffalo in the road - horned Indian driving bogeys rounding every corner. The constant encouragement from my trusted teacher was the only thing keeping me from total freak out. Steady in both voice and demeanor, my perfectly calm driving instructor helped me get my bearings and allay my fear. My right hand gave the gas, my left poised, ready to brake. Suddenly though, I was pulling my feet in, travelling (slowly) down the road, and staying upright. What?? I even managed to dodge the aforementioned livestock, a pedestrian, and another scooter. Success! At least in terms of driving in a straight line. When I was done, my rewards of smiles and "good job" resonated, reminding me a little of receiving a nod from Sharath after working a challenging asana.

"Anna - what you do?"

"Drive in a straight line..."

"Mmmm. Tomorrow, turning you take."

Smile.

Nod.

Tomorrow I take.

No fearing. Remind me to add that to my wish list. :)

Getting Ready

The time is quickly approaching. In 10 days I'll make my way to the airport in Bangalore, board a plane to Paris, eat a croissant, board another plane, this time to DC, and arrive...

Home.

It's a big word to me, maybe larger than it's ever been before.

When B. and I first moved from Hamilton to Baltimore we spent days, months, perhaps even years, referring to the places we grew up as home. Even now, nearly 9 years later, I sometimes find myself referring to Lindsay, Toronto or Hamilton as home, despite the fact that the houses, friends, and family members that surrounded me when I lived there have moved on.

For the past four months, Mysore has been my home. It's been the place where I have eaten and slept (or not slept) and cried. It's the place where I've felt lonely and scared and the place where I've felt loved and comforted. It's the place where I've been discovering myself, planning my future, living my life. As I prepare to pack up, putting away things for my next visit, I have to admit I'm a little sad. The people that I've become close to and the weeks I've spent here have profoundly impacted me and I know that when I return to the U.S. I won't be the same person I was when I left. But I also know that it's time. Part of making these trips is the leaving - the going home - in a sense it's just as important as coming in the first place. Going home forces you to delve deep into what Sharath calls the four D's - devotion, dedication, discipline and determination. Can you allow this practice to be similarly transformative when you're faced with all the distractions of everyday life? Can you stay focused; maintain clarity of thought and purpose?

For some people the answer is no. And that's okay. For others, it's a definite yes.

I think, for me, there will be joy in the work to make this happen. I am preparing to meet this challenge head on, and believe that the pleasure of a community of friends, the comfort of familiar surroundings, and the loving encouragement of a supportive spouse are what will help to propel me forward when I arrive home. And I'm so looking forward to experiencing it.

It's bittersweet to approach the end of this journey. But we all have to leave here - we all have to go home. And it's the people, and the energy of the shala and the practice, that make this place feel like home. Luckily, I can take those things with me, at least in small part.

The rest is just geography.