It’s like the movie “Ground Hog Day” here, same good day over and over again. Early to rise, a run on the beach heading north up to Arambol, before the locals start burning their brush which stings the lungs to inhale; watching the morning beach beat with rhythm. In fact, everyone here beats to the rhythm of his or her own drummer. Everyone seems to be searching for something. It’s like a circus fest on the beach in the morning. It feels more like the parking lot scene at a Dead Show… I count 6 grown 30 and 40-something men strolling along the beach completely naked, with long ponytails; a local Indian man completely naked, squatting and cleaning himself in the shore break; a fisherman with a rod so far out in the water you can barely see his head clearing the water (could you imagine if he caught the big one?); a western hippie drop out guy playing violin at the edge of the surf; a 50 year old plus white male tourist doing tai chi in nothing but a bath towel; a mid 30’s guy hanging out clinging to a large stuffed animal dog; freshly fried German tourists glowing with red burn, but back out to bake again; and the local fisherman attempting to drag in their catch dodging the circus acts.
I can’t help but to reflect on what I see. Do the nudies feel that nudity cleanses their souls in the warm brown salty sea? Do they worry that they’re intruding on the conservatism and strong religious values of those local Indians whose home they have intruded upon here on the beach? Do they offend and make the locals feel uncomfortable? One gypsy girl said she disliked selling to the client scene in Arambol because they wore little clothing and many of the tourists didn’t shower or bathe and they smelled bad. Are those that are searching for something really more selfish navel-gazing zealots versus those on a quest seeking to learn from and respect the culture they’ve traveled so far to visit? The scene up in Arambol feels like a lot of baby-boomers who are dealing with mid-life crisis; all decked out in local garb, having gone native, and seeking spiritual enlightenment of some sort.
Dinner conversations flood the outdoor beach restaurant, chattering fresh meet fill the tables, just out of their latest meditation and fasting retreats. Conversation is a-buzz with enlightened guests, searching for something within, and something from this magical culture to serve as their anchor, to provide meaning, purpose and a clear way forward. One of the retreats, the fasting retreat, encompasses only drinking natural fruit juices, to cleanse the insides (probably made with local water which does the same thing immediately after drinking), along with daily enemas. Not sure that’s a retreat one needs to actually pay for. A man speaks of how he is present and aware, seeing things now so clearly and wondering where this path will take him. His practice of yoga has allowed him to break free of the commercial fanaticism that bound him in London. A woman is searching for what’s next after an 11-year relationship went bad. She’s on a spiritual quest to cleanse, renew and regain her confidence. While volunteering, she hasn’t quite found that thing she’s passionate about yet, and needs to move on. Another man speaks of not rushing, forcing or pushing for an enlightened state to happen; all will open up in good time and it will be right and natural.
As I observe, I reflect upon my own realizations, and I try hard not to judge others. This journey is challenging and testing the very notions that I’ve grown up with and those that have been entrenched thorough American society, culture and expectations. But Goa feels like a group of lost souls, roaming, searching, hoping… 