This place is magical, just amazing. The landscape and architecture, alone give me an ongoing sense of awe, lush, tropical, surrounded by the towering, verdant Velligirini mountains. The attention to detail in the buildings and temples on the grounds are something to behold. Everything is created by the craftsman on the ashram, from the 21 foot tall black metal head of Adiyogi, the first guru, replete with copper earrings, to the massive domed copper roof and hewn stone stairs of the Chandrakund. Volunteers are always hard at work, preparing and serving meals, sweeping and cleaning, tending to the landscaping; everyone has a smile and a hands together greeting - namaskaram here in Southern India versus the namaste of the North. There is a home school on site, and I delight in the happy, giggling presence of the children, dressed in their red and ecru colored uniforms; they are most energetic when running from supper to enjoy some brief free time before bed.
It is 6:30 a.m. and I’m sitting at a vacant desk in the reception of the cottages where I’m staying, the twilight has just lifted and the cacophony of bird song is quieting down, though the eerie cries of the peacocks continue. I’m out here with a few overly friendly mosquitoes, which seem mildly repelled by the eucalyptus and lemongrass oils I spritzed myself with, and besides are pretty easy to swat. I’m giving my roommate some space as she does her morning asanas in our room. She’s a lovely woman, a physician with two sons, native to the neighboring state of Kerala, but currently resident in Dubai.
There is only one key to our room, when departing the key is to remain in a basket at reception, this way the volunteers can get in there to clean, and roommates don’t have to travel in pairs. It’s inconvenient though, in that you have to lock the door when leaving or it won’t stay closed, also, the key slides into an apparatus on the wall inside that activates the electricity. This means that I have to be sensitive to my roommate’s needs, for example I couldn’t leave the room early this morning upon waking without either waking her to close the door behind me or locking her in without power (no fan, or lights). I refer to this not to complain of a mild inconvenience, but because it’s kind of charming and unique, like so many things in India.
My yoga school cohort (or ’batch’ as they call us…what are we, cookies?) are a diverse crowd based on the small sampling I met yesterday; they hail from all over India, Romania, United Kingdom, Australia, Peru, Lithuania, Italy, France and Hong Kong. Some have been to other Isha programs here, others, like myself, are on their first visit to India. Yoga experience ranges from next to none to current yoga teachers, some people meditate regularly, some not at all. There is a strong shared opinion that much of the yoga taught in the west is ‘not yoga’ in that the focus is on the physical aspect of the asanas with a mere nod, if at all, to the spiritual aspect. As a ‘power yogi’ myself , my hackles go up a little as I feel protective of my practice, and my hot yoga family at home; at the same time I recognize that the need for more connection with the spiritual is what drew me to this program.
Tomorrow, July 31st is purnima, or full moon. There is an annual celebration on the first full moon that falls after solstice to recognize Adiyogi, the first yogi, who imparted his knowledge to seven sages that they might educate others in the ways to achieve enlightenment. This year is even more special because it is also a blue moon. Sadhguru will be here at the ashram to speak to an anticipated crowd of 10,000, as well as to initiate our teacher training program. I am told the celebration will go on throughout the night till the first rays of sun appear… I hope we’re not expected to be at class at 5:30am on Saturday!
Today and tomorrow are my final days with any significant free time, after that it’s up at 4:45am with classes from 5:30am till 9:30 pm, seven days a week for the next 21 weeks. I’m ready to begin, as I’ve been feeling somewhat unmoored and homesick since arrival, though that has diminished since other participants started arriving. Once classes start, the rigorous schedule will doubtless leave me little time for self pity.
