Just for a lark, I’ll pretend at being literary, and, as I’m in India, quote something from Midnights Children, the lone Salman Rushdie book I’ve read: “What’s real and what’s true aren’t necessarily the same.” This lifetime we’ve been granted has so much room for love, truth, and joy, yet is so often filled with suffering. I bumped into the suffering pretty regularly during my work as a hospice nurse, and am astounded at the variety of pain people live with, the emotional and spiritual variety so vividly colored and easy to spy but so very hard to palliate. This connection with suffering has over time sensitized me to a void in my spiritual life, which has contributed to my own pain and sorrow. Clearly, with three terminated marriages and a late in life recognition that I’ve been playing for the wrong team all these years, I’ve had my share of self-inflicted suffering. Hence a mid-life journey for some long overdue introspection and to maybe find my inner yogi. A friend recently reminded me that the point of life is to live it. A good idea, if only we could stay aware and ‘in the moment’ through our daily lives and have what’s real and true resonate at all times. How different would the world look?
Yesterday came distressing news of the self-inflicted death of a former intimate of mine. How do you make sense of a meaningless and selfish act, reconcile something so violent, conceive of forgiveness and understanding when there is no conduit for closure? I’ll let you know if I find an answer, and in the meantime make space to mourn. “Whatever happens - ultimately, life corrects itself.” Sadhguru. A truth I wish J. had taken to heart.
In Midnight’s Children, Rushdie writes, of destiny and existence: ‘I am the sum total of everything that went before me, of all I have been seen done, of everything done-to-me. I am everyone, everything whose being-in-the world was affected by mine. I am anything that happens after I’m gone which wound not have happened if I had not come.’ That’s a lot to conceive of and too much to carry around. Here at the ashram I feel as though my sum total is being reduced and expanded all at once. I’m embarking on a quest to find something that moors me spiritually, that I might better be present, joyful, and of use to others.
Appropriately heavy stuff today,; but enough of these deep thoughts …. you’re expecting information about India, or yoga, so let’s shift gears and touch on arranged marriages. I talked with an Indian woman, who explained how this worked for her. Her husband’s family put an advertisement in a newspaper giving a list of requirements for prospective matches for their son, including what educational qualifications she should have; her husband then got to interview prospective brides, and selected her. Once it was determined that their horoscopes were compatible (a very important aspect) and a dowry was agreed upon, a wedding date was set. They’ve been married for 20 years and have two children, she says she has a happy marriage, and acknowledged ‘it was a big risk.’ Then again, so is marrying someone you met at a bar, online, or at work, without even consulting a horoscope!
It’s quite a challenge to try and wriggle into a place of comfort as a western woman in such an patriarchal society. I certainly want to be culturally sensitive and at the same time be true to my own values. Mostly at the present I’m asking questions, observing things as they are, and trying to withhold judgment as I just soak it all in. People are so pushy here, physically, I mean. As a polite, happy to stand in a queue, ‘properly raised in England’ kind of person, I find the line jumping and jostling quite affronting. My Indian roommate told me I need to get over it and adopt the Indian way or ‘you’ll never get ahead, and there won’t be any food left for you.’ Well, a yogi’s gotta eat… maybe I’ll give it a try. Please don’t tell my mother.
