Ben Ralston

Funny ‘2 Cows’ thing.

This popped up in my Facebook ‘newsfeed’. It’s from the page of one K.C.Locke, who got it from a Matt McNeil. Neither of whom are my ‘Facebook friends’. So I have no idea how or why it came to my attention…
I have no idea how Facebook works, and I’m very happy for that. Social Media is insidious and dangerous, and yes, I know, it’s also great in many ways too, but I’m happy I’m not a Social Media expert. Or maybe it would be better if I was. I. don’t. know.

Anyway, this is hilarious, and I hope it makes you laugh out loud (LOL) as I did.


SOCIALISM
You have 2 cows.
You give one to your neighbor.
COMMUNISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both and gives you some milk.
FASCISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both and sells you some milk.
NAZISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both and shoots you.
BUREAUCRATISM
You have 2 cows.
The State takes both, shoots one, milks the other, and then throws the milk
away.
TRADITIONAL CAPITALISM
You have two cows.
You sell one and buy a bull.
Your herd multiplies, and the economy grows.
You sell them and retire on the income.
SURREALISM
You have two giraffes.
The government requires you to take harmonica lessons
AN AMERICAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You sell one, and force the other to produce the milk of four cows.
Later, you hire a consultant to analyse why the cow has dropped dead.
VENTURE CAPITALISM
You have two cows.
You sell three of them to your publicly listed company, using letters of
credit opened by your brother-in-law at the bank, then execute a debt/equity
swap with an associated general offer so that you get all four cows back,
with a tax exemption for five cows.
The milk rights of the six cows are transferred via an intermediary to a
Cayman Island Company secretly owned by the majority shareholder who sells
The annual report says the company owns eight cows, with an option on one
more.
You sell one cow to buy a new president of the United States, leaving you
with nine cows.
No balance sheet provided with the release.
The public then buys your bull.
A FRENCH CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You go on strike, organize a riot, and block the roads because you want
three cows.
A JAPANESE CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and
produce twenty times the milk.
You then create a clever cow cartoon image called ‘Cowkimon’ and market it worldwide.
A GERMAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You re-engineer them so they live for 100 years, eat once a month, and milk themselves.
AN ITALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows, but you don’t know where they are.
You decide to have lunch.
A RUSSIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You count them and learn you have five cows.
You count them again and learn you have 42 cows.
You count them again and learn you have 2 cows.
You stop counting cows and open another bottle of vodka.
A SWISS CORPORATION
You have 5,000 cows. None of them belong to you.
You charge the owners for storing them.
AN INDIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You worship them.
A BRITISH CORPORATION
You have two cows.
Both are mad.
AN AUSTRALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows.
Business seems pretty good.
You close the office and go for a few beers to celebrate.
AN IRAQI CORPORATION
Everyone thinks you have lots of cows.
You tell them that you have none.
No-one believes you, so they bomb the **** out of you and invade your
country.
You still have no cows, but at least now you are part of a democracy.
A CHINESE CORPORATION
You have two cows.
You have 300 people milking them.
You claim that you have full employment, and high bovine productivity.
You arrest the newsman who reported the real situation.
A NEW ZEALAND CORPORATION
You have two cows.
The one on the left looks very attractive.

Why I left Bangkok… Part 2 – Blue Sapphires and Red Bull.

Princess Di and a Blue Sapphire. She didn’t buy it in Thailand…

I’m sure Bangkok is a beautiful city. I’m sure there are lovely people there, and great things to do and see. I just didn’t do or see or meet any of them. (Click here for part one).
Instead I got on a train and headed North.
I stopped off in a town called Sukhothai. There’s a vast, ancient temple there.
I made friends with a young guy called Thum who worked in the place where I was staying. He was like a stallion. A lot of young Western girls passed through Sukhothai, and he felt obliged to sleep with all of them. He apparently had a strong sense of duty.
I hired a motorbike while I was there, and I’d drive around exploring temples and feeling free (I was 21 years old).
I noticed that all the trucks and lorries seemed to be in a hell of a hurry.
They would hurtle past me on my bike, missing my handlebars by – I swear – millimeters, the back of the truck shaking from side to side and huge clouds of dust kicking up in my face. I nearly died like this several times. Had I veered slightly to the right a moment before they passed I would have been finished…
When I mentioned this to Thum, he disappeared for a while and came back with a little brown medicinal-looking bottle. So I tasted ‘Red Bull’ for the first time (the taste was the same, but as for the ingredients, I don’t know…) back in 1994. Thum told me that it had amphetamines in it, and that the truck drivers all drank it to be able to drive longer and so make more money. I believed him. It gave an incredible energy kick.


(Year later, when I was a youth worker, I had a kid called Aaron in one of my programs. One night he had to be hospitalized after drinking 6 Red Bulls. He’d had a heart attack. He was 16 years old.)
There were two workmen hammering away on the roof of a small hut. I noticed that they’d hammer slowly and rhythmically for about 10 minutes, and then they’d climb down (slowly and rhythmically) and disappear inside for about 10 more minutes (before reappearing and staring their slow rhythm all over again). I mentioned my observation to Thum. He grinned his great big beautiful Thai smile, and led me into the hut they were working on. There was a man-size bong the in the middle of the room, and Thum sparked it up for me. He told me to take a hit. I took one hit, and then I went to my room and lay down.
I began to hear the most beautiful symphonic dance music. It was the coolest tune I’d ever heard, incredibly complex and uplifting. It was drum’n bass, several years before drum ‘n bass had even been invented. I wondered where the music was coming from, and got up a few times to try and find it. But every time I stood up, the music stopped. So I lay down and finally accepted that it was in my head. At first I was a little concerned. Then I relaxed and allowed the music to take me. Before falling asleep I wondered whether this new ability would last… it didn’t. I’ve not spontaneously composed symphonic drum ‘n bass since, and it’s probably a Good Thing.
There was a cool girl from Canada called Tina staying there (longer than she’d planned, until she met Thum), and she introduced me to PJ Harvey. Tina and I also went on a motorbike ride to a nature reserve. We hired a bike and I drove all the way there with her hanging on to my back. It was incredibly hot and dusty, and by the time we got there we didn’t have much time to swim in the waterfall. I swam and she watched (as I remember), and after I came out she took a photo of me and said it would be good for my portfolio (I was an aspiring actor).

On the way back it was getting dark, and the air was full of insects. Every few seconds I’d get shot in the face by a flying beetle, and it seriously hurt. Tina hid behind my shoulders and was more or less ok. It felt like an epic journey. I was the hero; no one but Tina could ever understand…
The next day I decided to head off to Chiang Mai.
Tina and Thum took me to the bus station and we said our goodbyes. I was feeling ill. By the time I got to Chiang Mai I had a fever. I felt very, very, sick. I found a place to stay in the suburbs that was a vast walled garden with bungalows. I stayed in one of the bungalows. It had a shower / toilet room, and I spent two days squatting in there with my two friends Projectile Vomit and Violent Diarrhea. When they’d had their fun with me, they threw me on the bed, and I lay there for another couple of days hallucinating feverishly. I was so weak I could barely move, and I remember thinking that if I died, no one would find me for a week.
When I got some strength back I hired a bike and drove into town.
I visited a temple. It was a cloudy day, and there was only one other person there – an old Thai man. When it started to rain I went into a doorway for shelter, and he joined me. It all seemed so natural.
We chatted, and he told me that he was a teacher. He had two hobbies: exploring the beautiful temples of South East Asia, and collecting stones. I didn’t know what kind of stones he meant exactly, but I wasn’t that interested either.
When the rain stopped, we started off on our separate ways. He turned to me and said:
“Would you like to join me for lunch? I will eat traditional Thai food and see some beautiful traditional Thai dancing…”
I clearly hadn’t learnt my lesson from the first similar-sounding invitation, so I said ‘yes’.
I followed his car, and after a while he pulled over and told me that he had a ‘chore’ to do on the way – he was buying some ‘stones’, and he had to go to the ‘warehouse’. Would I mind waiting for him a few minutes?
We pulled up outside what looked like a very expensive jewelry store on the outskirts of town.. The window was full of beautiful golden necklaces set with glittering precious stones, and the door was guarded by what looked like a Thai policeman. Still no alarm bells in my naïve young mind…
My new Thai friend disappeared inside the ‘store’ and reappeared a moment later with a tall, beautiful Thai woman in a short-skirted suit. I was stood there straddling my motor-bike feeling young and free and lucky.
He asked me if I would like a tour of the shop and warehouse (where apparently they ‘cut the stones’) while I waited for him. The tour would be with the ‘manageress’ – the beautiful Thai woman.
She looked a lot like this (but with a suit on):


How could I say no?
So I had a tour, and the two of us ended up in the ‘office’. She sat on the edge of the desk, one leg crossed over the other at the knee. She had long legs, and her shirt was unbuttoned enough to show some cleavage, and I was 21 years old. My usual shyness around women (especially women I was very attracted to) somehow disappeared and I found myself flirting with her. She told me a long story about how Thailand is famous for it’s Sapphires. She also casually mentioned that the same Sapphires are worth 5 times as much in the West.
I started doing the math. But I wasn’t very good at it so I asked for a calculator…
Up until this point, there had been no indication that this whole situation was nothing other than a very fortunate co-incidence. I just happened to be looking around the same temple as a stone collector, who just happened to stand under the same doorway as me when it just happened to start raining. One thing led to another and now I just happened to be in the office of a famous Thai jewelry store falling in love with the most beautiful woman in the world, figuring out how I was going to become the wealthiest 21 year old in history.
It was my lucky day!
Then came the first ‘alarm bells’. The ‘Manageress’ asked me (ever so slightly impatiently) if I was going to buy some stones. Up until then, nothing had worried me about this situation.
I told her I’d think about it if she would let me take her out that evening.
Then came the second alarm bell. Her mouth said “yes” but her eyes looked very “no”.
However, despite these two clear warnings, the voice of my intuition was being drowned out by the much stronger voice of my simple, willful greed. If I were a cartoon character I would have had dollar signs flashing in my eyes.
So I asked my future wife her name and she told me
“Wâyt-sà-ya”, and we arranged a time later that evening when I would meet her at the store for our ‘date’, and I jumped on my bike and sped off to call my Mum and tell her the good news!
My Ma was not quick to share in my excitement. She suggested that I wait until I speak with my Father before doing anything foolish.
I decided to do some research. I visited another Jewelry store in the middle of town. It was in an old wooden building, and when I stepped inside a little bell rang. An old man came out of the back office. The moment I mentioned the name of the other Jewelry place (to this day I remember the name: ‘Doi Inthanon’) the old man froze. Then he looked out of the window, locked the door, and pulled me into the back office. His wife was there, and he quickly spoke to her in Thai. She gave me a harsh look:
“You no go Doi Inthanon. Doi Inthanon bad people”.
That was the message. I don’t remember the details of what she said, but I do remember very clearly that when I suggested that I go to the police, she said:
“Doi Inthanon police same same”.
That evening I turned up for my ‘date’. The ‘policeman’ was no longer there, but there was a young Thai guy, about the same age I was, looking fairly ‘bling’. When I arrived he hurried inside. Before I could follow him, he came back out.
“Wâyt-sà-ya is getting ready, I take you for drink”.
A moment later we were in a bar, and I bought us two beers. Mr Bling sat opposite me, and resolutely refused to look me in the eye. His eyes darted and shifted over my shoulder and towards the doorway every few seconds, and he was shaking. He was sweating.
I told him I was going to the toilet, and I left the bar. I got on my bike and got the hell out of there. I was shaking a little myself. I drove back to my walled garden bungalow, and was looking over my shoulder the whole way back.
Later, I found out that Wâyt-sà-ya means ‘whore’ in Thai…


Part 3



Please leave a comment if you feel so inspired. I’m interested to know if you prefer my writing about my work – healing, therapy, personal development – to this personal anecdote stuff.
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New age neo-tantra bogus yogis… caught in the act!




Caught in the act.

In March 2003 I was in the Bahamas, completing my advanced yoga teacher’s training course. It was an intense month – up at 4.30 every morning; after an hour of advanced pranayama the rest of the day was spent immersed all aspects of Raja Yoga, until late into the evening.
On that course there were two people that I became friends with, (and who shall be the hero and heroine of this particular tragedy). The first, who I shall call Dave, was a fellow Englishman who happened to come from the town where I grew up. The other, who I shall call Maya, was an American woman.
Dave and Maya had quickly developed a flirtatious relationship that seemed slightly out of place in the austere atmosphere of the Ashram – especially since both of them were married…


As the course progressed, I would see them giving each other massages, stroking each other’s hair, and so on –always with an air of, well, purity.
Dave considered himself a healer (albeit without any training or experience), and Maya was a massage therapist. Both had a slightly ‘holier than thou’ attitude that I overlooked, since I was really too busy focusing on surviving the rigors of the course to care all that much. However, in the back of my mind there was a sneaking suspicion that their relationship wasn’t as ‘pure’ as they wanted everyone to believe.
One day, about halfway through the course, a group of us were sitting around chatting after lunch, and Dave and Maya started to tell us all (rather patronizingly) that Tantra was the fastest and best path to enlightenment; that they were going to set up a business together, because they were ‘so deeply karmically connected’; and share their extensive knowledge of Tantra with others in order to make the world a better place.
All of which would be fine, except for the fact that neither of them really knew the first thing about Tantra.
When I asked what this ‘business’ would entail, they told me that they would help couples and individuals attain enlightenment (using Tantric sex). Lofty goals!
Dave told me (and everyone else within earshot) that he was able to hold back his orgasm indefinitely. He authoritatively stated that that was where his ‘power’ came from.
I suggested to them that sex is not the intrinsic aspect of Tantra that many people in the West think; and that perhaps the essence of Tantra is actually nothing to do with gratification, but rather more to do with worship and celebration. I also asked them how they knew so much about Tantra without having had any formal training, but they eluded my questions whilst flirting outrageously and I let it go…
Fast-forward one year. I am back in England; I get a call from Maya. She’s visiting and would love to see Dave and I. We organize a get-together, and after a night out in London, they both end up staying at my house.
In the morning, I make tea for them, and take it up the stairs to the loft conversion where they are sleeping… and as I enter, what do I see?
Dave and Maya fucking like rabbits. I don’t like to swear, but only a swear word can adequately describe what they were doing.
Whether you call it fucking, or shagging, or screwing, or banging though: there was absolutely nothing sacred, spiritual, or enlightened about what they were doing. They were simply going at it, hammer and tongs.
I thought about tiptoeing silently back down the stairs, but you know what? I couldn’t resist surprising them! So I set the tray down quietly at the top of the steps and wished them a hearty “Good Morning!”
The looks on their faces were priceless; rabbits caught (f*cking) in the headlights.
Thankfully, neither of them mentioned Tantra all morning.

Proper Food

THE 3 reasons to be Vegetarian
I’m not talking about:

  • Vegetarians who take it literally – eating nothing but vegetables.
  • Lazy vegetarians, who eat pizza for dinner, left over pizza for breakfast, and pasta with a jar of tomato sauce for lunch. They’re not real vegetarians. They’re just pretending, and it won’t last.
  • Self-righteous moralizing goody-goodies who like to make other people feel bad by making themselves feel better; trying to convert them to become as self righteous as they are. That’s not what it’s about. They just didn’t grow up yet. They will.
The real vegetarians are people who know what I’m talking about… they eat a wide variety of vegetables, fruits, nuts, seeds, pulses, grains, seaweeds… and whatever other yummy stuff they can get their hands on (ok, apart from meat – more on that later). They also recognize that in order to really feel their best, some spiritual practice is required. So as well as eating a balanced diet, they live a balanced life: striving always for the proper mix of material and spiritual aspiration.
So, 3 reasons you should either pat yourself on the back for keeping it real, or consider changing to a healthier, more sustainable, and ethical way of eating:

  1. Your health.
I don’t care what anyone says. Yes, you’ll find doctors who disagree with me on this, but I wouldn’t pay much attention: doctors, despite their many years of brainwashing (oops, did I say that out loud?) education often haven’t got much of a clue about what health is. They’re too busy fixing people.
Being vegetarian is much better for your health than eating a diet that includes animal products.
Rather than asking doctors for unbiased truth, you’re better off asking insurance salesmen. I know that might sound funny but I’m very serious (as always): there’s a lot of money in insurance. That means that they get things right. So ask your insurance company – do they give better premiums for people who are vegetarian? Often they do – why? Because they know that there is less chance you’ll get heart disease or cancer (two of the biggest causes of premature death?) if you’re vegetarian. They know that as a vegetarian, you’re more likely to live longer, and they’re less likely to pay out. Yup, it comes down to simple economics.
So, why is it healthier to be vegetarian?
Why do we eat? Primarily for energy. That energy comes from the sun. All energy comes from the sun, in one way or another. (Even oil, when you think about it, is bottled sunlight – sunlight that fell to the earth millions of years ago and was fossilized and buried for a long time, but sunlight nonetheless!)
When you eat a plant-based diet, you are getting that sunlight directly:
  • Plant absorbs the sun’s energy
  • Photosynthesis occurs
  • You eat the plant, and
  • Bingo! You absorb the energy and feel goood! 
When you eat a meat-based diet, you are getting second hand sunlight:
  • Plant absorbs sunlight
  • Photosynthesis occurs
  • Cow eats plant
  • Digests plant and
  • Gets sunlight directly
  • Then you eat the cow, and
  • Get a little of that sunlight, but let’s face it, not much. 
To digest that meat takes a lot of work for little energetic reward. It’s not worth it!
Health (as I said in the article linked to above) is not just about avoiding sickness. It’s about feeling fantastic. Yes, there are many people who eat meat and avoid sickness, there’s no disputing that. However, I believe that generally, it’s possible to feel more fantastic eating a vegetarian diet than it is eating meat. The reason being simply that your body will be lighter – yes, most likely in terms of weight, but also and more importantly in terms of photons. Your body actually contains light. You are light. That’s why we eat sunlight and drink water. That’s what we are.
‘Yes’, I hear you say, ‘but we’re also meat’. Well, sure, but do you want to feed the dense, gross, material aspect of yourself, or the subtle, light, spiritual aspect of yourself. That’s what it comes down to on the issue of health, and I know what I choose.
You are what you eat. The reason it’s a cliché is because it’s true – every culture has an equivalent saying. However, and please pay close attention to this: it’s not just your body that IS what you eat. It’s every aspect of you. What you eat is reflected in your thoughts, your desires, your senses, your emotions, your deeper feelings… every aspect of your consciousness. YOU ARE what you eat.
  1. The environment. 
Our environment is… messed up. (I’m trying to give up swearing. It’s tough sometimes. This is one of those times).
‘What has the environment got to do with meat’ you might ask? Well, a lot.
As Ramesh Bjonnes pointed out in his recent article on the connection between meat consumption and global warming, the meat industry is now considered by many to be the leading contributor to global warming; more so “than all forms of transportation combined”! Wow. Or as they say here in Slovenia, land of forested hill-top churches and castles and bees: Uau.
Also:
  •  Meat is not economically viable: it takes up to 16 pounds of grain to produce just 1 pound of animal flesh.
  •  A huge amount of land is required to graze livestock and grow the grain necessary to feed that. That land could be put to much better use. Not to mention the issues of soil erosion, desertification, and threat to indigenous species that are implicit with overgrazing. Or the rain-forests that have been cut down to make space for that land…
  • The meat industry pollutes massively. The VAST amount of water necessary for the rearing of animals and  growing their feed, gets polluted; the land gets polluted (from animal wastes, antibiotics and hormones, chemicals from tanneries, fertilizers and pesticides used for feedcrops, and sediments from eroded pastures.); eutrophication occurs.
  • The meat industry is responsible for biodiversity loss on the planet. Care much about the thousands of species that are becoming extinct every year?
  1. The animals.
There are about 6 billion of us humans on the planet. Each year in the U.S. alone (not counting China, or Europe, or anywhere else – just the U.S.) around ten billion animals are slaughtered (source: Wikipedia). I believe this may be a very conservative estimate – I’ve seen estimates of up to 40 billion. Nevertheless, if you think of this on a global scale, and then factor in the fish: you realize that the meat industry is actually responsible for the slaughter of many, many times more beings than there are people on the planet. Each year it starts all over again. How many animals and fish is that in my / your lifetime? I dread to think, but if you want you can do the math.
However, that’s only one side to the story: how a being lives is more important than how it dies. How do the vast majority of these animals live: in squalor and without dignity. Think of the worst Nazi concentrion camp, and you’re halfway there.
I have no quarrel with killing an animal for food. Try telling the Inuit that they shouldn’t eat fish, or the indigenous people of Tibet that it’s cruel to eat Yak – they’ll laugh long and loud.
But what a difference there is between killing an animal with respect and dignity, out of necessity, and ‘growing’ animals industrially with no basic rights (fresh air, clean water, a little space) in order to slaughter them in a manner that is at best cruel, but usually amounts to torture.
Scientists tell us that everything is energy. What happens to the energy of suffering, pain, and indignity caused by our meat industry? Because you know, energy cannot be created or destroyed, only converted to another form. What happens to that energy I wonder?
Well, I’ve listed 3 good reasons to give up eating meat. For the sake of balanced and unbiased journalism, let’s at this point ask: ‘what are the reasons for eating meat?’
There’s only one good argument that I’ve heard for eating meat: it tastes good. It’s a great reason, because it’s honest. To many people, it does indeed taste good. I myself must admit to occasional cravings.
However, if we’re really truthful with ourselves, we see that in no way can a meat-based diet be justified; in the light of the environmental, economic, ethical, and health crises that we are living through today, giving up meat is quite simply one of the smartest, and best choices you can make.
Spread the word.
Share this blog post on your social media, give it a facebook ‘like’, and send the link to your (furry or not) friends.
Giving up meat is the single biggest contribution you can make to a sustainable, ethical, and healthy future.
Sources:

Yoga teachers training: how I stopped resisting, and started living.

Ben, Vijendra, Sacred mountain

It’s coming towards the end of January, 2001 – and the end of my one month Yoga teacher’s training course in Kerala, India.

It’s been the longest month of my life – bar none. I’ve been ill for most of that time with bronchitis, tonsillitis, and flu (yes, simultaneously) and I never would have believed that it was possible to feel quite so useless. Having never been seriously ill in my life, and having come here with the idea that I would become God of Asana, it’s been a humbling experience, to say the least…





When I first arrived here a month ago, jetlagged beyond belief, I shared a room with a 52-year-old French guy who, a few days into the course, accused me of stealing his money. I was evicted from the room, and since then the whole French contingent have been giving me the evil eye. Standing in line for morning ‘chai’ and feeling fifteen French faces burning a hole in my guilty until proven innocent back didn’t make me feel better…
Next, I shared a room with a 52-year-old Serbian chap (Rade) who accused me of sitting on his pillow. I may well have done that by the way, as I admitted openly to him – I’ve been feverish to the point of hallucination, and some days didn’t know my own name, let alone my own pillow. However, this upset him so much that he wouldn’t speak to me (until recently)… needless to say the atmosphere in our little room hasn’t been all that amiable. That didn’t make me feel better either… nor did the fact that said Serbian snores frighteningly loudly, and gets up an hour early each morning for an extra hour of meditation. So his alarm goes off at 4.30, and then he does Neti in the tiny toilet joining our room. Most days I am just drifting off to sleep when his alarm goes off, so I have an hour of sleep interspersed with the sounds of his snot hitting the toilet water. Nope, that hasn’t helped much.
One of those mornings, when Rade’s alarm went off, I started crying. I was really at the end of my tether, so to speak. I didn’t think I could handle any more of this relentless hardship. All I wanted was to be home, and get a hug from my girlfriend. The thought of that hug… well, at that moment, I was closer to quitting than I’ve ever been in my life. I cried for a while while Rade cleaned his nose out very thoroughly nearby, and decided to stick at it. I steeled myself for more days and nights of misery, but I wouldn’t quit. I decided. That decision didn’t help me to feel better anytime soon, but I think it might have almost saved my life!
I really haven’t slept much. We work and study each day ‘til late, then have homework, and by the time we get to sleep it’s almost time to get up. Together with the jetlag, the snoring, the early starts, and the mosquitos…
Oh! I didn’t mention the mosquitos. Well, let’s just say that they are big; ubiquitous; and hunt in savage packs, like maniacal rabid dogs.
So, all in all, I haven’t had much sleep lately.
The schedule itself is relentless! We have two asana classes a day (two hours each), meditation and chanting twice a day, endless lectures on the Bhagavad Gita, Kirtan (chanting), anatomy, yoga theory… an hour of Karma yoga, which for me entails filling a large barrel of water with buckets from the lake. That would be fine normally, but since I can barely raise my hand, carrying buckets of water is pretty difficult.
We only get two vegetarian meals a day. I’ve never heard of that before. Where I come from, everyone says that ‘breakfast is the most important meal of the day’. Well, here there is no breakfast. They also say that you can’t survive without meat, because you won’t get enough protein. Well, we’ll see won’t we!
Speaking of which, I’ve just remembered a funny conversation I had with my Dad. I called home after about a week, and told him about the food situation. He told me that he’d read an article on cults. Apparently, cults brainwash people by starving them of protein – or so he read. ‘Watch out’, he said. ‘If you start feeling weak and susceptible, come right on home’.
Thanks Dad, very encouraging!
Recently though, I have been slowly feeling better.
I think that the massage helped a bit – the one where I lay naked on the hard stone floor while a fat, hairy Indian man walked up and down my arms, legs, and body, grinding my joints into the ground with his heels – he narrowly avoided breaking me in half by hanging on to a rope that hung from the ceiling. Perhaps when he massaged my genitals with his feet… yes I believe the sheer shock of that moment did me some good after a month of strict routine.
The chanting has definitely helped. When I first arrived, I was surprised to hear a chorus of strange, loud sounds coming from the building in the middle of the Ashram. Unlike any music I’d ever heard before, it was alien and uninviting. When I was sat in the middle of that hall the next day, and for the following weeks, and urged to join in the chanting, I couldn’t get past the fact that I didn’t understand what the words meant (what if Dad was right?!).
But slowly, the words of one of the teachers here began to sink in: “stop resisting”.
And one day, I found myself chanting with the best of them, lungs pumping like pistons, and tears streaming down my face as I somehow felt myself yearning for something that I didn’t understand. That yearning, that yearning… yes, that made me feel better.
I’m sure all the asana practice has helped too. When I arrived, I thought I was pretty damn good at the old asana. I figured I’d be one of the best here, and they’d probably be asking me to demonstrate stuff, and might even want to photograph me.
However, I was shocked to see that some of the people here can do things that I’ve never heard of and probably won’t ever be able to do. At first, I was pretty peeved about that. But soon I was too ill to think about it, and after a while the asana practice just started becoming, well, less competitive really. I stopped thinking about what I looked like, and what they looked like, and I just started breathing deeper. Deeper than I’d ever thought possible. It was like my whole body was one big lung! And each cell was breathing in harmony with every other cell, and the inhalation and exhalation were flowing into each other, and well, even though I could barely do much at all, what I did do felt great.
I’ve decided that I may not ever be able to do those asanas where you get your legs behind your head and then walk around on your fingertips, but I’m going to work hard at doing what I can do, and I’m going to master it. Setting myself that kind of goal without being ‘attached’ to the result, felt good.
I know the meditation helped. Sitting still for 30mins, observing my breath, repeating the mantra until my mind becomes so focused that all other thoughts dissipate and there is only this vibration happening, which is my life, my breath, my self, now… doing that twice a day has definitely helped. I’m going to keep on doing that, because when I do, I feel great.
And now here I am, up a mountain. It’s 6am, and the Sun has just risen. We all walked up this mountain together this morning, in silence, in the dark, and meditated while the sun came up and warmed our faces. Then we chanted to the sky, to the jungle, to the universe.
They say this mountain is a holy place. I believe. There’s certainly a sacred feeling in the air now. I feel as if I can do anything here. I feel no animosity towards anyone, for the first time in my life. If the devil himself were stood in front of me I’d wish him well. I certainly don’t have any ill feeling towards Rade: I went to him and apologized yesterday, and guess what? He apologized right on back. We didn’t say much, but there was such a feeling between us that it didn’t matter.
I don’t hate the French guy either. I guess he was having a hard time too in those early days of the course. I reckon he really did believe that I’d stolen from him, and he’s entitled to believe what he wants. Anyway, I’m too busy feeling great to worry about what he thinks now.
I stand here at the top of this mountain, and want to sum up how I feel in one word: it’s a word that I would never have used before I came here to India.
It’s a word that I used to associate with religion, and religion was one of the things that I used to think I hated.
But the word that comes to mind is Faith. I am full of faith. I stand here, full of faith. Not faith in God, or faith in a religion, or an institution like the church, or another person… but faith in myself.
I’ve been to the darkest of places in my self. I’ve wanted to quit, and I’ve had to find out what I’m made of. I found out that I may not be who I have always thought I was. Actually, I know I’m not. I’ve realized that nothing is what I thought it was. Nothing is for certain anymore, but I think I can handle that: I’ve finally stopped resisting.
I take off my sandals. I’m so full of faith that I know I can walk down this jungle mountain barefoot. Something in me tells me to do that, and I don’t question it. It just feels like a good thing to do, so I do it, because I don’t need any other reason. As I walk, I feel the rocks and soil and tree roots beneath my feet and between my toes, and somehow there is no pain. Somehow, it’s as if the earth moulds itself to my feet, and my feet find their way. I don’t even need to look down at where I put them – my feet just find their way. That’s faith, and that’s what I’ve found this last month.
I wonder where it’ll take me next.