This may feel a little phoney, but it’s similar to building a muscle that you haven’t used much before…
PEMA CHODRON
I’ve lived my adult life in noise. Most of us have, but living in Manhattan… the energy pulsing is louder in sound and feeling than many other locations.
And here in India, the noise is of similar decibel. The volume is all the way up. It drums with an energy that is wildly different in vibration, yet equally visceral. Similar but different.
The endless haggling for everything from a piece of fruit to the price you already confirmed for your house stay. The EDM bass from your Euro dorm mate. Squawking birds. Tribal drumming in celebration of Lord Shiva. Temple music being pumped through the jungle valley. The waterfall cascade that cools your Marsala chai… It never stops here.
The country that never sleeps vs. the city that never sleeps
I hear it. I see it. I feel it. The senses are awake. Part of me knows that this was an intention of this journey eastward. But as usual, my expectations fall short of the reality that is. Peace and quiet has not been waiting for me here/hear.
So this is a test; a flexing of the strength of my relatively new yogic mind. What if I just let this be? What if I just sit with the sounds on this veranda and allow the sea breeze to blow my ochre silk dress? What if I let the shadows dance to the music on the cement floor? Let these birds squeal an out-of-tune chorus and envision these drums as the pranayama of this colorful land. The vibrations will not stop; The chatter will not cease.
Maybe I have found some comfort in this very discomfort. Maybe I am at home with the noises I believed I was running from.
roadside yogi 