There was once a spiritual seeker who was tempted to toss himself into a raging river since the torture of doubt and depression weighed heavy on his path.
I could relate. Not that I would, but waves of loneliness and uncertainty can crash on the sensitive shore of any spiritually driven life; less from being alone, and more from human drama, suffering, and an occasionally neurotic mind that forgets to relax into simply being.
The brain can be so tricky and complex.
But I refuse to sabotage life by being unwilling to live it, even with all its bouts of wretched tests.
Moments of ecstatic bliss with glimpses of pure infinite love far beyond the sewage of greed or pangs of hurt are well worth the rest.
Being empathically receptive is far more of a blessing than a curse.
For decades I have been fascinated and inspired by Eastern philosophy, yogic sciences of personal development, and Tantric spirituality.
Images of Shiva kept appearing in my mind’s eye. Creator of Yoga, Shiva is the Hindu archetype of transcendence, representing unwavering presence. He is also known as a Destroyer, destroying that which isn’t serving the highest good. That is sexy!
Overcoming inner demons with awareness and self control, Shiva is seen sitting cross-legged on a tiger skin, a snake symbolizing alertness wrapped around his neck, with eyes closed creating the universe in his state of samadhi. Completely unnerved by an external world, He remains stable regardless of what is happening around him. Incredibly sexy!
Om Namah Shivaya
An amalgamation of deep desires merging with Shiva consciousness brought me on a very long journey to discover a reality far beyond the consuming sickness of the West. A pilgrimage to incredible India!
The mind creates impressive excuses convincing one not to travel. But I admire the soft nudging of the heart. I trust that inner voice much more than a busy monkey mind.
After being safe and snug in the comfort of home through quarantine, landing in chaotic, congested, uncompromising Delhi was the king of culture shock. Days of international traveling, distracting discomfort, and tears of doubt and uncertainty tempted me to turn back.
Delirious, exhausted, and unhinged, distinct duality was palpable in Ma Bhaarat (Mother India).
Rishikesh subtly opened its esoteric gates to welcome my arrival. But as a dear friend said, “India makes you work for it.”
Spotting the holy Ganga magically elicited hypnotizing awe. Emerald green sparkled like galaxies and wet diamonds. Even the sand was like soft glitter.
At the base of the Himalayas, this yoga mecca with its wandering cows, honking horns, masala chai, incense wafting in the air, Ayurveda, and spiritual vibrations encouraged my heart to lead the way.
My modest luggage and I were dropped off across Janke bridge at the remarkable gate of Parmarth Niketan ashram, but halfway through my stay I woke one morning anxious and afraid. An inner voice kept telling me I wasn’t where I was meant to be.
Eight thousand miles from familiarity, alone and confused, I cried. I debated leaving that foreign land to return to a stable house where I was safe, but that isn’t how we grow.
I respect a challenge so instead of getting lost in increasingly scrambled thoughts, I trusted my gut to lead me. My body had been so achy from walking miles; my mind a wandering mess amongst the chaos. After a good emotional purge, I walked into a bustling area of beggars, vendors, wandering sadhus and seekers. I smelled steaming chai, various spices and filth.
Shoving my trolley bag between my legs, with my backpack and yoga mat strung across my back, I climbed on my cheap motorbike then immediately began to chant Ganesha mantras. I trusted the chubby, lovable elephant god would remove obstacles, if it was my dharma.
Driving in India is like being inside a video game; it doesn’t feel entirely real but one has no option but to be entirely present every single second.
Osho Gangadham, an ashram outside of town along the Ganga at the foothills of the Himalayas kept calling. I had attended a meditation there that week and the pull to return was undeniable.
It was in that environment where I felt incredible inner peace, where I healed mental constructs of Western pressure.
Deepening my breath, I traveled across the busy 450 foot bridge across the river, dodging scooters and pedestrians, then made my way slowly through town further into the mountains.
A smile birthed from the heart eased my tense face when I parked my bike down the bumpy dirt hill and walked towards reception. The property was lined with pastel dahlias, singing peacocks at dusk and a beach of fine sand emanating ethereal-like sparkles. That was my home for weeks.
Bumps in the travel road, daily meditations, and exposure to a foreign lifestyle brought waves of unfamiliar trust and acceptance that completely altered my course.
I softened.
Strangers asked, “What brings you joy in life?”, rather than, “What do you do for work?”
Although enjoying a rare inner peace, for weeks I felt like edging death, plagued by new bacteria, warm internal pains of infection, and hard-to-overcome fatigue. Poor health can be so humbling.
Surrounded by wild duality, cows, monkeys, temples, and the healing, hypnotizing river, I prayed to boost the strength of my vulnerable immune system, yet felt less attached to the physical. Never had I been so mentally relaxed in discomfort.
I thought of quotes from the Bhagavad Gita, “The spirit is beyond destruction,” and “You are what you believe in.”
Appreciating that humility through suffering, plus bhakti practice and insight from fascinating Hindu deities inspired me to soften more. I had held too much repressed struggle that demanded attention to be released.
That empowering surrender cultivated less internal resistance and enabled me to further wiggle free from that which was no longer fruitful.
India, like Ayahuasca, gave you no other option but to accept that which is.
On a walk down a narrow alleyway to the river, I gazed into a cow’s obsidian eyes till tears formed on my own. I allowed myself to simply be within the network of this remarkable existence; to flow like Ganga.
My Western mind had been programmed to worry about things out of my control. Each day in the East, I was invited to succumb to a sadhana of dreamy awareness rather than allow my mind to create tense resistance. Rejoicing helped!
Observing streams of thought without attachment shifted how I think, magically expanding perception. Acceptance is quite beautiful.
A holy man led me into a Shiva shrine for lingam worship, mantra chanting, prasad, and a chance to meet Swami, shake his hand and laugh while looking in sparkling eyes without needing to speak; just a present recognition of one another. Namaste.
Some days I would sit on the bank of Ganga for hours, dunking, meditating, chanting gayatri mantra, tossing flower petals on the surface in a buzzing, nurturing trance, praying for world harmony.
I never wanted to leave that land.
When we slow down, Spirit showers us with treasures.
Chitta Vritti Nirodha=Eliminating agitations of the mind
