there and back again

march 10th, 2007

that was the day..
almost a year ago,
that early overcast spring morning..
we all met at the mt. erie parking lot..
to embarque on a peace walk..

it was a practice stroll for me..
to see if i could, would, should (did i say should?)
walk the width of the u. s. of a.
with peace is healthy on my forehead..

the redwoods and rain..
as far as i got..
with a few more practice steps
from carmel to pacific grove..
from olema to pt.reyes

my project manager ~ the duck,
my heart of hearts,
the general counsel of the wise
set the pace..
the consensus..
the effortless effort..

after the walk, the walk..

i walked in three states
with peace on my brow..
washington, oregon and californ I A..
only 47 to go..hey ho!

the map changed astonishingly..
india..

after the walk..
there is only the walk..

every footstep landing lightly (or not)
on grasses and gravel..
the walk to the markets,
to the sweet coconut stand,
to the internet cafes...
to family gatherings,
to the great pujas, the teachings..
the walk to giant buddhas,
walking the circle of great stupas..
the walk to classes and away from classes,
the walk with dogs..
the walk with young children hanging on the ones' sleeve..
the walk with elephants,
with beggars, with harpy olde men..
the walk on miles of sandy beaches
in the early morning
when the locals come to the strand
for the morning toilet rituals..
looking the other way!
the walk to tea and dosas,
the walk to the bus,
the rickshaw,
the plane..

one foot in front of the other..
there and back again..

there is no there there..

my footsteps reveling on homeground..

the view from the 202..

six flights of stairs..cement stairs..
on the outside of a new building..
she was wearing a faded peach sari
which dragged a little as she climbed.
carrying a basket of bricks on her head,
she took each step slowly..sasheying lightly..
savoring the balance she found afoot.
she walked as if she was meeting her sweetheart;
the bridegroom at the top of the stairs.
i lost her somewhere on the roof top.
when she re-appeared,
she carried the basket in hand
heading down the steps brisk as a cup of tea!

he was doing his sister's work...
tugging the clothes off the line,
piling them up on the cement rooftop.
saris and shirts, britches and knickers..
slips, socks, handkerchiefs.
he dipped into a plastic tub,
pulling out the same only wet this time..
throwing the fabric over the line,
he picked up the clothespins with his toes,
bent his knee behind him,
captured the clip and snapped it on the garment..
on to the next..
he looked up..
i waved..
he turned to see to who..
who me?
he smiled white and wide..
then finished the task.
he was heading to the volleyball field
when i saw him again.

the plastic bag was rolling slow along the road.
instead of picking it up,
the man kicked it a few steps, then lost interest.
the young boy, however,
thought that seemed a game worthy of his time..
for a few kicks, anyway..
he put it on his head and danced away!

bites

mega-bites or nano-bites..

here's some i've been chewing on...

cucumber salad..
with lime

i remembre when i left home,
off to seattle to be a nanny
for jonathan and jo farwell's
two girls..to finish high school
at queen anne because they had
an awesome drama department..
the farwells were actors with seattle rep..
the girls were 11 and 13..
i was 17..

we had a luscious garden that year back home..
for my 18th birthday, my mama drove south
to deliver me a fresh cucumber..
i have loved them ever since!

every morning, in mysore..
there is a wagon filled brightly
with tomatoes, potatoes, cucumbers;
an array of vegetables for the day..
the peddler has the most compelling voice..
the language is not my native tongue
yet i can decipher each taste treat he has to offer!

mini idly!
i have these for brekkie every morning
with sambar and coconut chutney..
they are dear, little round rice patties..
the size of a rupee coin..
very light and easy to digest!.

phulkas and masala dosas,
fresh lime sodas and paneer tikka..
salt lassis and water balls!
chat, uttampam and vada..
jal jeera, pakodas, pakoras
AND there is pan!


shoe bites..
that is what my friend meenal calls blisters!

elephant skin

while i was sand-walking for a few days
at cherai beach outside of kochi in kerala..
the timing proved impeccable..
an utsavam!
an elephant festival..

it started with a competition~
which elephant was the tallest?
we arrived at 8 am to find two elephants
standing side by side..
one definitely had the edge..
but the show must go on..
the one who won the tallest award
would carry the idol at the main event that afternoon.
with lots of cheering and pumping of arms,
the crowd egged on the pair..
indeed, they both did stretch and find a few more feet..
however, the bigger one was the bigger one!

the smaller one gently bowed out..
such a humble tip of the head..
voting for the small one myself..
i closed in to rub elbows with the wonder..
o my o .. the skin is so thick..so used..so precious!

later that afternoon,
we arrived just as they were heading in..
on the narrow streets were 3 elephants..
side by side..all dressed up and heading to the temple grounds.
on top of them were cheer-leading priests..
in front of them,
leading the way were more priests..
drumming..
playing horns the shape of elephant trunks..
coming from the opposite direction,
3 more elephants..also taking up the entire road..
lead by the drummers..
whose hands moved like elephant trunks..
more trunk-shaped horns..
flames from holy lamps..

everyone was encouraged to feed these gentle, ginormous ones!
we bought watermelons and handed them over
to the trunks themselves.
they rolled up the melon curling their trunks,
then the tongue got in the action and crush! melon-ade!

once inside the temple grounds,
two rows of fifteen elephants stood facing one another..
all the while the priests kept changing the parasols..
all different colours, all different textures..
such a sight to behold..in the middle...

on the way home,
i stretched out to tickle a tusk..
scolded mightily, i was..
worth the reprimand..
the tusk is holy ..
may it be just so!

OM GANESHIYA NAMAHA!

i'm sore in mysore!

mysore is a princess of a city..
dubbed fairyland, i hear!
palaces galore..gardens..
and of course, one of the
great yoga meccas of india these days..

it is my great, good fortune to be studying
the art of living with saraswati, the
daughter of the yogacharya, patabhi jois.
her son, sharath and daughter, sharmila
have taken on the tradition;
carrying it forward with integrity and spirit.

every morning from 4:30..5:00 am..
the students gather..
as the classroom fills up,
those waiting are called in
one by one..
to fill in the spaces
where one has finished
their personal practice..
students keep arriving
'til about 9:30 am..
the sessions finish up around 11:30 am.
o my o

it is a mix and blend of people
from all over the globe..
all different shapes and sizes..
hues of colour: varying levels of abilities..
it is hot!
it is crowded!
it is bliss!

this is a new experience for me..
fantabulous!
the astanga tradition of asana
has not been on my mat this
intensely before now...

who said you can't teach olde dawgs new trick?
i do seem to be one of the elders here..
keeping me on my yoga toes..
bowing to the grace the body offers..
my sore..

baksheesh

it's an urdu word that means tip.
the muslims still use it.
a tip which is given as a sign of love
from a master to a servant;
from one who appreciates another.

here in india...
those on the streets, the beggars
the lepers, the disfigured...
use it to get the attention
of those passing by..
baksheesh!

when i was in kerala,
for the first time in all my visits..
i rode in a rickshaw driven by a woman!
the fare was 30 rupees..
i just had to give her 100..

near many of the temples,
those seeking a tip line up
to receive the offering from those
in attendance to prayer.
i have seen a tibetan man
with a fresh stack of ten rupee notes
go down the line distributing baksheesh.

a school boy be-friended me
on my morning walk asking for baksheesh.
we stopped at the water shoppe;
he got a kit-kat bar and was on his way.

the young western girl took a digital photo
of the one-legged man who was asking for some rupees.
she showed it to him immediately..
that was enough and he returned the gift
with a huge smile!

when the young ones come up,
they are usually in a trance of sorts..
repeating over and over..
give me ten rupees, ten rupees, ma..
so i find out their names..
it takes a few times asking to break the spell
yet when it happens, i get a wide smile
along with their good name..
i give them cashews or almonds which
they nibble up right away..
it seems that the money they get
has to go back to...???

once, while in a shoppe attempting
to re-charge my indian cell phone..
three girls came in
with a piece of paper which said..
we are from such and so and such..
please give us money to buy new clothes..
both the shoppe-keeper and i were
in the thick of things with airtel
and held them off..
the lead beauty would have none
of us having none of them..
she persisted with an intensity
kali herself would admire..
the young woman and i locked eyes
in an fierce embrace..
neither one of us budging a blink...
finally, we both saw the depth of each other
and broke into smiles..
i handed over 10 rupees..
and off they went..
a few days later,
we met on the street..
recognizing each other
with a bow and namaste..
the ultimate tip!

cuppa

we had a little kettle,
we let it leak.
our not repairing
made it worse.
we hadn't had any
tea for a week;
the bottom is out
of the universe.

~rudyard kipling