10 Day Retreat

10 Day Retreat

After getting settled in Pakistan, I got on the internet to begin planning my trip through India. I knew that I would start in Udaipur where I had a connection from someone I had met in California and I also knew that I wanted to find a 10 day meditation retreat I could attend at the end of November, just before returning to the states on Dec. 1. My search led me to a meditation course as taught by S.M. Goenka at his Vipassana meditation center in Bodh Gaya (one of over 120 such centers worldwide). The course would start on Nov. 16th and end on Nov. 27th, giving me a few days to get back to Delhi for my flight home. I was delighted as the timing seemed perfect. It was only after deciding to attend this retreat that I discovered Bodh Gaya is where Siddhartha Gautama sat under a sacred fig tree now known as the Bodhi tree and became enlightened 2500 years ago. After his enlightenment he became known as, "The Buddha" which is a title that means, "The Enlightened One" or "The Awakened One." The tree that now resides there is also referred to as the Bodhi tree and is believed to be a direct descendant of the original.

I do not consider Buddhism a religion. There are no Gods and no beliefs that must be followed. In fact, one is encouraged to question everything that is claimed in any of the Buddhist teachings (the Dharma). This is extremely satisfying to my questioning, rational, perhaps over-rational mind and quite different from my (very brief) excursion into Christianity many years ago.

The central teachings of Buddhism are described by the 4 Noble Truths:

1) To live is to suffer
2) Suffering arises from attachment and aversion
3) There is a way of living that can lead to the end of suffering
4) That way is the eightfold path

The eightfold path that can lead to enlightenment is:

1) Right view
2) Right intention
3) Right speech
4) Right action
5) Right livelihood
6) Right effort
7) Right mindfulness
8) Right concentration

I find all of this imminently reasonable, particularly since I am encouraged to discover these truths for myself through the art of meditation.

I do meditate from time to time, but not very consistently nor nearly as often as those who are more serious. And my meditation is not very directed, aimed merely at trying to quiet my restless or "monkey" mind or at least to observe it in this chaotic state.

The goal of this Vipassana meditation course is to teach a more rigorous method of meditation. The teaching begins with an instruction by Herr Goenka via cassette tapes to concentrate on the area of our upper lip, the entrance to our nostrils and the nasal cavity up to the bridge of our nose. For the first 3 days we spent the entire 10+ hours of meditation trying to focus our attention on this small area that was reduced in size to only the upper lip and entrance to the nostrils on the 3rd day.

With the pain in my neck, shoulders, back, butt, legs, knees, ankles and feet (did I forget somewhere?) and my incessant monkey mind, this was not an easy task for me. But I did my best and occasionally I would hit a stretch of a minute or 2 in which my concentration would remain relatively unbroken. I could discern some subtle sensations that would ordinarily go unnoticed, such as the swaying of my nose hairs as I breathed in or out and the difference between the cool dry air coming in and the warm moist air going out.

The next step was to use this same tool of focused concentration to scan the entire body. This seemed a bit like using a dental tool to clean the Taj Mahal, but again I tried my best. We were told to start with an alert, calm, quiet, attentive mind of perfect equanimity. I remember thinking that if I could start with all of that, I wouldn't need to take this stupid course. We were told to choicelessly observe any sensation (pain, itching, vibration, tingling, etc.) as well as any reaction (such as attachment or aversion) to any of these. Again and again this idea of choiceless observation with a mind of perfect equanimity was stressed. We are told that it is not due to any external stimuli that we experience joy or sorrow, that it is due instead to our reactions of attachment or aversion to these stimuli that cause these feelings. We are told that ultimately it is within our power to cease such biased observation and that we can move instead into a place of perfect equanimity where we neither crave nor fear anything and instead simply see the world as it is. It is through the practice of meditation that this truth can be experienced. In this way, Buddhism is the ultimate in personal responsibility.

It is extremely difficult for me to purge my mind of the extraneous thoughts that constitute most of my thinking. But hour after hour I tried and occasionally I would find myself settled into what I call "the quiet zone." But I would not be conscious of this while it was occurring. Rather, it was only when the spurious conscious thought that I had just BEEN in a very quiet and peaceful place would enter my head that I would realize that some version of "me" HAD been quiet up until that point. But with the thought of it, it was gone. This touches on the idea of who/what is "me" and comes up a lot in Buddhism. It is one of the central conundrums that must be investigated.

One interesting experience involved my sitting neighbor to my right (we had assigned seating). He was an Indian looking fellow (dark skinned) and occasionally, from a disturbance deep within his gastro-intestinal tract, he would emit an explosion of gas that was accompanied by a sound that was part bull frog and part elephant seal. The dimensions of this "burp" were so astounding that were adolescent boys intent on out burping each other to be in his presence during one of his eruptions, they would instinctively bow down as humble novices to their new master. I'm sure that everyone else in the meditation hall was as astounded by Mr. Burpie's outbursts, which were a daily occurrence, as I was. Because I was sitting directly next to him I suspect that the vibrational rush ordered up from deep within my being in response was perhaps more pronounced for me than it was for most. Regardless, I discovered after my first few exposures that my body no longer responded in this manner and would remain quite undisturbed by the event. I believe my response changed from one of shock to one of much greater equanimity, much like we were instructed to try and cultivate. But in this case, "I" did not create this equanimity, it simply appeared.

Perhaps that is how it comes about. Any striving to cultivate wisdom and to incorporate it into my personality is simply an exercise in ego development. Perhaps true wisdom simply grows from a well cultivated garden.
At any rate, I spent the rest of the 10 days trying, with little success, to choicelessly observe my body as I scanned it from head to toe and back again. In the end, it was clear that it would be unrealistic to expect any sort of epiphany from 10 days of instruction. This is a practice that must be used regularly if one expects to benefit from it. And while enlightenment is probably possible at any instant, one should not be surprised if it does not come even after years, and perhaps lifetimes, of sincere practice. But I am currently of the mind that final enlightenment is preceded by a series of steps in that direction, each one helping to extract one from the pain of dukkha (suffering) and each one bringing with it a greater measure of peace, compassion and gratitude. So one need not wait until complete enlightenment occurs to reap benefits from the practice, they will begin to accrue immediately.

Only time will tell if I possess the wisdom necessary to continue this practice.

The Face of The Buddha

The Face of the Buddha

I'm a fidgeter, always have been. As a kid I'd always squirm around in my seat and drum my fingers on the table. If my parents had any rhythm they would have found a drum teacher for me instead of slapping my hands and yelling in exasperation, "stop it!" If for no other reason, this was enough to make going to Sunday school and church painful. I did pretty well during my construction years but when I got a desk job as an engineer, I seemed to find many more excuses than anyone else to get out of my chair. I'd get up to go talk to someone instead of calling their extension. I'd go to the library or down to the shop at the slightest provocation. I managed.

So I knew going into the 10-day meditation that it would be a challenge to sit cross-legged on the floor for extended periods. When I was in Pakistan, I would sit with the guys on the floor for lunch and would only make it a few minutes before I had to adjust my poor, aching, western, 58-year-old legs. What little meditation I did back home (about ½ hour a week when I don't miss Sangha) I do on a bench with my legs folded back underneath it. With that I can sometimes survive a half hour or so without too much difficulty, but not much more.

So I entered the retreat with some trepidation over this matter which was not alleviated when I saw the schedule. The meditation periods would start with a 2-hour session from 4:30 – 6:30 am. After some breakfast and a short break we'd come back for a 3-hour session from 8:00 – 11:00 am. Lunch and a good long rest period would be followed by the make-or-break 4 hour session from 1:00 – 5:00 pm. Finally we'd end the day with 3 hours of sitting from 6:00 – 9:00 pm. Over the 10 day retreat, this would represent about 5 years of sitting at my current pace.

Before the retreat even started (day 0) we had an informational meeting of an hour and a half followed by another gathering in the meditation hall which included a short (1/2 hour) sit. Even this was torture for me so I went up to the teacher afterwards and told him of my predicament, thinking I might be able to score some extra pillows. "No problem" he said, I could use a chair. While my ego wanted to protest this obvious sign of weakness the others would see, my legs convinced my mouth to remain silent, saying only, "thank you."

I started the next morning (day 1) in that chair and couldn't help but notice that I was the only one (of about 50) who required such a crutch. I felt like the big Sahib. Even with the chair, I still had pains in my neck, shoulder, back and butt (apparently my butt is only rated to about 150 lbs, not the 170+ it has to bear). So during the morning break, I fashioned a cushion by putting my thermo-rest into my sleeping bag stuff-sack, pulling the draw string and filling the thermo-rest with as much air as I could manage to force into it. This created a large, firm sausage-shaped pillow that I could sit astride, with my legs folded back.

I used this pillow exclusively for the rest of day 1, all of day 2 and the beginning of day 3. But even so, I had to shift between 4 different positions, at times enduring a lot of agony before succumbing to the shift.

If I've been told once, I've been told a thousand times that I must lift with my legs. But during breakfast on day 3 I did not take heed of this ancient wisdom and lifted my spoon filled to the brim with an oatmeal-like substance without using them. The result of my reckless action was a disturbance in the force field in my lower back, right side.

As far as back spasms go, it was not a particularly serious event but it was an ever present source of difficulty during my meditations and made my sittings an even greater challenge.

By day 4 I decided I would have to resort to a natural cure that I have used in the past for everything from any type of stress to fighting off a cold. Vigorous exercise. I used to get on the treadmill during lunch when I worked as an engineer and found the resulting endorphin-induced calm afterwards consistently helpful. I also knew that the heat generated by some exercise would help melt the knot in my back.

I was lucky enough to have a private residence so I started to run in place in my room during the morning break. I'd already been busted for picking up litter on the grounds during an earlier afternoon break (one is supposed to meditate all the time, not just during the sittings) so I had to hide this forbidden activity by closing the translucent windows.

I would run in place for 30 minutes just before the 8:00 am sitting and would be rewarded by a sit that not only was relatively free of pain for at least the first half hour, but was also accompanied by a calmness and quiet mind that was otherwise quite rare.

I would hang my clothes on a hook in front of me and change into my swimming shorts when I ran. I'd set the alarm on my watch, take off my glasses and start. My feet would protest mildly at the start but soon I was running in place with little difficulty. Again I was consciously grateful for my new heart that continues to function as it was designed. I continued this forbidden activity for the remainder of the retreat, always grateful for the results.

I don't remember which day it was, but during one of my runs as I looked up and gazed without intention in a generally forward direction, I saw it.

In the folds of my underwear, hanging on the hook a couple of feet in front of me was a distinct image of a meditating Buddha. There was a long slender nose disappearing into the forehead made from a convex undulation, with 2 long almond-shaped eyes, both closed in meditation, formed by concave indulations on each side. Even the overall shape of the face seemed very Buddha-like, though I suppose that someone not in a Buddhist retreat might see in it a face that looked more like the aliens reported to have been observed in the Rockwell, New Mexico region of the U.S.

I was intrigued and then amazed as I looked at this image, realizing that if nothing else it represented a new art form (brief relief). I'm quite blind without my glasses, so much so that it is important that I not forget where I put them since, with their slender wire rim, they are quite invisible to me. My vision is so bad that I can't see the top letter on the charts and it was once described as 20/2000. That is, I see at 20 feet what a person with normal vision would see at 2000 feet (almost 6 football fields, including end zones). So I wondered how this image might change when I put my glasses back on and saw "the reality" of whatever I was looking at.

Figuring that without the freedom for my brain to fill in the vagueness with something that I might subconsciously want to perceive, I was more than a little surprised to find that with my glasses on, the face of the Buddha was still clearly present in my underwear!

This was now getting serious. After all, it's not every day that I am witness to a miracle such as this, for by now that is what I felt it was. I would have taken a picture of it since I was pretty certain that no one would believe that this image was as clear as I would claim, but that technology had been placed in a locker with everything else that might have detracted from my meditating experience. This included my cell phone, all jewelry, good luck charms, books and writing implements.

I pondered for a moment what to do. I mean if this had been an image of the Virgin Mary instead of the Buddha, it may have formed the beginning of a major shrine for the world's Catholics. For a moment I had a vision of a huge line of pilgrims making their way from far off lands to look at my underwear. I also imagined that were it the Virgin Mary, this might be leveraged into a considerable financial return for me as well as the Bodh-Gaya Vipassana center.

But this wasn't the Virgin Mary, and so my next thought was of Buddhist sand art. Monks will sit hunched over a Mandala, often chanting while tediously spilling bits of colored sand into the complex pattern, which days later results in a brilliant design of great beauty. But because everything arises and then passes away (Anicha) and we should therefore have no attachments, they take this work of art down to the river and dump it in.

And so, with no disrespect intended, I took my underwear down and put them back on.

Varanasi to Bodh-Gaya, Preparing for Enlightenment

Varanasi to Bodh-Gaya, Preparing for Enlightenment

I had hoped to send one last post before entering my 10 day retreat and had a plan to do so. It was a good plan, but this is India and one must learn to expect the unexpected, to abandon expectations and go with the flow since to resist is futile. So what follows are a couple of stories from before I entered the 10-day retreat.

My last night in Varanasi was another incredible evening. I wanted to hear some Indian music and had noticed a flyer for what was described as Sufi Soul, kiwali music at a nearby guesthouse. I sat on the roof top with 100 others as we enjoyed the haunting sounds of a master flute player, accompanied by a guy on a vertical stringed instrument played with a bow (excuse my ignorance here) as well as a percussionist on a set of Tablas. They did a single song that must have been at least 30 minutes (all their songs were of similar duration) mesmerizing us all. This was followed by another set in which the flute player was replaced by a harmonium player and a sitar player who combined their voices in spiritual chanting that was breathtaking! It required the determination and will of an ascetic, but I managed to hold my camera by hand for over 30 minutes to record most of this. It should make for an interesting bit of video.

As if this performance was not enough, a woman started dancing with it. She was beautiful as were her graceful movements. I don't think it would be likely to see such dancing in the us. Though I was a bit concerned that she might think I was hitting on her, I did go up to her afterwards and express my appreciation for making a very special night even more special. She took the complement without offense or suspicion and instead gave me a huge and genuine smile, like the one she was displaying during her dancing.

As I walked along the Ghats back to my hotel I felt I'd been uniquely blessed yet again.

The taxi picked me up at 4:30 in the morning to take me to the airport. I had a sleeper car so figured I'd be able to get some sleep during the 4 hour ride to Gaya (which is a short tuk-tuk ride from Bodh-Gaya).

HA!

The train was packed like only India can pack 'em. It was a struggle but I managed somehow to get my backpack, my daypack and myself into the middle bunk. Once there the surrounding floor area was quickly covered with wall-to-wall humanity and I could neither see out any window to be able to find my stop nor imagine how I might be capable of extracting myself from my current position.

But I managed to get reasonably comfortable and tried to dose off, thinking that perhaps in 4 hours I might find the conditions improved.

I did manage to get a bit of semi-sleep and when I regained the better part of my consciousness, I began to notice the people around me with more interest. These were the folks who would either help me find my stop and get me out or not so I was relieved when they turned out to be some young high school students, most of whom spoke at least some English. They were quite friendly and helpful and said they'd tell me when we got to Gaya. They were in the middle of a 4-day train trip from Punjab in the northern-most part of India to Calcutta in the southern-most part. They had just placed 3rd in a music competition and they were the sweetest kids you could ever meet. With bright eyes and eager smiles we chatted about everything from economics (they were quite surprised that I did not know about Ravindernath Nath Tagore and his Nobel prize) and music (they love Michael Jackson). They taught me how to say I love you (ami tomake bhalobashi) which they had me recite to their teacher whom they called over from a neighboring compartment to meet me. They were delightful and when we got to my stop were instrumental in helping to extract me from the human sarcophagus in which I was entombed.

After arriving in Gaya, I was recruited by a monk to ride along in a tuk-tuk to Bodh-Gaya with several others. Along the way the driver would pick up some and drop off others. At times there were as many as 10 others. If you've ever seen one of these 3-wheeled glorified scooters you might be incredulous that 11 of us (some like me with considerable luggage) could fit into and on one of these, but I'm sure this was not a record of any sort. That's just the way things are done in India, no space is willingly left unused.

After arriving in Bodh-Gaya I had to catch another ride to the Bodh-Gaya Vipassana Meditation Center, which was surprisingly far from town, particularly to the poor rickshaw peddler.

Once there I got registered and unloaded my backpack (always a joy!) and was preparing to go back into town to get something to eat and find an internet café when one of the facilitators, Remi from France, said that lunch would be provided for us at the center and that I could use his computer and their wi-fi internet connection to send my last post before entering the 10-day retreat.

That sounded like a good plan but I was foiled by 3 converging issues:

1) The computer Remi loaned me had a French keyboard. Several of the letters and much of the punctuation is different than a us keyboard and aside from challenging my patience (what a great tool for discovering aversion and lack of equanimity!), it slowed down my writing by more than half.

2) There was no outlet in my Spartan quarters and Remi's battery was only good for about 1 hour of (very inefficient) typing.

3) In the end it all didn't matter because when I went to connect to the internet to send what I had, it was down and my time had run out.

So you now have what I would have sent then. I'll report on some of what happened during and after the retreat in another post, hopefully within the next day or 2.

Sometimes you gotta say, "yes!"

Sometimes you gotta say "yes!"

After I left Delhi and Rita's protective bubble, I learned what everyone who has ever traveled through India knows. It seems like everyone is trying to scam you, either a little or a lot, depending on how gullible/trusting/stupid you may be. To make several long stories very short, I've been plenty of all 3. So like everyone else who has savvied up some, I have now developed an automatic response as soon as someone, no matter how pleasant their delivery might be, comes up and says, "hello" or pretty much anything else. After, "hello" their favorite lines are, "where are you from?", "Can I help you?", "Where are you going?" (I, in particular, usually look lost). As soon as I hear one of these lines I immediately tense up and tell them, pleasantly at first, "no thank you." If they persist, which they usually do, I turn up the volume and by the third time it's even money that I'll deliver some version of an unrestrained, "get the hell out of may face!" scream.

And so it was on the banks of the Ganges this evening when an old (70?) grizzled guy in a torn t-shirt came up to me and shook my hand. I offered mine hesitantly and he immediately began to massage it, telling me that for only 10 Rs (about 25 cents) he would give me a head and shoulders massage. In automatic mode, I told him politely but firmly, "no" I wasn't interested. As he disappeared down the steps into the crowd that had gathered for an Indian music and dance performance I began to think about the persistent pains I've had in my neck, upper back and lower back for the past couple of months. I began to think that perhaps in this instance I had been too rash.

So when he came back up the steps I did not immediately avert my gaze and he started in again saying it would only be 10 Rs, not 50 Rs or 100 Rs.

So finally, I said, "ok."

He took me over to the edge of the steps and had me sit cross-legged as he started massaging my head. Now one of the things I know how to do pretty well is fully accept a massage without inhibitions. So except for trying to keep my eye on my pack, i immediately began to relax and let him do his work.

And it turns out he did very good work. He had very strong hands and knew how to use them. Pretty soon I was laying on my stomach as he upped the ante to a full body massage. It was all great and he was truly an expert. Later he described himself as a, "master" and I would have to agree. I was enjoying it all but there was one point when I felt a drop of something on my earlobe. I was hoping it was a bit of his sweat but did I mention that when he came back up the steps he had a mouth full of chew? All I could do was laugh at the prospect.

After he had finished with my back he had me turn over. The massage itself was probably one of the best I've ever had, certainly the most vigorous as he combined massage with chiropractic procedures to get as much of me unstuck as anyone could in the 45 minutes he blessed me with his talents. But aside from the massage, I found it darn near incredible to realize I was laying on the steps of the main Ghat in Varanasi, next to the Holy Ganges, listening to beautiful Indian music and gazing up at the moon as I was melting into this old man's hands. Of course it is true than no moment of our lives can be duplicated but in this case that realization was particularly easy to grasp.

And for 500 Rs, it was still a bargain (talk about up-selling!).

Sometimes you gotta say, "yes!"

Re: Delhi, Diwali, the Taj and Beyond

Mark Ji:

your life sounds charmed. and the Koi baat nahin is a magic mantra
indeed. Thank you so much for just letting me know that you did not
intend to write about David and me, but just about the work we do
here. Thank you for also not being pissed at me for thinking that you
would write, but I feel I can be honest with you, because you are a
very real human being.

It has been fun hanging out with Helena and Jimmy in Udaipur. Helena
and I are continuing to visualize what a festival on feminine
spirituality would be like...........

One of the ideas David gave this morning was a by line to the title
(not yet decided)
as - Leveraging Feminine Power to Green and Save the World
I think I will cut "power" out of the byline and put Feminine energy
instead.............what do you think?

All is good other wise.................. more soon I am being invited
to some beer and dinner making.

love and warm regards,
Rita

On 11/11/10, Mark Phillips <mrppy@fix.net> wrote:
> Delhi, Diwali, the Taj and Beyond
>
>
> Rita and I traveled to Delhi for the Diwali festival which was an experience
> I'll not soon forget. They do fireworks on a grand scale where the only
> measure of success is the degree of excess. Along with Rita's sister, Joya,
> niece, Blanka and nephew, Nishu (whose names are correct if my memory serves
> me, which is unlikely) we went to 3 parties over 2 evenings each ending just
> before sunrise. I met some interesting folks but because I stayed up so
> late I was pretty wasted on the following days as this schedule does not
> particularly agree with my delicate constitution.
>
> It took half a day, but I finally got a train ticket to Agra and after a
> very nice final evening with Rita and Joya, I bid them adieu and headed off
> on my own again.
>
> The train ride to Agra was highlighted by meeting Gunjan, a young woman who
> was taking her son, Anan (means "peace") to a boarding school in Gwalior.
> She seemed very nice and we chatted for a bit. Some time later, after I had
> taken residence in the upper bunk, she looked up at me from her seat below
> and tells me that I have missed my stop in Agra! On the one hand, after
> getting on the wrong bus in Udaipur it is entirely possible that I could
> have missed my stop in Agra, but on the other hand, she and her son were
> both laughing as she explained that she did not want to wake me when the
> train stopped in Agra. My mind was spinning as I tried to figure out if
> they were kidding or not. I'm sure my confusion showed, particularly when
> Gunjan said, "Mark, what about koi bat nahin? You have failed miserably."
> By this time the other woman in our sector and another guy were hanging
> around, all laughing, and I was finally told that I was the target of a Big
> Tease. When done correctly I think teasing is a highly refined form of
> love... And this WAS done correctly so I ended up laughing about it with
> them after I was initiated into the club. I was amazed that someone I had
> just met would take a chance with an act that could easily backfire. I was
> really quite touched by the gesture.
>
> I hooked up with a taxi driver at the Agra train station who took me to a
> hotel I had booked online. After freshening up a bit, he took me to a
> viewpoint he said would provide a stunning view of the Taj Mahal at sunset.
>
> Or at least he tried. Several minutes into the trip he muttered something
> that sounded a lot like, "shit! traffic!!" as we hit the most colossal
> traffic clusterf**k I've ever experienced. It was at a roundabout and so
> many cars, scooters, bicycles, rickshaws, tok toks and busses had coagulated
> there that the entire system was clogged and no longer functional. Several
> guys had taken it upon themselves to try and get vehicles moved enough that
> a bus could maneuver itself through the intersection. Yelling and waving of
> hands were the tools they used and after some time they managed to get the
> bus through which helped a bit but not nearly enough. I saw other tourists
> trapped in the same chaos and we were all laughing about it. It was so
> absurd there was really nothing else to do.
>
> Finally my driver admitted defeat and (somehow) managed to turn around and
> flee the scene. We finally got to our destination, long after sunset.
>
> The next day I got to the Taj as soon as it opened (6:30 am) so I could see
> it at sunrise. During the security check they discovered a 6 inch tripod I
> had for my camera and told me that this was not allowed. In utter amazement
> and a Kafkaesque sense of disbelief, I was told I would have to exit the
> entrance queue and take my FO (Forbidden Object) to the lockers. It turns
> out that these lockers are not conveniently located anywhere near the
> entrance gate I was trying to breach, but ¼ mile away. As I trudged I
> noticed that my demeanor had deteriorated significantly so I began to chant
> my mantra (everyone now…), "koi bat nahin, koi bat nahin….. When I got back
> to the line the security guy tried to make me get back in at the end of it
> but I simply refused. Marching myself straight on to the front I boldly
> ducked under the railing so I could be searched again.
>
> This time I was successful and I entered the large grounds that contain the
> Taj Mahal. Many authors and poets have tried unsuccessfully to describe its
> beauty so I'll just leave it at "sublime".
>
> As I left the grounds, I realized I was exiting through a different gate
> than the one I had entered (typical for me). I spoke to the security guard
> there and after showing him the card for my motel he told me I needed to
> exit West gate (I was at the South gate). So I turned around to re-enter
> which required going through security again. Even though I had just come
> from inside (and thus successfully passed security) and had taken only a
> step beyond the exit, the guard determined that I and my daypack would have
> to be searched again. I was really more amused than anything at what seemed
> to me to be an absurd degree of security, but this changed considerably when
> he discovered 2 more FOs (a Swiss army knife and a head lamp). So now I was
> prohibited from entering the grounds and easily finding my way to the proper
> gate from the inside, and instead had to exit and walk around the
> considerable perimeter. This took some time and again my attitude took a
> dump. It was only exacerbated when, arriving at the West gate I discovered
> to my dismay that it was the third, and final, gate that I needed, the now
> quite elusive East gate. In all it took about an hour to get out.
>
> These are not the only frustrations I've encountered but as anyone who has
> traveled India will tell you, it is to be expected. But somehow I have
> survived them and now find myself in Khajuraho for 3 days away from big
> cities. This will hopefully prepare me for Varanasi and then it is on to
> Bodh Gaya and a 10 day silent meditation.
>
>

Delhi, Diwali, the Taj and Beyond

Delhi, Diwali, the Taj and Beyond

Rita and I traveled to Delhi for the Diwali festival which was an experience I'll not soon forget. They do fireworks on a grand scale where the only measure of success is the degree of excess. Along with Rita's sister, Joya, niece, Blanka and nephew, Nishu (whose names are correct if my memory serves me, which is unlikely) we went to 3 parties over 2 evenings each ending just before sunrise. I met some interesting folks but because I stayed up so late I was pretty wasted on the following days as this schedule does not particularly agree with my delicate constitution.

It took half a day, but I finally got a train ticket to Agra and after a very nice final evening with Rita and Joya, I bid them adieu and headed off on my own again.

The train ride to Agra was highlighted by meeting Gunjan, a young woman who was taking her son, Anan (means "peace") to a boarding school in Gwalior. She seemed very nice and we chatted for a bit. Some time later, after I had taken residence in the upper bunk, she looked up at me from her seat below and tells me that I have missed my stop in Agra! On the one hand, after getting on the wrong bus in Udaipur it is entirely possible that I could have missed my stop in Agra, but on the other hand, she and her son were both laughing as she explained that she did not want to wake me when the train stopped in Agra. My mind was spinning as I tried to figure out if they were kidding or not. I'm sure my confusion showed, particularly when Gunjan said, "Mark, what about koi bat nahin? You have failed miserably." By this time the other woman in our sector and another guy were hanging around, all laughing, and I was finally told that I was the target of a Big Tease. When done correctly I think teasing is a highly refined form of love... And this WAS done correctly so I ended up laughing about it with them after I was initiated into the club. I was amazed that someone I had just met would take a chance with an act that could easily backfire. I was really quite touched by the gesture.

I hooked up with a taxi driver at the Agra train station who took me to a hotel I had booked online. After freshening up a bit, he took me to a viewpoint he said would provide a stunning view of the Taj Mahal at sunset.

Or at least he tried. Several minutes into the trip he muttered something that sounded a lot like, "shit! traffic!!" as we hit the most colossal traffic clusterf**k I've ever experienced. It was at a roundabout and so many cars, scooters, bicycles, rickshaws, tok toks and busses had coagulated there that the entire system was clogged and no longer functional. Several guys had taken it upon themselves to try and get vehicles moved enough that a bus could maneuver itself through the intersection. Yelling and waving of hands were the tools they used and after some time they managed to get the bus through which helped a bit but not nearly enough. I saw other tourists trapped in the same chaos and we were all laughing about it. It was so absurd there was really nothing else to do.

Finally my driver admitted defeat and (somehow) managed to turn around and flee the scene. We finally got to our destination, long after sunset.

The next day I got to the Taj as soon as it opened (6:30 am) so I could see it at sunrise. During the security check they discovered a 6 inch tripod I had for my camera and told me that this was not allowed. In utter amazement and a Kafkaesque sense of disbelief, I was told I would have to exit the entrance queue and take my FO (Forbidden Object) to the lockers. It turns out that these lockers are not conveniently located anywhere near the entrance gate I was trying to breach, but ¼ mile away. As I trudged I noticed that my demeanor had deteriorated significantly so I began to chant my mantra (everyone now…), "koi bat nahin, koi bat nahin….. When I got back to the line the security guy tried to make me get back in at the end of it but I simply refused. Marching myself straight on to the front I boldly ducked under the railing so I could be searched again.

This time I was successful and I entered the large grounds that contain the Taj Mahal. Many authors and poets have tried unsuccessfully to describe its beauty so I'll just leave it at "sublime".

As I left the grounds, I realized I was exiting through a different gate than the one I had entered (typical for me). I spoke to the security guard there and after showing him the card for my motel he told me I needed to exit West gate (I was at the South gate). So I turned around to re-enter which required going through security again. Even though I had just come from inside (and thus successfully passed security) and had taken only a step beyond the exit, the guard determined that I and my daypack would have to be searched again. I was really more amused than anything at what seemed to me to be an absurd degree of security, but this changed considerably when he discovered 2 more FOs (a Swiss army knife and a head lamp). So now I was prohibited from entering the grounds and easily finding my way to the proper gate from the inside, and instead had to exit and walk around the considerable perimeter. This took some time and again my attitude took a dump. It was only exacerbated when, arriving at the West gate I discovered to my dismay that it was the third, and final, gate that I needed, the now quite elusive East gate. In all it took about an hour to get out.

These are not the only frustrations I've encountered but as anyone who has traveled India will tell you, it is to be expected. But somehow I have survived them and now find myself in Khajuraho for 3 days away from big cities. This will hopefully prepare me for Varanasi and then it is on to Bodh Gaya and a 10 day silent meditation.

Onward

Onward

By the time I returned to Udaipur from Jaisalmer, it was clear to me that even though the temples, museums and forts are amazing and stupendous, traveling from one to the next does not appear to be my cup of tea. Or at least I have sipped enough of this potent tea to be pretty saturated at this point. So the plan I had when I left Udaipur, to come back for no more than a day before heading east to see as many places as possible before the Nov. 16th start of my 10-day silent meditation in Bodh Gaya, required modification.

What that modification would be became apparent when Rita said her sister wanted her to return to Delhi for the Diwali celebration. Along with the Lawyer I met on the plane from Delhi to Udaipur, Rita wanted me to talk to her niece's boyfriend about the possibility of building straw-bale homes. I had thought it would be a good idea for Rita to join me in these discussions, particularly if they come to the point of talking about working for pay (as both of these projects might) since she could help to negotiate these matters much better than I. It might also provide for a bit of revenue for Rita which she could sorely use to support her social activism. Her and David's story is a long and interesting one that I hope to get back to at another time.

We had talked about doing this when I traveled to Delhi before flying home at the end of November but this way she does not have to make a special trip. And I would be able to spend a few more days with locals doing whatever comes up, instead of suffering through another marvelous temple.

I'm hoping that after a few days in Delhi, I'll be able to enjoy Agra and the Taj Mahal.

Because it is Diwali, getting a train to Delhi is not possible so Rita is buying the bus tickets now. Rita has turned into a good friend and it will be fun to have someone to chat with during the 14 hour trip.