Accept, Adjust, Accomodate

Serve, Love, Give, Purify, Meditate, Realise, Be Good, Do Good, Be Kind, Be Compassionate,

Inquire 'Who am I?', Know the Self, and Be Free
SWAMI SIVANANDA (1887-1963)

No doubt you're all wondering how I spent Shivaratri two days ago. It was on March 6th this year, the day I had my mental crisis on the yoga mat (oh, yea, that one. Sorry which one? you've had a few from what I can see) This was also the day I would have been back in Vancouver if I had stuck with my original plan. You know what they say, the best laid schemes o' mice and Mia go oft awry.

Shivaratri: I could also refer to this as The Festival of Bang Lassi-a-go-go. Swamiji explained it to us this way "oh yes, they will be for the smoke chillum and drink bang lassi."

Listening to him recount the experience he had with imbibing a special lassi years ago was something else. I would tell you, but here's the higlights of what I understood: "One time this bang lassi try. Yoga that time was already start, yes, and so then, what? Coming here and there say and when this friend, he on duty was yes? So then she say 'hey what is this?' Understand? so okay, this and that, this and that, and then (Swamiji leaned back and indicated a spinning head as he looked at his ceiling) like this yes? And then myself think 'hey what is this?' yea. Understand?"

Lots of stories go like this. Sometimes, it gets to me, and I think, does he understand a word I've said or do I sound to him like he sounds to me? I mean we've had moments where we think he's talking about something that happened in Pushkar or Ajmer and he's actually referring to the Mahābhārata (in Devanāgarī: महाभारत) the great epic poem of India, written circa sometime, oh, let's say, I don't know, by my sundial, a long time B.C., Before Christ. Understand now? How could I confuse an event that happened in Pushkar 10 years ago with one that happened 4,000 years ago? Simple, really. Too simple. So simple it's scary.

For Shivaratri they had a parade here, representing the marriage of Shiva and Parvati. Parvati was the one who learned Yoga from Shiva. He didn't want to teach her but she insisted.

Swamiji: And so we say thanks to Parvati. In that time say, wedding for everyone in bharat was there.

Oh, hey, can someone tell me why we call this country India when it's called Bharat to them? Did someone called India Hadley-Beauregard draw the first map back in 1512 or something? And while I'm thinking about it, Marco Polo, what was your deal? They make really good pasta here but does anyone in Southern Italy know anything about curry? And Columbus, you rube. Do you know how long I hoped to find out I was related to you because my mother's maiden name is Columbus? A full week. Do you know what that is in child time? Years, Mr. Potato-Head, years. And so we're straight, I just wanted to be famous. I don't think I really care for you and your big Niña, Pinto and the Santa Maria Macho pride trip.

Perhaps I shouldn't be revealing my mother's maiden name as you'll all be able to access my Swiss bank account now.

They threw flowers everywhere, and drummed in the temples non-stop from 6pm the evening on March 5th to after midnight March 6th. Over 30 hours they were drumming and chanting kirtan. I wanted to go, but I was feeling so unwell, I couldn't. And when I couldn't sleep, I thanked my lucky stars and green clovers that I wasn't that close to a temple with drummers. Other people didn't sleep at all. During the day of the 6th, the whole town seemed to be going for bang lassi's the way a family piles into a car to go to Dairy Queen back home. (By the way: you don't want to know how many toddlers I've seen on motorcycles here. Just casually hanging on as they straddle the gas tank) Jessie went to get us juice and had to wait for several of these special lassi's to get made first.

So I was still feeling a bit raw on Shivaratri, and chose not to climb up to the temple. I decided to go to Baba's Rooftop Restaurant and fill a craving for the best Spaghetti Bolognese I've ever had. Vegetarian, I didn't even notice since it tasted soooo good. I think it was Jessie asking "Spaghetti Bolognese?" that even reminded me it was supposed to be a meat dish. (Every day I lose points on my Italian-ness) Hey, I ordered a masala chai too, and felt very international. But then when I couldn't sleep, I felt that chai was laughing at me.

I couldn't sleep, I couldn't read. Too much time to think, in the dark. Finally, somehow I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was sick with what many other traveller's have also suffered, though I like to think of mine personally as "Revenge of the Bolognese" because, that's what it was. It should have passed in a day but it didn't, and I was getting in a panic, wondering if I had enough energy to crawl over the bridge to find Sarah and Jessie at the Lotus without collapsing in pain, until I woke up this morning and realised my body has decided to align it's inner-lunar cycle to the New Moon cycle.

It started with the crying for 3 days in a row. That could have been an indication. Or those 3 snickers bars I ate when think I've had 2 in my entire life before. I should have recognised that warning signal, my body's distress call. It was sending out an S.O.S., and I couldn't see it at all. In my defense, my internal sundial has probably been knocked about too much while trying to dodge motorcyclists. And then I got head-butted by a cow. Imagine going to pick up a pen at the same time as someone else and clunking your heads together. Now magnify that ouchie a thousand times and you'll know what it feels like to be head butted by a cow. Two days later, this is me; "What on earth? What muscle is there to pull in the middle of my left butt cheek? This is so painf- oh. I'm am such a maroon."

I still say the cow was going for Jessie, who has been butted several times, while I survived totally un-"punchrickshaw no return!" She jumped outta the way and the cow clocked me butt good (ha ha). Swamiji commented "Yes be careful, this red cow not like" Yeah, turns out my fabulous new 300 rupee red dress, a beautiful peasant style full length dress, is another example of what I can only refer to as "me molto stupida."

So what can, what can? Or what do, what do?

Find a spot in the shade. Accept that life can be mushkil (difficult). Adjust your position. Accomodate, make room.

You never know what's going to happen next.