Day seventeen: Housecleaning

Tagged as: ashram, meditation, yoga

This after­noon by the water cool­er:
Woman (singing): What if God was one of us?  Hmm? hmm?
Me: Haha.
Woman: Hey! Maybe it’s you!
Me: Nah. I would’ve known.

Appar­ent­ly Swami Satchidananda (who opened Woodstock and was Swami Sivananda’s stu­dent) — his stu­dents sat so close to him in class that they would blow their cig­a­rette smoke in his face.

Janaki: Some peo­ple are like dry wood: they only need a small spark and they’re enlight­ened. Other peo­ple are like wet wood: they need to be dried first.

Me: But wet wood bends. Dry wood is brit­tle and it breaks.

Janaki, our won­der­ful lec­tur­er here at the Ashram, says she’s “Head of Housecleaning” at the Canada Ashram (!). “People are either radi­a­tors or drains.” — Janaki

“Meedo,” says Tsering. “I’m leav­ing tonight.” She rec­om­mend­ed The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying. I used the word “beau­ti­ful” twice — once about her accent and then about her asanas. She was wait­ing for the film crew to video­tape her doing some at the request of the Ashram (for a pro­mo­tion­al doc­u­men­tary they’re doing).

“I don’t lis­ten to what you say. I just see what you mean.” Why do some peo­ple affect me so much by doing so lit­tle?

I’m crawl­ing with bugs after out­door yoga class. She likes my worn-out diary. “I promise to read every­thing,” she says. “See you before you leave,” I say. I won­der if I will.

8:20 p.m. (I skipped the silent walk — too clean and fresh to do it.) I sit out­side the Boutique.

“Meedo!” It’s Tsering. “I just want to say good­bye.”

There she is. Hug.

Tesering: Have a won­der­ful life. I hate good­byes.
Me: Keep in touch [blah]… Be hap­py, Tsering. Thanks for every­thing.
Tsering: You too.

What was I thank­ing her for? Back in my room, I think it over and real­ize I’m still capa­ble of real sad­ness.

Maybe I’m thank­ful for that.

DAY SEVENTEEN SNAPSHOTS • Click on each image for a larg­er view.

Snapshots tak­en on my phone.