word on the street

'Word on the Street' festival today, like Christmas in September for slightly nerdish bookworms like me. My first time at the festival happened by accident, I was newly licensed and still in high school just starting to make the drive into the big city in search of something...anything other than the coffee shop/pool hall mind-numbing monotony of the suburbs. When I was a kid, I read - a lot. My version of getting in trouble was being yelled at for checking out too many books from the library at one time. There was nothing cool about it, no bookclubs to join, and no one to talk to because playing pool (actually, watching the boys play pool, but that's a different story), smoking, bush parties were all kinds of cool but reading? Not cool.

At the time, finding the coolest street in Toronto closed to celebrate books, and to find the street packed with people who seemed like the kind of people I'd like to know, was a revelation. A good one. I look forward to it every year the way some might a real holiday. I don't usually buy anything but I love being there, wandering around, watching the crowds and getting slightly giddy at the sheer number of people there all for the love of books. People still read, all is not lost.


"Magician at work", he hoodwinked a little boy's parents into putting $20 under his pillow tonight because "Put this piece of paper beneath your pillow and if magic actually exists - and it does - you'll wake up to find the paper replaced by $20". Funny.

Not sure what the pig had to do with it all but cute...


Not sure who these guys were supposed to be but they were kind of creepy...


Taking the Philosopher's Walk shortcut back up through the city

last month/this month

dude!

Sometimes I imagine that if Kai could talk at more than a 1.5 year old level it would be one long stream of "Dude, WTF?!?". I don't think us big people make all that much sense a good deal of the time...

dogs like poutine too

The energy surrounding that doorway was so absolutely filled with longing to be inside that even I started gravitating towards the door and I don't eat poutine.

the spit

When a series of cairns appeared on the Spit at the foot of the city a few years ago, they were a mystery. Tibetan prayer flags, painted rocks, wire sculptures and driftwood lined paths; it was a crazy, hidden garden beside the lake where junk became art and the city seemed very far away. A newspaper located and interviewed the creator, he started building there during a period of grief, drawn to the area because he felt it had healing energy. There's no path to the garden but I think that those who need to find it do. Slowly, over a period of time, others have added their creations until it's grown to this amazing jumble of sculptures, paintings, quotes and all around awesomeness. Something magical this way grows.












On a totally unrelated note, I've decided to start being a baby - a great big baby. Feel like crying? Cry. Feel like laughing? Laugh. Want to say something? Say it. I was talking to a friend on the phone while stuck in the most infuriating traffic jam after a very long day. Her daughter had a complete and total meltdown while we were talking; it came in, took over, and passed in a matter of minutes and it was exactly how I was feeling. By the time we hung up her daughter was over it and onto something completely new, I was still frustrated but pretending I wasn't. What a waste of energy it is this nonsense of 'holding it together'.

hours and hours

The news keeps talking about the "extreme heat alert" we are under. Cautions about air quality and sun exposure, tips on how to stay cool during this supposedly insufferable time, it's been going on for days and it's getting irritating because I'm pretty sure that this phenomena we call "extreme heat alert" used to just be called "summer". It's hot, it's gorgeous, I'm in heaven.

Last weekend was another cottage weekend. Hours and hours spent staring at the water. So relaxing even the dog got in on the 'zenning out and staring off into space' action...or non-action as the case may be.

friday

Practiced, assisted, and basked in the sun over coffee before heading south to hang with my favourite boy. Beach time, nephew time, hammock time.







I couldn't wait to get on the mat this morning. Thinking about my practice. Growth in India, restrictions at home, chafing a bit. That's all.

jump

happiness is...

Cottage behind, stars above, lake ahead, best friends to my left and right, a bonfire in the middle and love all around.

7 hours in the Bangalore airport?

Sure. Why not...







We were talking about airports over breakfast, my contribution to the conversation was how much I loved them. The transition, that period of being inbetween, of being somewhere but nowhere, the movement, the possibility, the endings and beginnings, I love being in the middle of it all. Good thing, my flight out of Bangalore was delayed, I arrived at 2am to find that my flight had been delayed until 8.30. Between my book, writing, music, daydreaming and people watching the time passed quickly.

It's a three+ hour drive to the airport from Mysore, my driver made it in just over two. He picked me up at midnight, yawned uncontrollably and eventually nodded off waking up only to my increasingly loud stammers of "um..um..UM...WHAT THE FUCK" as I watched the headlights of a large truck bear down on us. He'd drifted into oncoming traffic.

So, yeah, sitting for seven hours in the airport versus what might have happened? Absolutely. Yes please.

a day

A practice that didn't hurt so much I wanted to cry, my first in quite some time. Breakfast in the city at Indra Cafe where after weeks of smiles over dosas I finally broke the mean cashier man down and we're now fast friends. A tailor made skirt that actually turned out beautifully. Philosopher Narasimhan was pure magical gorgeosity today, perfection. A latte in town at Coffee Day talking to my favourite waiter followed by a rickshaw ride back home with a driver who actually offered to use the meter (insert *gasp* here). Practice with Bharath followed by a conversation where he indulged my questions about the meaning of life and all that it contains. Fruit dinner, candy of the Gods, with a smoothie at Anu's for dessert and a fix of my 'family away from home'.

People have started leaving, lots of departures over these last few days. Warm goodbyes, long hugs, certainty that paths will cross again. My turn comes soon. I'm going to miss the myriad of people who make up my days here, the waiters who take care to make sure I'm not put in the inappropriate situation of sitting with a lone man, Raju the rickshaw driver who is very protective of where I go when and whether I'll be safe, the teachers who are so tireless in answering my silly questions, the people of Gokulam and the yogis themselves, there are many layers of community here that I'll miss dearly when I leave. In the meantime, I'm here and I am happy.

walking

random rickshaw pictures

I keep trying to get a picture of the "Fertility Clinic and Semen Bank" building because it makes me laugh like a 12 year old but something always gets in the way. Today it was the great tower 'o' pretty coloured crates. In the first picture below, though, you can see the source of one of Mysore's biggest mysteries: how on earth do they get the whites so white when they're hung to dry along the side of the busiest road in the city? Makes for a pretty drive in though...

new pets

I'm surrounded by cuteness and my will is weak. I want one of each. Please can I have one? Please? Pleeaasssse?

teachers

Sharath and Saraswati (astanga), Jayashree and Narasimhan (philosophy), Bharath (hatha, I don't yet have a picture of him but he is all that you imagine a teacher to be and more, he rocks my world). These are the people that bring me back to Mysore time after time.

Before I ever travelled to India, the idea of bowing at someone's feet was unthinkable, strange. Being here, in this context, with these people who so fully dedicate their lives to sharing their knowledge - the simple act of bowing hardly seems enough. I'm humbled by the opportunity to learn from them. There are no words.

hitting refresh

Today as I walked into town a boy approached on his bike. I could tell from his direction and demeanor that he was coming my way with something to say and began to brace myself for the requests "one country coin...baksheesh...can I come home with you...do you want to fuck?" none of which are unusual questions to receive on a daily basis. The fact that they aren't unusual doesn't make them any more welcome and I was dreading whatever was to come until he drew up beside me, said "Hello Aunty" and carried on his way. I melted with gratitude, it made my day.

Yesterday I was to pick up something from the pharmacists. After days of promises, they guaranteed that it would be there by 12. I gave them until late afternoon and stopped by on my way home from the city weighed down with bags, hot and sweaty and needing the washroom that very second. Although I've been there for three days running for the same reason, talking to the same people, they had no idea what I was talking about. None. They made big fanfare about how I should stop by in an hour, guaranteed all would be ready, but I live nowhere near them and wasn't coming back into town. So frustrating. I turned and started stomping down the steps thoroughly irritated when two things happened: the paper bag I was carrying started to tear and I heard someone calling my name. Raju, the most wonderful man in the world, was driving by in his rickshaw when he saw me and stopped to give me a ride home. For free. Perfect timing.

This is why I love India. It hits my 'reset' button and reminds me that at the same moment that something goes wrong, something also goes right. I know it also happens at home but maybe it gets lost in the rush, or the familiar, or the safe routines that put me on autopilot. Things seem to be sped up here, no lag time between cause and effect or irritant and awesomeness.

In India with the unfamiliar and the extremes plus the added bonus of time to actually pay attention, it's easy to experience the benevolence surrounding me and notice the way that every single little thing works out, even when it doesn't look like it's going to. I'm a bit ashamed at just how much this isn't the worldview I carry at home and I'm unspeakably grateful for the chance to step back and refresh. I quite literally feel like the luckiest person in the world.

the chocolate man

Obviously, India has chocolate. Chocolate bars can be picked up at the checkout counter in supermarkets and at the corner store just like at home but, unlike at home, chocolate here...uh...sucks. It's far hotter here and air conditioning (plus consistently working electricity) far less common so chocolate has a lot more 'stuff' in it to prevent it from melting. This way, stays in solid form it's just not very good.

There's a small shop run out of a family's garage at the top of our street that everyone knows, loves, and frequents because in addition to the usual necessities, this store also houses "The Chocolate Man". Imported chocolate transformed into your choice of chocolate bar by request. Ginger, cardamom and dark chocolate? Toffee and peanut butter milk chocolate? Chocolate covered biscuits? Sure, stop by tomorrow, it'll be ready. In a town full of people who are, first, on vacation and, second, doing intense physical work we're convinced we deserve this chocolate - we've earned it.

We stopped by for some things last night and happened to arrive at the apex of some strange cosmic sugar rush, there was a crowd of westerners outside clamouring for chocolate before the store closed for the night. Funny.

things that are hazardous to your health

Smoking and craaazy rickshaw drivers....

fathers day

Finally downloaded pictures from the small camera, I forgot that there were pictures from Fathers Day on here. My heart melts...