Some of the most special qualities are ones that can’t be touched, only felt.
Each morning I awaken early, sometimes at three, sometimes at one am. Jetlag lingers, as does the adrenalin that always punctuates the first days of being here.
Usually I catch up on household things before Aurora awakens. Make some tea and break out a philosophy book. The light of the main room makes a perfect swath on the darkness of the bedroom for tea and study.
At 505 am sharp (525 am shala time) Jen walks through the door to watch Aurora and Jonah. We give hugs and kisses and race off to the shala, taking our spaces in the back or in the spare spaces over the folds to be counted through class. In wonder I notice there are actually 6-12 inch spaces between the mats. By Jen’s count there are 89 currently here.
Jen didn’t want to practice early. So one more time over a long history of shala visits, it is first group again, the crazy bizarre gift only an ashtangi could love. 😉
And we do, though, love it as he walks in the room, the opening chant calling our minds and hearts to order. We pay our respects not only to a man, but to all the teachers, to the energy of this practice itself, and for some, the one impermanent thing no one can actually touch.
Count by count we settle in to primary, finding our steadiness, and our awareness as we wind our way through, breath by breath.
The energy of the room builds and then calms, we lay down to rest, then fly to get the children so Jen can practice. I trail slightly behind and bring some coconuts.
There is down time then, to talk to Einar, to clean up, and there are lots of hugs and Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches these days for Aurora.
Breakfast is early at Kushi Cafe mostly because it is quiet and open every day. The kids play with books and paper airplanes and then eat. Then we are back to the house at nine to meet the Indian babysitters so we can go to class again.
We ask questions, and experience different forms of Darshan. There is always more to learn. Yoga is vast and lovely, especially here.
So far there is no Mysore class and we’ve had seven days of led primary. Due to family obligations Sharath is changing our day off to Sunday. Today is led intermediate for those brave enough, as we begin the second week. Tomorrow we will see what it brings. In theory it could actually be Mysore.
Picking up the kids after, it is lunchtime. We go to the pool, some go every day, as would be Aurora’s preference, but they got a cold a few days in so we’ve had to keep them home and cooped up. Some afternoons they run laps downstairs in the yard, running and playing chase.
Many go to Jayashree or Dr. Rao for sutras but for now I’m staying home. Two babysitters and all of India later the kids need mom, so for now I’m with Aurora.
And that is it. I can imagine no other home for myself, that fills me up so completely.
It is possible to come here and miss what’s here, it isn’t for everyone, and India can drive you mad sometimes. The other day Amanda had to evacuate because of a gas smell in her apartment. Three days later we still don’t know what it was, only it hasn’t come back.
But for those of us who come regularly, there is a sweetness here, to be at the source, to practice with the rising of the sun, amidst the morning sounds of Mysore. There is a heart here in people, a love, a great love to be found. The calling to come back is for those who know and love it, something written in the heart, and in the shining eyes of those who feel it too.
Some of the most special things in life cannot be touched, only felt, only experienced.
With love from Mysore,