Tag Archives: spirituality

All You Need is Love

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While it is considered the yoga capital of the world, Rishikesh may be best known as the home of the ashram where the Beatles (and other celebrities) spent some time in 1960s and where they wrote much of their White Album. Though it is now-abandoned, the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi Ashram is still accessible to visitors, if you know how to get there.

Aside from being diligent little yogis-in-training, many of my classmates were also quite musical, so of course had to check this place out! (and even if you’re not musical, who seriously doesn’t like the Beatles?).

With vague instructions and water bottles, six of us headed out to an isolated forested area outside the main village of Laxman Jhula in Rishikesh, eventually stumbling upon the gates of a tall stone structure marked by three pointed domes covered in individual stones. Though the ashram is abandoned, the park authorities who own the grounds still charge 50 rupees (about a dollar) to enter the place, though once there you’re pretty much on your own.

Beatles Ashram 1

We entered through the gate to find a mostly forested area of lush green trees, spotted with crumbling stone dorms and lecture halls that were slowly being reclaimed by the forest around it. Despite a handful of other travelers, there weren’t many people at the ashram and we basically had the place to ourselves. Every now and then, a random Hindu statue of a bull or yoni/lingham illustrated the grounds were once a place of spirituality and religion, though there were no other markings to confirm where exactly we were or what we were looking at.

Beatles Ashram 2

Perhaps the most interesting part of the ashram was discovering the vibrant Beatles Cathedral Gallery, the only evidence we found on the grounds recognizing the ashram’s spiritual and musical influence on the world.

Located in an abandoned hall within the grounds, the Beatles Cathedral Gallery is a colorful open space full of images of love and peace. On one side, a series of spiritual leaders crossed the wall horizontally, painted in shades of black, white and red, including images of the Dalai Llama, Sri Prem Baba, Ananda Mayi Ma, Amma, Yogananda and Swami Sivananda, with an image of the Beatles dominating in the center. Directly across in the front of the room was another mural, this time, featuring an image of Maharishi Mahesh Yogi painted in black, white and red like the others, but positioned by himself on a blue background underneath an om symbol. Two large circles, one white, one black with opposite facing triangles, were painted next to the Maharishi, with images of wind-like trails flowing from either side.

Beatles Cathedral Gallery

A painted note on one of the side walls described the aim of the gallery as follows:

Our story is one of transformation. Together we witnessed the force of alchemy as this abandoned, sacred place regained its roots. Our story illustrates the lila between surrender and rebellion. This work is entirely illegal and entirely holy. Our story is one of growth. In this hall, one artist became an art director. Within these walls, one group of backpackers became first a community, then a sangha. We are painters, musicians, writers, sculptors, daughters, sons, lovers, bhaktas, rebels, renegades, strangers, yogis and friends. This is our gallery. This is our cathedral. This is our home. This is our satsang hall. This is our story. You are part of it now.

Thank you to Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. Thank you to the Beatles. Thank you to Pan Trinity Das. Thank you to our gurus. Thank you to the birds. Thank you to the sadhus. Thank you to this place.

May all be welcome here. May you love, may you create, may you inspire. May all beings in all realms be happy and free.

Shanti.

From what I read later, the projected was apparently created by a group of volunteers in April of 2012 but closed down by park authorities only two weeks later. When I was there, it still served as a popular destination and was full of graffiti of words of love and peace from visitors from around the world.

Ever devout yoga students, my friends and I took advantage of Rishikesh’s yoga/musical connection and took a series of fun photos documenting the experience:

Beatles Cathedral Gallery - Yoga 1

Beatles Cathedral Gallery - Yoga 2

Inspired by the musical energy, we then relocated to the top of another building inside one of its rooftop cells for an impromptu sing-a-long and chanting session, taking advantage of the ashram’s spiritual energy and acoustics.

As cheesy as it sounds, singing on top of the Beatles ashram in the middle of the forest with friends was a pretty magical experience and definitely one of the coolest moments of my time in Rishikesh. Here’s a slideshow of some additional photos of the Beatles ashram below.

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Critter Control and the Adventure of Yoga Crab

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I’ve always been drawn to animals, and I’m usually excited when they seem drawn to me too. But not all the time.

During my training at the Association for Yoga and Meditation, I was always delighted to watch the langur monkeys playing in the ashram trees.

Does your yoga class include monkeys?

Does your yoga class include monkeys?

I was even more excited when they would occasionally make an appearance in yoga class itself.

"Downward dog!"

“Downward dog!”

While the monkeys mostly kept their distance, a few other creatures decided they wanted to visit with me personally.

During my time at the ashram, I stayed in a small bedroom on the main floor, half-way between the bustling village outside and the holy Ganges River down the stairs in the backyard.

My mornings were fairly routine. My alarm rang around 5:45 a.m., I would then drag myself out of bed, pull on my yoga clothes, grab a snack and walk sleepily across the hall to 6 a.m. pranayama (breathing) practice.

One day I got up as usual, grabbed my yoga pants off the chair and got dressed. But as I continued getting ready, I noticed a slight scratching sensation in my pants between my legs. In my half-awake state, I didn’t think much of it. But as I continued, pulling on my t-shirt, putting my hair up and grabbing a handful of the trail mix I usually kept on my nightstand, the scratching did too.

Finally, I put my hand below to “adjust” and was surprised to find a strange lump under my pants. In my groggy state, it took me a few seconds to realize what was going on. And when I did, I screamed, yanking my pants off as quickly as possible. My jaw dropped in disbelief as I watched a quarter-sized cockroach scurry away.

Let me tell you, nothing wakes you up quite as effectively as discovering a cockroach in your pants!

The very next day, I got up as usual, checking carefully inside all my clothes making sure there were no additional new friends creeping around. Luckily, the morning went smoothly.

It wasn’t until after breakfast when I went back to my room that I discovered this next to my bed:

Hello.

Hello.

Yes inches away from my pillow, less than a foot from where I rest my head at night, stood a six-inch wide crab, about the size of one of my hands. How long he had been in my room and what he planned to do now that he was there was beyond me, (though I think my snacks may have had something to do with it).

This time, I didn’t scream. I did, however, request help. The next thing I know, one of the AYM staff is chasing the little critter around my room with a broom stick, in a fairly entertaining cat-and-mouse routine. Finally, my classmate Janica stepped in to personally return the crab to his home, presumably back to the Ganges.

You can follow his journey here:

Playing catch

Playing catch

Gotcha!

Gotcha!

The journey to the Ganges

The journey to the Ganges

Almost home

Almost home

Bye-bye

Bye-bye

In hindsight, perhaps keeping snacks exposed in a hot, crowded climate near water was not one of my smarter decisions. Though, honestly, I think I’m lucky I faced the smaller critters instead of the monkeys ;).

Fun with Kriyas

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One of my favorite classes during my yoga teacher training course at the Association for Yoga and Meditation was kriya class. Kriyas are yogic cleansing techniques meant to purify the body and mind, as well as treat and prevent disease. There are six areas of focus, including the stomach (“dhauti”), the lower intestines (“basti”), the nose (“neti”), the eyes (“tratak”), the abdominal organs (“nauli”) and the brain (“kapalbhati”). Done properly, kriyas clean and strengthen the body, focus the mind, enhance the senses, build stamina, combat allergies and can even help people quit smoking.

Now, some of these techniques are quite ambitious. “Vastra dhauti,” for example, involves swallowing a cloth to induce vomiting. “Gomutra neti” requires one to shoot cow’s urine through his or her nostrils. And advanced stages of tratak involve staring at the sun for long periods of time.

Needless to say, we focused on tamer kriya techniques. And I must admit, sometimes, it was kind of hilarious.

To start, we learned “jala neti,” a nasal cleansing technique that uses a neti pot (a small pot with a nostril-sized spout) to run warm salt water through one’s nose and sinuses. The process is supposed to clear the buildup within the nose and sinuses, desensitize hyperactive nasal tracks and combat allergies and respiratory problems. It is also good for relaxation.

The technique seemed fairly simple. After filling your pot with warm salt water, you hold the bottom of the pot, insert its tip into one of your nostrils, bend forward and tilt your head, making sure to keep your mouth open to breathe and prevent water from entering the lungs. What should result is what I like to call a “fountain effect,” whereby a steady stream of water flows smoothly from the second nostril. Let me tell you, it’s damn sexy.

My classmates seemed naturally apt at this. I looked around the courtyard and saw one fountain spring up after the other and thought, “Ok, I got this.” Then it turned out, actually, not so much.

I thought I was doing everything correctly. I filled up my pot, inserted the tip and tilted. I felt the water go in, I just didn’t feel it come out. There is something about standing around in a courtyard watching people shoot water out their noses that is just really funny. Perhaps part of the problem was I couldn’t keep a straight face.

Eventually, my teachers came by and helped me adjust, ultimately resulting in my own special “Erica Fountain.” It was a proud moment.

Fountain Erica!

Fountain Erica!

The second kriya didn’t happen at all. This one, “sutra neti,” involves taking a sterilized, waxed or rubber string, inserting it into one nostril and pulling it out the mouth and essentially “flossing” back and forth. If this activity doesn’t sound that appealing to you, trust me, it didn’t sound that much fun to me either.

But I tried. Again, the instructions were clear: take the waxed string, straighten it out, then create a gentle “J” curve and begin to work the curved end through one nostril until reaching the sinus cavity in the back, then gently lower down and pull out the front.

Experimenting with sutra neti

Experimenting with sutra neti

I think I made it about three inches before the violent gagging and coughing took place. I even tried to have our teacher, Mahesh, help, though I’m not sure having a different person insert a foreign object into your face is much more comfortable than doing it yourself. It certainly yielded the same reaction.

Mahesh's attempt to help with sutra neti

Mahesh’s attempt to help with sutra neti

In the end, I decided my sinuses were pretty good as they were.

After struggles with the “neti” kriyas, I finally had more luck with the “nauli” kriya meant to cleanse the abdominal organs. Now, before you go envisioning more foreign objects being inserted into the body to remove bodily fluids, I’ll tell you, this one required no such action.

Nauli kriya is a stomach cleansing technique that essentially involves lifting one’s abdominal organs up into the body behind the lungs and rotating them around, all without breathing. To do it properly, one must begin with an empty stomach and empty bowels. You then take a long exhale to empty the lungs, bend forward and use your muscles to tuck your stomach in and up before moving it around. The effect is a starved-looking, bizarre-moving body that is super impressive at parties.

Despite my earlier neti troubles, I actually did pretty well at nauli kriya. After a few tries I kind of got the hang of it, even making this super attractive video:

While I did make some progress on my kriyas, I obviously still have quite a ways to go. I recently read of an advanced kriya involving removing one’s own colon from the body and washing it. Now that’s impressive!

Yoga School

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If you’ve ever met me, you probably know I’m a little bit nuts.

To describe me as “Type A” would be an understatement, and sometimes I’m amazed how my anxiety seemingly knows no bounds.

When I started yoga shortly after moving to Malaysia in 2010, it was a means for exercise and a productive way to fill some free time in a new country. Then, when I started my India trip a year later, it became a “when in Rome” activity to experience this ancient tradition in its native land. But as I made my way through India, taking different yoga classes, visiting temples, witnessing pujas, studying meditation and philosophy, I began to see a bigger picture. Yoga and meditation became more than a means to physical fitness but a means to mental fitness as well and a desperately sought solution to achieve some calm in my life. I resolved that I would end my trip with a stay in a yoga ashram and see what would happen.

At the end of 2011, I found myself at the Sivananda Yoga Ashram. While I was only there for five days, it was everything I expected and more. The setting was lush and isolated, and the holistic discipline of limited vegetarian meals, meditation and minimal sleep in addition to four hours of daily asana (pose) practice left me feeling mentally and physically stronger than I’d felt in a long time. I knew then that I had to return a do a month-long teacher training program to explore this further.

Unfortunately, my single-entry, three-month visa was almost out, and India’s strict visa regulations required that I wait two months before returning to the country. But I was determined and vowed to travel around Asia for a few months and return later in the year.

I finally returned to India in July 2012, though this time to the Association for Yoga and Meditation in Rishikesh, a city considered to be the yoga capital of the world, with a course with good reviews that was a better fit for my (now much smaller) budget. This would be my last adventure before my big trip home, and I thought it would be a great way to end my Asia experience.

I wish I could say my month in Rishikesh was full of peace, love and butterflies amidst days of handstands, backbends and perfect splits but that was, in fact, far from reality.

As usual, I had set very “realistic” goals for myself.

Yes, I had only been doing yoga for less than two years. Yes, I had been a bit lazy in my yoga practice the past few months. Yes, my arms were about as strong as spaghetti noodles. But, damn it, I was going to walk out of this 200-hour yoga teacher training course as a yoga master, complete with perfect splits, headstands and a gumby-like back to compete with any contortionist. Not only that, my newfound meditation and concentration skills would make me one zen, totally-enlightened bad ass. THIS WAS GOING TO HAPPEN.

"I totally look the part!"

Yoga School Day One: “I totally look the part!”

Well, clearly, that plan didn’t quite work out as I wanted it to. Though our teacher, Mahesh, had warned us not to overdo things early on, my ego and ambition led me to systematically overstretch every single group of muscles in my body on a rotating weekly basis. First, it was my shoulders, then my hamstrings, then my back and so on and so on. There were seriously weeks where it seemed half my asana classes were spent in child’s pose, resting the damaged muscles du jour.

Additionally, I found it emotionally very taxing. Perhaps it was failing the high expectations I had set for myself. Perhaps it was the growing anxiety about returning home after more than two years overseas. Perhaps it was being forced to look inward and examine my thoughts during daily breathing and meditation courses. Whatever the case, I was not the zen little nun I had sought out to be.

If yoga is meant to humble you in the face of a greater power, I certainly got that part down.

Luckily, you don’t have to be a perfect yogi in order to teach yoga, you just have to finish your course. While my asanas and meditation skills were not progressing as fast as I would have liked them to, my knowledge of the practice deepened significantly. In addition to the poses and meditation, we studied breathing (“pranayama”), yogic cleansing techniques (“kriyas”), philosophy, teaching and more. While I might not have been able to stand on my head, I did learn how to teach someone else to do it as well as why they should do it and how to do it safely. I also learned a whole lot of crazy cleansing and breathing techniques, and at one point, was able to hold my breath for a minute and a half.

By the end of the month, I was nowhere near my earlier goals, but I was much improved and actually did get my splits back :). What I came to understand that month was yoga is not a destination but a journey that takes a lifetime. Philosophically, it’s a journey to God. On a more practical level, it’s a tool for mental and physical discipline that can bring you great joy and peace in life.

While I’m still a little bit nuts, I think I covered good ground that month and plan to help others on their own journeys as I continue along mine.

Certified yoga instructor. Boom!

Certified yoga instructor. Boom!

My next few posts will showcase some of the more entertaining/special moments during my course. Below are some fun photos of my progress during my yoga teacher training course.

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Lumbini: The Birthplace of the Buddha

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As the birthplace of the Buddha, Nepal is a popular pilgrimage destination for spiritual seekers all over the world. And as an experimental Buddhist, I knew I had to make the trip as well.

Lumbini, the town where the Buddha was born in 623 B.C., is located near the Indian border, and Naren and I planned it as our final destination before returning to India.

As a town, the Buddha complex is Lumbini’s main event, and the city doesn’t really require more than a day’s visit to experience, unless you plan on staying a few days to soak up the spiritual energy.

The complex is broken into several parts and must be entered and exited through specific locations. To start, visitors begin at International Monastic Zone, a growing collection of Buddhist temples from Buddhist communities around the world, meant to promote world peace.

The development zone is split down the middle with temples from the Theravada tradition on the east side and temples from the Mahayana tradition on the west side. The walk through is lovely, with the two sides separated by narrow roads, a long pool of landscaped water and trees dotted with Buddhist sayings. It’s also a great way to experience Buddhist traditions from different parts of the world.

At the end of the International Monastic Zone, you approach the Sacred Garden where the birth took place. The garden includes the Mayadevi temple, which surrounds an underground excavation that holds a rock that marks the spot where the Buddha was born (unfortunately, no photos were allowed on the inside). The garden also includes the Sacred Pool where Buddha’s mother is said to have bathed before giving birth, as well as the Ashokan Pillar, an ancient pillar identifying the spot as the birthplace.

A visit to the complex is a real treasure, and even if you are not into Buddhism or spirituality, you’ll walk away happy and calm. It’s just that kind of place.

Below are some photos of birthplace of the Buddha.

The eternal flame symbolizes world peace and sits in front of a landscaped pool that separates the Theravada and Mahayana Buddhist traditions in the International Monastic Zone.

The eternal flame symbolizes world peace and sits in front of a landscaped pool that separates the Theravada and Mahayana Buddhist traditions in the International Monastic Zone.

Buddhist Sayings 1

Thai Temple in the International Monastic Zone

Thai Temple in the International Monastic Zone

Korean Temple in the International Monastic Zone

Korean Temple in the International Monastic Zone

Buddhist Sayings 2

Lumbini Road 2

Mayadevi Temple that houses that rock that marks the spot of the birth

Mayadevi Temple that houses that rock that marks the spot of the birth

Sunset

Buddhist Sayings 3

Prayer Flags

Prayer Flags

The pool where Buddha's mother is said to have bathed before giving birth

The pool where Buddha’s mother is said to have bathed before giving birth

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Nepal

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“Wait, so what are you going to do in Nepal then?”

This would be the standard response I received from fellow travelers upon hearing that I was going to Nepal and *gasp!* would not be trekking through the Himalayas.

As stated before (and I’m sure numerous times throughout my blog), I have a strict anti-trekking policy. No seriously, I hate trekking. Yes, I appreciate nice views and flowers and all that, but spending hours (and days!) climbing uphill through the heat (often), bugs and trees is just not my cup of tea. Trust me, I’ve tried enough times.

Well, I’m proud to say I spent more than two weeks traveling throughout Nepal and successfully managed to entertain myself with a range of non-trekking activities.

Nepal was a relatively short trip compared with the amount of time I spent in other countries, but during that time my friend Naren and I had a lovely time wandering through the temples of Kathmandu, spotting rhinos in Chitwan National Park, chilling out in Pokhara and visiting the birthplace of Buddha (yeah, Trekkers, that is a pretty significant non-trekking component of Nepal ;)).

And, of course, there were the particularly fun moments, like flying over Mount Everest, jumping off Asia’s highest bungy jump, eating endless momos or shopping constantly for hippie clothes and Tibetan jewelry.

I really loved Nepal. When I first set foot in Kathmandu, a crowded city full of colorful shops, busy streets and beautiful temples, I was instantly reminded of everything I loved about India, plus, with only a fraction of the aggressiveness.

Nepal, of course, had other differences. The country’s unique blend of both Hinduism and Buddhism provides a fascinating array of temples, structures and beliefs that often blur the lines between the two. The Swayambhunath “Monkey Temple,” for example, is a unique Buddhist and Hindu complex that contains representations of both religions throughout.

On one occasion, Naren and I were privileged to have glimpsed at the eight-year-old face of Kathmandu’s current Kumari, a young girl believed to be a living goddess princess. She spends her days living in a large palace in the city, making daily appearances at her window (no photos allowed) and being paraded around town during important religious events. When she gets her period, she no longer gets to be goddess and a new Kumari is found.

Nepal also had incredible food, a mix of both Indian-influenced curries and rice, mixed with Tibetan-style “momo” dumplings, which were the best I found ANYWHERE in Asia.

Here’s a collection of my best photos from Nepal.

Flying over the Himalayas on the way to Nepal, that's Mount Everest on the left!

Flying over the Himalayas on the way to Nepal, that’s Mount Everest on the left!

Kathmandu

Kathmandu

A beautiful view near the water in Pokhara

A beautiful view near the water in Pokhara

A Nepali woman sits outside the Jangchub Choeling Monastery in Pokhara.

A Nepali woman sits outside the Jangchub Choeling Monastery in Pokhara.

Enjoying a beautiful day in Pokhara with Naren and our new monk friend, Tenzin.

Enjoying a beautiful day in Pokhara with Naren and our new monk friend, Tenzin.

Chilling near the water in Pokhara

Chilling near the water in Pokhara

Swayambhunath, a unique temple complex that blends both Buddhism and Hinduism

Swayambhunath, a unique temple complex that blends both Buddhism and Hinduism

Kathmandu

Kathmandu

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Almost Tibet

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Almost Tibet

Tagong 1

As I prepared for the last leg of my trip through China and India, I came up with a plan that would enable me to travel throughout China and reach my final destination in northern India, without having to fly.

After traveling counterclockwise around China, I would continue west through Tibet then south to Nepal before reaching Rishikesh in northern India where my yoga course awaited me. Not only would I get through China and India, but I would add two entirely new and exotic places to my trip, all for what I estimated to be the same, if not cheaper, cost of flying. Brilliant!

Nepal had grown as a leading destination of interest after hearing universally rave reviews from fellow travelers. But Tibet, China’s isolated and controversial land in the west, had also risen to prominence after the sheer amount of excitement and curiosity I found in other travelers who also discussed the journey. Tibet, however, like Myanmar, also brought a whole new level of travel concerns.

An ancient land that had undergone centuries of various autonomous and non-autonomous rule, Tibet declared its independence in 1912 after the fall of the Chinese Qing dynasty. In the 1950s, Communist China invaded Tibet in an attempt to reclaim control of the land. Technically, the Dalai Lama, leader of the Tibetan Buddhism and the former political leader of the Tibetan government in exile in Dharamsala, India, supports a “middle-way” approach of Tibet being a part of China with a high degree of autonomy, but the issue remains controversial. The Chinese say they are developing the isolated land and saving its people from an oppressive feudal system, while those in support of a free Tibet accuse the Chinese of violating human rights, destroying Tibetan culture and forcing Tibetans to assimilate to the Chinese way of life. The conflict has led to numerous protests both inside and outside of Tibet and restricted access to the land by outsiders, despite growing interest by tourists.

Of course, a mere few weeks before my estimated departure, my brilliant plans were shattered. Protests in Tibet, including several monks setting themselves on fire, caused the Chinese to tighten travel restrictions, eventually prohibiting all tourists from entering the region altogether.

Anyone planning to travel to Tibet knows the borders open and close on regular, and often unpredictable, basis. But as I waited around Chengdu, hoping for a last-minute change, I found myself defeated. Tibet was not going to happen. Not this time.

But I still had more than a week left on my Chinese visa, and I was determined to make the most of it. After discussing alternatives with some fellow travelers, I heard about a small, mostly Tibetan village in Western China called Tagong. Located about 270 miles west of Chengdu, one of China’s last major cities before reaching Tibet, Tagong is a tiny village full of mostly Tibetan inhabitants that would offer a glimpse into the isolated lifestyle that was proving so difficult to experience.

After weeks of massive, crowded Chinese mega-cities, I was ready for a change. So I packed up my bags, bought a bus ticket and headed off.

The first step to reaching Tagong was Kangding, a Chinese city up in the mountains that serves as a jumping off point for many who plan to continue traveling west. The eight-hour bus ride to reach Kangding from Leshan/Chengdu is stunning, albeit, a bit scary at times. Rocky cliffs covered with dense green trees and shrubs surrounded us, topped with hovering mists that let us know we were high enough to enter cloud territory.

Kangding

Kangding

When we finally reached Kangding, I was pleasantly surprised to find the city quite charming. Tall green mountains surrounded the neat city streets, full of a combination of Chinese and Tibetan shops. But Kangding offered another surprise for me: it was cold.

I know I’m from Michigan, land of seemingly eternal winters, but I was not prepared for this. After nearly two years of hot weather, including 14 months in Malaysia which is practically located on the equator, this was quite a shock for me. To top it off, it was raining and nothing is as much fun as being cold except for being wet and cold.

So I put on my jeans, my sole long-sleeved shirt, my broken-zippered hoodie and each of the three pairs of almost-never-used socks I brought and hoped they’d be enough. And I set out to find a ride to Tagong.

Luckily I had made a travel buddy in the process. Daniel was from Germany, and after already having spent several days in Kangding, was ready to head to Tagong. So we hailed a share taxi and found ourselves crammed in the backseat of a minibus with two older Tibetan ladies and a Tibetan man. And it was one of the coldest, most dramatic bus rides I had ever been on.

Apparently old Tibetan ladies don’t get out much, at least not in cars, because these women were extremely prone to motion sickness. At an hour and a half, the ride wasn’t really that long, and though we were up in the mountains, it wasn’t that winding either. But for some reason these women insisted on keeping the windows down in the car, despite the fact it was about 40 degrees outside and raining. Daniel was kind enough to share his blanket with me, but even that wasn’t enough and we remained shivering in the back seat. And though we repeatedly asked the driver to talk to the ladies about closing the windows, they were apparently very adamant about not doing so, at one point even opening the windows all the way so it was a complete wind ambush in the back. Meanwhile, the ladies, with their rosy cheeks, braided hair and colorful Tibetan clothing, lay prostrate on the middle seat, like some Victorian English woman in the midst of a fainting spell. If I wasn’t so cold, I would have been very amused.

Once we arrived in Tagong, I was surprised and charmed at how quaint the town was. With a population of only 8,000 people, it was definitely the least populated city I had visited in China, and with an altitude of more than 12,000 feet, it was also the highest point I’d ever reached on land in my entire life.

Main street Tagong

Main street Tagong

Daniel and I opted to stay at Iya Drolma and Gayla’s Guesthouse, a cheap yet delightfully colorful and charming place listed in our guidebook. The only problem was, despite the high altitude and cold temperatures, there was no heat in our building. In fact, there was no heat in any of the buildings.

Trying to warm up at my guest house

Trying to warm up at my guest house


After settling in and enjoying a delightful warm foot bath, Daniel and I set out to eat and soon discovered the Khampa Café and Art Center, a cozy backpacker haven nearby that would become our second home during the next few days. Full of comfy couches, puzzles, books and a delightful combination of Western and Tibetan food, Khampa Café was the place to go to kill time between adventures or just relax and adjust to the altitude. After months of traveling, I was quite happy to bum around and do nothing for awhile.

I’m not going to lie, a significant chunk of my five days in Tagong were spent curled up in a blanket, chatting with other travelers, playing with the kittens, reading about Nepal and just hanging out at the café. And it was delightful.

But so was the town itself. Only a few blocks long, the town contained a few small restaurants, some generic clothing and hardware stores and several, redundant Tibetan scarf and jewelry shops geared at tourists. With my mad traveler shopping skills, I browsed several of the souvenir stores looking for the best deals for gifts to take home. I finally settled on a small shop owned by a young, friendly Tibetan man who, with his limited English, had given me the best prices. I happily purchased three scarves and five bracelets. It wasn’t until he had finished ringing up my scarves that he asked me to sleep with him, making very clear hand gestures of what he hoped would happen. Needless to say, I quickly left the store. And then found out I’d paid about four times what the scarves were worth. Awesome.

The real charm to Tagong, however, was not its town or necessarily even its monasteries: it was its grasslands. I had never seen anything like it before. Surrounding this tiny village on all sides were seemingly endless miles of rich, hilly green land with barely a handful of trees to break up the sea of grass. Every now and then a herd of yaks would graze, prodded along by a couple Tibetan men on horses. It was stunning.

Tagong Grasslands

Tagong Grasslands

I figured the best way to experience the land was on horseback and signed up for a day-long horseback ride with two other girls. Unfortunately, it had decided to rain the day of the trip, and I found myself, once again, piling on every layer of clothing I had to stay warm. The morning was brutal. My gloves, feet and most of my pants were soaked within the first 30 minutes, and I had no idea how I would last the day. The best part came around noon, when we got to have lunch in the tent of a Tibetan nomadic family.

As we entered the tent, the girls and I were quickly welcomed by the older Tibetan lady, her daughter and her young grandson and we crowded around the fire to warm up. Like many Tibetan people, the family were yak herders and moved their tent around the grasslands to coincide with the care of their yaks.

Life was simple. A kettle heated up over a small fire, while piles of blankets, clothing, buckets and food supplies were strewn around the surrounding grass. Though we could not verbally communicate with each other, the family was extremely hospitable. We enjoyed a basic lunch of Tibetan staples: bread, yogurt and raisins, Tibetan butter tea and tsampa, a not-so-flavorful soup of barley, yak butter and boiling water. Not so different than tsampa, Tibetan butter tea is a savory tea made of yak butter melted into a pot of tea and yak milk. While many Westerners don’t care for the taste, I thought it tasted like liquid brie, and I loved it. Apparently the heavy, salty tea and soup provide great nutrients for life in the cold, windy temperatures of the high altitude, and I’ve read that Tibetans can consume up to 40 cups of yak butter tea a day!

Our hosts

Our hosts

As we left the warm comfort of the nomad tent, we were rudely jolted back to our earlier mission of exploring the grasslands. It was even colder now and the rain had picked up, and we still had six hours to go! With our feet numb, clothing soaked and eyes half shut against the rain, we asked our guide if we could just head back. It was far too miserable to enjoy the grasslands. But we had gone too far and the only way back was to follow the original plan, so on we rode trying our best to remind ourselves we were on the adventure of a lifetime.

Thankfully for us, the weather gods showed us some mercy around mid-afternoon. Though it never got warm, the rain stopped, the sun came out and we found ourselves surrounded by nothing but sprawling green hills and grasslands. At that point, I think we were all glad to have stuck around.

But my happiness was short-lived. Apparently, the nice weather had energized my horse as well, who then decided to go for a vigorous run by himself. Now, I enjoy horses and prior to China, I had ridden them several times throughout my life, though rarely going more than a short trot or canter. While my heart raced with excitement to test my horsewoman skills, this horse had a mind of its own. My attempts to lean back on the reigned paired with “whoa” (I knew nothing else to say) only caused the horse to pause before taking off again even faster. When we approached a rocky area, I was reminded of Asia’s relaxed helmet policy and started to scream.

Our guide was not happy about this. Though he could barely speak English, I quickly understood that I was not supposed to scream at the horses. So things calmed down and we tried again. Sure enough, a few minutes later my horse decided, yet again, he needed to go for a run, and I found myself once more clinging on for dear life and screaming.

Me and my misbehaving horse

Me and my misbehaving horse

Now my guide was angry, but so was I, and I managed to communicate to him that he needed to get this situation under control. Luckily, we had come across one of his buddies who was herding yaks, and I found myself on a horse “leash,” with the yak herder holding on to my reins in addition to his. This ended up being amazingly fun.

Though my wings were clipped, I got to trot along with the yak herder as he did his job. When a few of the yaks strayed, I chased after them with the yak herder to get them back with the group. When they got distracted or slowed down, I found myself whistling along with my new guide to get their attention. While I was merely the tag-along, I felt like I, too, was herding yaks. And it was super bad ass.

By the time we made it back we were cold and exhausted yet exhilarated by the amazing adventure we’d had. I ended up paying for that adventure with a nasty cold over the next few days. But as I headed to the Chengdu airport – indeed, to fly to Nepal – I was grateful that, after weeks of experiencing the “mainstream” Chinese mega cities, I had found a little patch of rural China and experienced a little bit of Tibetan culture. Even if it was, only, almost Tibet.

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Stretching Forward

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From the very beginning of my India trip, I knew I wanted to end up in an ashram.

As I mentioned in my “Reflections” post, learning to meditate and improving my yoga practice were personal goals of mine, and I figured what better way to attain them than to spend a concentrated amount of time in a spiritual community in, arguably, the most spiritual place on earth.

When I learned about the Sivananda yoga ashram, (technically, the International Sivananda Yoga Vedanta Centres), I thought it sounded perfect. Chanting, meditation and four hours of yoga practice a day, it seemed just what I was looking for. The fact that it was having a special holiday program and I would be able to celebrate Christmas in some aspect was just an added bonus.

Little did I know the effect those five days at Sivananda would have on me, both physically and spiritually.

Situated outside Trivandrum in Neyyar Dam, Kerala in southern India, the Sivananda yoga ashram was everything you’d imagine an ashram to be. Lush vegetation and fruit trees covered the complex, interspersed with the occasional statue of Shiva, Ganesh or Vishnu. An open two-story hall formed the center of the ashram, providing us space for our yoga practice as well as the setting for our meditation, chanting and cultural shows. While the bottom floor was fairly simple, used almost exclusively for yoga, the top floor was quite rich. Paintings of colorful deities lined the walls, facing each other, while statues of the ashram’s founders and gurus, Swami Sivananda and Swami Vishnusdevananda, and other statues rested on stage in front, covered in orange cloaks. Just outside, a staircase led to a small woods of thick green trees, opening to reveal a quiet lake shimmering in the sun. Just outside the lake opening, life-sized statues depicting Sivananda’s 12 signature yoga postures created a space to keep visitors focused on the task at hand. Calm, beautiful and utterly connected with nature, Sivananda’s was perfect.

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As a yoga ashram, the focus of life at Sivananda’s was yoga (duh). Though our daily schedule included four hours of asana (postures) practice, Sivananda embraced a more holistic yoga lifestyle which also included daily meditation and chanting, self-less service (chores) and a vegetarian diet. Our day started every morning at 6 a.m. with an hour and a half of meditation and chanting before our first two-hour yoga class at 8 a.m. Around 10:30 a.m., we were served the first of our two meals a day, usually a variation of rice surrounded by mild chutneys and vegetables, served with water. (Let me tell you, exercising four hours a day with only two meals, you learn quickly how to pack in the carbs when you get the chance. Lucky for us, the food was delicious.) Free time for chores, private yoga coaching or special cultural workshops followed breakfast, before resuming with our second yoga class at 4 p.m. The day continued with dinner and more meditation and chanting, before ending with our special holiday cultural performance in the evening.

After months of spotty yoga practice, lucky if I was doing a class once every two weeks, I had no idea how I’d survive four hours of class a day. But surprisingly, it was amazing. Eating and sleeping little, exercising constantly, I felt incredible. Even after just a couple days I could feel my body getting stronger with more energy and endurance. But the best part of all was the mood. Despite the inevitable aches and pains, I was so happy, along with everyone around me. As cheesy and hippie-ish as it sounds, there seemed to be an overflow of positive energy in the ashram, as if everyone’s endorphins were working together to create a perpetual happy place. No TV, no junk food, no contact with the outside world, and I was running high.

Normally, Sivananda offers mandatory Hinduism classes between yoga practice, but since I came during the holiday cultural program, philosophy classes were replaced with workshops on native Keralan singing, dancing and art. While I enjoyed these programs immensely, I was a little disappointed to have lost my opportunity to study Hinduism properly, especially since the ashram marked the end of my India trip. But after having spent nearly three months in India, I had picked up a few things and enjoyed discussing philosophy with those around me.

And then I met Gloria (another one). High energy, to the point and sarcastic, Gloria from “New Yowk” seemed to be your stereotypical New Yorker. But perhaps unstereotypically, she was also a Sivananda yoga teacher. One day over tea, I asked her what she thought about Hinduism, and whether or not she thought they actually believe in all those different gods or if, essentially, they were just different manifestations of the same being. Her answer was one of the most interesting perspectives I’ve found.

In Gloria’s understanding, Hindu deities represent different aspects of one God. The different personalities, she said, help people find a specific aspect of God with whom he or she can relate and that specific manifestation is the one best to lead that person to God.

When I thought about it, I realized that nearly all Hindus I knew had one particular deity to whom they prayed, and in meditation, we were asked to recite our mantra, picture our God or, at the very least, focus on the basic, all-encompassing sound, “om.”

In Gloria’s case, she favored Shiva, who she considered a modern day “rock star” and found super bad ass. In my case, however, she had a different idea.

“I don’t see you with one of those pansy gods about beauty or something,” she said. “You’re quite fiery. I see you with somebody with a weapon.”

That was, quite possibly, one of the coolest compliments I’ve ever gotten 🙂 (I think).

While I still don’t know who my own personal deity might be, I got to thinking that maybe Gloria was right. Maybe there really is just one God, but throughout the changing cultures and histories of the world, he has just come to manifest himself in different ways.

In fact, there are even theories that Jesus spent his “lost years” in India as a Buddhist disciple. While it may sound blasphemous, there are suggestions that Jesus might have had some East-leaning beliefs, which may have just gotten altered through the centuries in the West. The gnostic gospels, for instance, like the Gospel of Thomas, tend to have a much more mystical focus on self-enlightenment and realization.

I don’t care to go into all of that here, but it does make me think that maybe all these different religions, when boiled down to the core, are essentially the same. Maybe there isn’t just one way, but numerous paths and figures to reach him. For some, that figure is Jesus. For others, Buddha, or even Amma, provide the answers. Still, maybe the path to enlightenment is through Shiva, Ganesh, Laksmi or any other of the several million Hindu deities. And maybe there’s more to come.

Twenty-seven years of religious study and soul-searching, and I still cannot pretend to know all the answers. And honestly, I don’t know if I ever will. But I will say now, after seven years of borderline atheism, I’m starting to have faith again.

I like the peacefulness of meditation, I like the strength and focus I get through yoga, and I like the idea that, maybe somewhere, there is an ultimate being who is looking out for us. Maybe, at the end of the day, what I’ve regained is hope.

God Smells Like Jasmine

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I had never intended to go to Amma’s.

Though determined to spend some time in an ashram, my destination was actually the Sivananda yoga ashram outside Trivandrum, not the home of the Kerala’s famous “Hugging Mother.”

But when the Lonely Planet listed Amma’s as an interesting stop to break the monotonous eight-hour ferry ride between Alleppey and Kovalam, I figured I’d check it out for a day or two and continue on my way south.

Four days later, the last-minute Amma’s stop made for one of my most fascinating experiences in India.

Known as the “Hugging Mother,” or simply, “Amma” (“mother” in the south of India), Mata Amritanandamayi Devi is a spiritual leader based in Kerala, India famous for using hugs to reach and comfort people. In fact, Amma has hugged more than 30 million people to date. While many praise her as a saint for her seemingly unlimited compassion and charity work, devotees themselves see her as something else: God. Krishna, to be specific.

I was not aware of this when I entered the ashram. In fact, all I knew was that Amma was a famous hugging guru who had lots of followers throughout the world. But as I entered the rose-colored high-rise, surrounded by thousands of people dressed in white, I knew I was in for quite a trip.

Amma's famous pink, high-rise ashram

To start, seeing Amma in person in India is a rarity. Except for a few months out of the year in India, Amma spends most of her time traveling, hugging followers and strangers alike throughout the world.

For those who make it when Amma is around, a hug is a guarantee. In fact, a highly-organized numbering and registration system makes it so those who have just arrived or are leaving soon are the priority to receive “darshan,” the formal name of Amma’s hugs.

So when I got my number, I was quite excited. The Hugging Mother was in!

But receiving the hugs is not without its wait. In fact, despite having arrived at 5 p.m., my 2000-something ticket wasn’t supposed to be fulfilled until after midnight, which apparently isn’t uncommon at Amma’s house.

So in the meantime, I decided to explore the place. With its famous massive pink skyscrapers, Amma’s place isn’t your typical ashram.

Starting as Amma’s humble childhood home, the ashram has grown into an extensive complex built to house the several-thousand devotees that make their home there, including several residential buildings, a temple, university and Ayurvedic hospital, all painted Amma’s signature pink color (I liked that part :)).

An unintentionally stolen photo of Amma's temple. I found out afterward that photography is prohibited in the ashram.

And though the housing is quite humble (I barely slept a wink in the cramped, four-bed dorm room I shared with three others), the one thing I enjoyed the most about Amma’s was the food!

Like every other ashram or religious retreat I went to (and really, much of India), Amma’s kitchens were vegetarian only, and surprisingly for me, some of the best food I ever ate.

Catering to an international community, Amma’s place comes with a variety of options, sure to impress any palette. Included in the 200 rupee ($4) a day accommodation price were three guaranteed meals of watery rice and vegetables. Alternatively, one could choose to pay for meals in the Indian or Western cafeterias, which serve up a variety of curries and samosas on the Indian side, or nutritious vegetable soups and fresh-baked breads on the Western side. And, if still none of those suited you, you could try your hand at the café, enjoying a range of pizzas, spaghetti and delectable fresh baked goods. And the kicker: a real-life espresso machine. Yes, at Amma’s ashram, a place for quiet contemplation and selfless service, you could get your daily caffeine fix with a fresh cuppa Joe (apparently some of Amma’s Italian followers were not a fan of the previous arrangement :)). This was the coolest ashram ever!

During my wait, I also got to attend the ashram’s daily orientation session. More than two hours long, the session included a video detailing Amma’s extensive charity work as well as an official tour. But what fascinated me most was the discovery that, upon personal request, Amma will give you your very own mantra!

Yes, simply say the word “mantra” during your hug and you will get a personally-tailored, “God”-sanctioned word or phrase that will help you focus during meditation and reach divinity.

Though I am not Hindu, or even really Buddhist for that matter, I had started meditating and thought it would be great to have my very own, divinely-inspired mantra. I soon added this to the plan when meeting Amma.

After hours spent settling in, touring, eating and chatting with some of the other visitors, it was finally my turn to line up. On my day, Amma was giving darshan in the ashram’s main hall. I don’t remember what word they used to describe it, but it was essentially a large open auditorium, no walls, but a large stage that rests in front of hundreds of portable chairs where people can sit and watch if they choose. In addition to the hug, every guest is allowed a special place on stage at least once, where he or she has the privilege of sitting close to Amma for an assigned 30-minute time period. As you can imagine, it was a little bit crowded.

After entering stage right, my group and I proceeded to Amma like musical chairs: scooting along a series of chairs, stopping only for a minute or two before progressing to the next. Though I would have preferred to sit further down for a longer period of time, Amma’s minions weren’t having it, and we found ourselves moving again in an assembly line to the front.

When it was almost time to get a hug, I got a little nervous. How would it feel? Would it be a spiritual awakening? What if I hugged her wrong? And, honestly, after watching her hug hundreds of people all day long, would she smell bad? (I know, I know, I’m going to hell…)

And then, it was my turn. Standing on my knees, watching as the person in front of me got up, I felt one of Amma’s staff grab the back of my head and shove me into her bosom. As I leaned there awkwardly, I was surprised. God smells like jasmine.

Looking down at the eternal white of her shirt, I wasn’t quite sure what to do. It was a hug, but after I tried to put my arms around Amma as well, I was strictly instructed “Don’t touch Amma!”

Ok then.

So I continued to look down, enjoying the lovely jasmine scent, as Amma said incomprehensible things into my ear. (I would find out later that she tends to say something along the lines of “My darling.”)

And then it was over.

I got up, asked for my mantra and was off the stage before I knew it with a little card in my hand (apparently one does not hug 30 million people without being efficient).

Leaving the stage, I thought the hug was pleasant, but like my experience with the Dalai Lama, nothing more. But still that didn’t stop me from pursuing my mantra.

Unfortunately, our tour guide had not filled us in on the fine details. Earlier, all he had said was that after asking for a mantra one of her devotees would give you a small card and direct you to speak with one of the swamis. Then, at the end of the darshan, those requesting a mantra stay back and receive them all together.

The fact that not everyone had immediately asked for a mantra should have been a tip off.

As I looked at the little card in my hand, I got very confused. I had no idea who the swamis were, and since it was close to the end of the darshan anyway, everyone just kept directing me to wait to go back onstage.

When it was finally time to line up for our mantras, about 10 Indians and I (that should have also been a tip off) were given a laminated sheet with very detailed instructions.

As I read the fine print, sirens went off in my head. The mantra instructions went something like this:

“By accepting this mantra, you are hereby devoting yourself to becoming one of Amma’s followers. You are to repeat this phrase every day for the rest of your life and all subsequent lives. Please sign your soul on the dotted line here. Thanks! (Unconditional) Love, Amma’s Minions.”

Ok, perhaps it didn’t read exactly like this, but you get the drift.

Placing the instructions on a nearby chair, making my way against the Indian devotees-to-be, I couldn’t get off the stage fast enough.

Was the hug nice? Yes. Was I willing to worship Amma for the rest of my life (and all my other lives?) No.

I spent the subsequent days relaxing in the ashram and partaking in a special (top-secret) meditation course created by Amma herself and taught exclusively by her swamis. I even had to sign a confidentiality agreement not to share her IAM Meditation with others!

Though I won’t reveal the details here (in fact, I don’t remember them well :/) Amma’s IAM Meditation was nothing overly unique or scandalous. But more than her secret meditation, it was spending time outside the class conversing with Amma’s devotees where I learned the most, not only about spirituality, but about human nature.

I remember reading the Bible as a child and coming to the part where Jesus calls on his disciples to drop everything and follow him, without even looking back. Though I got the point that you are supposed to follow Jesus without question, I remember having a hard time believing that someone would essentially drop everything just to follow another human being. But after four days at Amma’s, I finally get it.

People really do treat her as God. Her images, like those of Vishnu, Shiva or Ganesh, cover the ashram, framed and garlanded for all to admire. During chanting, ceremonies or lessons, we didn’t pray through Amma but to her directly, as if she herself was the one who provided the answers.

So many times I would talk to devotees to find them say things like, “Amma said to do this,” or “I prayed to Amma about this.” By just replacing “Amma” with “Jesus,” you could hear many of the same sentiments in the United States (and I’m sure other largely-Christian communities as well).

As part of the minority that made up the non-devotees, it was a little strange for me to watch. I did, however, get the chance to talk with one middle-aged American man, a former monk, who was able to put it in some perspective for me. After struggles and frustration at home, he finally found peace after meeting Amma and has since devoted his life to her. Like many others, he spends a few months every year working in the United States, then packs up everything to either live at the ashram in India or travel with Amma on her world tours.

Sensing my incredulity, he said people worship things all the time, if not God, then people or things like movie stars, athletes, addictions etc. Why was it so hard to believe that someone would devote himself to such a pure woman who has done so much good in the world?

He then proceeded to tell me that he himself had personally witnessed some of Amma’s miracles and has no doubt in his mind as to her holiness. According to him, a leper entered the ashram once, oozing sores and smelling terribly, revolting to everyone. Except for Amma. Apparently, she dropped what she was doing to hug him and then proceeded to lick his wounds. Mahatmas (“great souls”), my former monk explained, are known to have healing powers in their saliva. Years later, he claims, that leper came back, totally healed and instantly recognized by Amma.

I hardly believe that this man had any reason to lie to me, but that was his story, not mine. I don’t think I’ll be able to believe it until I see it.

Some say that, if not immediate, Amma’s effect can hit you years afterward. Several months later, Amma still remains to me as a fascinating woman who seems to have a powerful effect on a lot of people. Still, I don’t deny that she is something more special to others, and since they all seem to do largely positively things under her influence, I don’t begrudge them anything.

Who knows, maybe years down the road I’ll change my mind? 🙂

India and Spirituality

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My Indian yoga teacher in Malaysia once told me that everyone with a desire to go to India is seeking something spiritual.

While images of the Taj Mahal, camels and temples came to mind, my Catholic-turned-agnostic self began to wonder if maybe he was right.

For the first 20 years of my life, I was deeply religious. I went to church every Sunday, prayed daily and was quite outspoken on what I believed to be right and wrong.

Then the questions and the doubts began to pile up, eventually becoming overwhelming, and I decided to take a break from God, a break that ultimately turned into abandonment.

It’s not that I didn’t want to believe. The idea of having an omniscient, omnibenevolent being always looking out for you, waiting for the day to take you away into eternal bliss is incredible, comforting and altogether a desirable thing. But, as I’m sure God would know, if you don’t really believe in it in your heart, you can’t force yourself.

And so, for the past seven years, I’ve sort of teetered the agnostic-atheist line, not quite confident enough to believe God doesn’t exist but not placing my bet on the fact that he does.

But to live with that sense of isolation, that life is ultimately futile, can be quite difficult. When things go wrong, “Maybe this happened for a reason” or “God will get me through it” just doesn’t work anymore and you only have yourself or chance to blame and, ultimately, to rely on.

Living this way does have its benefits. If you believe you only have one life to live, without any notion of a higher purpose, you are less likely to put up with undesirable circumstances in the present in the hopes of greater rewards in the future. Your life becomes your most prized possession and making yourself as happy as possible becomes the ultimate goal. (Note: pursuing happiness and pursuing pleasure are two different things. A hedonistic life does not necessarily bring happiness, and a person (including an atheist) can certainly achieve happiness by dedicating his or her life to helping others).

But despite my own doubts on the existence of God, one thing that has always perplexed me has been the conviction and frequency of other people’s experiences with the supernatural. While nothing has ever happened to me personally, I have known so many sane, intellectual and trustworthy people who have had anything from freaky ghost-story experiences to deeply enlightening spiritual awakenings that have caused me to reconsider my beliefs.

While I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, I decided to go to India with an open mind and dedicate time to learn meditation and yoga and see what happens. My goal was not necessarily to discover God, but rather, to learn how to control my mind and emotions instead of remaining a slave to them with my high-stress, anxious, mood-swinging personality (which has often been an obstacle in my happiness :)).

While I still haven’t figured everything out, I think my three-month trip to India may have inadvertently made me a believer again, though on a much different level than I believed before.

In the next segment of my blog, I’d like to share some of my spiritual experiences during my time in India and how they have changed my beliefs today.