More from Erica at Krishnamacharya Yoga Mandiram

Continuing our series of posts of reports from yogis on their pilgrimages to India, here is another report from Erica, in a moment of reflection during her course at the Krishnamacharya Yoga Mandiram in Chennai, India.

Chennai, Tamil Nadu

I've made it through the first week of my training at the Krishnamaycharya Yoga Mandiram (KYM). While the program is not as asana intensive as I had imagined it to be the philosophy, meditation, pranayama, and healing aspects of yoga have been incredible. I don't quite know how to capture my experience in an articulate way as I'm still processing the information and integrating it in my own way. I'll tell you about it later.

We headed to a nearby town on Saturday to check out some 6th century Hindu temples. I wasn't prepared to see the destruction of the tsunami still having such a strong and devestating presence. Many beach villages were entirely wiped out and all that remains are little palm tree saplings in a vast, barren field. Various Tsunami Relief Projects have established palm huts for all of the people to live in and even though they have a roof over their heads they don't have much else yet they sport glowing smiles as they wave as we whizzed by. It really puts things into perspective to imagine that these people had nothing (before the tsunami) and even that was washed away.

On our way to this town, Mamallapuram, two goats were hit by a vehicle and left on the road dying (hit and run). As the goats lay there "baaaahhhhh" -ing there were about 4 other goats surrounding them as though they were staying there supporting their expiration. The bone chilling sound of their death was an inevitable sound that was soon to end. I imagine the other goats somehow empathizing or remaining there as some sort of comfort wondering if even goats are attached to life. Death is a part of life and in India, a country of over 1.1 billion, it happens ALL of the time.

Walking along side the road stepping over sleeping bodies and dogs curled up under trees, I wonder sometimes if they're really alive. And if so, why would they choose to sleep on the dirt next to a busy, main road where the cars, buses and rickshaws continue to honk until late into the night breathing exhaust fumes (intense enough to tie-dye my white shirt a greyish-brown) opposed to a quieter neighbourhood.

people are everywhere. wherever you go someone is there. when you think no one is looking, surely they most certainly are. i have moments where all i want is a moment to myself, some silence and there's nowhere to go. ah, but there is always meditation, that place of silence inside that is always accessible no matter wherever you are.

erica