Dear Family and Friends,

No doubt you've heard this story before but...

Once upon a time, in a far away land there lived a legendary hero by the name of Odysseus. Odysseus had it all: blessings from the Gods, the kingship of a boutiful kingdom, a lovely wife, a healthy son, and considerable cleverness... until one day he was called to fight in far away Troy. When the war was won and done, Odysseus and his men boarded their ship for their journey home. That journey turned into a 10-year adventure and that adventure turned into a legend thousands of years old: Odysseus journeyed to the underworld, defeated a cyclops, ate great quantities of lotus and spent 7 years weeping for his family by day and fully enjoying the bed of the nymph Calypso at night...

Actually, I've never understood the Calypso portion of The Odyssey. The story goes that she had beauty coupled with great magic and Odysseus had quite a lovely life with her. That said, 7 years seems an awfully long time to linger despite wanting, with all your heart, to go home. Yet within hours of arriving in Rishikesh, I suddenly understood that during his time with Calypso, time lost meaning for Odysseus and 7 years simply drifted by.

Now, do not get me wrong! A comparison between myself and Odysseus is hardly apt: I am neither a muscle-bound hero nor legendary, I was not stranded on an island amidst the wine-dark sea and sadly, there was no male equivalent - nymph or otherwise - to warm my bed. But somehow, within hours of setting off on a train from Delhi and mere minutes after alighting at the gates of my temporary home of Shiva Resorts in order to study yoga with Rishikesh Yog Peeth, the world retreated, I lost my bearings, and time changed.

Although I cannot say if I was most interested Indian culture (which I feel is increasingly spreading to the States), in Indian food (yum!), or in India's beautiful buildings; it has nonetheless been my dearest Asian travel wish to visit India. Once I had afixed India as my last Asian destination (for the meantime) and once initial research indicated that overland travel to India was cheap and easy (yeah right!), I spent approximately 10 seconds deciding that since I had more time than money on my hands, I should capatilize on a passing interest and study yoga while in India. It then took me hours of research to decide where better to study yoga than the than the city that modestly styles itself the "yoga capital of the universe" - Rishikesh, India?

Rishikesh and the smaller town that I found myself actually sleeping in (Ramjula) are backed upon far Himalayan foothills while that holiest of rivers, the Ganges, flows through their centers. City is too strong of a word for Rishikesh: narrow streets plagued with cow manure and motorcycle beeping border the Ganges along with many-leveled Hindu temples and low-roofed ashrams. I, we, studied a combination of "Hatha Yoga" and "Raja Yoga" at an intimate school called Rishikesh Yog Peeth, which is the teenist bit of an uphill climb out of the village. Days were almost invariably sunny; nights were beautifully bright with stars.

I lived rather quiet. My bedroom was clean, comfortable, safe, and soley mine. Every morning, I stepped out of bed onto cooled marble floors, which (if the floors weren't painfully cold) radiated through my soles. My door opened onto a walkway that had the air of a balcony and overlooked nicely clipped greenery. With irregular success, I began my day still under the covers, moving a pen across a journal in my lap. Afterwards, we students began our day with yogic cleansing, which sometimes involved a neti pot of saline solution running through our nostrils while other days we cleared our minds with a simple mantra of "Aum" 108 times in succession, fingering the beds of a mala. After cleansing, we hurried to beg for glasses of tea (I loved and always ordered crushed fresh ginger + fresh lemon juice + honey tea). Our first yoga asanas (postures) began before the sun had yet to rise and finished an hour and half later, after the sun had brightened the windows. Our next committment, yoga theory class, was at 3:30 in the afternoon, which gave us time for a shower, 2 meals, plus some time to walk into the village or e-mail or study or read or nap or... well... enjoy the moment. We attended lecture, took a short break and then re-gathered for our evening asana class, followed by a breathing and meditation class. Finally came dinner and I rarely waited long after dinner to return to bed.

Well into my course, a friend wrote to inquire, "Aren't you bored studying yoga?" And I surprised myself with a vehement, "NO!" This could have been because the actual practice of yoga is multi-faceted and rather challenging. But I suspect that my reply had more to do with the fact that I live my "real life" wound tighter than a clock. I fuel up on caffiene, I function at high energy, and I am forever tending a list of things to do that is longer than I can truly accomplish. I rarely ever savor life because I'm forever concerned about when and how I'm going to get through the next task. The actual clock ticks time by and this incites panic in me, which results in my own interal works becoming tighter and tighter. Relaxation in my "real life" is fleeting, instead I'm always pushing myself to be more, do more, be more. No wonder I experience burn out with such regularity.

Living in India should have been frustrating for someone such as myself, who prefers to do more, faster. The elecrity cut with frustratingly regular irregularity and the computers available to me were cranky. A friend sent me a parcel from Korea - it took days to arrive in India and an entire month to travel by air (?!) from Calcutta to Rishikesh. Food, clean and of high quality, took time to prepare from scratch. I was no longer living in a world where time and difficult-to-achieve expectations ruled and while I resisted at first, eventually I learned to adjust my expectations, shrink my list of things to do, and relax. And I was all the better for it.

Happily, the company at Rishikesh Yog Peeth was grrrreat. Our class was composed of mostly kindred women, aged 23 - 36, from Canada, Seychelles (look it up), Hungary and the States. We had 3 official teachers: the intent master of our program who doubled as our theory lecturer, a meditative yogi whoes eyes twinkle and wisdom belies his actual youth, and a serious-faced, beautifully kind asanas teacher. All 3 of our teachers were young, Indian, and devoted to yoga; yet each teacher's practice of yoga differed. Besides our teachers, there was an amiable cast of characters to keep us in comfort - which, I must say, they excelled at while somehow managing to be the best of company beyond their obligations. By the end of the course, I had gained friends that bordered on (unrealistically diligent) brothers... pretty much the only time that I recalled that they were obligated to keep me comfortable was when the hot water in my shower ran cold. And so, in what could've been 7 days, 7 months, or even 7 years of happily studying yoga, November drifted by....

In order to draw the beginning of today's tale to a close, after 7 years of fruitlessly pining for home, Zeus, king of the legendary Greek Gods, finally prevailed upon Calypso to release Odysseus and he immediately set sail for home. When he arrived, he had a bit of problem settling in (i.e. there were 100 potentially murderous suitors courting his wife and abusing his son) but he managed to dispatch the enemy, restore harmony, and presumably lived happily ever after (well, until he was killed by the spine of a stingray).

During my time in Rishikesh, a pining for home and unpleasant memories of weeping for one's loved ones began to grow within me. I found myself re-examining my original plan for adventure (which next prescribed a flight to the juncture between Asia and Europe - Istanbul) and decided to change my plan. So, after a few more weeks on the rails in India (after all, I could really eat more naan and I have beautiful buildings to see with my own eyes), I'm suspending my adventures (such as they are) in order to return home to spend Christmas with my loved ones. T.S. Eliot once wrote that, "[h]ome is where one starts from" - but home is also where one prefers to end as well, no? I concede that while Odysseus and I have little in common (although after a month of daily asana practice, my muscles are nicely on their way to heroinic), I find that I agree with him that living amongst loved ones is to be treasured, home (in whatever shape it takes) is to treasured. Although I've come too far, I've seen too much, learned too much to ever end up exactly where I began, I am also very much ready for a not-yet-defined duration... at home.

With much love,
Laura

PS: For the record, when the crazies began raining bullets on Mumbai, I was beyond their reach - physically and mentally - to the point that I didn't hear about the attack until a good 12 hours after the seige began. Upon learning of the attacks, I reluctantly re-joined the world, at least to the extent avidly examining the news on a daily basis. I do not (currently) have any original insight into the situation but share India's grief and fear for the future.

Our village and the river Ganga...

A delicious and fun lunch out.

Where we saluted the sunrise and sunset.

Sunset while on the return to Delhi....