The Guest House

Jody Bone is one of my yoga teachers here at Brahmani. She read this poem in a class last week.

I really like it.

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

As an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

~ Rumi

Living in the Key of YES

So I’ve been in India for just under 2 weeks now.

Not going to lie, I was freaking anxious when leaving. I kept on waking up on the plane and having a mini freak out when registering that I was in fact on a plane, going to India, to train to be a yoga teacher. How the hell had this happened?!?! EEK!

I had all these negative thoughts dart about my head which I knew were all stupidly irrational, but I just couldn’t shake them and it was annoying. (This was probably the result of that little big leaving party… woops!). In order to tune out of myself, I started chatting to this guy Stephen whilst waiting for my connecting flight at Mumbai airport. Now it turned out that Stephen used to make music with Martin Cole from Wieden’s (my old job). He was super chatty and lovely and kitted me up with so much music and DJ software. We chatted ‘advertising’ and decided amongst us that I should definitely be a yoga teacher which made me feel loads better. (Thanks, Stephen)

On a bit of a chat role, I looked about for some other folk to vibe off. At the back of the transit bus, I saw a kind looking couple I clocked from the London flight. I popped my sleepy self next to them and said a cheery “hiya”. We shared our story of where we’re all off to and it turned out, the EXACT same place! This is how I met Stuart, the lovely gentleman who is now teaching me Anatomy at yoga school.

Synchronicity strikes! Time to relax…

Two weeks on I’m sat in my little yellow room with my own little garden writing this blog post. I’ve just returned from a social with my new yogini friends at a place called Bean Me Up (it’s a veggie restaurant for those that get confused). There’s about 16 of us yogalites; all different people united because of that special place that yoga takes us to. We all get it, and it’s simple scrumptious. It feels so good to be dedicating my days to learning about something I really believe in and with people who I can chat ‘hippy’ shizzle with. I don’t know where it’ll take me, but that doesn’t really matter to me right now.

So just to rub it in, this is my average day:

I start with a two hour Vinyassa Flow yoga class that’s been choreographed so strategically it fools my body into thinking that those painful tricky little numbers are merely acts of kindness. I then listen to the wonderfully wise Julie Martin wow me with the biomechanics of yoga and I end my day floating around Anjuna after a 1.5 hour meditation session (well often floating but also quite often tormented at this stage, but I’m learning!)

I seriously feel as though I’m living in a video game. I’ve failed my driving license four times yet I’m whizzing around on my moped where cows chill out on street corners as if they’re London teenagers. On the way back from yoga, I’ll pull up to Anish’s coconut stand for a daily dose of electrolytes and sometimes I’ll have a chat with an elephant whose standing right beside me.

I’m very much living in the Key of YES. I’ve pledged to spread this essence to those who don’t have opportunity to quit their jobs and jet of to another country, live off the exchange rate and write blogs about how stoked they are about it. I know I’m very fortunate to be where I am and I think it’s important to let gratitude spill out from my actions.

The past two days on the way to yoga, I’ve driven past a group of about 20 workers gravelling the road. Yep, they’d walk in single file for about 20ms with buckets of stones on their heads. They’d then throw these on the road and walk back to get more stones. Then a big heavy rolling machine would come along and compress the stones into the ground and ta daaaa, we have a Goan road. I’d smile to the workers as I’d drive past but never got any Indian toothy grins back. These guys had it tough.

So I got them all some cold drink.

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But what's interesting is that the workers didn't even seem to get that something nice was being done for them. Before I went over I got a bit of a complex that they would think 'who the hell is this white girl and what's she doing bringing us drinks?'. Well, let's be honest, they did think that but if I as a loony grinning tourist can show a group of road workers that I at least SEE them, give them a drink and a little drama to their lunch break then great! I know I've not changed their life, but I'd like to think I changed a little moment.

Fx

p.s. How many times have I used the word 'little'?! Geez!