This post is designed to do nothing more than distract you from whatever you’re supposed to be doing today…you’re welcome!

Last week, my girlfriends and I decided to venture to Panjim, Goa’s capital, for a bit of a field-trip. We hired a taxi, piled in and took on the role of “tourists”, armed with backpacks, snacks and even a Lonely Planet. That sort of makes it sound like we were prepared to trek to Panjim or at least encounter some sort of adventure on arrival. Not the case. Instead, our itinerary consisted of: find cafés, do some shopping and go to the movies.

Within minutes of getting dropped off in the centre of town, we were essentially lost. And sweating profusely. The mood of the day plummeted as we searched for destination #1, The Café Recommended by Lonely Planet, unsuccessfully. After a few wrong turns, we eventually found our little air conditioned oasis. As luck would have it, they only served what none of us wanted: hot tea!

“Do you have ice here? For iced tea?”

“No, madam. No ice. Just tea. And cupcakes.”

“Sold! Red velvet please.”

And thus began the upswing of the day! Once refreshed with a sugar hit, the four of us squeezed into an auto-rickshaw bound for Fabindia, a “fab” shop with authentic Indian clothing, textiles and housewares. Blessed retail therapy…works every time! Moods lifted, wallets got a little lighter, and appetites were whet for popcorn.

We arrived at the theatre just in time to catch the evening showing of ABCD, or Any Body Can Dance, India’s first 3D dance movie. Upon choosing the movie, we had no idea what we were in for: the best movie ever in the history of time! Granted, you’d have to be a fan of dance, and dance movies/shows, to really agree with that statement, but hear me out. Take the original Step Up (because it’s the best of the franchise), mix in some So You Think You Can Dance, make it all 3D and then throw in the most important ingredient of all, BOLLYWOOD. This last ingredient guarantees epic dance ensemble show-downs, layers of plot thickeners that require hours to resolve, and of course, Hinglish, ensuring we’d understand just enough dialogue to follow along.

At intermission—yes, movies this long warrant a 10 minute break at the half-way point—I turned to look at Charlene, who’d been fading earlier in the day and had contemplated bailing on our mission and heading home early. Ninety minutes of ABCD had worked its magic as she exclaimed in wide-eyed wonder, “This film is BLOWING my mind!” And the second half of the film didn’t disappoint either. I’m telling you, by the time we were walking out of the theatre, popcorn-bloated bellies and all, we were all on cloud nine. Just watch the trailer. I haven’t checked to see if it’s playing outside of India, but if you get a chance to see it, GO! Especially if you’re feeling anything less than awesome…this film will rock your world.

My favourite afternoon workshops with Petri are the ones where he just talks to us, sharing experience gained over decades of practicing Ashtanga yoga. It may just be the Finnish accent that makes it sound so good, but much of what he talks about always resonates with me. Here are some of the ideas that have come up in the last few days…

On the topic of trying to alter a student’s alignment too quickly, such as taking turned out feet in drop-backs to perfectly parallel, with a block between the knees and a strap around the legs:
“Changing alignment too quickly is like someone going from eating only hamburgers to a completely raw food diet in a day…impossible!”

On the topic of how led classes and yoga studio environments in general can breed competition:
“There is the feeling that you need to do more. Instead try to practice peacefully; release the pushing and competition”.

When discussing injury, Petri described how obviously the body is in pain and this creates discomfort, but that the real challenge, and the real benefit, is felt in the mind.
“It’s really about the mind’s yoga practice.”

On the topic of those for whom yoga comes naturally: “When it’s always easy, it’s easy to show off and make it about ego.”

“You can’t think about time in asana.” Progress is natural, not according to a schedule. Stay peaceful and patient.

“When you feel very flexible, it is a dangerous day. Don’t try any tricks. Move slowly to go deeper.”

The main thing I’m taking away from these two weeks is that less is more. Less “acrobatics” as Petri says, “more simple…nothing extra.” That’s not to say that acrobatics like handstands and arm balances aren’t fun, but they’re not the goal. Once everything else is in place—the flexibility, balanced with stability—extras are fine. Petri isn’t the kind of authoritarian teacher that will tell someone not to do something—tricks or otherwise—just for the sake of controlling his students’ practice: “It (policing) takes too much energy…’Don’t do this…don’t do that’…it’s exhausting!”

He shared with us a story about practicing at a time when he was recovering from a non-yoga related injury. Someone asked to watched him practice, and he tried to discourage them, saying that his practice didn’t looking like anything deserving of an audience. But the person still came and watched, and afterward told Petri how beautiful it was to see, how peaceful and elegant he looked. The peace and elegance emanated from his internal practice; Petri knew it felt beautiful, but he didn’t think it looked that way. The moral of the story?

“Make the practice peaceful and joyful on the inside, even if the external form isn’t there. The internal practice reveals the truth of who you are, and true acceptance of your nature/Self.”

I can’t quite believe it, but my first week at Purple Valley is already nearly over, and I only have one more week left in India before returning home (at least that’s what my plane ticket says…part of me wants to tear it up!).

It was a transition, yet again, to move from Bean Me Up, my home of ten days where I’d managed to amass a great little crew of friends and become accustomed to cold showers, shared bathrooms and, on the plus side, great vegan food, into Purple Valley, where I’d stayed for a month two years ago. As I scootered over to the retreat centre, I couldn’t help but think of how different I felt compared to my first trip, when my dad and I landed at Purple Valley, jet-lagged and unsure of where we were or what to expect from this place. I remember being totally freaked out by the drive from the airport and the seemingly chaotic traffic. I took me the entire month before I felt comfortable even attempting to drive a scooter. Everything I knew of Purple Valley came from friends who’d visited before. I knew nothing really about Goa, what to do here, or where else to go. While nothing has really changed at Purple Valley, or in Goa for that matter, this year’s experience couldn’t be more different from my last. Having already been here for three weeks when my course with Petri began, I was armed with my bearings, my own scooter, and actual answers to new first-timers questions about where to go for coffee, which beaches were nicer than others, and whether it was worth risking severe dehydration to make a deal at the day market!

Best of all, I had already met an amazing group of people here: those who had also been on Emil’s retreat, a few from the “Bean Me Up family” and Charlene and Sara from Toronto. On the Sunday after Petri’s course began, Charlene and I left our new comfy digs at Purple Valley and headed down the road to Villa Blanche, home of the best (albeit most expensive!) all-you-can-eat brunch in Goa. We were meeting up with all the others, and together the nine of us spent a better part of the afternoon gobbling up all sorts of yumminess, including countless cakes and cappuccinos. I sat there feeling beyond happy and grateful for all these amazing people who had come into my life. It was a great start to this final chapter of my trip.

Back at the Purple Valley ranch, it feels as if we’re in the lap of luxury. When Charlene and I moved into our room, the simplest pleasures felt like world-class indulgences: hooks in the bathroom to hang up towels! hot water! shelf space! an international plug power bar! Not to mention comfortable beds (no longer just concrete slabs!), three delicious veggie meals a day, and a beautiful shala in which to practice with world-class yoga instructor, Petri Raisanen.

I was eager to get back into that practice space and once again experience the quiet, meditative atmosphere and magical adjustments that only Petri can provide. After a week of escalating temperatures that finally succumbed to—believe it or not—a HUGE storm last Friday night (it NEVER rains in Goa during dry season…till now), mornings were once again cool as we set off before dawn to practice that first morning. It felt a little like walking into a time-capsule, and I half-expected to see my dad come in sometime after me and lay down a mat for his own sun salutations!

It felt good to be back on the mat after a couple of days off since practicing with Regina, but then about halfway through my practice, the muscles around my left shoulder blade went into a total spasm. I kept going, waiting for the cramp to subside, but became more and more uncomfortable. By the end my practice, I was officially disappointed in my body for letting me down. As if I didn’t already have enough limitations to be working with due to the back injury that’s kept me away from a traditional practice for nearly as long as I’ve been away from India, now I had additional pain and discomfort that I worried would keep me from realizing the full potential of my time with Petri.

But then I talked myself off the self-critical ledge, realized that my body and I are on the same side and not at war, and that this shoulder issue could in fact be a message that I’m not meant to be pushing through traditional Ashtanga sequences anymore, and instead, could benefit from the softness, gentleness and JOY that Emil had taught us to bring onto the mat only weeks earlier. My sudden shift in attitude came in large part from a book I’d just started reading called “Bodymind” by Ken Dychtwald. After only the first few pages, the author had me seeing and thinking about my body differently. The disconnect between right (masculine) and left (feminine) sides, the way in which our attitude, habits and history inform how we carry ourselves, and the relationship between injury and the current circumstances of our lives—all of it had me recalibrating my previous views on the mind-body connection.

Thankfully fate intervened that afternoon, when I was able to receive an incredible treatment from Chris Kummer, the yoga anatomy instructor and body therapist based in Toronto who I’d met briefly at Satasanga Retreat Centre. Seeing that I had “Bodymind” with me he exclaimed, “Oh great! You’re reading that book!” Minutes into the treatment, I could see how his approach reflected much of what I found interesting about Dychtwald’s work. Total body analysis, evaluating posture and movement patters, and the use of multiple therapeutic disciplines led to an indescribable treatment. Throughout it we talked about yoga, teaching, the Ashtanga tradition, and the reevaluation I was doing of whether this practice was right for me.

Since then, my shoulder has healed, but a considerable amount of resistance has remained throughout my body. Resistance to what? Practicing when it’s still cool and dark? To yoga itself? To Ashtanga alone? Perhaps all of the above. Over the past couple of years at home, I’ve integrated more variety not only into my practice, but into my physical routine. In the course of a week, I’ll normally do yoga three times, train at Bang Fitness twice, and incorporate some form of cardio like a spinning class. Since arriving in Goa, I haven’t done any other physical activity aside from yoga (assuming that sweating while sitting still doesn’t count as a workout!). And now in a traditional environment, my practice has gone from “whatever feels good today” to the set (rigid?) sequences that characterize Ashtanga yoga. All the jump-backs and jump-throughs, the linear movement, and daily repetition has thrown my body back into the deep-end. On that first day, I think my shoulder (on the left, feminine side that seeks out softness and receptivity) was screaming at me to pay attention to the fact that we’d (my body and I) had already moved on from this practice and it didn’t understand why suddenly we’d gone back, pretending nothing had changed.

In the last few days, resistance has spread throughout my body, ranging from tightness in the hips making Baddha Konasana feel impossible, to inflexibility in the spine, making every twist more of an effort than it’s been for years. Most challenging of all is the limitation in my backbends. Since my injury, I’ve practiced second series with lots of support from props or the wall, moving slowly and often leaving out the deeper postures like Kapotasana. Furthermore, I’ve left drop-backs by the wayside, since even on good days when I attempt to drop-back, I’m left feeling totally destabilized in my lumbar spine. The last time I practiced with Petri, I was flying through full second series, adding on half of third series, and finishing with the advanced backbends sequence of not only drop-backs, but tick-tocks (springing up into handstand, dropping the feet over into a backbend on the floor, and then springing back onto the hands before coming back to standing). When I admitted to him yesterday how challenging it’s been, being in this seemingly foreign body, he reinforced what I already knew—how having been through trauma has made my back extremely wary of wanting to go back down the same path that caused the original injury. The resistance that’s accumulated over the past week isn’t causing me pain (because off the mat, I feel great), it’s actually protecting me from it. The real yoga practice is no longer just about whether I can grab my heels in kapotasana. Instead, it’s the mental and emotional challenge of accepting my body and its limitations within the Ashtanga framework, while still infusing peace and enjoyment into my practice.

I know I’m going on and on here about myself, but I know my experience—dealing with the fall-out of an injury, coming to terms with a body changing in ways I can’t predict, reminiscing about what used to be easy that is now challenging—isn’t unique to me. I think of those with more severe injuries, whose practice may no longer be physical at all, as well as the yoga mamas out there, the many women I’ve watched in awe, as their bodies morph into life-bearing vessels requiring a completely different approach to asana. More often than not, the source of a shift is the also the source of great learning and growth. So for that reason (along with many others), I’m grateful to be going through this, in an amazing place, with amazing teachers, doing a practice that still, despite its unpredictable shifts, reflects a large part of who I am.

I haven’t written for a few days now because, honestly, it’s a bit embarrassing to admit how little I’ve been doing this past week. I remember when I transitioned from my month-long retreat at Purple Valley to practicing with Rolf and Marci in Candolim two years ago; at first I had a serious case of boredom. I would ask people after practice as we sat around recovering at the juice hut, “What are you going to do for the rest of the day?” For most, it would be a strenuous combo of reading, checking email at the nearest internet café, napping on the beach, and for the really industrious, doing a bucket load of laundry.

When I look back on my blog posts from that time, I recall being torn between the luxury of being in a place like Goa, where there really isn’t that much to do, and the guilt of doing very little that feels productive or contributive to society. But after a few days, I fell into a natural rhythm; sure enough, the same rhythm has found me yet again. And the beautiful part of a second go-round is that there’s a lot less guilt. I get it this time…this is rejuvenation. We don’t have to be productive every minute of every day. It’s perfectly acceptable here to have no agenda whatsoever.

That’s not to say, however, that I’ve been sitting around watching paint dry. Quite the contrary! I’ve gone back to a daily Ashtanga practice with an excellent instructor: Regina Ehlers at Goastanga. I’ve also spent a lot of time thinking about how to bridge the gap between Ashtanga and the practice Emil introduced me to, along with a more regular pranayama and meditation routine (more on this in days to come). I can relate to the retired people in my life (Hi Dad!) whose days are busy despite their seemingly laid back lifestyle. Between trips into town to run errands or meet friends for coffee or a meal, and adventures to one of the many beaches to get some relief from the escalating heat, the days disappear.

And as of yesterday, I have two lovely ladies from Downward Dog, Sara and Charlene, now in Goa with me. After spending the last ten days mostly alone or with new friends I’ve only just met, there’s nothing quite like being in the company of familiar faces from home. I have to admit though, that I’ve had several moments on this trip where I’m spending time with people who a month ago I hadn’t met yet, who know feel like kindred spirits. Whether it was at Satsanga with the group on my retreat, who became like family in only a week, or in the days since when I return “home” to Bean Me Up to catch up with whoever is sitting in the courtyard, there’s something extraordinary about plucking myself out of my world at home, traveling across the world, and finding true connections with others who I would otherwise have never met.

When I was talking to Sara today about how amazing that feels, to have met people on this trip who I know will be a part of my life for years to come, she told me she’s never seen that happen anywhere else the way it does in Goa. There’s a certain openness here, especially amongst the yoga community, that cultivates not only friendliness, but authentic generosity and kindness.

Furthermore, the local people display such tolerance for us foreigners. I encounter this daily, from the guy who passed me on his scooter and bothered to turn back to tell me I’d left my kick-stand down (oops!), from the vendors at Mapusa market who graciously allowed my friend and I to pose amongst them for some yoga photos in their stalls (stay tuned!), and from the tireless team at Bean Me Up who never seem to take a day off!

To have already encountered so much and so many and still have another two weeks to go feels absolutely indulgent. But at the same time, I’m surrounded by people whose travels are keeping them away from home (if they even have a “home”) much longer than my measly five weeks. In comparison, my trip doesn’t even begin to do justice to what remains to be discovered in this country (not to mention the rest of the world!). It’s beyond inspiring to meet people here with such diverse stories and unparalleled passion for travel and exploration; even more inspiring to encounter those who’ve decided to bring their children along and expose them to an education richer than any conventional classroom could provide. It really puts the bubble in context, along with the importance of getting out of our comfort zones once in a while. So the next time I’m wavering about taking another trip…somebody just push me on the plane! I won’t even pack a suitcase.

India is an amazing place. I’m convinced that thoughts, intentions, whatever you want to call them, have more power here. In other words, be careful what you put out there, since thoughts manifest into reality quicker than you can say “woah”.

I’ve been staying at my new homestead, Bean Me Up, since leaving Satsanga last Wednesday. Moving from a beautiful sanctuary, where I was never short of company, to a much more—shall we call it “basic”?—room stay was a bit of a shock. At first, people staying here didn’t seem all that forth-coming, and I found myself reliving the experience I had last year when I left Purple Valley after a month of easy living, moved to Candolim to practice with Rolf and Marci, and found myself alone. As someone who is naturally introverted, I surprise myself at how quickly loneliness sets in. But at the same time, it’s a healthy exercise, being in one’s own company, in a foreign country, taking it a day at a time.

And that’s essentially what it’s been about: one day at a time. At Satsanga, I was actually waking up in the morning and asking myself, “I wonder what awesome thing is going to happen today.” That probably sounds a bit corny, for lack of a better word, but it’s true. Because more often than not, something awesome would happen that day, and it would be something I hadn’t seen coming. Now, I still ask the question every morning, but the tone has changed to “What will today bring, and how will it surprise me?”.

For example…Saturday morning, I had three goals in mind:
1. Take a vinyasa flow class at Brahmani Yoga, having not been there yet on this trip.
2. Go to Artjuna for pancakes, which I’d been coveting the day before.
3. Talk to more people, and perhaps find someone interested in going to the night market.

Day plays out as follows:
1. Talk to Familiar Looking Guy (FLG) in the Bean Me Up courtyard at breakfast. Turns out FLG is going to Brahmani for a class too. Perhaps we’ll take the same one.
2. Take class at Brahmani, with FLG in the row behind me.
3. Go to Artjuna, as planned. Walk in to see FLG sitting there, and he waves me over.
4. Spot my friend Wambui, who comes over to join us. Minutes later we’re joined by her partner, Petri, whose retreat I’ll be taking later this month. And just like that the pancake brunch I’d been prepared to enjoy alone has morphed into a great gathering of friends, new and old.
5. Spend the afternoon at Artjuna hanging out under canopy, drinking coffee and getting to know new friend Alexander (formerly known as FLG). Turns out he had been taking another course at Satsanga last weekend, hence the familiarity. Make a plan to skip the night market and have dinner later instead to celebrate his last night in Goa (typical of what you find around here…everyone is temporary).
6. We leave the café and I realize my bike is not where I left it. It has been stolen. Momentary panic ensues.
7. Back at Bean Me Up, I contact the scooter’s owner, who seems rather relaxed about the whole ordeal. I try not to read into the scooter theft (“Why did that happen? Is this is a sign? Should I not ride a scooter? Will I get in an accident?” ….embarrassing to admit how much over-thinking I do, but there you have it!).
8. Instead, I get ready to go back out for dinner, and realize I don’t know where the restaurant is. Alexander had mentioned the name, and was going to point it out to me before the bike drama distracted us. But I can’t remember what it’s called.
9. I get in a taxi and drive to the road where Alexander told me the restaurant was, and before long I spot the place. I walk in, and he’s there waiting. We proceed to have a delicious meal—Italian thin crust pizza from wood-burning oven!—and spend the night talking about being yoga teachers, traveling, life in our respective countries…
10. I get to play passenger on his motorcycle back to Bean Me Up, where he drops me off and we agree to stay in touch.

…fast-forward to Sunday morning, when I call the owner of the scooter (which, did I mention, I haven’t even paid for yet!). He’s found the bike and will have it back to me in 20min. “The same bike!?” I exclaim. “You found it?!” “Yes madam…” he says, “Same bike…same same. See you soon”. In a place where there are only a zillion scooters that all look roughly the same, this strike me as pretty miraculous. And further proof that, if you just surrender to the powers that be, everything works out.

Since then, I’ve continued my streak, meeting more people and feeling more and more at home in this little slice of yogi paradise. It’s pretty amazing to wake up knowing that every day isn’t only going to bring new people in your life, but new random connections. For example, met two Aussie guys at breakfast this morning. Ended up going to the beach with one, and while we’re there he asks me where I teach. I say Downward Dog…he asks me if I know Sara Hylton. Of course I do. And Sara just happens to be arriving here on Wednesday. Sara – Shanti and I are waiting for you! Let the adventures continue…

There have been many highlights since arriving in India, so I thought I’d take a moment and share some goodies:

10. The moment I saw my bag coming toward me on the carousel at the Goa airport. We’d made it. Neither of us had gotten lost, and any potential hassle inherent to losing one’s luggage would NOT have to be experienced. Hallelujah.

9. First night at Satsanga, walking into the shala to meet everyone for the first time and finding a specially wrapped parcel with my name on it, sitting atop a bolster indicating my seat. Feeling immediately welcome = priceless.

8. Running into Chris Kummer, a fellow yoga instructor based in Toronto who leads workshops at Downward Dog. Had to cross an ocean to meet him for the first time. Proves to be as lovely in person as he is in rumour.

7. After asana practice one day, Mira Mandrell, who spoke to our group about her 2500km pilgrimage along the Narmada river, tells me I have yoga “in my cells”. Coming from someone whose cells are made of such strength and determination, that felt pretty good.

6. Getting up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night (in our open-roof bathroom), and hearing a monkey leap across the gap above my head, disturbing hovering tree branches which proceed to break off and fall on my head. At 3am.

5. I get back in the saddle, renting a scooter complete with red helmet emblazoned with “sizzler” across the back of it. First stop: Purple Valley Retreat Centre to visit the lovely Amy. Thrilled to see a familiar face from home, in a place that still feels like home even after being away from it for two years.

4. Practicing asana alongside Tulku Machig Rimpoche. As Emil would later say, “Where else in the world is a Rimpoche practicing asana and pranayama? It is a miracle he is here!”

3. The river puja. A morning I will never forget.

2. Sunset at Ashwen Beach, eating dinner at La Plage with new friends and enjoying a chocolate thali plate (!) for dessert. For those unfamiliar with thali plates, it’s a traditional platter on which several dishes are served…a smattering of offerings for those who like variety or who just don’t want to choose between chana masala, palak paneer and yellow dhal! Only in this case, the offerings were all different forms of chocolate: fondant with cream, chocolate mousse, sorbet, chocolate covered strawberry…the list goes on. Exceptionally yummy.

And in 1st place, the morning after the river ceremony (last Monday), just when we thought that couldn’t be topped, Emil surprises us with another treat. Shortly after beginning our morning pranayama, he tells us “we’re going to do things a little differently” and instructs us to open ourselves up to the sounds all around. Right on cue, melodies of a sitar and wooden flute begin to waft into the shala. The doors open to reveal two live musicians on a platform overlooking the pool, which has been decorated by secret elves (you know who you are!) with flowers and candles. We file out to the pool, wrapped in blankets to keep cozy in the still-fresh morning air. The musicians spoil us with a flawless performance that lasts over an hour. We are surprised, spell-bound and blissful. A perfect start to the day.

The only moments that could rival the “dawn riga”, as Emil called it, were our final night and morning together as a group. I guess that means I have more number one moments of the trip so far! On our last afternoon, we gathered in the shala around a large white sheet on which a yantra (tantric symbol) has been traced out. The assignment: de-petal hundreds of flowers, all different colours, which would be used to fill in the yantra. What ensued was a spectacular group effort, where we worked together under Emil’s and the Rimpoche’s watchful direction to create a powerful, unifying emblem of what our week together had meant. The next morning, we returned to the yantra for a final moment together as a group, sharing what we’d gained from the experience, and thanking those whose energy and expertise had brought it all to fruition. Finally, we rose, holding the sheet in our hands like a giant parachute, and on a count of three tossed the yantra into the air and were showered in a sea of petals. Perfection. When do we go back and do it all again?

Yesterday I said farewell to Satsanga, as our retreat came to an end and I concluded one of the most valuable experiences I’ve had to date.

I’ve told you about the morning routine, the challenges of a sitting practice and the shift required in my mindset to approach a daily hatha practice with openness rather than frustration. As more days came and went, I felt my body find a new rhythm. Sitting was getting easier. And the physical practice stopped feeling so arbitrary; I’d begun to see the brilliance in what Emil encouraged us to find on our mats. Every morning when we came from standing to seated postures, he’d instruct us to sit with our knees tucked to our chests, holding our knees until our toes lifted from the mat. “Find the still point,” he’d say, “close your eyes.” Sitting in the “cosmic egg,” you’re floating…the body stills but is barely in contact with any other surface. I’d never practiced this pose before, and it’s something I’ll definitely be bringing home with me.

When the silence that held our group in its grasp from 6-10am each day would finally break, we would enjoy a long, leisurely brunch that usually meant about 3 trips to the buffet, starting with fruit, then porridge, and then finally heading back for the savoury Indian course of either idlies or a dosa. Emil started the retreat that first night by having us sit together as a group, introduce ourselves and say something about our practice and what brought us to the retreat. Creating a familial vibe from the get-go, the group felt immediately comfortable and at ease. So at brunch, it wouldn’t matter who you sat with; conversation came easily and allowed us to forge deeper relationships. Brunch sooner became my favourite time of day, and showed the insight and vision Emil had in structuring the retreat the way he did—even calling the retreat “Conversations in Yoga”, knowing the profound impact that just talking to one another can have.

Amidst our group were four incredible individuals—teachers, mentors, visionaries—each of whom was given time during the weekend portion of the retreat to present their story, or specialty, to the rest of us. But rather than just breeze in for their presentations, they participated in the entire week, sitting and practicing asana in the mornings, joining us for philosophy in the afternoons, and taking part in all the meals so we really got to know them, and have many opportunities to ask questions and inquire further into their field of study.

Last Saturday’s first presentation came from Carroll Dunham, whom Emil describes as an “anthropologist and adventuresse par excellence.” Over one afternoon she shared her in-depth knowledge of the feminine mystique through the lens of Tibetan buddhism, recounting decades of experience working alongside women renunciates of the Himalaya. Living in Kathmandu, vacationing in Goa, Carroll leads an extraordinary life. Full of energy, she’s one of the best – if not THE best – story-teller I’ve ever encountered. When I look through my notes from her presentation, one quote she shared with us really sums up her joie de vivre: “Listen…are you breathing just a little and calling it a life?” [3 points to whoever can tell me who that quote is from...I didn't write it down!]

Sunday morning, we rose even earlier than usual to pile into taxis and make our way to a nearby river, where Tulku Majig Rinpoche was preparing to lead us in a sunrise puja, or ceremony. Driving through the dark, I had no idea where we were heading, but after about 20 minutes we arrived at a look-out point, where a little bit of moonlight revealed water in the distance. Carroll came up to meet us, and requested that anyone who had a friend or relative currently battling sickness, or knew someone who had recently died, write their name down on a piece of paper that would be added to the healing ceremony. We then proceeded down a dirt path and came upon a candlelit area where a row of mats and blankets had been lain out, facing the water. Once we were all seated, the Rinpoche, along with Carroll, commenced the puja from a floating raft. As the audience, we sat in stillness, taking in the chanting and rituals while gradually the day came to life. When it was our turn to participate, we filed into the river one by one, to circle the raft three times before making an offering of flowers into the Rinpoche’s ceremonial fire. Finally once we’d all piled out, the ceremony to and end, just as the sun came up. It was truly magical – perhaps one of the best mornings I’ve ever had.

Sunday afternoon, we were privileged to hear Christopher Key Chappell talk about ahimsa, or non-violence, a central tenet of yoga philosophy. As one of the world’s leading researchers on the topic, Chris’s presentation made me feel like I was back in the classroom again (in a good way), learning from an acclaimed professor. He spoke to us about Jainism, where ahimsa dictates all deeds and actions. He prompted us to see the world through this different lens, where causing no harm is taken to the extreme. It was fascinating; his palpable passion for yoga philosophy and ancient wisdom is contagious.

To close the weekend with another “strong female,” as Emil put it, Mira Maddrell shared the story of her pilgrimage along the Narmada here in central India. Over three years and three months, Mira traversed 2500km on foot…without shoes…as a lone foreigner. Hailing from Britain, Mira left behind her family to take on a quest that to this day very few foreigners have ever attempted. About halfway through her presentation, I remembered reading about the Narmada in one of my undergraduate anthropology classes in “In the Belly of the River”. And here I was, sitting with someone whose connection to that river has kept her in India for the last 30 years, calling Asia her home.

When asked why she did it, Mira has no answer. Instead, she has stories that belong on the big screen: meditating in a cave also home to a python, scorpions and bats; having all of her valuables (passport included) stolen by a fellow pilgrim; waiting out the monsoon in a tiny hut with twelve other people; and perhaps most amazing of all, surviving blood poisoning, Malaria not once but twice, and finally, nearly dying of typhoid. She was saved by an ayurvedic doctor on the Narmada, whose son, Vijay, was on our retreat. Today, Vijay and Mira are like mother and son. She taught him how to speak English, and he cared for her alongside his father when she was at death’s door. It was a captivating evening and left everyone in awe of what is possible when you give over to the belief that no matter what, the universe will provide even in the most desperate times.

It was an exceptional weekend, and we still had two more full days to go before having to say goodbye. But I’ve distracted you now for long enough from whatever else you’re supposed to be doing today, so I’ll sign off. I’ll look forward to sharing more with you soon.