Cycles
It's my third and final full moon in India, at least for now.
The first full moon saw me at Sivananda Ashram where I was given a spirtual/Hindu name -- Chamundi, meaning Demon slayer, a nickname for the Goddess Kali. Watch out world!
My second was on the magical Andaman Isles celebrating a brand spanking new year with my loved ones.
My third finds me on the eve of returning home, although this is one journey that will never end. Out of the blue I was given another name yesterday by my Russian friends here -- Charonchik! Cool, ey.
A rose by any other name... ;)
The wedding was grand. Plenty of fanfare and intricate rituals that even as they were explained to me remained completely indecipherable. I got decked out in a sari, though not the pretty one I bought because I was told it would not do for a wedding. A beautiful artist lent me a bold number and I put fresh flowers in my hair as is the custom.
After the bride and groom went through innumerable pujas, exchanges of floral wreaths, gift giving, taking of symbolic steps, the washing of feet, throwing of rice etc. etc. etc. we got to FEAST. Twenty-five dishes my friends. Twenty-five. Every one more sumptious than the last.
Tonight is my last satsang here. I'll miss the ecstatic joy of the bhajan and the presence of Sri Sri of course .
But I'm ready for the comforts of home and more to the point, the arms of my love.
Thank you India, great teacher.
I won't forget.
The first full moon saw me at Sivananda Ashram where I was given a spirtual/Hindu name -- Chamundi, meaning Demon slayer, a nickname for the Goddess Kali. Watch out world!
My second was on the magical Andaman Isles celebrating a brand spanking new year with my loved ones.
My third finds me on the eve of returning home, although this is one journey that will never end. Out of the blue I was given another name yesterday by my Russian friends here -- Charonchik! Cool, ey.
A rose by any other name... ;)
The wedding was grand. Plenty of fanfare and intricate rituals that even as they were explained to me remained completely indecipherable. I got decked out in a sari, though not the pretty one I bought because I was told it would not do for a wedding. A beautiful artist lent me a bold number and I put fresh flowers in my hair as is the custom.
After the bride and groom went through innumerable pujas, exchanges of floral wreaths, gift giving, taking of symbolic steps, the washing of feet, throwing of rice etc. etc. etc. we got to FEAST. Twenty-five dishes my friends. Twenty-five. Every one more sumptious than the last.
Tonight is my last satsang here. I'll miss the ecstatic joy of the bhajan and the presence of Sri Sri of course .
But I'm ready for the comforts of home and more to the point, the arms of my love.
Thank you India, great teacher.
I won't forget.
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