Time Travel

Seaview, Washington

Back in the U.S. after more than a year, it's like we've stepped off a time machine. The more we live this nomadic life, the more all travel feels like time travel. Life doesn't feel linear; it's like something I'm swimming in, a dreamy substance that infuses me.

When we left China, we traveled in Thailand and Indonesia for three months. Was that yesterday? Last year? Ten years ago? Or is it still happening?

time and space blend...

When I look at Dave's pictures and write about the oraguntans and komodo dragons, the Gili islands and Amed,  Anais Nin's words come to me:

Writers taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.

Visceral recollections sweep through me: My arms wrapped around Dave on a motorbike, up hills with blue sea vistas, gliding past palm trees, winding through traffic.

My job is to hold on and loosen up. Alert relaxation, like a meditation. At times I close my eyes, feel the tropical air touching my skin, my heart pressed to Dave's back.

Phuket, Thailand

In Ubud, I walk morning streets, incense and flowers perfuming the air, dogs sniffing at offerings placed on the streets, kites and birds floating in the sky, swaths of green rice fields glowing in the sun, ancient temples wedged between stores.

Stairs to yoga.

Intuitive Flow...like doing yoga in a tree house.

There are so many incredible women everywhere: in yoga, in a goddess workshop, in cafes. We talk: Not what do you do? But who are you, what matters to you, what is your life? I'm giddy. I'm in awe. How is it that we collided here on the planet at this place and time?

Marilyn, in her 70s, has lived in Ubud many years with her Balinese "family."

Coco Wayan...we greet each other every day, and I buy coconuts from her.

Eliska and Christie, getting in touch with our inner goddesses.

The young women at the hotel in Flores call me "Mama Kate."

Embraced by friendship: Nancy (center) and Cynthia who met up with us at the writing retreat.

Music plays in my mind, the vibration that runs through the body, the heart, as our friends Paul (from Liverpool) and Daria (from Russia) play. They have come from China to meet up with us in Nusa Dua, Bali. We are together again, connected through rhythms and voices...

Throughout Indonesia, we experience music, dance, bodies telling stories.

Uluwatu, Bali

Ubud Jazz Festival

Jimbaran, Bali

Two months in Indonesia and we're off to Thailand. Did I really co-host a writing retreat on the island of Koh Phangan? Something I'd dreamed about doing for long time...and after all the months of planning and prepping and there we were, writers together, having journeyed on airplanes, trains, boats to converge in this rarefied little corner of the world.

Although I risk cliche, I will say it: we laughed, we cried, we wrote our hearts out.

Writers at work... 

...and play.

And all the water, the water...my body floats there now.

Flores, Indonesia with Fran and Paul

Koh Phangan, Thailand writers

Nai Harn Beach in Phuket, where we spent our last 2 weeks.

Leaving Southeast Asia after more than a year, we travel for 24 hours and land in the dream of Hawaii. When we arrive at the waterfront home of our friend Candis, we throw off our clothes and jump naked into the warm Pacific.

We're on the other side of the world. And again we're in the ocean, in our most natural state, afloat in the Earth's amniotic fluid.

Lanikai, Oahu

Everywhere go, it seems, I am sent messages.

Found in Thailand

Found in Ubud.

Life, I am listening.

Giving Thanks in India

Have I mentioned there are goats everywhere?

Yoga this morning, windows open to the sounds of thunder, crows, and a barking dog or two. The yoga center smelled of lemongrass, and when we walked in, I saw a little white cat sneak in from the street.

During class, my body leaned into the positions, happy to be practicing. I watched my monkey mind making lists, planning, scheming--while my sky mind relaxed and remained steady above all the chatter.

During final relaxation, my body started to buzz. Suddenly, with ease, I slipped outside myself and observed me from above. There I was, lying on the mat. There I was, hovering near the ceiling. I wasn't separated into two parts but had expanded into a vast version of me. Perhaps the experience I had during surgery--where I became aware of my body and spirit conversing--has strengthened my out-of-body-experience mojo. Or maybe it's just the magic of India.

On our walk home, we stopped at a cart where a vendor sells delicious pekoras. He wrapped the deep-fried potato, onion and herb balls in newspaper. Fifty rupees (about 80 cents) bought us a heap. We ate them on the warm and drizzly walk along the beach. We passed a bunch of guys playing cricket, cows hanging out, and motorcycles dodging dogs and kids and goats.

As is Karen and Widi's Sunday ritual, we gave the remaining pekoras to the guard at the front gate, who accepted them with a smile.

Pondicherry

It was sweet to be back "home" in Chennai after a few days of travel. Over Thanksgiving, we went with Karen and Widi to Pondicherry, a couple hours south, for an amazing time at Dune Eco Resort and Spa.

This place is right on the Indian Ocean's Bay of Bengal. Our room was $111 a night (love those lucky ones!). It was a remarkable buy. Each "room" is really a cottage with a unique design. Ours was open air, with a palapa roof and outside wall for privacy. Surrounded by palm trees and lush vegetation, it was like luxurious camping in the middle of the rain forest. At night we were serenaded by crashing waves and insects and tropical birds.

Our room

Included in the price was a fantastic breakfast buffet. At the griddle they'll make you a dosa or omelette. They use eggs from the chickens that live on the premises. There are also cows; milk products (fabulous yogurt and milky drinks) are freshly made. Cow milking is one of the available afternoon activities!

There's an open-air yoga center, where we did yoga and an hour-long meditation. There's also an infinity pool with comfy lounge area, including day-beds tucked away under the trees close to the beach., which stretches for what looks like miles in both directions. The warm water was a joy to swim in.

With Karen in the Bay of Bengal

Hammock alternative

One of the best parts of the adventure was meeting Scott, his wife Tawan, and their as-adorable-as-they-come daughter Oceana, who's almost two. Before Dave and I came to India, Scott and I connected on Facebook. He's Karen and Widi's colleague, and through them he knew about my brain tumor. He, too, had a brain tumor and had to undergo not one craniotomy (like I did) but two.

When we finally met in person, I felt a special connection to him. He's a warm, gentle soul--and he's lived a fascinating life, having traveled and lived all over Asia. We all spent Thanksgiving together with dinner at the Dune open-air restaurant. I felt a poignancy wash over me as I reflected on the fragile, yet also resilient, beauty that is this life.

Scott, Oceana and Tawan

Outside of the resort, we explored other parts of Pondicherry. It's a picturesque, French-influenced beach town. Nearby is a unique community called Auroville, which is essentially a commune. The focus is on the arts and free-spirited education--as well as non-religious "concentration" (aka, meditation). They've built a striking three-story dome named Matrimandir--designed by a French architect--for group meditation. You can't just show up and walk in, however. We had to get passes in advance to be assigned an appointed day and time.

Not Logan's Run

First, our group of about fifty, was shown a film about the creation of Auroville and its visionary, a woman called The Mother. Then we were taken by various vehicles to the Matrimandir grounds. More waiting and orientation ensued. Finally we were led to the building. After removing our shoes and donning white socks, we walked up spiral ramps inside the impressively vast and quiet dome. Watching the people in front of me in flowing clothes move through this sci-fi-ish building brought to mind the dystopic film Logan's Run. With an eerie shudder, I briefly wondered if we'd been suckered into some kind of ritual group sacrifice.

But no, I lived to meditate on the dome's top floor before a shimmering crystal. I experienced a sense of floating. And I heard an inner voice remind me that this moment is perfect. Peace is where it's at. There's no need to try to wrangle things into being (are you listening monkey mind?).

So on the heels of these last few adventurous days, we are packing today for the next leg of our journey: Sri Lanka. Everyone we've met in India lights up when we mention Sri Lanka. They all love it--and so we are prepared to as well.

Lights of the Gods

Giants save the day.

Ever since we decided to come to India, I was thrilled that we'd be spending time with our friends Karen and Widi, who have lived in Chennai for five years. I was also excited to know I'd get to do yoga in the place where it all began.  Our second morning here in Chennai, I came downstairs ready to go in my favorite yoga pants and purple tie-dye yoga top.

"Do you have a regular tee-shirt that covers your shoulders and reveals no cleavage?" asked Karen.

What? Well, that certainly tweaked my concept of a yoga class.

I went back upstairs and donned my Giants World Series tee-shirt. It has a bit of a vee-neck. Being a large-breasted gal, I wasn't sure if it was suitable, but it's the only tee-shirt I brought.

Karen gave me the stamp of approval. I wondered how comfortable I'd be because I do yoga only in sleeveless shirts. Then it struck me how being a little more covered up might suggest a shift in the focus of the class from external to internal.

Karen and Widi go to Swami Sivananda yoga. In fact, Widi will participate in the teacher training in the Himalayas next year. He's more than ready to teach, if you ask me. Not only has he been a language teacher for years, he can rock yoga poses that make me sore to watch. During class when he did the peacock with grace and (apparent) ease, I felt I was in the company of a master.

The class incorporated chanting, breathing, sun salutations and various challenging poses with welcome rests in between. I was familiar with most of the poses although there were some variations new to me.

At the end was an extended savasana (corpse pose) with relaxation guided by the teacher. (I've read we are practicing to be corpses when we are in that pose. If so, death will be luxurious.)

Family decorating the sidewalk for Kartik.

After class we were given a snack: half a banana, a kind of sweet sticky rice, and tea because it was a special day: Kartik Poornima. This festival coincides with the full moon. Kartik means "star" and the day is also knows as the festival of lights of the gods.

Not only did we get an edible treat, but we put dots on our foreheads of three different color pastes (yellow, red and black). The black is ashes from burnt offerings.

Streets of Chennai.

The peacefulness of the yoga center was greatly contrasted with a walk we took that afternoon through the neighborhood. It's truly mind-boggling for this Westerner to be walking along crumbling sidewalks through throngs of people, stray dogs, and the occasional cow interspersed with cars and motorcycles and bicycles weaving through, horns blaring. In what appears to be chaos, everything actually flows in an improvisational pattern. Widi told us that cars honk not in aggression but to inform others of their location.

Cuties.  (That's Widi in the back with the family dog.)

We made our way over to the beach where smiling kids ran up to us shouting, "Photo! Photo!" After we'd take their picture they'd say, "Zoom! Zoom!" I realized they wanted to look at the picture and have me zoom in so they could see their faces. It was a beautiful thing to laugh with these children. Some of them were playing with balls, kicking them around. We also saw three boys playing with pieces of a styrofoam cooler, clearly garbage from the beach.

There is a lot of trash everywhere, no question. What a striking contrast the garbage is to the activity in the stores and streets, the colorful saris everywhere, and the energy and beauty of the people.

Near the beach I saw a little girl--not more than three--perched on the front of a motorcycle driven by her father. I wondered how she balanced so well. She was adorable; I couldn't help but stare. Her father looked directly at me, and I sheepishly smiled at him. He grinned back so fully it felt like he was beaming joy right into me. Perhaps he was happy I appreciated his little girl so much.

That smile--with teeth brilliantly white--stayed with me. Widi told me that many Indians use a twig for brushing their teeth (which some do incessantly). That, indeed, makes them very white.

He mentioned this as the four of us sat on the roof that evening, sipping wine. Fireworks lit up the sky in celebration of the Hindu festival. From a distance the haunting Islamic call to prayer echoed, and I recalled how that morning I'd been awakened by the bells of a nearby Christian church.

As the sun set, the golden full moon rose--just as it does on this day everywhere in the world.