Questions on the daily...

I wanted to revisit a practice that I lost sight of and share it with anyone that hasn't had the chance to reflect on three very important questions to your well being.

And there is a practice which I follow every night before going to sleep. It is very simple, but it has helped me immensely, and it can help anyone who uses it. It involves only three questions: Have I lived? Have I loved? Have I laughed?

Have I lived? Have I made the best use of the time provided me during the day to grow, to learn, to develop?

Have I loved? Have I reached out to everyone I met and made them aware of the love in my heart and eased their burdens of self-mistrust and self-doubt?

Have I laughed? Have I seen the humorous side of even the most painful incident?

If the answer to any of these questions is no, then it is a matter of remorse. One more day passed and I am another day closer to my death and I have not exerted myself to my fullest potential. This is enough to make me work harder then next day and try and make amends.

Three questions that must find a home within your daily rituals...

Canoe in still water...

"Aware. Be aware." I always heard that saying and thought long and hard about it. Thought I understood and was living it. There's a switch that can be flicked on and off within us. In a matter of a second we can flip it. We don't always flip it the best way for us at times, well, I'll be honest, almost all of the time. I had a misconception when it came to awareness, being at peace, and all loving - you had to be a monk in some snowy mountaintop after sitting in a cave for a month meditating or one of my favorites is the skinny naked man with dreadlocks and ash from a cremation ground marking his skin, in a forest a night talking to the animals. It's that switch from thoughts to feelings and can be flicked any where and any time and any place.

On my travels I truly felt life, I had so much room I was willing to devote to being and being me most importantly. I discovered through such great pain one of the best blessings I've experienced and look forward to many more. My father is no longer in form. He exists in the realms of energy I struggle to attain to. My definitions had been redefined, specifically when it came to those people I called friends. My standards were low and out of comfort of not being alone I would have acquaintances around me disguised as friends. I realized how many of them were friends when it was pointed out to me that my friends are those who know where my father is buried. I was disappointed too.

I chose to shed and renunciate the things I once held dear, just like the saddhus of India... roaming in orange robes with their offering pots. Well, not quite, it felt that way to me at that moment. It's difficult to part with what is comfortable and now I am challenged to be at ease with the uncomfortable. That's where there's growth!

So I begin writing my growth to myself in these sentences, paragraphs, and this emotional dumping grounds. Writing kept the thoughts to a well balanced level allowing for more being. I choose to have balance in my life, like a canoe on still waters. I love that visual! Breathtakingly beautiful morning with light overcast and a a slow rolling fog cloud hovering above the water as the sun rises. That's my happy place ;)

I miss that place so dearly and am stumbling my way back. Writing facilitated one of my many ways that make me love myself, love others and most importantly recognize what love of One means.

Begins with a single step...

The Journey

On the day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting their bad advice —
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
‘Mend my life!’
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognised as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do —
determined to save
the only life you could save.

- Mary Oliver

Grieving...

The last post I had in this blog from my travels was from July. The remainder of July was amazing but heavily doused in grief. At the end of my excursion my aunt passed away, a woman who tied together her children, their children and even their children. She was what bonded my family in Pakistan. Upon my return to Canada I suffered more great losses. I had lost my way in what I used to be able to circumnavigate through with ease. I didn't know how to exist with the growth that I had experienced and assimilate it into my life - I short circuited.

I've been reading my blog from the beginning and realizing this voice that resonated from me. A voice that I really fall in love with. A voice that expresses love, grief, sadness, joy, wonderment, you name it... in a tone that evokes something. I hear the voice that comes out now and it's nowhere near the same, and different. It's hard reading your own words and not believing they come from you. It's even harder to hear the voices inside your head that are full of judgement and self doubt and take them as if they came from above. This reversal explains my short circuiting.

I have spent the past six months in heavy grief and am only realizing it now. I can put on a smile and show everything is great and grand, that's a lie. I've been very good at masking my emotions (or so I thought), let alone feeling them. I'm in pain, I suffer from my ill thoughts and I put myself through this... for what? I cannot change what cannot be changed and I can change what can be changed.

The past is just that... the past. The future does not exist and that leaves us with right now. And right now I am choosing to wade through the swampy waters of self pity, loss and unhappiness. The Universe has taken a snapshot of my thoughts at this moment and I'm not pleased with what it's captured. The struggle is to find that joy and I'm stumbling about looking for it.

I found it in someone. Never to have to look for it again, I had found it. My search was over - my search just began. I had to find it in myself first.

The worst things that have happened in your life can pull you down unless you see them as the greatest gifts in life, then they pull you up. I only hope that like a switch it turns on and I see the gifts because this darkness has caused me more stubbed toes than I would care for.

Rollin' sevens...

The auspicious occasion of July 7th, 2007 (7/7/7) has fallen upon us. I've always liked the number 7 and I think all kids go through a phase like that. Out of ten kids I'm sure seven of them will tell you their favorite number is 7. When you're rollin' sevens it just means you're on point. Today is a good day to start. You've won the jackpot! ;)

Delhi has knocked me out. The past two days have been 40+ degrees and Jay and I have been on the hunt in the small corners of the markets searching out booty. We just wander from store to store comparing, analyzing, bargaining and sifting through what needs sifting through.

After being on the road for the past however many moons I grew to love the food from the small food stalls on the side of the road and the street vendors selling their aloo chaats, chana masala, gol gapas and the like. Yesterday I ventured full power into the street refreshments. First was the long awaited return of the gol gapa (a small piece of dough deep fried resulting in a hollow ball that is filled with some kind of vegetable filler and then dipped into a liquid mixture of spice, lemon and the street vendor's hand), then it was on to the ruhafza (rose water beverage), some paan and then finally an aloo chat (slices of potato mixed with a 'chaat' and lemon). Most people would shy away from these stalls but I couldn't wait to get back to them. They seem to balance out the lining in my stomach and I've grown immunity. Locals tease me and tell me that I'm 'full desi'.

Some Belgians told me that they escaped the heat in the new metro system that they have here in Delhi. They told me that it's the cleanest subway that they've ever been on., not to mention it was a great escape from the 45 degree sweltering heat. I'd take 17 degrees in a subway any day to beat that kind of heat. So now I have one more thing to look forward to in Delhi, just sitting on the 'yellow line' watching people get on and off the subway and making their way...

Thermal displacement...

It was 45 degrees out today.











That's all I've got the minerals for...

The down and dirty Delhi...

It's more humid in Delhi than it is right beside the ocean. Speaking of which I was just reminded of how beautiful my last day in Goa was ;) The sun was shining, people were in great spirits and my experience ended superbly.

So now I'm in Pahar Ganj which is a well known tourist spot and regarded as a very seedy area. There's no denying that. It's the ideal location to be in to try and sell off a bike in. It's crazy busy and has store after store of everything you could think of. If you forgot to get something in the south when you were down there, no problem, Pahar Ganj has it. Forgot something in Rajasthan, no problem, Pahar Ganj has it. It's unbelievable and so overwhelming. It was hard to even go into one store let alone twenty others that have the same things that the other stores had in stock.

It's a sensory overload that I'm actually quite calm within. I dreaded coming here because of the chaos I was thwarting myself into. But again, once in the chaos it fits like a comfortable worn in flip flop.

I was fortunate to share a lift from the airport with a chap from San Francisco, Jay Vallow, and we ended up just going to the same hotel. We had quite a bit in common and we had the identical things on our agenda of to-do's. We went off to find some brass statues near Jama Masjid. I had never been in a showroom/warehouse with so many statues before. It was quite incredible. We sifted through a few tons of brass, bronze, copper and silver and it was time to move on. Next stop, paper market. Now anyone who knows me knows my love of paper. The hand crafted paper that you can find here is astounding. We arrived to see hundreds of paper shops. Some on the main street, others down narrow corridors and some just on the street. Paper everywhere and the sweet smell of ink permeating through the thick humid air. Might not be your thing, but it's mine ;)

I used to dislike Delhi like a sickness, but the dirt of Delhi seems to be finding a soft spot within me.

Boss, boss... the plane, the plane...

Nothing is ever on time in India. You say you'll meet for dinner at 7:30pm that means you have to add and hour and fourty five minutes to that, so make sure you there by 9:15pm to be on time. You have a train that departs at 4:05pm, well then make sure you're there at 5:50pm to be on time. The point I'm trying to make here is that the unpredictability is the only predictable thing you can expect when travelling ;)

I got to the airport an hour and fifteen minutes before my flight. I get to the ticket counter and they tell me I'm delayed half and hour. Ok, not so bad, very doable. I had a great book with me that I recovered in my luggage in Goa, 1001 Arabian Nights. I didn't get through a lot of those nights because I seem to have about nine hundred to go ;) So engrossed in my book I didn't even realize the flight had been delayed even longer. I think we left at around four thirty or so. Our flight was scheduled for one hour to Mumbai and ended up being delayed in a holding pattern to land due to heavy traffic on the runway. We flew in circles for forty minutes and then trying to leave Mumbai delayed due to congestion on the strip. The arrival in Delhi was at twenty after nine and the temperature outside was 32 degrees ;) Ahh, good old Delhi.

The Law...

My bike was fully loaded with five tin cans and a backpack. Both my helmets were missing in action. One is in a restaurant in Goa and the owner went back to Bombay and the other was pretty much stolen ;) So the law in Goa states that in the city you do not require a helmet and on highways you do. Well I didn't load up my bike to galavant around town, I had to move down closer to the train station in Margao which was over an hour away. I was fortunate that I had Shree, a local who lives in Chappora, lend me a hand and drive down with me.

We both did not have helmets and decided to just go and go slowly. We made it about twenty minutes when Shree pulled over and then I asked what was going on and he pointed ahead. What lay ahead were five police officers stopping mostly motorcycles. It's a ticket of a nominal amount but still it's the hassle of the police. We turned around on a one way highway and hit the back roads. We avoided our first check stop and we knew there were two more ahead, you gotta love people who help you out ;) So we came upon our next one and we decided to wait for a bus and drive behind it and then beside it as we passed the check post ;) I know, I know... but it was such an exhilarating experience. It's nothing like what it would be if I were to try and duplicate that behaviour back home, that would not go over so well, it's not taken too seriously here

So we ended up getting a tip from another motorcyle rider and his wife and we followed him through some small villages and down sloping and winding hills to come up back on the highway after 10 kilometers of sight seeing. Sure enough five minutes after that we got waved in by the police and our engines were off. Good thing Shree was with me. It ended up being a small fine which could have been a lot worse since I was whining about unpacking all my stuff which would take half an hour to repack just so I could get them my registration. I didn't show them anything and they still wrote me up the ticket, that's just unheard of. Later Shree told me he knew one of the officers and was letting us off very easy. So we had tickets in our pockets and no longer any worries about police.

Like a pit crew at a race a couple more uniforms waved us in for a pit stop. Engines off. Hand in my back pocket to reach for my ticket to present to the officer. He looks at it up and down, looks at me up and down and motions to go along with he hand.

We finally reached Margao and headed to Colva Beach (6km away). Grabbed a guesthouse, dropped off my backpack and travel tin and the rest I rode off with to the train station. Packed the bike, paid for shipping and even had time for a bite to eat. It was a good day and with each new one getting better and better.