Volume 5 Issue 2

April, 2004

Mollie's Big Adventure

Mollie with Chanting Teacher, Usha

Banyan Tree at Theosophical Society

Big Ole Crystal in Temple

I have just returned from a trip abroad, a trip that was a huge event in my life requiring months of emotional preparation.  Not many people in my position actually get to experience such a thing, but with the support of my family and friends I did.  It wasn’t just a simple jump across the pond to London or over the border to Mexico.  Come to think of it, I have yet to experience either of those countries.  Good God, I realized suddenly in flight, I’ve never even been to Canada!     My trip was something that most Americans will never have the privilege to make, especially a stay-at-home mother of two, not to mention the fact that this was not a weekend adventure but a 5 week excursion!  The suspense is probably killing you or, more likely, irritating you.

My trip was none other than a passage to India.  I know what you’re thinking, “Why would an American woman want to travel to India alone?”   The answer YOGA.  It’s as simple as that:  I wanted to find yoga’s origin.  Find it I did, and many other things along the way. 

My adventure began one very early and extremely cold morning in early February at the Northwest Arkansas Regional Airport.  My uneventful flight terminated in San Francisco where I strolled over to the International Airport and hopped on a very packed flight on Korean Air.    Approximately 25 hours later I landed in Mumbai, formerly Bombay.  Since their independence from Britain the Indian government has begun returning to the old names for their cities and streets.  Several hours later I made it to Chennai, formerly Madras, where I was received like a movie star.  My “Indian Limousine” driver painted a beautiful sign to signify that he belongs to me.  After a brief awkward introduction I realized that my driver did not actually speak English.  Oh well, I thought, I’ll get the information I need from the hotel concierge. (Which would be funny to you, if you knew that “concierge” is a foreign concept to India and not exactly available.)    “Hum, no seatbelts, okay, no problem.”   How I even made it to the hotel is a mystery to me!  There are many people living in India, did I mention that its population is second only to China?  People walk, ride a mo-ped or bicycle, or drive cars.  There seems to be some type of transportation hierarchy, but I never quite figured out the actual order.  We’re all trying to get somewhere and we’re all trying to get there quickly without benefit of traffic laws, street signs, stoplights etc., little things we take for granted and actually complain about here in America.

Just as I had been forewarned, there is not much efficiency or organization in this beautiful country that I chose as my first venture out of the United States.   This was the first life lesson India gave me.  The lesson was to let go of my deep rooted desire to be efficient at any cost, to be on time no matter what, and to resist anyone who denied me  the pleasure of the efficiency I had for so long taken for granted.  Yes, it was clear to me I wouldn’t make it one week on this continent.  How can I get home and how can I get there fast?   But wait, these colors, these friendly faces, these kind gestures, these happy children and dogs.  These animals, mostly cows and chickens, and the odd elephant, living so cohesively among these buildings, traffic and, did I mention, all the people?  Yes, I should stay here, for a while anyway, and try to figure out a way to take it all back with me.  How can I possibly describe this fascinating other world to my people back home?  Even pictures could not capture this vibrant culture.  But I’ll do my very best.

I am a yoga teacher, but I’d rather call myself a “yoga share-er.”  I can’t take credit for teaching this 5000 year

old philosophy because, I’ll be the first to admit, I still have much to learn.  However, I went to India, to study yoga with my beloved teacher, Kausthub Desikachar, to bring it back to my family, friends and, of course, the great people who show up a few times a week to share yoga with me.  The great thing is I didn’t as much learn more about yoga from class lectures, but more while exploring India.

In India I always felt safe.  I knew that despite the language barrier, these people were going to take care of me and not advantage of me.  In India, men look out for each other while crossing the street, or maneuvering their goods, or driving their mo-peds.  Women take care of each other’s children.  They just knew when a young mother might need a break.  The middle class look out for the less privileged and the upper class, in turn, do the very same.  Everyday in the newspapers are words of kindness or encouragement just because.  The “crime report” that we so valiantly display on the second page of our own papers is non-existent.  I learned to let go of my distrust of others, my attitude of it’s a dog-eat-dog world and only the strong can survive.  Because that’s simply not the case, we all survive because of each other and not despite each other.  We need to have feelings of trust in our fellow man in order to be who we inherently are.  We cannot survive alone, we are interdependent on each other whether we choose to realize this or not.  This is how I came to understand yoga as union.  The word yoga means just that, to bring together.  Not a day went by that I was not invited into a family’s home to share a meal or have tea.  Quite often I wondered where I was or where my apartment was and, inevitably, an auto-rick-shaw would pull over and offer a ride.  Even if I declined they would offer help with directions.  Indians always greet each other with Namaste, which means the divine in one honors the divinity within the other.  In this way, each greeting is a reminder that we are all divine and should acknowledge that in each other. 

In retrospect, while this trip changed me in so many ways it also encouraged me to stay the same in many ways as well.  Keep the kindness and the smiles, let go of the overwhelming urge to be the top dog.  We’re all top dogs so let’s come together, sit back and enjoy the view.

If ever you would like to hear more about my travels in India, and boy do I have stories, please call me at 443-YOGA.  We’ll get together.

Mollie Tribell

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Kausthub Desikachar Drops In on Fayetteville, AR Students

Prior to leaving for India Mollie took time to arrange for Kausthub Desikachar to present a workshop to students in Fayetteville during his trip to the United States this year.  Kausthub is the son of TKV Desickachar and grandson of T Krishnamacarya.  He has devoted his life to carrying on the tradtioin of Yoga.  In his teachings you  learn to enhance your life with the tools of yoga.  We are delighted that the Yoga Room is able to offer such prestigious training to our community. 

The topic for the weekend of May 7—9, 2004 is Subtle Anatomy:  A Study of the Chakras.  The 15 hour course includes lecture, asana practice and a chanting concert on Saturday evening.  The cost for the entire workshop is $195 payable on registration.  We can take payment by cash, check, or credit card payment through PayPal. 

For more information on the schedule, location, lodging for this workshop link to www.yogaroom.net or contact Mollie directly at mtribell@yogaroom.net or call her at 443-YOGA (9642).

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