Submitted by Sarah Douglass
Anxiety. Stressed. Frazzled. Priorities a little out of whack. Quick to judge.
While boarding my flight to California I went through my ongoing, never subsiding list: call Dad, read the last few chapters of book, read the new issue of Cosmo, plan day trip in Carmel, make sure I have enough workout pants…shoot, I forgot socks. Get socks.
After getting the rental car my mother and I headed off to Mount Madonna Center, the world renowned Yoga Retreat whose main purpose was to spread the yogic lifestyle of peace, tranquility, health, and happiness to the Western Civilization. As I flipped through the pamphlet I read about how in the seventies a group of young Americans made a pilgrimage to India to meet Baba Hari Dass, a man qualified to be considered for a saint title.
Babaji grew up in India as a monk, took a vow of silence in 1952, and dedicated his life to the yogic believe. A true yogi. I joked about how I was going to be living with full out hippies for a month, expressed my serious concerns about the vegan diet on the mountain, and went on and on about the fact that I was going to be studying under Babaji, the monk who was responsible for bringing the pure form of yoga to America.
I’ll admit, I was in for this ride for all the wrong reasons. My reasoning for signing up was so I’d hopefully get in better shape and come back a certified yoga teacher. I had no intention to come back with a changed outlook on the world at large.
Once goodbyes were exchanged between Mom and me I walked down and joined the “Welcoming Circle.” I met my apprentice, Alok. I was skeptical: Do I seriously have an apprentice; why is his hair to his shoulders; why isn’t he wearing a shirt; and his name is Alok? Seriously? Come on, that cannot be his name. I sat around in a circle with my new classmates. After an hour I realized people actually refered to themselves as “Rainbow,” and meditation at 5:30 in the morning was the norm for this crowd. I was in for one heck of a month.
Flash forward about two weeks. I was awake at 5:30 am, trying to swallow a twenty foot cloth, then pull it back up to release mucus that was built up in my stomach. The coarse, off white, wet, slimy cloth was almost impossible to stomach…literally. Forty-three of my classmates and I sat shoulder to shoulder, teary eyed from gag reflex, cloths shoved down our throats, while watching the beautiful cotton candy like sunrise on the mountain top. I couldn’t believe I now thought this was normal. The morning before I had stuck a rugged, yet flexible piece of yarn through one nostril and pulled it out of my mouth. It was as if I was in some sort of circus freak show.
Alok kept assuring me it was one of the most cleansing things I could do for my body. By that point, all I could do was mumble with the cloth in my mouth that trying on a shirt would be the most normal thing he could do for his body. I had rope burn in my throat from pulling the yarn out too fast after panicking about possible suffocation, and now I was shoving cloth down my throat. When you have fabric in your mouth and your goal is to swallow it then pull it back out all you really can do is focus on something else. I couldn’t help but reflect on the fact that two weeks ago I would have called the police and told them of inhuman activity on the top of a mountain. Yet now, after only two weeks tucked away in the Red Woods of Northern California with people like Alok and Rainbow I could only think what I would experience tomorrow.
By the third week the 5:30 am meditation and cleansing practices were routine, Temple and philosophy class were growing on me, and even the three hour, daily workout was bearable. The thing I could bear no longer was the vegan diet. Growing up Texan, eating red meat every day was not just accepted, it was prescribed. I could not tolerate it any longer. I was weak. Fading. I needed REAL protein. Not hummus, not kuskus, not beans, and especially not any form of tofu they tried to convince me was a respectable replacement of meat. I needed a juicy, grease running down my chin, red meat, cardiac arrest filled, clogging of the arteries, delightful bite of meat. It had gotten to the point of obsession. I was having withdrawals. The shakes, night sweats, and agitation were kicking in. That’s when I broke down.
I convinced Ruji, a sixty-three year old, wild Taiwanese woman to cut philosophy class with me and sneak of the mountain for a sin…a non-vegetarian burger. Basically army crawling, we snuck out of the lecture on the subconsciousness. After the most horrifying drive resembling a drag race down the winding mountain I was almost more excited about being alive than the actual burger. Then, I saw it. Heaven. The In- N-Out.
We pulled in, threw the car into park and jumped out. You could hear the crackling of the grill and the popping of grease. The vibrant red tray holding God’s greatest gift to man kind was placed in front of me. The fresh, crunchy, iceberg lettuce, the deep red, plump slice of tomato, the golden fries. They were all just a frame for the plump, mouth watering, brown with a tinge of pink, BEEF. In less than 3 minutes, the vegan diet, along with the burger, was history.
Never feeling more sick and overly stuffed in my life I lugged my body out out of Ruji’s car. I felt like my stomach was still stuffed with the cloth from the 5:30 am cleansing class. I walked down the rugged path in my torn up, soiled, hunter green Toms. I heard a unison of deep chants resonating through the mountain. The cool breeze softly swept through the red woods rustling the leaves. The shade took over making it cool and dark. I heard the deep, hollow ring of the bell reminding everyone of the time. 6:30. Time for Temple.
I settled down taking in the smell of incense, drinking the intoxicating spiced air. Feeling intensified by the energy in the open room, I began to sing chants of peace, love, hope, and unity. Unity, that’s what I felt. Secure, totally open, tolerable. My mind was free. I felt total bliss AUMing alongside a catholic, a protestant, a jew, an atheist, and a muslim. I realized every single one of those people strived for the same thing. Complete peace, love, and hope for good to overcome evil. It was then, stuffed with my In-N-Out burger that I got it. I truly understood the importance to practice unprejudiced thinking, love, peaceful actions, living in the moment, and acceptance.
Peaceful. Mindful. Tolerable. Accepting. Living in the moment. Free from to do lists. I handed my ticket to the flight attendant, smiled, and walked down to the plane. I sat in my window seat, greeted the person who snuggled up next to me in the small middle seat and took a deep relaxed breathe. As we took off I gazed out the window and marveled at the beautiful birds eye view of North California. I went away with my certification, and lost a few pounds, however that was the last thing that was causing me such indescribable bliss. I learned how to let go, love unconditionally, find peace in the most uncomfortable of situations, and view everyone as equals.
