Saturn Returns - Part 5A: Going to the Ashram and We're Gonna do Yoga ...
Summer was slipping away. Its end was beginning to exert itself, especially in the evenings when a cool snap would push through the midday sultry air … I wanted to get away. I hadn’t done much this no longer new year, no great work, no cool projects, no real summer vacation other than a few weekends out of town. I yearned for something simple, close, but depaysant. Something fun and physical out in nature. Something cleansing physically and spiritually, something to help distance myself from my unhealthy habits and cravings and uninspired, automatic thoughts. Something to create some space for something new. And then it hit me.
“Why, yoga! Of course! In the mountains! At one of those ‘centres’ or ‘institutes’ with the exotic names like Kripalu, Omega, Sivananda!”
Unlike year’s past, when I was working fairly consistently, traveling abroad regularly, dating steadily, and engaged continuously in some family drama or another, this year of Saturn Return has me at home, less busy, unencumbered, alone with myself, my thoughts, my life as it is. Having to deal with the actual “what is”, sans distractions, “obligations,” accoutrements. The opportunity to reassess. Switch gears. Perhaps choose a new path. So I’ve tried to take advantage of this opportunity by making 2019 the Year of the Ongoing Saturn Return-Inspired Inner and Outer Clutter Clearer, Space Maker, Soul Search and Rescue. On the outside: a literal and figurative house cleaning. I swept away: financial and legal problems which included major life-altering settlements and compromise, career-wise and family-wise; problematic people and relationships including a rather big break-up; dingy, dated dwellings which included a big beautifying renovation as well as organizing/purging of my and my family’s physical stuff a la Marie Kondo. On the inside, in my quest to clear the cobwebs of my mind and spirit: a cycle of prescription narcotics, during which I died a little. But despite all the clearing and questioning and searching and tripping, nothing much shifted. I’m still here, with my same self.
I could use another assist.
I knew I wanted a change of scenery, an escape from the relentless cityscape of Manhattan. A week in the country, free from alcohol, stimulants such as my go-tos caffeine and sweets (yikes!), meat, electronics, streaming tv, family and other distractions sounded challenging yet promising. Surrounded by nature’s late summer explosion of flowers and bees and butterflies and deer and moon and stars, with lots of yoga, meditation, hiking in the mountains. I started an on-line search, asked around for recommendations …
… and the name “Sivananda” came up again and again. On the computer, from friends. Sivananda. Sonorous and lovely sounding. I investigated further. Just two hours away in the Catskills, accessible by bus from NYC. Every day, a silent meditation and two hours of yoga in the morning, two hours of yoga and a silent meditation in the evening. Every day, two ayurvedic vegetarian meals, mostly vegan. Affordable, with sparse but functional, clean and comfortable accommodations. Seminars and trainings. Theme weeks, such as “Yoga and Biking” or “Yoga and Hiking.” Bingo. No hair and nails spa experience for me; I wanted to focus on my inner rather than outer beauty …
I decide on the “Yoga and Hiking” mid-week program in mid August. I invite some friends and family. Everyone is so interested, thinks all that meditation and yoga and hiking sounds amazing, wants to join me, then doesn’t. I book the single apartment with bathroom, only then realizing that most accommodations are cell-like, twin-bedded or dormitory-style and shared, with a community bathroom down the hall. Or, if you prefer, you can BYOT – Bring Your Own Tent.
Oh. Okay. This is all about the yoga. And nature. Fine.
I arrive via bus, and the spritely Durga Devi picks me up at the stop in Woodburne, NY, in the former Jewish Catskills, currently the heart of Hasidic summer camp, penitentiary land, and Trump’s ‘Merica. Actually, kind of ugly from the road. Durga Devi briefly explains the pronunciation and meaning of her name, which was assigned to her, which I promptly forget. She’s delightful, full of sweetness and light. We arrive at the ranch, pulling up past the large vegetable garden, flower gardens, statue of an Indian looking man with a garland of marigolds around his neck. Walk into the Reception to check in. But first, shoes off. No footwear in the common areas.
Okay.
I look around as I walk up a hill to my room. I’m in Lakshmi. The grounds are peaceful, beautiful, resplendent with flowers. Green and purple mountains undulate in the distance, visible from everywhere. Lakshmi has spartan furnishings but is clean and comfortable enough. I have my own bathroom, a queen bed. And a front porch where I spy to the left a deer nibbling unripe apples near the small lotus pond. Lovely.
It’s nearly 4pm, and the afternoon yoga class on the open-air platform at the foot of the hill is about to start. Going in I know the class will last about two hours, followed immediately by dinner. I’m on my mat, ready. The countryside unfolds around us; the sun-kissed afternoon air embraces us. The class begins with savasana, the resting corpse pose. We start by dying ... We then sit up for an ohm and a chant in Sanskrit which of course I don’t know or understand. Then we do pranayama breathing – breath of fire, which I love, and alternate nostril breathing. Followed by savasana. A few very basic, very specific sun salutations “to create heat in the body.” And savasana. Then, BAM! – headstand and shoulder stand. (Not at all what I’m used to; in my world, these are usually considered advanced closing asanas, done after the body has been warmed up with other yoga poses for 45 minutes.) Savasana. Forward folds. Bridge to full wheel. Some twists. Triangle pose, a Crow or two. Savasana, savasana, savasana. More chanting is Sanskrit. Namaste, the end. I’m feeling very centered and calm but not terribly physically challenged. But, actually, rather happy. And now it’s time for dinner.
This spectacular mid-summer evening, dinner is served at 6pm outside just steps from the yoga platform, buffet style. We serve ourselves on plain plastic trays, metal dishes and bowls. A potage-like soup. Greens, cucumbers and tomatoes from the garden. Nice. Several vegetarian dishes in large pots and platters combining ingredients I generally don’t eat, i.e., cooked carrots (I hate cooked carrots) or have never heard of. Interesting, foreign scents and spices. But visually, not very appealing. It looks like baby food, mixed, mashed, and monochromatic. Vats of it. No bread or dairy at the evening meal.
Okay, here goes. I sit at one of the picnic tables, greet another yogi, introduce myself, and dig in. Oh, that’s nice. I took a general sampling of almost every dish, and each, though ugly, was quite different and delicious. Savory and slightly sweet. A bit of salt and spice. Thank goodness: I generally have an enormous appetite and eat a lot; I won’t die of starvation here. I’m surprised at how satisfied and sated I feel with the food on my plate and don’t feel the need for seconds. Just some herbal tea to cap dinner off.
My fellow yogis around the picnic table are friendly but reserved. Some have come for the hiking week, some for the yoga training program. Conversation is kept superficial, centered on yoga, hiking, and the evening’s post dinner activities. Which are the same every evening: Silent meditation and Satsang beginning at 8pm.
Satsang? What’s that?
I’m not sure, but we have to go.
We have to go?
Yes, well, we’re supposed to go. They take attendance.
They take attendance?
Hah?!?
The bell rings, indicating that evening Satsang will start in 15 minutes. I’m here for an authentic, immersive, transformative experience. So I go. Satsang is held in the red barn-like building across from my accommodations. Shoes off. The room inside looks like a small auditorium with a stage, or a church with a raised altar. On which are seated on either side two humans draped in saffron colored robes, stoic and immobile. Behind them the stage is adorned with, among other items, colorful floral garlands, gold curtains, and animal-faced statues, a monkey and an elephant, also wearing saffron colored robes. (The monkey creeped me out a bit; I'm familiar with Ganesha, so not so much the elephant.) On the floor in the dimly lit main room, cushions are arranged in rows, behind which are several rows of chairs. I sit in the back. On a chair.
At 8pm, the immobile humans on the altar, one female and one male, come to life. She starts a warm welcome and an invitation to begin the opening chant; he begins playing an accordion-like Indian sounding instrument. And the rooms breaks into music and song. In Sanskrit. Which goes on for pages. Most attendees know the chants and sing along enthusiastically; I follow along with the help of the Songbook, which provides English translations. I spy Vishnu, Krishna, Brahma, Siva, Guru. Aren’t these, like, names of Hindu deities? Are these, like, prayers?!?
Before I can freak out at inadvertently having false gods, complete with graven images, before Him, we are invited to meditate for the next 20 or so minutes …
The room falls still and silent. And for 20 minutes, we each are alone together with our thoughts, then without our thoughts, with only the silence and our essence and the infinite …
… In the best of all worlds. This first attempt at formal meditation in a while (since my K session?!?) was choppy, superficial, not at all my usual easy deep dive into the still nothing of everything. Which distracted me further from my meditation. And then the gong sounded, and the saffron figures on the stage called us to another chant, and another, and another.
The female monk then gave a little lesson based on the Vedic teachings, or the Bhagavad Gita or something. Which I don’t remember. But I do remember it was funny and instructive.
More chanting. Then the longish arati ceremony on stage, the waving and receiving of divine light. After the closing chant, nearly everyone in the room gets down on ground and bows to something or someone. I did not. Any practicing Judeo-Christian believes they would go to hell for less. I am not and do not, but still -
The hiking yoga friend I made at dinner catches my eye as we filter out of the hall; she too is unsure what to make of Satsang. We are offered a piece of fruit as we leave.
It’s now 9:30pm, and I look up hoping to view some of the Perseids Meteor Showers. We’re far from the city lights, but the dazzling fullish moon rising over the hills washes out any possibility of seeing delicate shooting stars. I hope to get up in the middle of the night and have another look. I pass out by ten, and sleep like a stone, until the gong sounds at 5:30am to wake everyone for morning Satsang at 6.
Morning has not yet broken. We rise in the dark. A bit cranky, I’m happy to have my own bathroom to shower. Which I’ve learning after years working in film and television, is the best way to wake and prepare for early mornings on set. I make use of the room’s electric kettle and boil some water for my Starbuck’s Via Italian Roast. (I know, I know – I’m cheating. This was supposed to be an alcohol-, caffeine, sugar-free week immersed only in yoga and nature and meditation. Don’t judge me, I’m aware I’m weak.) I sip. It’s warm and welcoming but, oddly, not half as inviting as my morning coffee usually is. (Full disclosure: Let it be known, I also packed a stash of Trader Joe Dark Chocolate Covered Raisins. And Dark Chocolate Covered Almonds. And vegan protein powder in Vanilla and Chocolate. In case of emergency. I thought it wise to be prepared in the event my cravings became too great to bear. I am here to grow, to cleanse, to transcend, not to suffer.) After another sip or two, I’m done with my coffee – I don’t want to finish the cup! - and am ready for Satsang.
This fine morning we are invited to do a silent walking meditation around the wooded grounds of the ranch. From the chapel-like Siva Temple to Durga Temple, about 1.5 miles. So as the sun rises and filters through the trees, about two dozen of us, yoga instructor trainees and guests, pick our way along the serpentine path through the forest. We consciously focus on each step, one foot in front of the other, feeling and experiencing fully our breath, our bodies in motion, the sounds and scents and sights of the trees and stones and ferns and fauna around us. Not a word is spoken until we arrive at Durga Temple. We are invited to view the temple before the chanting begins. Arati ceremony, fruit, and a few laughs before Satsang ends.
And now it’s time for morning yoga, today held on the outside platform of the red barn. Which is essentially the same as evening yoga, the very same series of centering, chanting, breathing, stretching, sun salutations and other specific poses, interspersed with savasana, savasana, savasana. Where are the powerful warrior poses, I wonder? Fierce Warrior 1 and 2, Flying Warrior, Peaceful Warrior, Humble Warrior? Up Dog to Down Dog? Cat and Cow? No Temples or Pyramids? Half Moons? Lizard, which I loathe? Did we do any Pigeons poses, which I also loathe? What about flowing through different vinyasa series? Ujjayi breath? I don’t feel terribly physically challenged after class, but I do feel strong, centered, happy, and ready for breakfast …
I later learn that Sivananda practices a form of Hatha yoga based on the original teachings dating back some 5,000 years. These were refined over time, and early in the 20thcentury distilled into the 90+ minute set series offered every morning and evening. It includes the same 12 asanas (poses, or shapes we make with our bodies, with cutes names like Puppy and Child and Lotus) in the same order, with periods of rest – savasana - in between. Within this framework the yogi can deepen his or her work by deepening the pose, adding variations to the pose, and holding the pose. It is a very different approach than one finds in NYC, which frequently emphasizes physicality with power and strength moves (i.e., lots of push-up like Up Dog/Down Dog chaturangas), poses flowing into each other (vinyasa series), and impossible pretzel shapes. Yoga in NYC studios and gyms can be quite hard core and competitive.
Like the ancients, Sivananda uses yoga first and foremost as a preparation for long periods of still seated meditation. A vehicle to calm and focus the mind, to warm and stretch the muscles and joints, to stimulate and open the chakras – the body’s 7 energy centers – from the top down. Inversions are essential to work the top three chakras, the Crown, Third Eye and Throat. They consider Headstand which stimulate the crown, the king of poses, and Shoulder Stand / Plow poses, which stimulate the throat, thyroid and vocal centers, its queen. Forward folds, standing or sitting, are next in importance to the health of the body. All, with the help of gravity and movement, give the internal organs a break from their usual upright position, as well as a nice massage. And most importantly, they help open connections from the self to the divine, to the infinite, to the everything and always -
At Sivananda Ranch, the overriding philosophy of the gurus prevail, calling for moderation in everything. One of them said something like, “Eat a little, work a little, laugh a little, rest a little, practice yoga a little …”
Sounds good to me.
To be continued … in which I realize, “Holy Sh*t! I’m at an ashram!”
© 2019 Tess Quadrozzi, A-Muse-In-Manhattan
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