Make It Effortless?

September 3: Make it effortless. If you have ever achieved this—in your yoga, your running, your lifting, or whatever training you do—you know the feeling. Your body may be sweating, your muscles will be sore tomorrow, and you are flowing through effortlessly. It can take considerable strength to achieve effortlessness. However, it is strength of focus—not muscle—that brings you to this point.

Last night we camped at Seema, at slightly over 11,000 feet. Today we will be going over the Darwa Pass, and begin our descent, camping overnight at Dodital. It sounds so easy, effortless. It won’t be.

Before we leave, Aaron reminds us to breathe through our noses; taking breath in through the mouth begins to activate the lower chakras; you “move into survival mode.” The climb out of camp is steep, and within minutes I am breathing through my mouth. This is not effortless. Sometimes, the only thought can be, “Where do I plant my pole? Where do I take my next step? Where do I plant my pole for the support that I need, and so it doesn’t become wedged? Where do I plant my foot so there is a place to plant my next foot.” Even these thoughts sometimes just skim the consciousness. I am panting, breathing deeply through my mouth. And I stop.

Finding Aaron, I ask for a refresher on breathing through my mouth. It will be days later that I realize my starts have been fueled by adrenaline; once I learn to control that, I am able to maintain my breath as I should. Now, with intention and attention to my breath I begin to move forward again. We switchback our way up toward the pass. It becomes effortless. My mind opens back up, and I know that this—make it effortless—is the mantra not only for this journey, but for what I am seeking here. I don’t know what that means, or how to do it, in terms of my quest, so record the observation in my journal.

We stop at Darwa Pass where we eat lunch at approximately 13,000 feet. The descent is steep, muddy. We encounter a family herding water buffalo. As I observe them, their smiles, I understand that they have so much less than I do, and so much more. I begin to think about the importance of letting go. Tonight at Dodital I journal on how so much unhappiness is the result of “need” and expectation, both of which are artificial creations of our culture. I begin to record what I have been letting go of: dry shoes, dry feet, dry clothes. Letting go of all the scents we put on our bodies in various guises. Letting go of hot showers, or any showers. Letting go of being in control. It is small, it is temporary, it is experimental. Yet it is important.

I sleep with a smile on my face.

Starting to Trek

On the morning of September 1, the sky comes awake as we drive from Rishikesh to Jankichatti. Shortly after 6:00, as dawn is breaking, the drive becomes steeper. We eat lunch, or perhaps a late breakfast, in Barkot. It is now noon, and we are at approximately 4,000 feet. It is too early for us to appreciate the comfort of this altitude, or the fact that the paved roads on which we have been driving much of our trip will give way shortly to eight days of unpaved roads, washouts, landslides, and trails. In this moment we enjoy the children heading to school, the blue sky, and the clouds that still wrap the mountains.

We get to Jankichatti an hour and a half later than we had expected to arrive. For those of us new to India, we have yet to learn that is not a delay, nor anything to be concerned with. It is the flow of life.

Our first trek is to Yamunotri and back. I pack my knapsack as I intend to pack it for the longer treks; for me, this is a “test flight.” I pick up my poles. I don’t complete the trek, turning around and returning to the guest house after an hour and a half on the trail. Lesson 1: I do not need to (and physically will not be able to) carry my 35mm digital (for color) and my 35mm film (for black and white). Lesson 2: I am okay with the altitude. Lesson 3: It is not a race. Lesson 4: Enjoy the scenery. On the way up my focus was the destination; on the return I see the monkeys, the green birds, the clouds wending their way through the valleys and along the trails. I consider the trek a success; I have learned important things about how to succeed going forward.

September 2 (16:13): We are at camp, at Seema. In Jankichatti we stayed in a guest house. It was my introduction to a bathroom where the toilet is a porcelain basin in the floor (Lesson 5: When using, only bring your pants to your knees). For a shower we order a bucket of hot water, and scoop it over ourselves. Tonight in camp the toilet is a hole in the ground (inside a latrine tent), and there will be no shower for another two days.

Overnight the rain was incessant. Halfway from Jankichatti to our starting point in Hanuman Chatti, the road had been washed out. We left the cars, starting the trek kilometers early. As it turns out, there had also been landslides that blocked portions of the road. All in the life of a pilgrim….

It was quite the trek. I was carrying my 35mm digital. It kept on swinging and bouncing. When I anchored it with my belt, I found myself being pulled forward by its weight. I could not lengthen the strap enough to be comfortable. Tomorrow it will go in my pack. It is too much; I will use my point and shoot and be content.

Today I often found myself thanking Mitchel for the challenge, and the variety, of my training. Those thanks will be amplified in the days to come. I also expressed thanks for quick dry clothing (even though, in the clouds and the rain they remain wet as I write this). And, thank you to the discovery of trekking poles. I am the only one with them; and I find them a tremendous help.

Today was a struggle. I learned a few more lessons. Lesson 5: There is always one more ankle-deep stretch of mud to traverse than there is clear glacial spring to ford. Lesson 6: The mud is never pure. Lesson 7: The best place to set down your next footstep has been marked for you in the recent past by a cow, a donkey, or a water buffalo.

Tomorrow, my mantra will be, Make it effortless.

I Am Back

Yes, I am back from India. It was quite the journey.

Actually, the journey is continuing. As I settle back into my life, I know that there are things yet to be learned, yet to be understood, yet to become a part of my life. I returned seven pounds lighter, 2,000 photos richer, and physically, mentally, and spiritually stronger than when I left. As I seek to sort out my images, my impressions, my journal entries, and my memories, I have yet to find a clear way to articulate it all. Perhaps I never will; perhaps it is not meant to be neatly reported.

What follows is my first “post-India” blog. I will continue making entries each weekend.

August 31: We are on the road from Delhi to Rishikesh by 5:00 AM. Though I don’t know it yet, this departure is a great awakening for my senses, and will serve me well in the weeks to come. As we drive this morning, the sun doesn’t rise, so much as the haze becomes increasingly luminous. Over the next two weeks we will experience many sunrises, from the road and on the trail. There will be those days when we look up to see the sun lighting the tops of the mountains above us, and look down to see the clouds engulf the mountains below. In Seema, sunrise finds us inside the clouds, while at Tapoban the sky is blue, the peaks of Shivling and Bhagirathi glistening white and gold. These experiences still await me this morning.

Today as the haze grows brighter, it is clouded over at times by the dust from the road, or the infrequent patch of fog. The cacophony of noise, even at this hour, is almost overwhelming. Painted on the rear of every truck is Horn Please. We oblige, frequently. Honking, like so much else on the roads of India, carries a different meaning than it does here in the US. It is not about aggression, or dominance, or bravado; nor is it an expression of testosterone. Honking is a means of communication. It is telling the driver in front that you are behind, and that you are preparing to pass. It is telling the driver around the curve that you are coming in the other direction. Each time you honk, you are asking the other driver to be aware of your presence, to let you know if “the road is clear” to pass, to pull further to the left if possible (in India you drive on the left side of the road).

I quickly begin to learn the language of the horns, and to trust our drivers. The first of these lessons is interesting. The second is indispensable. Two lane, two way roads quickly become one way as vehicles pass one another in an intricately choreographed dance. The bicycles, motorbikes and oxcarts dance with the cars, taxis, buses, and trucks. Each moves at a different pace, finds its own space. All forms of conveyance share the roads, whether highway or byway, city or—increasingly—country. Tractors pull carts laden with grass while oxcarts are loaded with brick. Mini-buses (many three-wheeled), bicycles (again, many with three wheels), donkey carts weave a living fabric of noise, sight, sound, and motion. Through all of this wend the cattle, the dogs, and the pedestrians. One lane in each direction becomes two, three, or even four leading a single way. The road doesn’t change width, only flow, until there is no choice but to reclaim its original two-way identity.

We stop along the way for breakfast. This is our introduction to virtually two weeks of vegetarian eating, though we don’t know that at the time When we arrive in Rishikesh, all of our senses are awakened. We will rely on them in ways unanticipated in the coming days.

My Bags Are Packed

Well, not quite packed. However, the last purchases have been made. They included a compass at the camping goods store, and a bar of laundry soap at the supermarket. The clothing has been accumulating in a dresser drawer that has been set aside for that purpose since June. The boots have been trekking through the streets and subways for weeks.

Today we received our final itinerary (subject to change). Tomorrow I will pack. Tuesday, I head to the airport. If you want to trek along with me, it will need to be after the fact. There is no internet (or cell phone service) most of the way. I will be back with a blog when I return. In the meantime, here is our travel.

August 30 - Aaron Star Delhi Tour and lunch at the Imperial Hotel

Sep 01 - Rishikesh drive to Jankichatti, trek up to Yamunotri and back. (We will be leaving very early in the morning.)

Sep 02 - Trek Hanumanchatti to Seema

Sep 03 - Trek Seema to Dodital

Sep 04 - Trek Dodital to Sangamchatti (roadhead) and stay in a hotel nearby

Sep 05 - Drive 5 hrs to Gangotri and trek to Chirbasa.

Sep 06 - Chirbasa to Tapovan.

Sep 07 - Tapovan to Gangotri and drive further (possibly to Uttarkashi).

Sep 08 - Uttarkashi to Kedarnath Base

Sep 09 - Kedarnath hike up

Sep 10 - Kedarnath day

Sep 11 - Hike down - head to Riskikesh

Sept 12 - Stay in Rishikesh

Sep 13 - Rishikesh to Delhi then fly to New York

I am home September 14. Namaste.

Good Advice

Earlier this summer I had dinner with my good friends Susan and Sima. When I arrived Sima was already there, and we had a chance to talk before Susan arrived. One of the first questions she asked was, What do you have planned for after your return? She went on the explain that she and Susan always plan something for shortly after a major event; it is something that they find great pleasure in, so that they don’t have time to experience that post-event let-down.

My plans are far from clear, but it is good advice. I have begun thinking, what is my training goal after I return? I know I don’t want to just stop, and I know it will be difficult to maintain a regimen without a goal/objective. What is my next challenge? I don’t know; but, I do know to be open to recognizing it.

I really don’t have anything significant planned for after I return. It is definitely good advice. I just haven’t really figured it out yet. Suggestions are welcome.

When the Student is Ready

When the student is ready, the teacher appears.

This Buddhist proverb is so true for me. I am not sure, yet, what I am ready for. At the same time, many teachers have appeared in my life in the last months. Today it is time to say, Thank you. Namaste.

Thank you. Namaste, to Aaron, my yoga teacher who has provided me with the spiritual guidance to find my way back to the path of my life. Thank you, also, for guiding the trek.

Thank you, Namaste, Paul, for walking with me as my step became sure and steady.

Thank you, Namaste, Michael, for your help in bringing this funky pizza called life into balance.

Thank you. Namaste, to the authors whose books have entered my path. Roger Housden, Thich Nhat Hanh, Swami Rama, Nando Parrado, your wisdom is beyond me, yet has helped to make me wiser.

Thank you. Namaste, to the students, the regents, and the staff of the Pont Foundation. Your commitment to, and belief in, a future of justice and social equity is an inspiration to what we can become. Thank you, also, for teaching me once again how blessed I am in this life.

Thank you. Namaste, to Mitchel, who patiently has guided me in my physical preparations for my trek.

Thank you, Namaste, Seth, for ensuring that I am mindful of the divine in each of us. Thank you, also, for my Buddha in blue jeans.

Thank you, Namaste, all my teachers, my families, my friends.

The Preparation is the Journey

I know that at least a few of you missed me last week. I didn’t forget; I was fully engaged in what was one of my life’s truly peak experiences.

For the past year I have been mentoring for an organization known as The Point Foundation (www.pointfoundation.org). The mission of “Point” as it is known is to provide “financial support, mentoring and hope to meritorious students who are marginalized due to sexual orientation, gender expression or gender identity.” A few weeks ago I was invited to photograph the annual leadership conference. The Point scholars (this coming year there will be more than 80) come together with leaders from the organization and the LGBT community to explore and develop their own leadership.

The new scholars were provided a day of orientation on Friday. They were joined by returning scholars for an opening banquet that evening. The next two days were filled with working sessions, keynote addresses and relationship building. Throughout, I stood on tables and chairs, crawled on the floor, kneeled, leaned, and tip-toed to be as invisible as possible while taking almost 2,000 pictures. Now I am in the process of editing these, and compiling a portfolio for Point to use.

It was an amazing three days. The scholars range academically from incoming freshmen to Ph.D. MD, and law students. Their schools range from a small bible college in the Midwest to Stanford, Harvard, Columbia, NYU, and American University; both public and private institutions are included. There were gay men and lesbians, bisexual men and women, as well as transgender/transsexual female to male and male to female. Ethnicity, race, geographic origins, and religious traditions were broadly represented.

I put my camera down as I watched the new scholars participate in an icebreaker on Friday afternoon. I had already met some, and knew their stories. The tears came to my eyes as a half-dozen self-identified as having experienced homelessness. Twice as many acknowledged that they had gone more than a day without eating at some time in their lives because they could not afford food. Some have lost homes, and families, by being honest about their sexual identification. Some have experienced verbal and physical abuse: at home, in school, in their neighborhoods and in their communities. Some have been ostracized by the houses of worship in which they were raised.

As I listened to their stories, and observed the scholars, I realized that the preparations we make in life are our journeys. Each of these students brought their background into the conference, and for the duration of their time together explored ways in which they could draw from that background to lead into the future.

Perhaps the most amazing thing for me, however, is that their commitment to leadership is broad-based. It is not only in social justice for the LGBT community, it is in social justice for all. It is about leadership in politics, medicine, law, academics, corporate America, and in the arts. It is about leadership that serves all, not just their LGBT brothers and sisters. It is a dedication, a commitment, a passion for securing and improving not only our national, but also our global future. Yes, there is the idealism of youth. However, it is not an idealism grown of privilege, so much as one nurtured in pain. It is an idealism not of lessons learned as much as lessons experienced. It is a promise of hope for our collective future that I have not seen in a very long time.