When people find out I went to India, the next question I am
most often asked is, “Why?” For a long time, the only answer I had was “I don’t
know”. I mean, I talk a good game
when teaching about letting ‘our decisions come from love and not from fear’ but
off my mat, fear usually keeps me far away from foreign lands supposedly
fraught femicide, rampant malaria and squat toilets. Yet something about this
trip seemed right. Martin Luther King Jr. said that he had traveled to other
countries as a tourist but when he came to India, it was as a pilgrim. Something
about this journey just felt right; almost familiar. There was no goal, no agenda, no group, no tour. It just
unfolded perfectly.
If I try to find words to convey this to people I fall short
of describing how absolutely incredible it is that I went to a place where most
women still wear sari’s. Tens of thousands of years have passed and the
traditional dress is still thriving. Think about it, in the United States our
clothing barely resembles anything worn a mere 200 years ago.
How do you describe to someone the shade of weathered teal
that brightens humble cinder block homes making them seem almost lush against the
dusty orange earth?
How does someone explain the vibrant cloths used to make Rajasthani
women’s head coverings or the look of genuine welcome in their rugged deeply
tanned grins and toothy smiles?
Can I ever find the adjectives to describe the festooned
pilgrims that filled Rishikesh after walking hundreds of miles on foot to
gather water from the grey brown Ganges and return it to their village shrine?
There is no way I could I possibly do verbal justice to the
experience of practicing laughing yoga and becoming utterly hysterically
with one good friend and 20 complete strangers all laying on the cool marble floor of an Ashram basement while monsoon
rains pounded away at the jungle outside.
Will I ever communicate
what an honor it was to be able to practice yoga with the most lovely 82 year
old man who honed his gift directly through his guru BKS Iyengar?
And how can I make clear the simple joy of kirtan surrounded
by the luxe of Gurudwara Bangla Sahib and what it was like to receive the
humble langar served to me on a dented thali that had fed and comforted
millions before me.
Fortunately, I get to revisit all of these little scenes over
and over in my mind. When I have a moment to reflect, maybe a brief second in savasana or when a word or smell fires up a memory, I get to experience it all over again. I do not have enough of a command of
written language to tell you everything that I saw and felt and smelled and
heard. All I can do is to encourage you to see it yourself. India may not be the place where you
become a pilgrim, but I believe that place does exist somewhere for everyone. Don’t
let fear create the border of your pilgrimage. If you are questioning travel,
trust your gut and go! If you feel
you need a reason, an answer to “why”, look to Mr. Twain who said it most eloquently;
“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our
people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of
men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the
earth all one's lifetime.”
After 11 years as a student, Kim finds the most beautiful thing about yoga is its adaptability to everyone. No matter your age, physical ability or state of mind, you can take a class and find peace every single time; it is the only sure thing in this life. Kim completed her 200 hour teaching certification from Pranayoga School of Yoga and Holistic health in 2013, and looks forward to continuing to learn about this amazing 5,000 year-old practice. She has a B.S. in Organizational Leadership and lives in Fort Wayne with her husband and two children. Learn more about Kim Here. Teaching: Yin Yoga, Hot Yoga, All Levels Yoga
