Ashram at Aranchala

I approached the Ashram cautiously. I am not inclined to gurus. There is a hierarchy there that disturbs me. Some people need to follow someone, to be led. I am not one of those people .

Even so, I am always interested in new experiences and being in India for the first time afforded me the opportunity to visit an ashram, which I did in Tiruvanamalai at the ashram of Sri Ramana Maharishi .

A peacock in flight.

The grounds were a calm and pleasant reprieve from the busy Chengam Road.  There was a large tree and peacocks, monkeys and chipmonks roamed freely.  The people were friendly.  We had researched this ashram before we came and had applied via email. They invited us to stay free of charge for three days.  The room was nice and one of the few we have had in India with hot water and was about a half a kilometer from the Ashram.  Apparently they have various guesthouses in the area and many people come to stay here, Indians and westerners alike.

There didn't seem to be much of a program, aside from morning and evening chants, which consisted of verses taken from the teachings of Sri Ramana Maharishi who is the one whose teachings the ashram is founded on.  He came to the holy mountain of Aranchala, which was known as a holy place for many hundreds of years before, at the age of 14 and he attained enlightenment apparently in one fell swoop at the age of 16.  He spent most of his years in silence and his teachings are taken from the few conversations he had during what is known as Satsong.  The basis of his teaching is that you don't need to go outside to find God.  You are one with all things and with God and that any religion which tells you that God is "outside" of yourself is likely cheating you.  This man lived and meditated here from 1898 until his death in 1950.  May other people came to receive his teaching including Ghandi, Sai Baba and Mooji.

Inside the meditation hall

Outside the meditation hall

The large tree at the entrance greets visitors with welcomed shade.

We have been very careful about the food we eat here in India and have remained healthy for 5 weeks.  We take acidophilus and Grapefruit seed extract tablets and drink lots of water.  Here at the ashram we had our first experience of eating off of banana leaves with our fingers.  The ashram feeds 400 or 500 people everyday, breakfast, lunch and dinner.  From the time the doors open, people are seated, served and finished in 30 minutes.  I know many a banquet kitchen that could take lessons from these people.  Men walked by with buckets of food and loaded up the banana leaves with VERY delicious dishes. Rice, dahl, cabbage and other, more mysterious foods were served from buckets.  They served tea and coffee, pouring from pitchers high above the cups, rarely missing. It was never clear which was which and the servers did not talk or answer questions which made getting the beverage of choice a bit difficult.  It didn't matter I suppose as everything was so sweet it was hard to tell if it was coffee or tea anyway! 

The dining hall

Here we are in the dining hall awaiting our meal.

For myself, I have not been one to sit and meditate.  I have tried it over the years but have found that painting is a perfect form of mediation for me.  Still, I tried it and sat Indian style for hours at a time, but not for too long and turned my energy inward as best I could with the array of noises from both inside and outside the meditation hall.  As with all holy places of worship, I felt more of an onlooker than a participant.  When I saw westerners with the red dots painted on their foreheads or the white stripes of Shiva I thought it looked a bit silly but, who am I to judge?  I do my thing and everyone else is free to do theirs.  As there was no particular program at this ashram, which I was thankful for, I was free to come and go as I pleased and others did the same.

During the chanting, the lingom of Shiva was cleaned with what looked like oil, mud and yogurt before being re-wrapped in clean cloth and adorned with flowers.  This was done by one man every day as several others led the chants and others rang bells chaotically.  The whole ceremony took about an hour.  

The town of Tiruvannamalai is a spritual hotspot of sorts and there are many ashrams and satsongs (which is a discourse or conversation led by a guru) to be found there.  We spoke to others who had tried them out, and there were many who had been coming there for many many years and who had tried the gambit of options available and we also researched it on the net as well.  One man who was recommended by many was the nephew of Sri Ramana Maharishi and, although he used to give satsong, he no longer did so but it was possible to request a private audience.  We decided to do this and he accepted our request.

We were invited to his home and met him there on his large shaded porch along with one other couple.  I had come with a question, which I squeezed in at one point but which he did not answer. That was, how can I best utilize what I do, my talents, to benefit others?  Instead he gave a monologue which was more or less basic and told several stories which I had heard before in various forms.  Still, it was a very pleasant experience.

The core message that he wanted to convey to us this day was that words are only words.  We are the one who is behind the words, reality is beyond words, we are the seer and it is behind our interpretations of the world that we will find peace, God.  As a writer I found this amusing.  He spoke for an hour about not using words and most of that time he maintained direct eye contact with me.  I liked him. There was a good energy there and he was, to me, clearly sincere and loving.  When the hour was over he gave us some literature from his uncles teaching and dismissed us pleasantly, "Forget the words, the truth is beyond words." 

Another local guru was a woman by the name of Siva Shakti and she gave dashan every morning at 10 am.  She has her own ashram which was close to our guesthouse and we decided to go see what she was about.

We came an hour early and when we arrived there was about 6 or 7 people already sitting and mediating.  I sat on one side and Nanne on the other as it seemed to be divided male/female.  I sat along the back wall next to another man and he asked me if I could move closer.  "Closer?", I asked. What is going on here?  The room was big and there was plenty of room.  "Yes, closer", he said in a quiet, kind voice, " So nobody squeezes in here.  It will be very crowded here today."  Hmmm.  I moved a centimeter or two closer and waited.  The energy here was very calm and peaceful and the hour passed quickly.  I had gotten quite deep into my mediation and when I opened my eyes, right about 10 O'clock, the room was full, packed, and people were lined up outside and peering in the windows.  They had entered silently.  Siva Shakti had also quietly entered the room and stood at the front where there was a chair for her and many offerings of flowers lay on the floor.

She moved slowly, very slowly, with a  pronounced grace and made eye contact with each and every visitor. She said nothing as she made her way around the room, silently acknowledging everyone.  I enjoyed this and noted how peaceful it was.  I kept waiting for her to say something but after 15 minutes she had said nothing.  Through the crowd seated on the floor I could only see one face clearly, off to the side and I looked at her. She was about to cry.  Tears came to the woman's eyes and she began to sob.  First she tried to hold it in and then she let loose, sobbing loudly and this gave way to a wails and screams.  

"Good God", I thought to myself and immediately felt that the screaming was some sort of therapy that she had undergone previously. A real show. She clearly was experiencing some deep emotional pain but still, I found it annoying.  Maybe that was my test, I don't know.  Everyone looked at her including Siva Shakti. The woman continued, taking all of the energy in the room for herself, and Siva Shakti turned without saying a word and slowly, smiling, made her way out of the room.  Eventually, after some minutes of this her wailing turned to laughter and several others joined in the laughter.  I looked over at Nanne and she motioned for us to leave.  "Yes please", I thought thankfully.

We spoke about this, how the wailing woman had taken all of that nice energy and disrupted it and in spite of that unfortunate incident, we decided to go back a few mornings later.  The procedure was the same.  No words, only gentle peaceful feelings and the quiet recognition from the kind face of the Indian woman who called herself Siva Shakti.  for 15 minutes she smiled and gave acknowledgement of those who came to see her and then, without a word, she left the room.  

"Forget words, the truth is beyond words."

The white peacock.

Aranchala, Pongol and the Full Moon

There is a mountain in southern India, in the area Tamil Nadu which is called Aranchala.  It is a holy mountain and has been acknowledged as such for many centuries.  It is a pyramid shape and rises above the town of Tiruvannamalai with it's temples, it's ashrams and busy streets.

Full moon during the Pongol Festival

Approaching Aranchala

Every full moon pilgrims, devotees and chanters gather and families come from all over India to have reunions in Tiruvannamalai and walk the 14 km around the mountain, barefoot and make offerings, to Ganesh, to the cows, to themselves ultimately, as all things are connected. This year the full moon happened to fall on a holiday called Pongol.  A three day harvest celebration which is a holiday here. Most shops are closed as the locals join half of a million tourists who come from all over India for the sacred walk.

The tamil word "Pongol" means abundance and prosperity.  The first day is Thai Pongol which celebrates the sun as the primary energy behind of the agricultural process.  The women and girls draw patterns in front of the houses, shops and shrines with rice powder and pigment.

 Flowers come into town from the countryside by the truckloads for the pilgrims to buy and offer at the temples.  There are temples all over.  Not just the big obvious ones but they are next to the print shop, squeezed in between the jewelry shop and the lemon squeezer.  One comes across them while walking the streets, the hills and with in the big temples are dozens of smaller shrines dedicated to the various aspects of human emotion and true nature.  Shiva, Vishnu, Ganesh...the lotus. The images are everywhere.  Napoleon Hill described this as Universal Intelligence but here, the true nature is said to be beyond intellect, beyond words to where there is no separateness, where we are one and that one is the source.  God. Brahman.

A devotee makes an offering

A small detail of a VERY large temple.  There are four large temples and a number of smaller ones, all decorated from top to bottom with this kind of granite sculpture.

Inside the temple, one of the largest in India.

Here is a video I took outside the temple during the festival:

All dressed up for Pongol.

Cows  play an important role in the festival.  Their horns are painted and they are given thanks by the people who rely on them for milk.  Apparently cows utilize more of the suns energy than other animals and are able to give nourishment to people without harm to themselves which has contributed to their holy status.  The second day of the festival is cow Pongol and the cow is celebrated even more than usual.  Many of the  temples have statues of calves draped with flowers and burning ghee set at their feet as offerings but on this day the cows are given extra special attention, painted and paraded around in the streets.  It is not clear that they appreciate this, as you can imagine.

An effigy of the calf, facing a temple of Ganesh.  The story of Moses

coming down from the Mt. Sanai echos through the Christians mind.

The holy mountain is everywhere.

A woman covered in tumeric and Shiva designs with a long stick through 

her tongue gave blessings to those who wanted one.

Pilgrims walking their talk.

Aranchala

Aranchala is the cause of it all it seems.  This is the name of the holy mountain.  It rises pyramid like above the town and has been recognized as a holy mountain for many thousands of years.  In 1896 a young boy came here, as an orphan, denying his family and in one spontaneous death experience, he achieved a kind of enlightenment, that was apparently obvious to all those around him.  He is called Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharishi and he lived from 1879 until 1950.  He has saint like status here and his picture is everywhere, hung in homes and hotels and shops like Justin Beiber posters in schoolgirl's bedrooms. 

Over the years an ashram was built to carry his message of peace and grace and to serve the community, to feed the people.  He spent most of his life in silent meditation, away from people, living in caves and in the temple.  "This is a place for unlearning," I was told he said, "You don't need a guru, the truth is in yourself."

So, over the years many wise men have come to this place and many gurus have made Tiruvannamalai their home.  Ghandi came here, Sai Baba and Mooji came here.  I came here. 

Wise men meditate on the mountain, above the temple

Unlike festivals in the West, alcohol sale is forbidden and nowhere was any evident among the half a million pilgrims that I saw.  In spite of this the third day of Pongol is drinking Pongol.  So I heard.  Nowhere was a cold beer to be had and the two wine shops I know of were closed.   After some hours, all day actually, of watching the crowd, first at the main temple and then in our neighborhood, I went to bed early.  The crowd went on walking around the mountain all night, under the full moon, and into the morning.

Here is a video of the pilgrims, circling their holy mountain:

 

"Knowledge of  diverse objects is ignorance."  -Sri Ramana

"Muhnamuhna" - Grover

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Happy in Hampi

Traveling in India has not been conducive to writing a blog.  The internet connection, where one finds it is sketchy and even when it works is slow.  In addition, I find that my days can be quickly and easily filled up by simply looking around and searching out various simple needs.  There is no lack of things to write about but I find writing difficult as I find myself caught up in the experience itself rather than remembering and recording what has happened.  Still, I will attempt to convey some of these experiences to you.

 

We arrived in Hampi by bus early in the morning and were approached by several people wanting to show us rooms.  We looked at half a dozen or so before deciding on one but when we got back to that one the room was no longer available.  Then there appeared a young man we had not seen before who led us to our room, the room, the one with the temple view, the ceiling fan, mosquito net and cross breeze.  The room with all of the monkeys outside the window.  It was brightly painted as are most houses in India and the owner of our guesthouse was named Shiva.  Naturally.  He fixed us omletes and toast, coffee and chai. He stood in front of his house all day long, cooking food and serving tea to his friends and guests.

 

We took a temple tour, there are 2,500 of them in the area and even though it was hot in the middle of the day we were glad we did.  Apparently the king and queen used to live here and coins were made here which encouraged a large gold diamond and animal trade.  The above picture was the Queen's summer palace which had an air conditioning system where water circulated down through the walls.  She had oter palaces and a bathing house that looded like it was, well, fit for a queen.

I find that some of my best moments while traveling in India come when I least expect it.

There is no meat or alcohol allowed in Hampi town so, on the third day or so I made my way across the river to find a cold brew, or two, at the Evergreen cafe.  When I asked about the bathroom, they said, "Sorry, broken."  and pointed out into the street, "Feel free."  Ok.  I took a walk to the edge of the rice fields, which I have never seen before.  The sun was setting and I ended up in a most beautiful spot. the reflection of palm trees in the rice fields doubled up the visual pleasure of the moment.  I was thankful the toilet had been broken.

 

Nobody told us that the ferry stopped at 6 pm so, at 8 pm I found myself haggling with a boatman who was demanding a very high price to take us back across the river.  It wasn't really expensive, a few dollars but since haggling is part of the game here, we both played along.  As it turned out, we got a great ride in a round, floating basket sort of a boat.  Cool evening air, the sound of the paddle in the water, our oarsman spinning the basket around with its 6 passengers, guiding it precisely to the right place on the opposite shore.

A highlite of the stay in Hampi, really, and one I would have missed had I known what time the ferry stopped.  Unexpected pleasures can be the best!

 

Hampi was preparing for a festival, the BIG festival of the year with three stages and tens of thousands of people expected.  They lit up the temple in a special way, strung lights around the city and began shooting off fireworks.  We had already booked tickets out of town and were scheduled to leave before the festival. We contemplated staying until we were quoted room prices for those days.  As it  turned out, and as we later learned it was a festival for policemen and government officials who decreed that half of the rooms in Hampi be made available to policemen, at no charge.  By the time we left, the night before the festival there were thousands of cops all over the place and they shut down the city to all taxi and private cars so that only government vehicles could operate in the city, and outwards in a diameter of 4 km.  As we sped out of the city toward our train in Hospet, just minutes before the shutdown, the entire scene felt like a military take over and we were  quite happy to be leaving.  There will be other festivals.  Our stay in Hampi was great and we left just in time.

 

While we were there we climbed the mountain at sunrise to see the amazing landscape from Hampi's highest point.  The entire view was full of massive boulders stacked in seemingly impossible arrangements and temples carved out of granite by unknown artists from centuries past.  

Some of the best moments were not the big temples though but the simple things.  The look in the faces of the people, in a smile from a man who sat selling coconuts, the symbol of Shiva painted across his forehead, or from the bookseller who was genuine and curious about his customers from the north. A heard of water buffalo passing by the restaurant as we ate breakfast.

One day I decided to do a painting of the temple from temple hill where there were a number of unused temples with big stone porches which afforded perfect places to sit and paint.  Once situated on the porch of a particularly fine temple I decided at the last minute to use colored pencils instead of paint.  An hour later or so security came and, although it was hard to understand him, he wanted to see my permit to paint here. Painting permit? Seriously?  I think he wanted to take me to the police to see about this apparent crime I was committing, until I convinced him that I was not painting, but drawing with pencils, which seemed to be ok without a permit.  A woman who was custodiamn of the temple where we sat came and there was much talking between them in Hindi but I was allowed to continue.  

As we sat there two Chinese people came, a father and daughter with a  guide who shared the most interesting information.  He told us that the mandalas in front of the doors of the housed and shops were made of rice powder, which attracted the ants and kept them from going into the house.  Also, the dung from the cows that wandered the streets was spread out in the street to keep the flies out of the houses.  The urine from the cows, containing amonia, was used in the home as a disinfectant and tumeric was laid along the door jambs to keep the snaked from entering the houses.  Everything had a purpose he informed us, but many people in modern India have lost this knowledge.

He also explained about the many gods of Hinduism, which reflect the different emotions and aspects of human nature.  They are not to be taken literally, or worshiped as such, but rather stand as symbols, as reminders of ourselves and our relation to the world.  I wish that he had been our guide but we took in the time he had to spend with us there, on the porch of "our" temple.

 

 

The food here was fantastic!  Really!  A cafe called Chill Out was our favorite.  Every dish we had there was so good!  Cashew Curry, Molai Kofta, even the pizza was superb. REAL Indian food is the BEST!  There were cushions on the floor like a groovy little hippie pad and open air to the streets, the bustling village, it's cows, monkeys, and beautiful people.  After dinner, when it cooled down we would walk up temple hill to sit and watch sunset.  Everyone did it seemed.  The police, thet ourists, and the monkeys all sat side by side, as they have been doing for centuries I imagine, and enjoyed this piece of paradise.  Rocks, banana and palm trees for as far as the eye could see.

 

 

 

This was the view from the roof of our guesthouse where I liked to go in the evenings and talk with the owners son about the customs and people of this ancient village.  A good place to go and see the monkeys at play too!  Very amusing!

 

 

Lakshmi is the temple elephant in Hampi.  She is 25 or so years old and spending time with her was some of the best of times in Hampi!  Every morning her caregivers would walk her from the temple to the river for an hour long bath on the ghats.  After watching once or twice, and after meeting her in the temple where she spends her days giving blessings to those who offer money or bananas, I decided that I wanted to ride her. On my last morning in Hampi I helped bath her, scrubbing her thick hide with a brush, looking in her eyes and interacting with her trunk which came up out of the water like another animal.  Her feet were flat and hard and so very BIG! She is the gentlest of giants.

I had seen one girl ride her a few days before up by the temple and I asked if I could do this too.  After some time they said I could, I paid the price and instead of getting on at the temple they had me get on right there at the water and ride her up the stairs!  There was a small chain around the neck but it was loose and not secure.  There were no ropes on her and I climbed up on the stones and climbed on, straddling her neck, holding on with my feet, much like riding bareback on a horse, but, BIGGER!  She moved cool and easy up the stairs and I felt so proud!  Definitely a great moment.  If you ever get the chance.... do it!

When we dicided to go to India, I had ideas of what it would be like, none of them true.

Instead we have found all new experiences, seen faces that are at once both new and ancient and to say that we are having the time of our lives would be an understatement!  

I had imagined myself writing more, drawing and painting more than I am, but what is happening is that my days are being filled up with all new marvlelous experiences so rather than using the time to reflect, we are busy living these beautiful moments.

I will do my best to update the blog, when I can, and share pictures, when I can.

Until then, I encourage you to, if you have any desire at all to travel to India, do it!

Namaste baby!

Faces of India

Painting is the bst, most in depth way for me to study what it is to be human.  A prolonged look at the human form, the human face, affords me the opportunity to connect with the source, the force that gives all of us life, equally.  I am not always able to create full oil paintings as I travel, although I work in my sketchbook daily, and on this particular trip around India, I have decided to film some of the people I meet so that I may present them to you in another way, to give you short intimate glimpses at the Faces of India.

Along our remote stretch of beach, just south of Arambol in northern Goa, I have been priveledged to make the aquaintence of  a number of beautiful people.  If one can get past the sales pitch of the women selling sarongs along the beach, or the tourist treatment that some of the waiters give their restaraunts clientel, and get to know these people one finds that they are real, sincere human beings, doing the best that they can. 

When I first met this woman's husband in his shop, we were just another customer.  "Where do you come from" was asked, not out of curiosity but rather as a way to keep us in the shop.  "Just look, looking is free", " You are my first customer, I give you a special price" and "Very good quality my friend", are phrases tossed out like treats to lure us into a purchase and I see many tourists so bothered by them that they completely ignore the sales people.  In this particular shop I took the time to get to know the man a little, ask his name and yes, buy some shirts from him.  The next time I remembered his name and I could see on his face that his idea of us wasa changing.  I met his wife, his daughter and wanted to buy a hat from him but he did not have the right one. He was disappointed when I said no thank you but by looking him in the eye, by expressing honesty, there came a mutual respect between us.  I was not just a customer, and he was not just a salesman.  We were human beings, different yet the same.

The next day his wife was no the beach, selling sarongs.  She sat and spoke with me and I asked her questions about her life and she asked me about mine.  Her beautiful white Sari blew in the wind as we spoke, as she showed me what she was selling and I asked her if I could take a short film to share with you and she agreed.

Faces of India , Mandrem Beach, Arambol

Afterwards, I bought two beautiful sarongs from her and now when we meet on the beach, or on the street there is no sales pitch but rather sincere greetings and friendly exchange.

I have decided to continue to make these short fils, to make a series of them as I travel so that you can meet these people too, in a way that is unique to our time.  We live in a time that human beings have dreamed of for thousands of years, to have the ability to travel the globe, to record and share information across great distances and to maintain contact with friends and family in what not long ago seemed like futuristic ways.

Along the same stretch of beach is a restraunt called Oasis, near the Dolphin Beach resort where I stayed for a week or so and this man was our waiter there.  We also spent time getting to know eachother, to some degree and he gladly agreed to model for a film in this series. 

Faces of India 2


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Remember to press like and to share with your friends these beautiful faces!  Thank you and enjoy.

-Brandon 

Good Morning Istanbul!

Good Morning Istanbul!

Coming from the west, from the United States, I have an idea of how things should be, what is beautiful, what is art.  It isn't set, only an interpretation, my upbringing, my training, or waht I like to call my programming, but, being human a creature of habit, I tend to gravitate to the familiar, as most humans do.

In order to come to a larger understanding of truth it becomes necessary to challenge one's own perceptions, one's beliefs, so as to not fall into the sort of myopic viewpoints of the world of which we are so critical of others for having.  This is the purpose of the Socratic question, isn't it?  To analyze one's programming, to make sure that our belief structures still apply to us and to disertain whether or not they still apply to us and whether or not they are suitable to live one's life by.  If we are to arrive at a higher understanding, a more complete truth it is important to look into the ways in which we interpret the world and decide whether this is something we have thought through for oursleves or whether this is something that has been handed down to us, that we have simply accepted and made part of our routine way of thinking, our habit.

Having recieved the vast majority of my programming from Western thought I feel that the best way for me to expand is to go east.  This, therefore is a record of that journey.  A search for the source that goes back farther than American history, back farther than the invention of Art, to truths older than Socrates and Jesus.

This is my exploration into Primary Form.

The Blue Mosque at sunrise, Istanbul, Turkey

Inside the Blue Mosque, Istanbul.