Slice of Life: Christmas Day Chai

Kerala, India

Slice of Life: Yellow & Plaid

Kerala, India

Don't Forget To Breathe

I've now taken up residence at the Sivananda Yoga and Meditation Ashram in south India. It's essentially Hippie Bootcamp. We wake up to a bell at 5:30AM for our daily satsang of meditation and chanting. 

I'm starting to get used to this Pavlov dog routine: bell - wake, bell - chant, bell - eat, bell - yoga, bell - meditate. The silent meditation is a challenge but I feel like I'm getting more adept each day. At least for five seconds at a time. Om it, sistah, om shanti. 

Slice of Life: Arrivals Gate

Trivandrum, India

Quote: There is a Thread ...

I commenced my two+ weeks at the yoga ashram. I keep thinking of this quote:

"There is a thread from the heart to the lips where the secret of life is woven. Words tear the thread but in the silence the secrets speak."

- RUMI

Slice of Life: The Queen's Necklace

Mumbai, India

CHAPTER 3:

INDIA.

Asante Sana (Goodbye Africa!)

One last sunset across the Serengeti and then I will leave this magnificent land. Thank you, Africa, for lifting up your skirt to the knee - just enough to reveal a small glimpse of your immense beauty. I had no idea stars could look like that.

Thank you for the sincerest smiles I've ever seen. For showing me how utterly raw this planet still is. For teaching me how to dodge hippos, wash my clothes in rain water and make fresh coconut milk. But most of all, thank you for letting me share some love and kindness with your beautiful children.

Asante sana.

Slice of Life: Free Fall

Stonestown, Zanzibar

Baptism By Heartstrings

No need for an alarm clock, I wake up to the mosque’s call to prayer “Allah, Hayalahhh” followed by dogs howling, followed by a rooster crowing. It’s 5:00AM - Welcome to Arusha, Tanzania.

Arusha is gritty and defiant and she doesn’t give a damn if you catch her picking her nose. That’s right, sister. The town pulses with a sort of primal sass. And no matter how much you try to act like a local, you cannot and will not fit in, regardless of color. I hear 'Jambo Muzungu' alot, which basically means 'Hey Whitey'. I sense annoyance of my presence at times. I get marriage proposals. The kids like to touch my hair.

I live in a house with two other volunteers. There are cement walls around the compound, two guards, a cook and a driver. In many ways it's fantastic but it feels strange to live this way, there are people living in tiny one-room homes just meters away. I carry a large packet of guilt in my pocket.

My volunteer placement is at a preschool with kids. Some are HIV positive, some not but all are angels/demons. One second they are running to you, arms outstretched, in search of a hug. And the next they are biting each other. The school is a room in a tiny home made of concrete. I teach in my bare feet. It's humbling. My favorite time is when they take their porridge break, the cups look so big in their little hands.

A few afternoons a week I volunteer at Cradle of Love, an orphanage for babies. For two hours you can play and care for up to 35 orphaned babies. And have your heart broken and filled, broken and filled over and over again. The warmth that these tiny souls give - it burns a happy little hole into your heart.

So, yes, a part of me thought that I'd make a difference. And maybe I did for an afternoon for one child for one moment. But I did learn that we should give a little something back - in someway, anyway. Volunteer for a day, donate to a cause, sponsor a kid, smile at a stranger. Pull at someone else's heartstrings and yours will be pulled back.