My Spiritual Ego - Morning pages einer Erwachenden

When I wake up the next morning our trip to the caves is canceled. My friend is sick. I actually don’t mind at all. I could very well use this last day to enjoy everything that I love so much about that place. Have the last hours to soak it all in for the last time. Digest. I do as I wish and use the early hours again to start my round by going down to Ganga. But first Chai stop at Most famous Mo. A typical overly funny morning scene is taking place making me laugh a lot before I make my way down to my favorite spot at Maa Ganga.  Exactly where I got to know the French man a week before, handing me the flowers, I set the flower flame that today I accepted from the flower lady on the water once more and watch the little boat following the stream of the river. My heart knows what it’s wishing for.  Looking at the Gangs in all its Peace, I’m reminded of the story of the King who wanted to become immortal that J tells when he’s doing my tattoo to distract me from the pain. How he ...

  Day three. Of the last. Slowly it’s becoming real. The reality of having to leave again. It’s becoming harder to hold my tears back… I’m becoming restless. Wanna make the most of my time. Soak everything in as much as I can. Little sleep, a continuous level of exhaustion and yet I’m fully here. Waking up today it’s hard for me to stay in bed for long. Maa Ganga is calling. I need to be outside to walk.  First stop Chai. Moktan. A must. Haven’t been in some time. The kindest man in Tapovan. The most popular and loved tiny cafe. It’s still quiet. He even starts talking to me which is rare when he’s working. He’s so calm. Asking me about my two years before when I used to come with my friend all the time. And while my Chai is ready to go and I’m joking around about why he has cameras in his tiny shop, I’m so much in my own mind that I leave without paying. Some moments later down the alley I realize and while I feel ashamed despite my rational mind knowing that it’s no big deal...

 … Christmas Eve take one. Walking up to my place after my two mulled wines figuring that after all it will be an early night, I am proven wrong just in the same moment when my coffee friend is standing in the entrance of his place smiling at me, seeing me walking up towards him. Merry Christmas. You’re not going to any party for Christmas? Come join me and my friends. I smile asking if it was involved drinking. Surely is. Already got the bottles. Well it seems after all it is my calling again. His kind eyes look at me. You know the Universe is always listening. I know. Oh I know so well in this place. I know I know I know. So well. It is. Very obviously Magic is not even the right term. Life in its purest essence. The most realest reality that I’ve known. I walk back, get changed and return to join him a few minutes later. Slowly a bit stagnant the evening is starting. Snack dishes are slowly covering the table and with the drinks being served the mood is becoming lighter with t...

  1 1 :11. It’s that time. The flow has come back to me as I’ve started opening my mind about how I see and perceive things. And so my perception has shifted to another frequency again it seems.  With little sleep, pain in my bones, I do my daily shores from tea to coffee, to cleaning, washing my clothes, doing my exercises. Listening to music, tears start running down my face. Not just silently, I feel also pain of love streaming out of my heart. My heart wanting to love, to be loved so much. So deeply.  The sun is shining. The wind is extremely strong. I’m wearing my flying pants. I walk down the road in confidence. Streets are Indian empty, I know my way. Time to cross over to the other side. For the first time across the new bridge, still under construction. Shortcut. My mind goes back to the last time I went to Babylon. German Bakery. Password: pumpernickel. Home is where your WiFi connects automatically. I remember how I met this guy doing this body work. Healing ma...

  Tulsi. 24 hours later. From Ganga to waterfall. In the morning dragging myself up the hill to dip into the waterfalls of Rishikesh. It’s worth it. Already the sweat is dripping down my back but the fresh splashing water is cooling me, bringing out the joy in my heart. Plunging in the water laughing, a little piece of nature. Water makes me feel alive. Connected. In the right place. At the right time.  Sitting on a rock for a little while to absorb the sun, I listen to the fizz of the splashing water. I close my eyes. Picturing where I am, trying to soak it all in before I go down to sit and have my late breakfast. I sit down. Order a chai, some food, a juice. A few minutes later Master M is walking in. As every day. Eating the same thing. Drinking the same thing. Teaching the same thing. Preaching the same thing. He doesn’t even look at me. I hear him speak. First I smile. Then it’s taking me over and my smile becomes a laugh. It’s amusing me how rigidly he’s holding on to t...

  Christmas Glow. Not so much me today. Low light. The flow. It’s waking me up early this morning again after too little sleep. Tired I have to move myself out of bed, dragging me into the bathroom, the kitchen. I feel weak in my bones but the sun is slowly coming out and by the time I manage to put on a few sweaters it’s shining bright. Shortly after 9 I slowly walk down the road, chai in my mind. I feel like sleep walking when torture master Himself is walking up.   Where you going? Chai.   I reply.   Me too, come up with me.   And so we walk together until two seconds later student number two is joining us the same way.  Christmas Day. I love it. Sitting here on this early morning, drained with the person who’s teaching me so much, the one I mostly came for. A true inspiration with his own background story, coming from nothing but bringing discipline, internal motivation and the biggest love and passion for yoga that one could imagine. His kindness, his ...

Gopi… sitting in a cafe where ideas used to come alive, be created out of existence itself, I feel my senses are not the same sensitive anymore, the same creative, the same enthusiastic… writing words has become hard since I’ve left them in the far away countries that have felt    feel like home. Since I left, leaving my words there too, my understandings, my insights, my learnings, my expressions… even returning. Returning home has not sparked any of it again. Also I didn’t try. Trying to understand the shifts, the changing worlds, returning to the West, I now have returned to my eastern spark of inspiration. At least that’s what it used to be. Three days have passed. Three good days.  He puts his signature cappuccino right in front of me. As beautiful as ever. A new creation every time. Quite in opposite to myself. He’s not as warm as usual. Doesn’t act like he knows me. No  hey how are you? Good to see you.  Seems like something is bothering him. Doesn’t seem...