Guru Love

 

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 this lifestyle. The one and only of validity. It’s a true show. A good one. A yogi wisdom show. A performance. For his group of followers always. His audience. Which once I used to be part of until I realized I didn’t need someone to tell me how I should look at life and what’s the only truth, the only way to live or think. The only way to see the world. Somewhat too sure of what is wrong and what is right. What are the rules of the universe without exception. He has wisdom, he’s teaching much truth. And still there’s  flexibility in thought missing for me. Openness to receive other visions, views, understandings. A preacher, no teacher. And yet I feel love for him. And something else as if something is connecting us.

Something strange I can’t describe and which has nothing to do with reality. Like a toxic string I attach to him. Like a story that I’m telling myself. That old pattern of mine that wants me to be seen by the ones who can’t see. As if I wanna be the light in the darkness when clearly there is no personal interest in him for anyone or anything else than his yogic self centered life. Like not even saying hello to me when we’re in the same space. Behaviors that in no dimension I would ever appreciate or approve of. Giving me the toxic mixed emotions, sending incomprehensible messages. Confusing words and actions between claiming to have love for me and acting as if he didn’t know me. Never letting his guard down, always doing his guru masquerade. Control. Covering his vulnerability. His heart. All the patterns I know too well. Master M becomes a whole new meaning when she says this is manipulation on a whole new level. I understand. Even my body has a physical reaction to his frequency every single time he’s near me. My nervous system sending an altert signal in his presence.

I used to think this was a divine connection, a rare spark that was special. That was meant to be further explored, further lived, further established. Today I know it’s my physical body warning me when mixed signals are being sent by someone causing me irritation.

One day embracing me, the next one ignoring me. The same behavior I’ve received from him throughout all times. Seeing this attachment in me to something not existing, understanding where I’m coming from and where I’m going now. With my other teachers and friends. The ones who are not fixed on living after any sacred scripture or what the holy bible commands. Who use their own minds to make up their values for who they are like I do. Through learning, experiencing, keeping an open mind. A mind that’s to be changed through life. Meta cognition. Understanding my own mind. Hearing it, seeing it, questioning it. 

My mind knows. Some part of me still seems to be drawn to the unhealthy. The familiar. To the illusion, to the hurt. I see it. I’m humbled. I accept it. 

My energy is low today. My body is tired and so is my mind. Nothing is happening. I go for a cappuccino, grab a few books and try to rest for just a few moments before going to class. My arm and shoulder hurt more today than before, my body and mind are sleepy. Everyone can see it, including the torture master himself. Tiredly I smile. I’ll try what I can do. 

Starting the warm up I put my arms in front of me starting to rotate my wrists, I already give in. My shoulder is snapping back. I’m fragile, sensitive today. End of the cycle. Almost tears are rising up my eyes. Already I’m picturing myself stepping outside to cry. I don’t know exactly why but I feel very vulnerable. I’m clam, I tell myself to just go slow and only do what I can. After all despite my condition I showed up. 

Unexpectedly as the days before, my back seems to be bending quite ok in the process, bringing me into new and old deep bending positions, earning me the admiration of the rest of the class. Backbending queen. I’m proud of myself. I didn’t push, didn’t press, only moved within my body’s capacity. My practice shows even on weaker days like today. People ask how I’ve learned it and how long it will take. I’ll sleep blissfully with that thought in my mind. But before. Paneer.