The “lost” blue jacket ~

This morning didn’t start well.

I nuked a frypan.

I left it on the stove and went off to handle some emails. Next I hear Jennifer calling out from upstairs: Is something burning?

Burning alright.

The frypan was burning so much that it had welded itself to the hotplate. It wasn’t burning, it was melting. I couldn’t physically pull it off the stove. I had to turn off the hotplate, wait till it cooled down, then jemmy it free.

Jennifer put it into the garbage bin – she said it had turned toxic, and couldn’t be used anymore.

Burnt frypan

Next, she asked me to make her some toast while she went out into the garden to plant snap dragons.

So I put on some toast.

When the toaster popped I wasn’t happy with the result – the toast wasn’t crispy enough. It needed a bit more heat. So I  put it on again – figuring I’d pop it part way through the cycle and it would be perfect.

Then I went off to handle a few more emails…

And of course I forgot about the toast and this is what I ended up with –

Burnt toast

It hasn’t been a good morning for me. I’ve been anxious about this trip coming up. Usually I head off on a filming trip with great excitement. This time I’m anxious.

I have some real heavy hitters to interview this time – including Carolyn Myss, Dr. Judith Orloff, Dr. Norm Shealy, Dr. John Geiger, and James Van Praagh.

Later if I have time I’ll give you more detail on these people – but suffice to say they are “headline acts” when it comes to intuition. And I want to make sure this next phase of the filming goes well, because it will constitute the core of the film.

Over the last couple of days I’ve been packing, but I haven’t been able to find my favourite summer jacket.

It’s a smokey blue jacket, which I bought in Rome last year for €90. I bought it for filming around The Vatican –

me at Vatican with glasses

But I haven’t been able to find it – and for some crazy reason all my anxiety about this upcoming filming trip has morphed into an anxiety about this blue jacket.

I have other jackets that I could take.
I have a nice brown jacket.
But I wanted to take the blue one.

So this morning, after the nuked frypan and the nuked toast, Jennifer sat me down in our front sun room, and talked me through what was happening.

She told me my emotional body was running amok – and she was right.

Actually no, she was wrong. It wasn’t running amok – it was running like a burning man consumed by flames racing from room to room, screaming, looking for a fire extinguisher.

Anyway, she was right. I told her about my anxiety, and she said that my emotional body was like a monster with a giant hammer pounding into dust all the good work I’ve been doing to strengthen my spiritual body.

My emotional body was pulverising me, she said. And I had to do something about it because soon my emotional body would have full control.

She said I had tools at my disposal – tools I knew how to use: yoga; meditation; even stopping for half an hour to sit in the sun and contemplate.

She said I could also allow myself to be drawn to a book, open it up at any page, and read – trusting that what I would read would be of help.

In other words, allow my Personal Guidance System to do its job.

I said yes, I could do all that. And in fact I did 40 minutes of yoga this morning, I did 30 minutes of meditation last night, I’ve been reading Dr. Norman Shealy’s book on Intuitive Medicine, which is extraordinary – but…

I STILL CAN’T FIND MY BLUE JACKET!!!!

Jennifer sighed, knowing that I was indeed the burning man, still consumed by flames, running from room to room, screaming, looking for a blue jacket.

(The blue jacket being my fire extinguisher.)

Where have you looked? she asked.

I’d looked everywhere. For days and days. I’d looked in my wardrobe. In the spare wardrobe. In the spare spare wardrobe. In the wardrobe in the spare room. In the wardrobe under the stairs where we keep the hiking jackets.

A jacket isn’t like car keys. You lose your car keys, they could be anywhere. Down a crack in a lounge chair, under a book, in the ignition. With a jacket, particularly a conspicuous blue jacket, there are only a few places in a house it could be. And I’d searched them all.

Of this I was certain – the blue jacket was not in the house.

All I could think was that I’d taken the jacket to our daughter’s place in Sydney and left it there to be dry cleaned. But when I called her, she couldn’t recall having seen it.

Jennifer had no recollection of having seen the blue jacket recently –
But she said: Let me take a look.

She went upstairs.
Within twenty seconds, she called out: I’ve found it! 

She’d found the jacket on a bed in a spare bedroom. It had been partly covered by some other clothing. She’d found it almost immediately, because she’d been calm.

She came down and told me that my emotional body had prevented me finding it, because I was anxious. Anxiety, which is simply a form of fear, robs us of our clear connection to our true selves.

When we have a clear connection to our true selves, there’s no such thing as loss.

Oh and by the way, I’ve decided to take the brown jacket instead… Om

 

Various thungs ~

A post today covering various thungs…

(I’m practising my New Zealand accent)

First Thung ~
Marie Rigaud – our beloved companion on two of our tours now and soon to be three – is wanting to go to Bhutan. But she’s wondering if anyone wants to go with her.

She is coming on our Mother Ganga Spiritual tour in September – and she plans to go to Bhutan before we start in Delhi on Sept 14th.

Jennifer and I are going to Bhutan after the tour finishes – at the beginning of October – to film with His Royal Highness the Prince of Bhutan for the PGS documentary.

If you’re interested in accompanying Marie to Bhutan, please get in touch with her via the comment section on this blog.

2nd Thung ~
I’ve now confirmed a few more very exciting interviews for the PGS Intuition film – the latest being Dr. John Geiger. Dr. Geiger is the Governor of the Royal Canadian Geographical Society, as well as Senior Fellow at Massey College at Toronto University.

But his big claim to fame, and the reason I’m interviewing him for the film, is he wrote a book called THE THIRD MAN FACTOR, which details a phenomenon which many adventurers and explorers have experienced at times of extreme exhaustion, and near death.

It’s a phenomenon whereby an ethereal being appears and helps guide them to safety. It’s a term which the Antarctic explorer Shackleton termed, after he experienced this himself. A “third man” to his team guided them to safety when they were lost in the icy wastelands.

Here is a synopsis of his book –

The Third Man Factor is an extraordinary account of how people at the very edge of death often sense an unseen presence beside them who encourages them to make one final effort to survive. This incorporeal being offers a feeling of hope, protection, and guidance, and leaves the person convinced he or she is not alone. There is a name for this phenomenon: it’s called the Third Man Factor.

If only a handful of people had ever encountered the Third Man, it might be dismissed as an unusual delusion shared by a few overstressed minds. But over the years, the experience has occurred again and again, to 9/11 survivors, mountaineers, divers, polar explorers, prisoners of war, sailors, shipwreck survivors, aviators, and astronauts. All have escaped traumatic events only to tell strikingly similar stories of having sensed the close presence of a helper or guardian. The force has been explained as everything from hallucination to divine intervention. Recent neurological research suggests something else.

Bestselling and award-winning author John Geiger has completed six years of physiological, psychological, and historical research on the Third Man. He blends his analysis with compelling human stories such as that of Ron DiFrancesco, the last survivor to escape the World Trade Center on 9/11; Ernest Shackleton, the legendary explorer whose account of the Third Man inspired T. S. Eliot to write of it in The Waste Land; Jerry Linenger, a NASA astronaut who experienced the Third Man while aboard the Mir space station—and many more.

Amazon link:

Dr. Geiger has also written a book called THE ANGEL EFFECT, that similarly documents true accounts of experiences with what can only be described as angels.

Dr. Geiger has agreed to an interview for my film – and I’m delighted.

3rd Thung ~
A wonderful lady named Monica Schwartz emailed me overnight to say that she’d done a review of my book – THE WAY, MY WAY – for her website.

Her website is very elegant, and covers all the good things of life – food, travel. music, films and books. It’s called LIFE OUT OF BOUNDS. 

Here is the review, and her website:

The Way, My Way by Bill Bennett | Book Review

It’s well worth taking a look through – because apart from anything else, those of you who are interested in a Hawaii PGS hook-up will find that Monica knows Hawaii really well.

That’s all for now. I have to go and have dinner.
I thunk it’s fush and chups.

Third man factor

PGS / Biocentrism

As part of my research into the film I’m making: PGS – Intuition is your Personal Guidance System – I’ve been doing a lot of reading about the science of intuition.

This has led me to a fascinating book written by Dr. Robert Lanza called:  BIOCENTRISM – HOW LIFE AND CONSCIOUSNESS ARE THE KEYS TO UNDERSTANDING THE TRUE NATURE OF THE UNIVERSE –

If you haven’t heard of Dr. Lanza, well, he’s one truly extraordinary person.

He is regarded as one of the world’s leading research scientists. He specialises in Stem Cell biological research, and last year was selected by Time Magazine as being one of the 100 Most Important Minds in the world.

Here is his bio:

Biography

His book, Biocentrism, has shaken up traditional scientific thinking not only on the nature and genesis of the universe, but also about consciousness itself.

Here is what Nobel Prize winning scientist E Donnall Thomas said of the book:

Like ‘A brief history of time’ it is indeed stimulating and brings biology into the whole. Any short statement does not do justice to such a scholarly work. Almost every society of mankind has explained the mystery of our surroundings and being by invoking a god or group of gods. Scientists work to acquire objective answers from the infinity of space or the inner machinery of the atom. Lanza proposes a biocentrist theory which ascribes the answer to the observer rather than the observed. The work is a scholarly consideration of science and philosophy that brings biology into the central role in unifying the whole. The book will appeal to an audience of many different disciplines because it is a new way of looking at the old problem of our existence. Most importantly, it makes you think.”

Essentially, what Dr. Lanza proposes is groundbreaking: that the Universe came into existence to create life – and that consciousness existed before the creation of the Universe. That the Universe would not exist without consciousness.

Wrap your head around THAT one!

Dr. Lanza is a scientist. He eschews the concept of God – and yet he addresses this within his book. How can he not?

Here are Dr. Lanza’s seven principles of Biocentrism –

  1. What we perceive as reality is a process that involves our consciousness. An “external” reality, if it existed, would by definition have to exist in space. But this is meaningless, because space and time are not absolute realities but rather tools of the human and animal mind.
  2. Our external and internal perceptions are inextricably intertwined. They are different sides of the same coin and cannot be divorced from one another.
  3. The behavior of subatomic particles, indeed all particles and objects, is inextricably linked to the presence of an observer. Without the presence of a conscious observer, they at best exist in an undetermined state of probability waves.
  4. Without consciousness, “matter” dwells in an undetermined state of probability. Any universe that could have preceded consciousness only existed in a probability state.
  5. The structure of the universe is explainable only through biocentrism. The universe is fine-tuned for life, which makes perfect sense as life creates the universe, not the other way around. The “universe” is simply the complete spatio-temporal logic of the self.
  6. Time does not have a real existence outside of animal-sense perception. It is the process by which we perceive changes in the universe.
  7. Space, like time, is not an object or a thing. Space is another form of our animal understanding and does not have an independent reality. We carry space and time around with us like turtles with shells. Thus, there is no absolute self-existing matrix in which physical events occur independent of life.

Here is a fascinating interview with Deepak Chopra:

Robert Lanza Interview By Deepak Chopra

I found the book to be very accessible, beautifully written, and Lanza was able to describe complex physical and scientific processes and concepts in a way that was immediately understandable.

I thoroughly recommend the book.

Here is the book on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_c_0_10?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=biocentrism&sprefix=biocentris%2Caps%2C880

Robert Lanza

The Camino fixed my eyesight – it’s official!

I used to wear glasses –

For fifteen years I wore glasses for long distance, and for reading.

I even had prescription lenses made for my sunglasses.

I couldn’t see without my glasses.

Then I walked the Camino – and I noticed that gradually, I didn’t need my glasses anymore.

While I was walking I was always taking them off whenever I took a photo, and putting them back on after the shot – and after a while it just became bothersome, so I left my glasses off altogether.

And I kept them off.

When I finished the Camino and got back home I was all prepared to start wearing my glasses again, but I found I didn’t really need them.

Today I went to renew my driver’s license.

I needed to take an eyesight test. I decided to give the test a shot without my glasses. And I was surprised to find that I passed!

So I now officially don’t need glasses anymore!

Here’s what I used to look like with glasses…

Bill Bennett pic copy

PGS – Bhutan, here we come!

Just got an email from the office of His Royal Highness the Prince of Bhutan.

We have been granted an audience with the Prince in early October. So we will fly into Bhutan straight after the Indian Mother Ganga tour finishes, at the end of September.

This is great news!

I’m thrilled to bits, because the Royal Family will be preparing for two months of ceremonies and celebrations in October and November, commemorating the 60th birth date of His Majesty the King of Bhutan.

I wish to speak to His Royal Highness about intuition – and whether intuition helps make Bhutan the happiest country on the planet.

Our filming in this magical place will make another significant contribution to the film.

Bhutan

Celtic Camino / Later next year ~

We’ve decided to mount the Celtic Camino in either September or October of next year.

Jennifer and I have made an intuitive call on this.

So the Mother Ganga Indian tour will be the last tour we’ll do until the Celtic later next year.

Jen walking towards.1

The Camino – the take out two years on…

I received an email overnight from Leslie Gilmour, who runs a Camino website and forum called Camino Adventures. Here is his website:

Camino Adventures homepage

He contacted me to let me know he’d written a wonderful review of my Camino memoir book, THE WAY, MY WAY. Here is the review:

Leslie Gilmour’s review:

He says:

…this is the best Camino de Santiago travelogue that I have read to date. It is funny, at points heart wrenching, insightful, and like the best of these books brutally honest. On top of all that it is a damn good read, one of the few that I found hard to put down in the evening.

It was incredibly kind of him.

When reading the review it spurred me to consider, now two years later, what’s been the “take-out” from that walk. That pilgrimage. That experience.

The take out has been profound – physically, emotionally, spiritually.

I am now a vastly different person to the one that set off, literally trembling with fear at times, to walk the Camino in April / May of 2013.

PHYSICALLY:
Physically, the Camino took its toll. I remember thinking at one point during the walk that I didn’t care if I had to have titanium knees or legs when I finished, I was going to complete the Camino no matter what the long term collateral damage.

I came back sore but not sorry, thinking my body would repair itself. An MRI showed that I had no cartilage left in my right knee joint, and that “a knee replacement is not a question of if, but when,” according to the specialist that examined my MRI.

Separately I’d lost sensitivity in the toes and ball of my left foot. After several excruciatingly painful tests, a Neurologist told me that I’d pinched or bruised a nerve near my spine, and that the feeling in my left foot would eventually return.

Two years later the feeling has returned – but not completely. I still lack sensitivity in some areas.

Perhaps the most striking physical effect of the Camino though has been that my eyesight has returned. Prior to the Camino I’d worn glasses for about 15 years – long distance and reading glasses.

I now don’t wear glasses at all.

I stopped using my glasses during the Camino, for practical reasons, because it was hard taking photos while wearing glasses. And part way into the walk I realised that I didn’t need my glasses anymore – my eyesight had improved.

Soon I will have to renew my drivers license, and it will be interesting to see if I pass the eye test!

EMOTIONALLY:
I’m calmer. I don’t let much bother me anymore.

On the Camino, if ever I was anxious about something, I’d ask myself: What’s the worst that can happen? and invariably, if I answered truthfully I’d realise that answer wasn’t so bad. I could handle it.

Anxious about getting a bed that night?
What’s the worst that can happen?
I sleep under a tree, or in an ATM booth.
That’s not so bad.

Anxious about my knee?
What’s the worst that can happen?
I need surgery when I get back.
That’s not so bad.

Anxious that a blister is forming?
What’s the worst that can happen?
It forms, it’s huge, and it’s incredibly painful.
That’s not so bad. It won’t stop me walking.

And so forth.

When I got back home, I applied that “What’s the worst that can happen?” mantra to other aspects of my life.

I have high cholesterol.
What’s the worst that can happen?
I have a heart attack and die.
That’s not so bad.

And I mean it – dying is not so bad.
It just opens up new possibilities, that’s all – new adventures.
Which leads me to the spiritual take-out:

SPIRITUALLY:
The spiritual advancements have been significant.

I won’t go into this in detail, because it’s deeply personal – but I now believe things I didn’t use to believe.

Here’s what I put up on this blog last November, in Dallas – a list of what I believe:

  • I believe in divine guidance.
  • I believe in an all encompassing, all pervasive force of pure unimaginable love that some would call God.
  • I believe in destiny
  • I believe in free will
  • I believe in reincarnation
  • I believe that children choose their parents
  • I believe that we’re each born into this earthly realm to achieve certain things and learn certain lessons.
  • I believe in the subtle body
  • I believe we each have a soul
  • I believe that our soul is everlasting
  • I believe that our soul is always constantly seeking a higher plane.
  • I don’t believe in death
  • I don’t believe in religion
  • I don’t believe in evil
  • But I do believe in ignorance, which spawns fear and hate
  • I believe in divine messengers
  • I believe we are each given signs, constantly, to help direct us along our path.
  • I believe in a Higher Self, or Selves
  • I believe in miracles
  • I believe that ultimately, the only thing that truly matters is love.

If you want to see the full post, here it is:

What I believe –

In the two years since that Camino I’ve written two books – THE WAY, MY WAY – and a book on how to best take photos on the Camino – PHOTO CAMINO.

My wife and I have also led two pilgrimage walking tours – a tour along the Portuguese Camino, and a tour along the Via di Francesco, in Italy.

This September we are taking a tour group on a spiritual tour of India.

I would not have contemplated doing any of this prior to walking the Camino in 2013. The thought of doing so would have been absurd.

But this is just the start.

The thing I’ve realised is this: Walking the Camino did not trigger change in me. Walking the Camino simply prepared me for the changes that were inevitable.

wpid-Photo-07052013-1157-PM.jpg

Indian Tour – the Rishikesh ashram

As part of our Mother Ganga indian tour, we are spending three nights at the famous Yoga Ashram – the Parmarth Niketan ashram, on the banks of the Ganges.It’s the most famous yoga retreat in Rishikesh – which in itself is called The Home of Yoga.

I’m posting a link to a NY Times article here, and posting the text in full.  It tells of a NY Times reporter who went to Parmarth for a few days to chill out.

We still have a couple of places open on the tour, if you’re interested. Details are on the Gone Tours website – http://www.gonetours.com  For two weeks, starting mid September.

Rishikesh and Parmarth are going to make it special, but we’re going to have an amazing time at Ganpati in Mumbai, and at the Golden Temple in Sikh country, and of course the Dalai Lama Temple near the Tibetan border.

Here is the NY Times story –
http://www.nytimes.com/2014/06/22/travel/unplugging-in-the-unofficial-capital-of-yoga.html?_r=0

It was a hot and dusty afternoon, about 30 hours into my Indian journey, when the bus driver dropped me off in a small town that he said was near my destination: Rishikesh, regarded as the unofficial world capital of yoga. Only a short rickshaw ride, it seemed, separated my fatigued self from inner Zen. Nearly two weeks of life with monks at an ashram awaited.

On what I hoped was my final jaunt, the rickshaw ride took me through a labyrinth of cows, street vendors and bicycles set against a stunning Himalayan mountainscape. The sun was bright, but the tedium and duration of the trip had left me feeling like the cow dung I had stepped in along the way.

“You have to cross the bridge,” the rickshaw driver said as we stopped. I could see Parmarth Niketan, the town’s largest ashram, where I had booked a room, across the Ganges River, but that suspension bridge — bedecked by monkeys — remained. The river bisected the town, and I was on the wrong side. Schlepping my body-size bag across the bridge while dodging mopeds, my real- life game of Frogger finally ended at the ashram’s gate.

From New Delhi, Rishikesh is accessible by train, plane and bus. Without much planning, I had boarded a bus from New Delhi for about $8 on the fly and embarked on an eight-hour, bump-filled journey, complete with “Elephant Crossing” signs along the way.

Unplugging in the Unofficial Capital of Yoga – The New York Times 26/06/2015 1:38 pm

All of this was in the name of trying to get a sense of what it was like to practice yoga in the place where some think it was born. In New York, I had taken to my sticky mat and found myself wanting to learn more about how yoga had evolved into an urban pastime for the well-off from its roots as an ancient spiritual practice. In the eight years since Elizabeth Gilbert published her witty memoir, “Eat, Pray, Love,” the journey of the single female yogi to India in search of her soul has become something of a trope, with countless women following suit, one backbend at a time.

Yoga’s origins are debated, but many historians say it may have begun nestled amid the Himalayas, due north of New Delhi and along the historic Ganges in Rishikesh. For centuries, it has been considered a holy place, drawing wayward spiritualists hoping to connect with the land, philosophies and the spirit. More recently, this town of about 100,000 has gained fame as the place where the Beatles came in early 1968 and wrote much of “The Beatles,” commonly known as “The White Album.” (Today, that ashram is abandoned.) Everyone from Uma Thurman to Jeremy Piven to Bollywood stars to Prince Charles and the Duchess of Cornwall has swung through town.

It is a “land in which to conquer one’s senses,” a guidebook for Parmarth reads, “to conquer the call of desire, to become a master of oneself.”

That sounded good to me, even if it felt a bit on the self-indulgent side for a getaway. Before my departure, a yoga-teacher friend labeled Rishikesh “yoga heaven.” An Indian friend countered, “That’s where the annoying kids from my boarding school hung out.”

Curious and without shame, I joined their ranks: Was Rishikesh a morally bankrupt yoga Disneyland or still a special spiritual destination?

Yoga had entered my life in earnest a few years ago when I was looking for a way to stretch and prevent injuries from running. I became a regular, attending a yoga class at my local gym or studio in New York two to three times a week, but I am by no means a certified teacher or expert on its origins. But if I had to be really honest about why I first got into it, it was because I enjoyed the quiet time and didn’t want to become fat and brittle.

I was already in love with what Rishikesh didn’t have. No Starbucks, no McDonald’s, no condos along the Ganges. And also what I didn’t have: I had decided to turn off my iPhone during my 10-day stay. No web browsing, no apps, no emails, no voice-mail messages, no text messages. While Rishikesh

Unplugging in the Unofficial Capital of Yoga – The New York Times 26/06/2015 1:38 pm

doesn’t lack digital connections, I, like many New Yorkers, felt too plugged in, my iPhone at times feeling hooked to my person like a respirator. That all-too- common feeling was exacerbated by having spent the previous month reporting nonstop at the Winter Games in Sochi, which, in spite of its infamous logistical hurdles (yes, I was one of those who got locked in her hotel room and had to be busted out by a colleague), was a round-the-clock, wired experience.

After checking in and getting a power nap, I went to my first yoga class at the ashram with Swami Yogananda, a man who claimed to be 105 years old. He attributes his astonishing achievement in oldness to both the yoga practice he is said to have begun in the 1920s and a grainless diet of fruit, milk and nuts. Some of the people I spoke with in Rishikesh said that his teachings and reputation were among the reasons they were drawn to Parmarth.

He rolled into the ashram’s prayer hall one morning with a mobile phone tucked into a golden bucket, toothpick-thin legs emerging from a nest of orange cloth; then, in broken English, he guided a small class through a series of heavy, nasal-breathing exercises. His signature move was holding his hands out as claws and leading the class in a chorus of loud roars. I felt ridiculous in my yoga pants imitating a lion, but if he was really 105, whatever Yogananda Ji was doing was clearly working. So, I roared.

I was fully aware that I had become yet another Westerner making a spiritual voyage to India, a tradition even older than Yogananda Ji, one that is at times complicated, littered with over-romanticization and, occasionally, tension.

But as I continued my big cat growls, I was struck by how far the chasm was between what I had experienced in some North American forms of the practice, in which throngs of neurotic yet limber women wear $100 Lululemon pants while channeling their inner pretzel. Although Google Maps can help locate a vinyasa class in Manhattan by star-rating, it’s not as useful for more existential queries like “find self.”

In spite of India’s status as one of the world’s most dynamic developing economies, travel there is still not for the faint at heart. Corruption runs rampant in the country’s political system, and heartbreaking poverty fills the streets. The yoga studio closest to me in New York charges $1,300 annually, not far from what many Indians live on for an entire year. Rather than an escape, Indian travel can be at times unintentionally confrontational and reminded me of the James Baldwin quotation that “anyone who has ever struggled with

Unplugging in the Unofficial Capital of Yoga – The New York Times 26/06/2015 1:38 pm

poverty knows how extremely expensive it is to be poor.”
While Rishikesh offers some hotel options, I wanted to stay at an ashram to

immerse myself in the yogi life. That’s easier now than ever, as many have websites and will take reservations via phone and email. I had booked a room at Parmarth for 300 to 700 rupees a night, a suggested donation of about $5 to $12, at 60.5 rupees to the dollar.

Parmarth is among the ashrams that has delicately danced between extending its arms to make Rishikesh accessible to new, foreign visitors while trying to preserve its Indian, spiritual core. In the last 30 years, it has added Western-style toilets and hot water, but it has drawn the line at television sets, hotel gyms and mini bars.

While electricity and heat in the rooms came and went during my stay, it felt luxurious by local standards. I shared the garden pathways with nearly 200 young boys studying Sanskrit and ancient Vedic texts, and an array of “enlightened masters” who came to meet with the swamis. The chanting starts at 5 a.m. every day, and quiet hours are requested after 10 p.m.

“I think the type of people coming here has changed,” said Sadhvi Bhagawati Saraswati, one of Parmarth’s longtime spiritual leaders and the director of the ashram’s yoga festival. “And it’s been a mutually affecting relationship, because the type of people has changed, Rishikesh has changed — and because Rishikesh has changed, the type of people has changed. As you create more and more facilities, you are able to bring in a group of people who otherwise might not come.”

An American born into a Jewish family in California, she came to Rishikesh as a 25-year-old graduate student on a break in fall 1996 with a guidebook and a whim, excited at the prospect of an easier life as a traveling vegetarian, only to find herself weeping at the banks of the Ganges. “And the second part of my life began,” she said.

During my stay, I encountered gaggles of yoga teachers, young and old, but also wealthy young Indians unpacking angst, Midwestern American moms also hoping to decompress, one man who had sold his Facebook stock, some befuddled recent college graduates, several recently divorced and miscellaneous heartbroken souls, some self-described “crusty hippies,” a supermodel yogi, a Catholic priest turned Zen monk, a specialist in “laughter yoga,” several people who had recently quit their jobs and at least one teacher who said he preferred

Unplugging in the Unofficial Capital of Yoga – The New York Times 26/06/2015 1:38 pm

to pair his yoga practice with hallucinogenic drugs.
“What they’re walking away with is much more than just more flexible

hamstrings and slightly stronger and more well-defined triceps and some pictures,” Sadhvi Bhagawati Saraswati said. “People, their lives change here.”

Mornings start at the ashram with prayers and chanting at 5 o’clock, sometimes earlier. Meals are vegetarian, usually rice, lentils and some cooked vegetables, and are eaten in silence while you sit on a floor in a communal space. If alcohol and meat aren’t officially banned in Rishikesh, they’re certainly hard to come by. And many of the spandex uniforms of Manhattan studios clash with ashram dress codes, which ask for women to have shoulders and legs covered.

While some local travel agencies offer kayaking and hiking adventures, yoga is by far the main affair, and no one is in a hurry, instead strolling from studio to studio, clad in loose clothing and mats under arm, ready to pop in for a flow.

Word of mouth reigns in Rishikesh, but the streets are also lined with boards advertising various schools with yoga classes, like Yogananda Ji’s. After his class, I went to Tattvaa Yogashala with the yogi Kamal Singh, for a more rigorous series of poses in a goldfish tank of a studio that faced the Ganges, one of several that takes drop-ins for less than $8 a class. In a feline manner, he climbed on top of various people in the class as they did poses, testing our stability.

With heavily used muscles comes pain, and Rishikesh offers a bounty of massage options on the cheap, 2,400 rupees, or about $40, for one that involved a hot-oil drip followed by a visit to a steam box that would have been a cannibal’s dream. Expect to get, ahem, more naked than you would for an American massage and handled less gingerly.

Ashrams and yoga schools offer an array of seminars in which yoga as a lifestyle and religion are primary topics. Local bookstores offer reasonably priced English-language books about India and its spiritual history, perfect for reading along the Ganges as the aarti, or fire ceremony, takes place every night at sunset. The event engages hundreds for songs and prayer in Hindi and Sanskrit as candles are lit, a symbolic offering of “thank you” to the river that is considered sacred and a source of life and energy.

One of my favorite Rishikesh pastimes was attending satsang, a sort of spiritual Q.-and-A. session, part “Donahue,” part college seminar, part sermon.

Unplugging in the Unofficial Capital of Yoga – The New York Times 26/06/2015 1:38 pm

The famed Mooji, a Jamaican guru, was among those who held satsangs in Rishikesh during my stay, attracting hundreds of followers daily.

One by one and in front of the large crowd, they asked often-raw questions of Mooji, who answered or used them as springboards for riffs on faith. One question was from a married man with children who said simply, “I’m tired of being a person.” Another was a young woman who was struggling with her conservative Jewish family accepting her as lesbian. At one satsang, a young man made his way onstage and buried himself in Mooji’s lap, in tears. I sat watching cross-legged, feeling somewhere between moved and confused.

Three days in, I was doing six to eight hours of yoga a day. When I told yogis and gurus of my tech sabbatical, their reactions reinforced my suspicion that cellphones are something of a Buddhist nightmare, their sole purpose being to take you out of the present. So does worrying. My stress was beginning to dissipate, and as the hours rolled by in meditation and yoga classes, I realized that my mind was less like Steve Jobs’s famously sparse living room than one of the homes from “Hoarders.”

As it happened, my travel dates partly overlapped with the annual International Yoga Festival, a collection of more than 600 yogis from 51 countries, centered at Parmarth. (The $500 suggested donation included lodging, food and classes.)

FOR THE REST OF MY STAY an even broader array of yoga classes would be offered at the ashram, sometimes even four or five simultaneously.

As I immersed myself in backbends and kundalini poses that included holding my arms up for 20 minutes at a time (yes, 20 minutes), the half-hour mediation sessions began to feel shorter, the leg poses more attainable. A master of reiki, a Japanese relaxation practice, taught me how she uses a pendulum to read electromagnetic fields and how to sense auras. I learned about the virtues of mudra, or hand gestures, that the teacher said aided in warding off everything from fatigue to back pain to insomnia. Another yogi talked to me at length over ginger tea about quantum physics, which included the lesson that the pain from holding a pose is only a construct because none of us is real. My leg muscles felt otherwise.

Not one of the instructors professed the virtues of slate tummies or trimmer thighs. Instead, the visiting Rishikesh yoga teachers, as diverse as their students, seemed more focused on the spiritual rather than the pure fitness side

Unplugging in the Unofficial Capital of Yoga – The New York Times 26/06/2015 1:38 pm

of yoga. None of the studios had mirrors, and much of each class took place with eyes closed.

There’s a temptation among Rishikesh-goers to oversimplify India’s mystique. And surely there is something indescribably wonderful about the place, but more than a week into my cellphone furlough, my head mostly cleared of New York and Olympic cacophony, I realized that I, like many of my fellow Americans, am terrible at something the early yogis strove for: balance. Yet Rishikesh itself provided a strange paradox in extremes: while it was a vacation from modernity for those like me, many locals often struggled for the bare necessities, let alone Wi-Fi access. It’s a cliché takeaway perhaps, but a real one that you can’t just roll a yoga mat over.

The idea that I (or anyone) could steal away to Rishikesh and come back Myself 2.0, exuding Beyoncé-like confidence every moment, is a lovely one. But I knew the greatest test of the Rishikesh trip would be upon my return to an anxiety-filled New York.

I left my yoga mat at the ashram and placed rupees in the donation box. A cabdriver wound me through the hills for an hour to the train station in Haridwar and I tried to make sense of it — my sore arms, the hours of meditation, the captivating fire ceremonies on the Ganges.

Having booked several days ahead with a local travel agent for about $12, I boarded the train to New Delhi, which was downright luxurious in contrast to the bus ride. The National Geographic-ready sight of five monks sitting in front of me and laughing over video clips on their iPads reminded me that I was still digitally disconnected, a fact I had almost forgotten. After leaving India, I flicked on my phone and felt an endorphin hit as the hundreds of emails rolled in and I began scrolling.

As it turned out, I hadn’t missed much.

 sikh in water

A Dweller on Two Planets …

Weird and Whacky spoiler alert –

For those of you not interested in my delving into the Weird and the Whacky, click over onto something else… something really boring, like Women’s Cricket.

Ouch.

That was my wife slapping me over the head.

Okay – A Dweller on Two Planets.
Intriguing title, no?

The book was “written” by a seventeen year old boy in 1883. Frederick S Oliver lived on a farm in northern California, and admits that he had very little learning or education when he came to write the book.

The book is extraordinary.

It’s written in a highly intellectual and complex style, and yet it’s very accessible. But the thing is, it’s simply not possible to believe that a seventeen year old kid without any education could have written such a tome.

In fact, he claimed he didn’t. He claimed he was merely the stenographer for an entity called Phylos the Thibetan, who channeled the work through Frederick.

The book was finally published in 1905, six years after Frederick’s death. The book was published by his mother, who along with his father, a medical doctor, witnessed and vouched for the circumstances of their son’s channeling.

Frederick says that Phylos would give him sections of text out of context, and even sentences and paragraphs in the wrong order, and would later instruct Frederick how to edit them so that they would make sense.

The book tells in graphic detail about Atlantis. And I mean incredible detail. More detail than is possible for a seventeen year old boy, barely literate, to imagine or write about himself.

The book also describes advances in technology and science which were yet to happen – including the discovery of X-Rays, telephony, high speed rail transport – and other deeper metaphysical subjects, such as karma and reincarnation.

Here is a summary:

Concerning itself with Atlantis, it portrays a first person account of Atlantean culture which had reached a high level of technological and scientific advancement. His personal history and that of a group of souls with whom Phylos closely interacted is portrayed in the context of the social, economic, political and religious structures which shaped Poseid society.

Daily life for Poseidi citizens included such things as antigravity air and submarine craft, television, wireless telephony, arial water generators, air conditioners and high-speed rail. The book deals with deep esoteric subjects including karma and re-incarnation and describes Phylos’ final incarnation in 19th century America where his Atlantean karma played itself out.

In that incarnation (as Walter Pierson, gold miner and occult student of the Theo-Christic Adepts) he travelled to Venus/Hysperia in a subtle body while his physical form remained at the temple inside Mt Shasta.

The book subsequently caused a furore on publication, and became a standard bearer for a lot of New Age thought which is still current. Its influences since have been manyfold, including the starting of the I AM discourses of Guy Ballard, and the Lemurian movement.

Frederick wrote most of the book in the shadow of Mt. Shasta, which if you remember Jennifer and I visited – when was it – last year? Mt. Shasta has become a very important place for those interested in spiritual and esoteric learning and discovery.

Read this book – A Dweller on Two Planets – and read it with an open mind. Read it knowing the circumstances of its writing. It will challenge your thinking about what you’ve been taught to believe is true. It costs less than a buck on Kindle:

There’s another book that I’m reading at the moment, which was also channeled – this time by Jesus Christ, through a highly trained academic. It’s A Course in Miracles, and it was written by Helen Schucman, an avowed disbeliever in God or Jesus.

She wrote the book from dreams, visions, and what she called an “inner voice.” She had another academic help her in the writing and compilation of what has become, some say, a New Age Bible.

The book is dense and complex and at times not easy reading at all. It challenges you and your beliefs on all sorts of levels.

But once again, knowing how it was “written,” you have to give serious consideration that perhaps there are things “behind the veil,” as the channeller for Kryon, Lee Carroll, calls it.

What do I believe?
I believe this stuff.
Sure.
Just like I believe in electricity.
And gravity.
And the sub-atomic nature of matter.
I don’t know how they work, but I still believe in them.

I subscribe to what Shakespeare wrote in HamletThere are more things in heaven and earth Horatio, than are dreamt of in your Philosophy.

dweller on two planets

What is a pilgrimage ~

I thought I’d post this definition of a pilgrimage, which I read this morning in a newsletter from the Parmarth Niketan Mission, in Rishikesh, India. 

To me, it beautifully encapsulates what it means to embark on a pilgrimage –

A yatra or sacred pilgrimage is a divine experience. 

It is an internal journey as well as an outer journey; a true pilgrimage takes us not only to a Source of the Divine in the external world, but also to the Divine Source within ourselves. 

In this way, every minute and every moment of a pilgrimage is puja (worship), not only that which we perform in the temple upon arrival. 

The pilgrimage experience touches us so deeply that it transforms us and turns us into vessels and vehicles of transformation for the world.