Back to Nithyananda

   I've never considered myself a so-called religious person. In times on need I tend to look heavenwards and pray to someone called god, but I would never define myself as religious. But the time I spent in Ireland went by I found myself yearning for religion, for that piece of mind and calm that comes with entering a place or worship, that comes from sitting with others in prayer or meditation. From gazing upon the face of any idol, placed there to represent a form of something higher, whatever the religion. I took to sleeping with two malas, one crystal and one rosewood beneath my pillow, two heavy to wear for work, at night I would wrap the beads around my hands, tangling my fingers in the comforting loops of smooth wood and stone, the pendents of both resting in my palm, and then upon waking feel that god had guarded me close during the night. I made a small effort to get in contact with a Sanga center in Ireland, but found they didn't exist and hunkered down to simply wait till my return home.           Then so then a few weeks later I found myself in Paris, for what was supposed to be a one day visit, after many hours of travel and insecurity, I felt at a loss with the world, and at that moment was finally able to get in contact and then meet with the woman who had agreed to host me in the country. Their lives dedicated to the organization they ran a center in Paris where they were kindly letting me spend the night. After all that had happened, the good and bad, the happiness and fright, the feeling of walking in to that small room was like no other. At one end was a table covered in books and malas, and at the other end of the room a photo of Swamiji, a representation of the religion, culture, and way of life, that I had subconsciously grown to love and rely on. Falling to my knees, forward touching the floor I bowed to the image, bowing to the existence and force that I know and feel cares for like a mother to child, that power that I know is there, whatever name one wants to give it. The name does not matter as long as the connection is alive across people and culture, hope and adversity. That night I slept deep, waking refreshed and ready for a day of exploration in the new city, and then at night my hosts took me through the city and up a steep hill to the citadel of Paris. There we lit candles and chanted honoring Swamiji, Shiva, and the power of existence, above the lights of Paris, the feeling was one of my heart swelling, so I suppose after all that I must admit I am religious, in what denomination I am not certain, but that doesn't matter, what does is knowing that I have found my way back to Nithyananda, a state of eternal bliss, of connection with the existence, and a state which I am blessed to be living in. 

Crazy, Amazing, & Unexpected

   

 It has been a crazy, amazing, unexpected last couple days. Since I last wrote I reached Cork city safe and sound, found the hostel, discovered the lovely English market, made friends with a pair of young German guys, spontaneously went to the town of Kinsale with them, watched the hobbit in the TV room of the hostel, met two more people on a bathroom break a woman from LA and another from Canada and before I knew it I had been served up a delicious bowl of vegan pasta they had just made and was sharing dinner and stories. Then by midnight all five of us were laughing and talking and trading tips and stories and so went out into Cork for a drink, although I refrained from the actual drinking part but went just for the fun of it. We went to two pubs and then a McDonalds enjoying the Cork nightlife, which was almost busier then in the day and I'm talking two am. Finally we got back to the hostel, parted ways and went to bed. 

    While I was almost in shock about this great chunk of luck that seemed to have fallen my way (by that I mean companions to share in my adventure) from hearing their stories Cork was just another city making up the intricate network of solo travelers who seem to navigate toward one another like magnets. It's truly an international web of young people all taking time off their normal lives to cut loose and just travel, letting the road take them wherever it will. I had no idea of this hidden world, but it's marvelous! Information of the best and cheapest of everything is traded names are thrown about like fire, and no one has to fear of being alone if they don't want to. At the back of my mind I knew there must be other travelers, but I had no idea how extensive this network actually was. While we from yesterday have all gone our separate ways I now rest comforted that I need not worry to hard for their is a great world out there and if used properly you can flourish and prosper from it. 

Adventures Day 1

Walkabout, Parivarajika, gap year travels, whatever you want to call it, I'm doing it. While going to Ireland and staying on a farm was great, this is what my heart truly yearns to do, travel and see the world, to put it in the most cliche way possible. This morning I packed up my final belongings separating them out into two bags, my backpack which will come with me on the journey, and my suitcase which is staying on the farm until I fly back to America courtesy of my hosts. I love my clothes and shoes and it was a painful night to be sure to sit down and select 1 dress, 1 skirt, 1 pair of pants, four shirts, one jumper, and of course a handful of undergarments and socks. Along with my laptop, knitting, toiletries, camera, and snacks. This is all I am taking on the 20+ day journey I embark on today, and it's strangely liberating. I am catching a train, changing trains, and will arrive in Cork city, check into my hostel, and then see what comes next. Hello world! Here I come!!

Cooking By Instinct

"So you do all the cooking here?" The woman asks. A visiter to the farm where I'm WWOOFing, she  looks on as I peel and chop carrots, parsnips, and potatoes for a stew. 

   "Well, yeah" I admitted, "most of it." In addition to helping with the animals one of my main jobs is the cooking for the immediate family and anyone who wanders around, sometimes as many as nine people. While one part of me has gotten used to it, another part still marvels at my ability to adapt to this chore. For those of you who cook daily this may seem silly, but maybe you can still understand my amazement. It is well known that I love to bake, and even use it to de-stress. It's my default activity, bored? Bake. Event coming up? Bake. Need something to do with a friend? Bake. Babysitting? Bake. But cooking is a whole different ball game for me. Sure I'd cooked a few special dinners for my family with the close help of cookbooks and google. So you now see that every time I could conjure up a multi-dish have decent (or dare I say good) I would beam with pride. The first couple times I made the meals I would do so hesitantly, with my iPod opened with google close at hand. As I grew more confident though I started cooking by something I like to think of as food instinct, a simple sense of knowing how much to add of this or that, how long to cook for. It's how my dad cooks I know, with no text or book or even family recipe. Simply by knowing food, and while I am far from his level or calling myself an amateur chef I certainly am inspired to stray further from the comforting world of cakes and breads to the vast land of food in its entirety. 

In my Own Little World

The one nice aspect about the rain 

     Today is one of the miserable irish days. A light, but steady drizzle pattering down continuously, a constant damp chill to the air, grey skies so dense the very air seems to be smothered in gloom, and of course I just had to get the chore of walking the dogs. I snuggled into my blue raincoat tightening the hood around my face, pulled up my equally cheerful blue flowered wellies and headed out. The first half of the walk was consumed with keeping the six dogs in check, but on the way back they had tired enough for me to sink into reverie. I had two of the six on leads, and the gently tugged me forward along the grass covered path, the rain pitter-pattered on my hood making it feel as if I was in a miniature tent, made just for me. The birds were all but silent, the song's quieted by the gloom. I had the feeling as I walked that I was in my own world, I was in my own world. The other dogs ran around, the water rushed beside me in the grand canal, the trees swayed in the wind, and the rain fell, but there I was walking along calm with my own thoughts and emotions. It made me start to think about my perception of my current life, of course I think about it a lot, but the physical actions of what I was doing walking through all this outside world, yet completely staying with myself, contained within myself really just emphasized something I have been weighing in my mind and trying to put into practice.
      I am who I am, I can work on different aspects of myself that need to be helped, but I don't need to be apologetic or sorry for what I am. Being in Ireland I am constantly being brought aware to things that are starkly different, I have a tendency to shrink back and be apologetic for them. The vegetarianism thing I've been discussing one of them, but everything, from my habits to the manner of my dress. When staying with different cultures everything is brought into the spotlight and I have had to work hard to not take it personally that I do some things different. Thinking about this I don't know if I'm making any sense, I hope I am. In essence, you are who you are. Instead of trying to do what others do and inevitably looking like an idiot, simply stand tall and strong and be yourself, unless of course you do actually need to change something. For me its a work in progress, but I'm working on it, and hopefully I'll get there soon. In the meantime, I'm sitting in bed crocheting a scarf (much harder then knitting for the record) and it's still raining out. Ta Ta for now! 

Vegetarianism Part 2

I promised vegetarianism part 2 and here it is, whether you want it or not. In my my last entry I talked about my outrage toward the meat industry in general, but now it's time for sharing! As I said before I have been a vegetarian for a good sized chunk of my life. I'm pretty sure I was 10, or early 11 when due to the tragic death of my pet chickens I decided to stop eating poultry. A large controversy as it was almost thanksgiving and I refused to eat the Turkey. Luckily for me my parents became vegetarian shortly after because of the Nithyananda mission, and so unlike many other young Veggies it was a piece of cake for me. I never had to struggle with my own nightly dinners, or meatless breakfasts as many students do, the transition was simple and easy, partly because I went to India during the rough transition (for many people) period and didn't have a choice. By the time I was 13 I was a full fledge vegetarian not eating eggs, and with the exception of those stupid questions all young Veggies in the US seem to get: "if you were stuck on an island and the only thing to eat was meat, would you eat it?!" So besides childish questions and a couple one week summer camp issues I sailed through childhood vegetarianism. 

     So, when I came to Ireland and was hit full on by an Anti-Veg sentiment, for better or worse, I was not prepared. On the one hand it's great I got to live this long without major problem, but on the other it hadn't set me up for the inevitable time when I would have to fight for the diet I believed in. 

    Everyone knows Ireland is the land of meat and potatoes, and after only a few days I quickly  learned that potatoes doesn't cover you as an only food source. In addition to that everywhere I go the concept of vegetarian was as foreign as I was "so you'll have the fish?" "No thanks." "If you just eat a little it won't hurt you" "all the same I'd rather not, thanks though." At first I was apologetic and shy about it, but slowly I grew more into my stance on the matter, and spoke up. This was my diet, this was what I was going to eat, and that I wasn't going to. I'm aware that I made a few people annoyed, when people don't eat my vegan cupcakes because they're  vegan, sometimes I get annoyed. The thing I'm having to realize is, I need to stop caring (most of you are probably saying, well duh! At this point, but given my history hopefully you'll forgive me)  so used to vegetarian being the cool thing, the in thing, the right thing, this sudden change was so startling. It has gotten easy, a bit. An education process for all involved, most of all myself, that I'm sure will continue for the rest of my stay here. I'm assuming this is just the doorway to a world where being vegetarian is the hard path, yet as you may have gathered from the last entry I do believe it is "the path" and so will continue. It's definetly hard, but as one of my favorite quotes go "well behaved woman seldom make history" and while I doubt my vegetarian values will go down in history books, I still feel this applicable. Stick with what you believe in and sooner or later others will honor that, or at least (hopefully!) stop asking silly questions. 

Vegetarianism Part 1

One of the bulls on the farm.

A few days ago, based on a recommendation, I sat down to watch Schindler's list. As I began watching I was captured by the beauty of the story, a single man trying to save hundreds of Jewish people from the holocaust. And like most people watching, many parts of the story, made me sick. Not from a bad storytelling point of view, but the opposite,from the pure truth conveyed: the thousands of people crammed into train cars, freezing, starving, shot to death for no reason, torture and cruelty. They were treated as animals, which brought up some deep thoughts. 

     Now I've been vegetarian for what feels like a significant part of my life, but it was mostly for my own benefit. Others can do as they will, eat what they want, I'll eat my tofu and veggies. 

       Watching this film changed that for me though, while watching my heart went out for those poor men and woman of the past, but also brought up some significant thoughts about the habits of flesh consumption. People are not that far removed from animals, yes we have complex speech patterns, wear clothing, and are definitely a high and complex society, and yet... animals, many of those eaten by the human population; cattle, sheep, pigs.... They love and care for their young, they have fear and content; they can be trained and so have intelligence. There was a time when it was necessary for survival  to eat animals.  A family's next meal was based upon the skill of the hunter, but we have now come to a place in our so-called complex society where eating meat is actually the convenience, animals are literally grown for the purpose of being murdered so a boy or girl somewhere can add to an unhealthy breakfast of bacon. 

    In Schindler's list as human beings were herded onto trains. Fear in their eyes and hearts, my first thought was "they're being treated like animals!"then  my second thought was "why should animals be treated that way!?" I mean... If its so horrible to treat a human being that way, why is it acceptable to treat animals any less? 

    The other day I was down in the farm yards where some cattle are being kept. Four young black bulls were in a good sized pen together, I suspect getting fattened up for the slaughterhouse. I was standing by the fence looking at them when one walked over and thrust it's head at me. Brought on by various unpleasant experiences of bulls in India, I quickly backed away from the fence. Although only a year old, the young bull was already large. Instead of blowing and snorting, the bull simply looked up at me. I stepped closer, and put a hand out gingerly, he gently put his head against it and I started to scratch his forehead, and he immediately responded, leaning into the touch to get more and looking contented, as a dog or horse would. I stopped the scratching and he nudged me, waiting to see what he would do I put my hand down. A rough, pink tongue shot out and licked my hand. He looked up at me "um... Hello?" He seemed to say. Then proceeded to wash my hand with his tongue. Giggling at his persistence I scratched him again until it was time to go back to my chores. He watched me leave. 

    Now that's what I don't understand, within a few years that sweet gentle bull is going to be loaded on a truck and slaughtered for someone's dinner, much the same way the Jews were less then a hundred years ago. Will there ever be a time when a film is made bringing up empathy for the animals being herded on trucks to their death? Unfortunately I don't think so. In this day and age, despite having enough alternative foods to eat healthily, and actually more so, then if eating meat, the human population just likes meat. They like the taste, the simplicity, the luxury.  While there were some people who opposed the holocaust many turned a blind eye and just continued on. They were the normal ones at the time, but now we think of them as cruel. I can only wish that we as a society that call ourselves complex can one day think upon those who eat meat as cruel. Again I doubt that will happen. People are convinced meat is their... Birthright. Something needed for survival. It is not, we aren't lions or wolves, meat is not needed for a healthy diet, and many studies have found that vegetarians are in fact much healthier. I've heard every excuse in the book, I've listened to hundreds of reasons why people don't eat mean, or people telling me to eat meat for this reason or that. Yet, I've also been to a slaughterhouse, seen animals put on a truck bid for death, I've seen the fear in the faces, and I have seen those animals before murder, as sweet and innocent as a child not knowing the horror just around the corner. I understand that it's simply part of the first world lifestyle to eat meat, and that is fine for them. But the next time you bite into a hamburger I sincerely request to bring up in your minds eye the animal it came from and ask yourself if it is morally ok for you to eat it. That's just one reason, besides all those concerning the environment and your health. Obviously this was written from an... Emotional place and I think is part one. I wanted to talk about more then the unfairness of the meat industry, such as my personal situation in Ireland and my struggle to keep true to my diet (thus far successful though!) so check back in for part two! Coming soon to computers now... 

The Neutral Zone

I walk down the Grand Canal path, wrapped tightly up in multiple sweaters and jackets, leggings under jeans, wool socks inside thermal wellies. The tail of my ever present french braid rests limply on one shoulder; I do miss wearing my hair out. The sun comes out from behind the grey clouds for a minute and shines on my face, despite the cool air the morning is beautiful and wipes away the sleep from my eyes. It is a moment of contentment, not quite to the point of happy, but not the feelings of irritation I have much of the time.
    In my last entry I wrote about how everything has a purpose, and while that is true and I really try and accept that as much as possible, it is still hard being completely on your own, that is without your own family, for the first time in your life and so suddenly. Due to this there are some matters that strike as hard, and also some things about being in another culture that are rough, a different way of life, different food, a new kind of people to get used to, and new language. The first few weeks here when any of my friends would ask me how I liked Ireland my immediate answer would be one more on the negative side. Thankfully I am now settled even more then my last entry and living life. I wouldn't say I am happy not those feelings of constant joy and zeal to be living, but I am content with where I am, what I am doing. I suppose you could say I'm in a bit of a neutral zone. I do have moments where I am quite frustrated, and others where my belly hurts from laughter... Ironically those moments occur just so that they almost feel like they can be thrown into that neutral zone as well.
    For some reason thinking about this... these long philosophical thoughts coming mostly during the long walks along the canal, I keep thinking back to something Swamiji said, I don't remember the exact quote, but it was something along the lines of: true bliss is not being happy, but being in a space where your mood is not effected by outside emotion. You are neither sad nor happy, just being. When he said this as a frequently happy 14 year old all I could think was that I didn't want to live in bliss (the ultimate goal) if thats what it was. I wanted to be happy all the time because that was more fun.
     I'm not sure where my opinions on that particular matter stand now, but it is interesting that that is almost the state I am now. Not saying at all that I am living in a state of bliss... I don't think that is the word for me at the moment. Maybe later... but now now, I think that the neutral zone fits perfecting. I suppose thats enough for now, it's past midnight and I've had a very long full day and tomorrow promises to be another one, so sleep is probably a good idea I am exhausted, I don't quite know what I even just wrote... perhaps this blog should be called Meanderings of a Sleepless Sugar-High Teenage Traveler.  More later... and I might even be awake next time! 

Everything is For A Reason

   

St. Patrick's Cathedral Tower

     I have fallen below the standard, but here I am, writing again in the hopes of redeeming myself. I have finally settled into my life here in Ireland, and somewhat of a routine, and unfortunately with that the laziness also slipped in. I have spent massive amounts of time reading, but I'm not to cross with myself as it is something I haven't done in about two years because of high school madness and it it nice to reenter the world of literature. (Game of Thrones is the book at hand, a bloody, gory, fabulous world to slip into I must say.) Additionally I have been working on college stuff taking up all the time I a lot to "serious computer stuff" as I call it... and therefore the blog writing... hasn't happened.
    But! Two trips to Dublin, and one adventure at the national ploughing championships later I am back. To much has happened to go into great detail about these events, so instead I'd rather talk about the deep and serious thoughts that have been plaguing my mind of late, (when I wasn't wondering what would befall the Starks and Dany).
   First off: I am completely and truly convinced that every single thing happens in ones life for a reason. I've always sort of told myself this, but it wasn't until the events of the last two weeks that I feel I started to believe it from the depths of my heart. I got the fantastic opportunity to act as a runner for RTE or Raidió Teilifís Éireann, an Irish news network. The days before leading up to it as scared out of my socks that I was going to completely mess up everything, and they'd hate me, and... it was bad. The day dawned though and I immedietly settled into the work and among the crowds running to do the bidding of various reporters, and coming back to the hub of the press tent with reporters, photographers, videographers, writers, and journalists of all sorts milling about, I felt so... at home. I remember rushing through the crowds on an errand, weaving a path through the people and trying to find a particular location, and I just had the biggest smile on my face and the only thought in my head was, this was what I needed to do. What I was meant to do. The whole day everything that happened seemed like I had been methodically prepared for my whole life. Like all the journalism classes in school I had taken on a whim, the years of of making videos for the temple, and assisting the acharyas in their classes, the various temple openings... all of it seemed to prepare me for this day. I kept thinking to myself "I will never curse something I hate again" because all those little things I used to hate had made me ready for what I was doing now. 
     So standing strong with this new resolution, to make an effort to really appreciate everything because it probably had a purpose, I set out on a new adventure: Dublin. It was a few days after the Ploughing Championships which had then become a fond memory by then. When I spontaniously decided to go the following day. It's an hour by train, which I can catch quite easily as the station isn't far from my place of residence. I had been playing with the idea for sometime, but I despise being alone more then anything, and the idea of exploring an entire city by my lonesome did not exactly suit me. But it was time, I needed to see the famous Dublin. I took the train and found the bus, I was a bit nervous being on my own, but doing fine and proud of myself. I found a seat on the bus, but quickly became aware of the fact I had no idea when to get off and so hesitantly questioned the girl beside me. She looked about my age, maybe a little older. Well in the true way of my life within five minutes we were friends. She offered to give me a tour of Dublin and off we went. 
     It turned out the girl was a year younger and lived a train ride away in Kerry Co. She came up to Dublin once a week for a music lesson, but had arrived a few hours early and so had plenty of time to show a complete stranger from the USA around the little city. As we walked down Grafton St. The famous tourist street of Dublin filled with flower sellers, musicians, and high end shops she asked me 
     "Do you talk to complete strangers like this often?" 
     "Not quite like this" I replied
     "Well I'm glad you did" she said
     "Me too." I said truthfully. Never truly alone, as one of my dear friends once said "You could make friends in a cardboard box." After my tour, a lovely walk through a park, and a restaurant recommendation, my new friend had to leave for her lesson and after a hug and exchange for information she departed. It was past noon, but not late enough to return home so now the real challenge began. Fate had smiled upon me to ease me into this completely new situation, but there was a point where I needed to step out on my own two feet and take the world in stride. I back tracked,  rediscovering the world she had led me through, and then moved out finding new shops and haunts on my own. I discovered the Dublin Castle and St. Patrick's Cathedral, old cobbled streets, little shops I made sure to remember. Finally it was time to return home, and I did so tired, but content. 
     Less then a week later I made the journey again, this time I did not look for a companion, although I suppose that had not been my intent on my last trip. I set out despite the cold rain for a day of museums. That day i feel I truly learned to value my own company, a valuable assest to any human being. We come into this world alone, and we will die alone, so the saying goes. I needed to learn to be alone. I spent the morning walking through old Collin's Barracks and gathered up Irish History at stored it at the back of my mind, telling myself this was the educational part of this gap year. Then I stood in the rain for an extended period of time to see the Book of Kells and the old library at Trinity College. A grand affair, and definitely a sight to see in one's lifetime, although that day in the rain I was in lousy mood by the time I left. I cheered myself up at a Starbucks and finished my day with a little shopping at Penny's which I here declare the most fantastic store on earth. All the clothing and accessories you could want, brand new, good brands, and for next to nothing. I practically felt like I was stealing it was so cheap, and really good quality at that. Then another train ride home, the rain soaked fields rushing past the large window. 
   You never know what the universe has in store for you, that you can only wait and see. You can prepare though, you can appriciate all that happens, smile upon all the cross your path, and love yourself, for that is who you are and who will live with to the end of the days. If all that is done why not be happy? For there is nothing more you can do. Now the pages of Game of Thrones are calling, as they lay idle beside me on the bed. So goodnight my friends and be well, and remember, everything is for a reason. 

A few days in and it's going Fine

Sitting in a folding chair in the sunshine, a gentle breeze is blowing, but not to coldly and for the first time since I arrived I am perfectly comfortable in only three layers! (Normally it's five.) Thus far everything has gone alright. I wouldn't go so far as to use the famously Irish word: grand, or even brilliant, but maybe later.

     I reached Dublin without a problem after sleeping like a baby the entire flight over. A very nice Australian man kindly woke me when we were about to land. I stumbled off the plan and found my way through immigration, without a problem thank goodness, and to baggage claim. Easily collected my suitcase that's practically bigger then me, and wrestled it outside into my first breath of Irish air, which I may tell you, was cold. Logically it's no colder then back home, but there was a chill in the air that made it seem so. In any case I spent a few confusing minutes and tried to get directions for the bus, which I got... but couldn't understand. Finally I was pointed in the right direction, and told to hurry, for the bus was leaving soon. I started along and quickly realized that "just across that way" was quite far indeed, or at least seemed so dragging along my 50 pound suitcase. 

     Well I reached the proper place it started to rain, a light drizzle, which didn't affect me, but seemed to add to the gloom on the situation, which was now that I didn't know which bus to take. After a few embarrassing conversations I had both figured out the proper bus and learned I didn't know how to properly pronounce anything Irish. So that's me folks, fantastic when it comes to Sanskrit, and a fool when it comes to pronouncing words of my own ancestry.  In any case I got on the bus alright, the driver was a kind and lovely man and helped me with my bag, and thus began the final leg of the journey. I was told by the woman sitting across from me that "there isn't much to see on the motor way" and so I'll take her word for it. We passed through a number of tiny adorable towns, with their little stone shops and houses. All well equipped with chimneys. And right between the towns were many fields with corn (or maize as its called here) or potatoes, or  wheat or hay. And some more fields with horses and cattle. Haven't seen any of those Irish sheep yet. Ah well, I'm sure I will soon. At last I reached my stop and it started to drizzle once again. And after borrowing a phone because, of course, mine wasn't working I was picked up and taken to my new home.  More later! 

Travel Log Part 2

12:21 am/5:21am: the second one is Irish time which I am already calculating. Guess what? I haven slept yet. I'm exhausted, but my seat partner was playing music and kept falling into my seat, and I just could sleep. Right now the flight attendant is serving breakfast, which for me is a bagel, margarine, and orange juice. Now for some fun facts: 

Altitude: 36000 feet

Ground Speed: 657 mph

Outside airTemp: -61.6 F 

Distance traveled: 3112 miles

Distance to London: 475 miles 

12:50am/5:50: passing over the white cliffs of Dover, and only 20 miles away from Dublin. Will be in London in half an hour! 

7:08 am: now officially and only on UK time. Arrived at the airport, got off the plane, found my way downstairs and onto a bus to terminal one, where I will go through customs and get my final flight to Dublin. There are two Irish guys standing next to me on the bus talking about what they ate for breakfast. I can't believe I get to listen to beautiful accents like theirs for three months!! Ha. 

7:36am: oh gods, help me now. I've been stopped at immigration because they aren't sure if WWOOF is a legit organization or not. My travel documents have been taken into a room with the boarder patrol man and while he confirms/denies them I wait on a bench. Lonely and scared. 

7:50am: they let me through immigration!! The guy clearly didn't want to, but they didn't have a legal way to detain me. I guess, getting through Dublin will be another hurtle, buy hopefully a little easier. At least I've gotten this far. Now going through "biometric security" not really sure what that is, but it involves a photograph. In the line for security... It's like three miles long, ok not literally. But it's really, really, REALLY long. Thankfully my flight doesn't leave for a couple hours. Also, I'm hungry... 

9:07am: the morning from hell. First immigration, then the security line, then they tried to confiscate my knitting because the needles are "dangerous" even though the last two airports didn't even blink an eye. The guy kept asking "what do you use them for?" And I said "knitting" and he's like "what, like jumpers and stuff?" "Yes..." Oh no, actually I use them to murder people on planes. Of course I use them for knitting!! Then another ridiculously long line to get my aer lingus boarding pass, then a mad search to find a hair clip, or anything because my long loose hair is driving me insane, did I mention I lost my only hair tie. So now I'm in yet another "que" to present my boarding pass so I can go to the Irish/UK boarding area. That's besides getting on the plane. 

9:58am: honestly, if one more thing goes wrong I'm just going to lay down and die. I bought a delicious cup of hot soup and a slice of bread, but I wasn't allowed to take the soup on the plane and I didn't have any time to eat it before. I tried to gulp it down, and burned my tongue. And everyone in the terminal was so rude. My muscles in my back and shoulders are simply groaning in pain from carrying around the monster pack all day. I got on the plane and the pilot asked me if I was ok, or a little tired and then showed me to my seat which is the first good one all trip. So I'm hungry, exhausted, sore, and lonely, and sorta wondering what I'm doing with my life.  

Travel Log part 1

7:30 am: just leaving for the airport now, only 15 minutes late. Completely my own fault. I had to say goodbye to my geese, and then insisted at stopping at the temple. For some reason I thought I would just go, say hi and bye to the gods like I always do, but I ended up crying profusely, and completely loosing it. I went to each god, and bowed down, and asked them to bless me in their specific ways, and even though I really haven't gone to temple I felt such a connection, I just know I'll be perfectly safe all the time. 

9:32: in the security line. My back is already aching from my 24.2 pound backpack (and that's exact, I weighed it) my bag is checked I got two of my boarding passes and I have yet to get the third one from Dublin to Toronto. 

9:38: got through security fine, and they didn't confiscate my wonderfully sharp metal knitting needles! Now starting the long journey to my gate. I still don't leave for over an hour. 

10:04: OMG! Didn't realize how late is was. I almost missed my flight and heard the last boarding call and ran. The plane is miniscule. Actually, it's smaller then that. It's about the same size as a school bus. About to take off!! Adieou 

10:46am: still got some time left on the plane. My ears are done for. Flying over a Great Lake right now, no idea which one. Flights been pretty decent thus far, I'm siting between (squished, let me add) a business man that loves cirque, he's going to Toronto for work, and a man from Hong Kong, China who is visiting friends in the US for a couple weeks. We've had a very lovely conversation, I showed them my cirque book and so that was fun. 

11:30 am: we're going to be landing within 15 minutes. Getting lower and lower, but still don't see the airport. This baby plane is rocking like a boat on stormy seas and my stomach is not appreciating it. It probably doesn't help that I'm in the very last seat of the plane either. I got bored of talking after a while and wrestled out a book from my backpack, Game Of Thrones, which I hate to admit, but is fabulous. Shout out to Shantini and Nikita for the reccomedation.  Oh wow... That was unexpected... We just touched down. Yippee! Toronto! Already in a foreign country. Alright, toodles for now... The next few hours are going to get interested, I'll explain later. 

5:08 pm: and interesting they were. I met up with a friend who lives here in Toronto. When I was in India we called each other mama duck and baby duck, or duckling. I being the younger. For a while it seemed she was like my mom, although being only nine years my senior. Anyway she picked me up and showed me around Toronto, and we went out to lunch and it was great fun. 

6:13pm: in line to board the plane. After frantically trying to find the terminal, I had plenty of time and even got to charge my iPod a bit, and connect socially with the world. 

6:47 pm: I found my seat on the plane, I'm sitting next to a lovely older couple who are seasoned travelers. The husband is from Vienna and the wife from England, although she speaks with an American accent. We've talked lots about travel, and are now settling down to the flight. I have a cute little TV and am planning to watch Rise of the Guardians while knitting a scarf. More later

9:01 pm: watched the movie, got my dinner. A half decent vegan meal, except for the vast amount of fennel. Really, who eats that much fennel? So I spent half an hour picking out all the pieces and enjoyed the rest. There was also a vegan cookie which was a delightful treat. Since the movie is over it is now nap time, I have tucked my legs up under me, and wrapped myself in blankets. My headphones are in, and I'm ready for a bit of well earned rest. 

11:39 pm: well sleep never happened. I tried, and just couldn't, which is odd for me, because usually I sleep like a baby on planes. So I worked on editing a video for a while which was both frustrating and comforting at the same time. Saying that... I should really get some sleep tomorrow's going to be crazy.  

Standing Still

It seems time itself is standing still, and yet at the same time ticking more rapidly then I can imagine. To quote the well known show Doctor Who:

"People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but *actually* from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint - it's more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly... time-y wimey... stuff."

Honestly thats what it feels like. My time with Cirque ends in just two days, I can forget my crazy list, the cues, the wet costumes, the constant smells of sweat and vodka (and the amazing people, awesome music, and constant energy.) In just four days I leave for Ireland, to what I don't exactly know. A farm, horses, dogs and dirt and poop to be sure of. New adventures to be had and new friends to make. My suitcase is nearly packed, nearly everything is in place, most goodbyes have been made. Theres definitely a part of me thats excited, another part thats scared, but currently I feel neutral about the whole affair. It's odd,  I feel like I should barely be able to contain my excitement, I've wanted to go half my life, and now it's happening, and i'm just.... OK. Perhaps it's sadness about the end of cirque that is evening out the excitement. I don't know I feel like my mood is due for a swing pretty soon. In the meantime check back in, remember to comment, and keep your eyes out... I may have a surprise quite soon! 

Four Years

     It's been four years, I forgot to write on this dear little blog's anniversary this year. What a shame, for those of you who don't remember, I Started this blog September the first, 2010. A few weeks after beginning my freshman year of high school. It's been a crazy four years, I've never doubted "interesting" things would happen in my life, but what has happened this last few years is... beyond comprehension.
     I don't want to reminisce whats happened, I've written about it, so go back and read if you wish. I suppose this last week while I'm on the verge of what I hope to be the great adventure of my lifetime (thus far, hopefully many to come) I want to reflect on how amazing it has been. I suppose the last few years are just an example of how one can do anything that they put their mind to. Going from nervous about doing high school theater to Cirque Du Soleil, struggling in math to graduating a year early, dreams of being a movie director to meeting Dakota Fanning. The best part is, I could go on listing more accomplishments, but thats getting to close to bragging. I suppose I'll just keep this short and simple, mostly because it's nearly two am, I'm exhausted, and there are two shows tomorrow, in addition to packing for Ireland in the morning,  or whatever else I'm going to do. So good night my dear readers. Let's start another fabulous year! 

Wardrobe Dept.

"What's QC mean?" Asks Caoling leaning over to look at my schedule
"Quick Change, obviously" replies Margarita laughing at him
"Ohhhh" Caoling says smiling sheepishly.

This is one short conversation of many that I listen to in my new job... what? Yes, I loved ushering, but I love this even more. On Tuesday I was called into the office and asked if I wanted to switch to the wardrobe department, which was of course, YES! (which I said so loud that everyone in the office started laughing) So on Friday I began.  The job can easily be described in two words, amazing, and insane. I have multiple quick changes, getting artists out of one spandex unitard and into another, and also pre setting things, brushing wig hair, and most of all lots and lots of laundry. While that can't be considered exactly fun it is made up for by the fact I know work backstage... well in the artistic tent, and as I am doing my work I get to chat with the artists. Some are more friendly than others, some are just focused on they're work while others come over to chat.

I was surprised by how curious many of the artists are, I suppose it makes sense if they only get to talk to one another, someone else is nice, but then at the same time they are all these fabulously talented, post-olympic athletes and artists performing for thousands of people every night. Why should they care? But they do, they'll ask how I am, what I like to do in my free time, joke with me or tease gently. A couple have been trying to get me to speak in russian or french, something a fail miserably at. The majority of the artists are Russian, then these a little touch of Japanese, Chinese, French, Canadian, German, and a few Americans. But russian seems to be the major language backstage.

I have two more weeks with cirque, I've been doing costumes for three days and it already feels as if a century has passed,  so I can't even imagine what will happen when the time is up. In my spare time though I am preparing for my trip to Ireland which is in exactly 16 days! More to come, keep reading, and always please try and comment (I think I fixed the settings) 

Welcome To Cirque, May I See Your Tickets Please?

Cirque Du Soleil. The Circus of the Sun, AKA the best thing to ever grace this beautiful earth. At least... from my point of view, but then I could be biased. Why? Cause I have a job there!
    Yes, I have run away with the circus... well not exactly. I only work for them for the month they are stationed in Columbus, and I simply drive to the site on the days I work. Not quite as dramatic as packing my bags for a life on the road, but still very exciting. After a very long and complex application and interview process, only made more complicated by traffic and poor communication. But I finally got the job and showed up for me first day wearing all black and a smile. There are so many silly stories to tell, so much I could write about, and maybe later the time will come, but for now here is something brief I just wanted to get out to all you "fans" or rather family and friends.
     So, thus far I am an usher. I take tickets, show patrons to their seats, answer questions, and finally help clean the big top every night. I'm the youngest member of the group, which has been both fun and annoying. On the fun side of things everyone's super nice to me... although that could just be me, and people  let me do what I want, on the annoying people like making up stupid nicknames like "Pip" or "Wendy," it probably doesn't help that I'm not exactly tall. Additionally the older adults seem to feel i'm incapable of doing certain tasks due to my age, that I am very much capable of. Overall though everyone is very nice, and I look forward to seeing people every night.
     I have made a close friend within the circus. She is a follower, meaning she works at the different locations as cirque moves from city to city, but is not yet an official member and traveling with them. Anyway, we really hit it off since she just graduated college with a degree in costuming, and loves Lord of The Rings, and horses... basically we're soul mates. Just kidding, but she's really fun and it's great getting to know her. One last thing I wanted to mention that excites me everyday. Ten minutes before the show starts 'animators' or characters from the show go out into the audience and interact with audience members to get them 'hyped' for the show one could say. Anyway, somehow by power of luck, or purpose I do not know I have had the opportunity to interact with The Tracker.  The first day was by chance, but after that I'm not sure... the true thing is when an animator pays attention to me I get reduced to the state of a 12 year old girl meeting Justin Beiber. Which is not pretty. The nice thing to know is that I've talked to other ushers and they say these amazing artists have the same affect over them, so at least I'm not alone.
   Now is is nearly two and time for bed. I have promised my dear Kismet who is only here for two more days a bike ride in the morning that I have to actually get up for. So good night all, and please tell me what you think!

Tales of A teenage Yogini, Rebirth

My Sweet Gertrude, being cute as usual. 

As those of you who check my blog surely know I have not been writing of late. Now, in the car, driving to Richmond, Virginia (about 8:42 PM I begin my tall once again). I have spent the summer working and interning, preparing for what I hope to be a year old fun, adventure, and growth in ways that a formal education cannot push you. I am not yet sure of my plans for the whole year yet, decisions have to be made and outcomes weighed.

     One reason I have not been writing lately is that I haven't felt very much like a 'yogini' lately as the name of my blog says, and therefore have not felt qualified to write in this forum. I still don't feel exactly like one, but after doing a little musing within my mind (although for spiritual practices I suppose that in itself isn't the best) and have come to two conclusions. The first of these is that in a strange and roundabout way everything I do it spiritual. Well, from my perspective, see when I was 14 and did LBE. Swamiji said that I was his specimen, and while I have not been the best... what ever you want to call it on that path, and have very much delved into the American teenage lifestyle (at least that of one obsessed his government, film, theater, and band) technically, if I was Swamiji's specimen, that is all part of the experience... at least that is how I have decided to look at it.

Furthermore, and nearly connected to this, when decided if the gap year plan was for me I actually asked Kalaabhriva, or Swamiji at the conclusion of my LBE program back in... was it February? I don't exactly remember. Anyway, he said that traveling the world was the best plan for me. If he said that from a place of consciousness then I can only assume that traveling the world (which regardless of my precise plans I will do.) will be in a sense a spiritual practice and therefore keep me in my teenage yogini state.

     SO: what this brings me to is I will not abandon this sweet little blog, I shall continue to write, mostly for myself, and for inspiration and entertainment to others I hope. This is the Tale of The Teenage Yogini, and the teenage yogini will continue to tell her tales.

And now we have reached our hotel, and I must go!  

Taking Flight

     
     

A long span of time, and many events have occurred since last I wrote. Lets see, I graduated high school, got a job, became the head of only costumer of the the summer musical, Man of La Mancha, and officially decided what to do with at least part of my gap year. (details are still unknown I just personally made a decision.) So what to talk about in this entry? I started this blog shortly after I started ninth grade, High School,  and now three full years passed, actually a little short of three since I started in September, and I am now officially a high school graduate. I have my whole life in front of me, so many options, choices, decisions... its pretty stressful and I can't honestly tell you I have handled the transition with grace. In fact the weekend of my graduation I was such a complete pain my mother had my good friend Kismet come over in an attempt to calm me down. (Thankfully it worked to the relief of my household.) Now that a week has passed and I have time to settle down into this changed person I am somewhat more level headed. I have a job to go to everyday (although currently its just an unpaid internship, blah) in the evenings I have musical rehearsal and other various activites with friends and family.
      For the last few months of school I was constantly freaking out about how to fill the time of my precious gap year, but in the last week I have found a way to settle down and relax about it. It's a gap year. Even if I do nothing, I will still start high school the same age as if I had gone to that final year. Not to mention, besides the usual bumps that happen in life, opportunities seem to keep springing up out of the ground, working at the Ohio Historical Society, possibly going to a film set, spending a weekend on a farm, going to Ireland... so there's a lot of options. I find that if you are nice to everyone and show interest in what they do, you tend to get invited places. Maybe its just me, but that's my tip of advice for the day. In any case the day draws on and I have to be at work by 11:30, so keep checking in!
        

Before Graduation

I can't say that what I'm doing right now is number one on my "most boring things ever" list, but it is definitely on the list. Right now it's Friday morning and I'm at the practice graduation. Like the rehearsal dinner for a wedding, only, graduation. In any case it's fantastically boring, and they are rushing through. Without the speeches and stuff, tomorrow's event may qualify as the number one most boring event, as well as torturous since its only going to be 40 or 50 degrees, and of course my dress is short sleeved. 

       I don't mean to complain so much, I mean thank goodness I'm actually graduating! And breaking the norm of four years I have completed my formal public education in three. My grandmother has driven in and more family are coming. I've been texting back and forth with my friends in a mixture of excitement and irritation at the upcoming big day. (The irritation is more the intense pew-party cleaning that comes with the graduation). In movies and books they never talk about the days and days of prep for graduation, or the horrendously long ceremony, or the stress involved. It's just "yippee!! We graduated!" Play the song. Make one short speech. Throw the hats. Voi la! now let me tell you. It ain't that easy. 

      To make it worse I've had severe back pain putting me in a grouchy mood. I know the pain is because of stress, but I'm just not able to get rid of it! Thankfully mum the massage therapist is helping. In any case, tomorrow I graduate. Tomorrow my life begins. 

1005 wrights room. 

The Perfect Ending

A good friend of mine, fondly known by me alone as Kismet, likes to say that my life is like a movie. That in the end, no matter the problem, everything works out perfectly. I tend to laughing agree, but seriously thinking about it this morning I realized, at least in terms of certain events, it's so true.
Last night the cast party of the bet musical to ever grace the Hayes stage was held at my home. It was a wonderful closer to the utter insanity and deep happiness of my last ever high school production. The musical as I mentioned, turned out beautifully. The gorgeous Jayma truly became Dolly Levi touching the hearts of everyone who watched. My sister mentioned with a tone of disgust that during the final song of the final performance more than half the audience as in tears. I can't honestly say I've never seen that before in a high school production.
So then post musical we all pile into cars and head over to my house. My parents told me they had set up a food tent in the yard, but I was shocked when I saw the tent draped in glittery light. Our yard and driveway lined with candles in paper bags, a pair of new rose bushes graced the driveway. It was like a fairytale party. Not only was it beautiful it was a huge success, people seemed to thoroughly enjoy themselves and left sleepy, yet happy. The night ended with hugs and kisses and I stumbled up to bed crawling between the warm blankets and falling into the longest sleep I've had in memory and not waking till the afternoon. When I woke I heard the pitter patter of raindrops, the rain the had miraculously held off just long for my friends to enjoy a beautiful night under the stars (the freshman concluded earlier in the year I was magical and obviously was in control of the weather since it always seems to do what I wish. Which is weird, but actually true....) I showered and dressed and went out standing on my porch in the rain and looked out of the yard. The rain had washed away most signs of the party, and seemed to be symbolically washing the musical from my life. It was sad to be sure, but sad in very beautiful sort of perfect way. It couldn't and shouldn't have ended any better than that. Hello Dolly is over and a bug group was promised on stage later today. Despite the blood sweat and tears I don't regret getting into theater, not one ounce of me has any regrets. So now I sign off and say goodbye. For it is Monday morning, and time for life to begin again.

     I haven't written in ages and so decided it was time to update the world of my life's story. So much has happened since I last wrote, a film I made got into a film contest and was in the second place category. I was accepted to a traveling theater program called Up With People, I haven't decided if I will do it or not, but now that option is out there. Then most of all, the thing consuming my life is that I am in the second to last week of the musical as the head costume girl.
      Mostly things are going pretty good, from an overall standpoint I'm almost finished with my high school career, only a few more weeks. I'm doing decently in school (considering I am never home), and the musical itself is going really well. On a more micro level, I am struggling, as much as I so deeply want to move forward in my total life, not be stuck in this high school chapter any longer, I am going to miss so much. Hayes theater, the many, so many friends I have made, the little unique relationships I share with countless individuals around my school, lunch periods in the overly crowded cafeteria  but I shall stop now. That entry must be saved for later.
     One thing about musicals is that with each one I grow a little stronger, oh I have as many emotional breakdowns as the next teenage girl putting her mind and body through what you do during musical season, but when you come out of it all, alive and mostly healthy, you know after that anything is possible. That is a great feeling, akin to flying halfway across the world or traveling in India. The one downside of musical (besides the obvious ones people who don't do it will count off for you) is that one way you keep going in musicals is on a constant stream of complaints  Attention is a very powerful thing, and can almost singlehandedly keep one running strong, and there are points all it takes is a kind word to get you on your feet again, while this seems good the downside is when you come home away from the constant excitement and attention and are blasted into your alternative life where you aren't treated like a queen, and can act like one too... from my perspective at least. I suppose I'm completely writing the truth here, but the truth is a good thing, even if it makes me sounds like I have an ego bigger than  my head. Anyway more updates this weekend, or after the show is over. Good bye for now!

Too Good To Be True

Day three:
11:51 am: so clearly I didn't write almost anything yesterday, but that doesn't mean nothing happened. Quite the contrary. So everything I wrote happened before ten am, and I wrote that blurb as we sat down to brunch in this adorable cafe in the town of Berlin where both the films "The Runaway Bride" and "Tuck Everlasting" were filmed. Since we had been up since six breakfast was far out of our minds and instead we ordered grilled cheese sandwiches and fries. From there we drove the Ocean City, a complete tourist town and after much ado got a hotel with a pool. My sisters small request. The afternoon we spent as tourists walking along the boardwalk, swimming in the pool, hanging out in the room. In the evening we went back to the Island and spent close to two hours watching a photographing a larger band of ponies that were grazing along side the road. A beautiful pinto stallion was the leader and walked straight up to our car challenging it. Then he stood there casually as if saying "oh it's fine if your here, I'm just going to stand here and make sure you don't do anything stupid." And of course I got some great pictures. Then we came back to the hotel, exhausted, and fell asleep.
5:36 pm: woke up at eight and after a simple breakfast packed up our things. By eleven we were out of the hotel and took a morning walk on the boardwalk which resembles a carnival with funnel cakes and Carmel apples and even some rides at one end. Mum said it looked how Coney Island used to be. In any case we walked enjoying the sea breeze, the sound of gulls, the sparking ocean and white sand to one side. Then the haphazard line of shops on the other. Then we got back in our faithful four-door and drove to Chincoreague island where it all began.
9:43 pm: even I can barely believe my fortune. As horrid as they can feel, I am so Lucky to have the family I have. My mother somehow managed to find the exact bed and breakfast where the book Misty of Chincoteague was written. I book I have loved and adored since childhood. It's one of the few books I have read multiple times, I'm more of a one time only reader. In any case after an hour and a half of driving along both high way and winding country roads we drove over the marshlands on a bridge and arrived in Chincoteague, and came to this large old house remodeled into a B &B called Miss Molly's. We inquired about a room and after thinking briefing the owner (a sweet looking woman with a comforting British accent said) well the Maurgurite Henry room where Misty was written is available. You can hardly imagine my elation which I, of course didn't show, when hearing this. Not only am I ON the Island, IN the house, I will sleep in the ROOM!!
The rest of the afternoon was fantastic today, except perhaps the six mile home I insisted on went we drove to the nearby Assateague (the southern portion) because I had to see more ponies. The hike was worth it though because it led us to the only currently visible band in the area. There six mares and a majestic stallion, who tolerated me taking photos, but when I would walk to close he glare at me, not in warning but annoyance and then herd his mares a short distance away. It was by far my favorite thing so far the were grazing along a gravel road, with the marsh on one side and a pond on the other. Despite the dead grass all around, it was stunning. And watching the herd dynamic was awesome too, the was one younger horse probably a yearling whom the stallion kept driving off, not enough as to let her get close to me, but keeping her away from his ladies. The natural weaning process. The baby kept disobeying him though which made him quite annoyed and it was clear he had a look like "seriously kid, stand still for two minutes will you?" I must sign off here now. Time to sleep in the wonderful room in a bed Ms. Henry may have slept in!

A Day Of No Sleep, but Happiness

Day two
11:16 am: This place is phenomenal! Drove all night and arrived on the Maryland side of the island at four am. Slept for two hours in the car and then watched the sunrise from the beach. After that we traipsed all around the island and found four different bands of ponies. I got some phenomenal photos including one of a stallion yawning less then 100 feet away. I was careful of course, as if they had to warn me of horse bites.