Varkala.
A writing event under a full moon that shines perhaps as bright as the sun.
Even though the mere reflection appears to be a very source of light, the potence and power of it hangs there, in all its glory.
Shades of coconut tree leaves wave and dance in front of my eyes,
a strange light aura surrounds the mighty hanger.
Looking into many eyes that submit into acceptance of the already near goodbye,
an inescapable reformation of the inner while going through doors of unknown, with keys thrown from the sky the previous day.
Mild footsteps don’t care about the destination.
A wavering mind takes its occasional distance, bends into new possibilities.
The persistance of the scenery that forces its way to be seen, forces a flexibility, a freshness, a youth in a mind and body slowly turning rigid.
When any resistance is given up, when the now is entered and fully responsibly accepted and entered, something invisible happens…
–
Varkala is a touristy place.
And even though last year I’ve hung touristy places up there, ready to eat the fire of my wall of criticism, this time it’s coming more than welcome, if not only as a temporary escape from a madness most Westerners would immediately succumb to.
Due to off-season, the prices for rooms are extremely backpacker and low-budget friendly.
This comes in quite useful, as when throwing the monthly look at my account, I’m chanting mantras for all the Indian deities that I’ve remembered the name of, 3-4 out of maybe infinity.
But even if the rooms are quite cheap at the moment, the meals are high-season price (even though half the menu is ‘no possible’), a sundering 2 to 5 times the local price, which is a price I’m extremely willing to pay, giving it includes amazing sights, rest, and only a few minutes of being hassled per day (hell, I was prepared for a ton more).
Rented a scooter for 3 days to just enjoy touring around. The landscape at any random place around here is just something you would pay for. A scenery of green, clear blue skies, the wild waves a free orchestra with theater in the background. Just driving the scooter to nowhere was an absolute joy, and on top of that finding some strange places and deserted beaches, awesome.
Still, my daily adventures are slowly decreasing in count, as I’m staying longer in this paradise like place.
Today I did laundry and left a pants at the tailor.
Schedule for tomorrow: Check on that pants at the tailor.
Daily schedule: Do that yoga they learned at the ashram. Eat something tasty.
Maybe it’s getting time to move.
I met a bunch of Frenchies which were very interesting, but perhaps it’s for the best that they already left yesterday, since today I busted myself thinking in French – the danger zone.
Now all silliness aside, I’ve had quite the great time with them.
Meeting all sorts of people is quite the experience. Being vastly open for any way a human can be, seeing all these faces, hearing all the stories, it’s life teaching directly, without nonsense. It leaves impressions, it pushes intelligence in you.
No book can do the same, noone can tell you this.
–
Yoga.
It’s something weird.
It feels pointless to talk about it, since it has given me such unique experiences, barely anyone has a clue what I’m trying to say and it can make me feel silly.
But nonetheless the experiences happened to me and I cannot deny them, whether I would want to or not.
So I’m going to be a good and crazy boy and do my practice 2 times per day just as I have been doing.
It’s been a pleasure to do anyway, and it even begins to feel necessary.
–
After a ton of rupees on data plan and abusing all Varkala’s wifi routers in every restaurant and guest house, I’ve regained the key pieces of my music collection.
As this writing is occuring, I’m listening and drifting away in some amazing pieces I’ve had to miss for a few weeks.
Not out of attachment, but when unconsciously sliding out of the habits of what used to give enormous joy, certain things just regain their value.
Certain things truly become new once you just let them slip to the back of the head. Yes, there they still are, maybe they still develop there, but when it comes back into experience it’s like something new yet familiar, a home coming in some house one always imagined.
–
Next stop: Cochin.
Perhaps I can take the train with a magnificent poet I’ve met, whose poems just were the words I never expected to read, but always hoped for. Something truly inspiring and comforting in it.
An expression as grand as possible, not only through words, but bending style and grammar, not attached to anything particular, just to nuance and precisely point to that meaning otherwise inexpressible. Yeah, that’s how it should be.
Not pretending to understand them, I sometimes might, and my fiery reading gives a comfort also for my own writing.
Let’s go.
