Pilgrimage to the sea - Kerala part 2

From our most excellent lunch in Trivandrum, we headed South into the state of Tamil Nadu - to experience the town of Kanyakumari, the southern-most tip of India, and the place where the three seas meet: The Bay of Bengal, the Arabian Sea, and the Indian Ocean.  Apparently you can actually see where they meet - the waters are slightly different colours.  I didn't find this out until afterward, so I neglected to look for it, but I could unquestionably feel the convergence.  The air in the city is charged, as if there is a storm coming in off the water. It's incredible.  It's also the one place in India where you can watch the sun rise and set from the same basic vantage point.

The late departure of our train meant that we arrived in the dark, but we wandered through the village anyway, and found a beautiful place in front of the temple to look out at the water.  I am continuously awed by the power of water - especially the ocean, and the energy there was immense.  I think I could have quite happily spent the night sleeping (or just being) on the beach.  I am certain that I could have spent a week or more there and never gotten tired of being in that energy.

We missed the sunset but we set our alarms and got up for the sunrise the next morning.  As most of you know, that's a real sign of devotion for me to get up that early (and two days in a row, with jet lag!)  We walked down to the beach and down the very long pike of huge rocks, and planted ourselves near the tip to watch the sun come up.  When we looked back toward shore we could see the hundreds of people that had come down to various places along the shore, in front of the temple . . . anywhere they could get a water-front view, to watch the sun rise.  Just by coming, and watching the sunrise, we had joined a sacred ritual of pilgrimage. 

It's interesting to me to reflect on that experience and recognize it as pilgrimage - because certainly that wasn't the conscious intent that either of us had going in.  I can't say what my friend's experience was, but I know that the word fits for me.  I have always been drawn to the water, and I consistently return to it for healing, for reflection, for rejuvenation.  After my first difficult month in India, and my race home for the holidays, I recognize that I was called to this powerful convergence of great waters to connect back into source before re-embarking on my journey, both personal and professional, in India for the coming months. 


We continued that pilgrimage from the pike, along the shore, over to the temple . . . where we followed a 'guide' through, offering prayers, getting anointed with oils and ashes, and then ultimately down to the beach behind the temple where we joined the many bathers - dipping themselves in the sacred ocean.  Fully clothed, of course, because we were female.  Had we been men, we could have gone in our underwear - but as women, everything must stay covered . . . . so we did.  I am eternally grateful to Sabrina who led the way, as we were both watching the bathers with envy and it was she that announced that she could no longer just watch, she had to go in.  I was wearing completely impractical clothes for the experience and decided to just dip my toes in ... but the call of the water was stronger than the hold of practicality.  The day was hot, and it was an experience not to be missed. 

Afterward we both dripped our way back to the hotel for breakfast and put our clothes in a bag for our train ride North. 

PS: my pants took 2 days to dry....and it was totally worth it!

A Sacred Tuk Tuk ride

I caught a ride today in a tuk tuk (auto-rickshaw) with the music blaring - it was the most beautiful chanting and I couldn't help but smile and hope he didn't turn it down, on account of the white girl in back.  As he caught my smile in the mirror, he explained, "Sai Baba".   I haven't studied the gurus, and I can't tell you what the philosophy is of this one, but I do recognize the name.  He's well known, with a large, devoted, following and many temples. 

As we drove along, both of us tapping to the music, the driver occasionally head-bobbling in time, I found myself getting choked-up, my heart overflowing with this sense of humble devotion, amidst the chaos of traffic.  While I can't, from that brief encounter, assume to really know anything about the man that was taking me home from the market, it was clear by the pride on his face as he announced "Sai Baba" that his guru is important to him, the music is deeply moving, and sharing it is a blessing and an honour. 

Can you imagine, in Canada, listening to Christian hymns in the back of your taxi cab?  It would be completely out-of-place . . . and in our culture, perhaps even inappropriate.  But here in India the sacred and the profane go hand in hand, un-apologetically, unabashedly. 

My sense of this driver, as he navigated impossible turns and traffic snarls, was of someone content and grounded.  (But what do I know?)  And he's not the only one I've had that sense with. This is a huge, chaotic, unruly, stinky, CRAZY city . . . that I see through the eyes of a Canadian white girl.  But sometimes, like today, I am privileged to see it, just a little, through someone else's heart. I catch glimpses of what life might be like for someone who just lives and works here, for whom this is truly home. 

And I am reminded that comparisons truly have no place here.  That what I know about how life works, from my home in Canada, has very little value here.  That the only way to be here is to BE HERE. 

Blessed be.

Mayan Wedding on the Sacred Hill

Early into my stay in San Marcos, I had the privilege of attending a Mayan ritual up on a sacred hill over looking the lake.  I don´t remember anymore how I found out about it, but I was told it would be a ritual to heal the lake and that it was open, so my friend (and fellow Cortesian) Barbara and I wandered up. 

It was definitely an interesting day.  The Sacred spot is up a steep hill, behind a hostel called Xamanek (pronounced Shamanek).  The climb to Xamenek alone is a good one . . . challenging enough for one as not-so-fleet footed as me . . . the hill beyond was work.  When Barbara and I wandered up, we didn´t really know where we were aiming for . .. we just knew it was up the hill somewhere.  When we got up to the hostel there was no sign of any ceremony and no people around . . . and the one woman working at the hostel was less than forthcoming or helpful  (I think she was having a rough day).  Stymied, we hung around for a little while . .. explored a little around the hostel and then decided to head back down, surrendering that we weren´t meant to go.

So we got about a third of the way back down the hill when we had to move aside for three men carrying a marimba up the hill.  Yes - a full size marimba up a steep foot path, I kid you not.  The marimba was preceded by a man I instinctively knew was the Mayan Shaman . . . .not certain how I knew, but I did.  Barbara and I stared at each other for a moment, contemplated the climb back up and decided that if they could schlep the marimba, we could manage to follow them.  It was shortly thereafter we discovered the even steeper (mountain goat) path behind the hostel, making us wonder aloud several times how these men could climb it with a marimba . . . and yet they did.

The ceremony was slated to start at 10 . .. it was about 20 after when the set up really began.  It started with creating the fire pit.  The circle of rocks are a permanent fixture on the hill.  What they dress it with for the sacred fire is astounding.  The Shaman started by drawing a + in the circle, with white sugar, making it into a mandala.  Then each of the corners was filled in with little circle things made, I think, from peat.  These were followed by groups of taper candles, honey, . . . and so many other things, I´m sorry I can´t recall.  What was most astonishing for me was the incredible number of candles that went in.  While some were put in standing up so that their wicks could be lit in the normal way, there were also just clumps of small and large tapers positioned into the fire pit.

Once the fire was started, it built into quite a blaze . . . often billowing black smoke as the paraffin candles were consumed, whole, by the flames.  I´ve never seen anything quite like it.


As it turned out, although it had been originally slated to be a ceremony for the lake, a couple´s yearning to be married by a Mayan Shaman had taken precedence and so we had the privilege of witnessing that. The ceremony went for well over 4 hours . . . although Barbara and I left after about 3 or so.  We hadn´t prepared sufficiently for the conditions - intense sun, intense heat . . . . sitting / standing for that long.  We just didn´t know. 

What we saw was beautiful and intense.  Much of it was translated into English, though with the marimba playing behind me I had trouble hearing much of it.  Prayers, invocations and gratitude spoken by the Shaman or one of the other circle leaders (not sure - assistants, other shamans . . . . apprentices???) alternated with ceremonial tossing of things into the fire.  Corn, rice, more candles . . . etc.  Generally whatever was being offered to the flame was passed around first to all of us so that we could put our own blessings / intentions into the items and then everyone had a turn offering their items to the fire. 

Again, while I missed much of the verbiage, there were a few things that stood out for me.  One was that the Shaman explained that before they had even been allowed to come up to the hill to be married in the ceremony, the Shaman had spent an entire day with the couple grilling them on their hopes, dreams, expectations and commitments for this marriage. During the ceremony itself they were also asked WHY they had opted for a Mayan ceremony - what it meant to them - and what their commitment was to this marriage, this process . . .etc.  They were then expected to answer in front of the circle of witnesses.  These were not rhetorical questions. 

The other thing that stood out for me was the level of devotion, passion, spirit that was brought to the ritual by those participating / facilitating.  I didn´t need to hear or understand the words being spoken to feel the love, the reverence, the beauty of what was being created and celebrated. I couldn´t hear the words of commitment spoken by the couple, but I could see it in their faces and feel it from their hearts.  Truly it was beautiful.

When Barbara and I decided to leave, I found I felt really ok to go.  While it would have been lovely to witness the remainder of the ceremony, I felt like I had been gifted already with all that I had experienced, and I knew that my body needed shade and lots more water.  It was truly a privilege to have witnessed as much as I had . . . and I trust there will be other ceremonies here if/when I am moved to attend again.  It´s that kind of sacred place here.