Page 20 of The Love Thief
CHAPTER THIRTEEN To Dip or Not to Dip?
When I left Deepak’s place, I headed down to the pathway along Ganga for a walk.
With a million little reflective crystals, sunlight lit up the river flowing past. I remembered what Sadhviji had suggested about giving my problems to Mother Ganga and letting her wash away my pain, but I really didn’t know how to do that.
I was thinking that maybe I should sit at the edge of the pathway and just let the water run over my feet when I suddenly heard a man calling my name. Shielding my eyes from the bright sun, I turned around and saw Kurt wildly waving, and then he broke into a trot to catch up with me.
“How auspicious to see you here, Holly,” he grinned as he gave me a big bear hug.
“Auspicious? Why is that?” I asked.
“Well, I was just thinking about you and hoping I would run into you at aarti later because I want to take you on a little field trip less than an hour from here where there is a special meditation spot, Vashistha’s Cave, and also a beach area near it where you can easily get into the Ganga.
I figured you would want to try out some of Sadhviji’s suggestions about letting Ganga heal you, and Ganga at this location is very calm and gentle.
What do you think? Do you want to come with me tomorrow? ” he asked, with a ton of enthusiasm.
My mother would call this unexpected invitation an act of grace or synchronicity.
For a moment, I reflected on my first encounter with Deepak.
Perhaps instead of expecting it, synchronicity happens just when you think it won’t.
A warm feeling rushed through me as I enthusiastically agreed to meet Kurt at the taxi stand near my hotel the next afternoon.
Kurt advised me to buy an inexpensive long-sleeved kurta to wear into the water and to bring a towel, so I wouldn’t return home wet and cold.
I ended up buying two kurtas to wear on top of each other so that I could graciously be prepared for this big adventure. I also picked up several extra pairs of socks to keep my feet warm during aarti, satsang, and all the other many events in places where I couldn’t wear shoes.
The next day Kurt and I found a brand-new, clean taxi and headed out on a stomach-churning curvy road.
The views of the river were breathtaking, and on this day, the color of its waters ranged from electric turquoise to a deep blue.
Kurt entertained me with myths about Sage Vashistha, whose cave we would soon be entering.
It’s believed that Vashistha was the human son of Lord Brahma and that after his children died, he tried to commit suicide in the Ganga, but the Goddess Ganga threw him out.
Legend has it that his grateful wife fell in love with this particular location, and so they moved to spend the rest of their lives by the river and the cave.
The old Sage spent many years meditating in the cave.
Now the public is invited to sit in complete darkness and complete silence and meditate in this ancient, special place that vibrates at a very high frequency.
Kurt remembered that I was not a meditator and explained that if at any time I became uncomfortable or bored, I could quietly leave and wait for him down by the river.
When we arrived at the entrance to the cave, I told Kurt that I was going to walk behind him and hold on to his waist. If there is a word for darker than black, that is what we walked into initially, but once we got into the main part of the cave, it was slightly illuminated by a single candle, and I could make out the outlines of a few other people, most sitting in the lotus position.
Fortunately, this time I brought my towel with me to sit on and made myself as comfortable as possible.
I then closed my eyes, wondering what to do next.
I decided to focus on my breathing for ten breaths.
Then I would know if I wanted to stay longer.
I took a deep breath in counting to four, held it for four, and exhaled for four.
I had done this once in a yoga class Mom had dragged me to.
As I exhaled on the tenth breath, I decided to sit just a little while longer.
I figured a few thousand years of meditation vibration couldn’t hurt me and knowing that Kurt was right next to me was comforting.
I decided to try to align my breath with his, since I could clearly hear when he exhaled and did that for a little while until it seemed as if I was in a place of relative peace and barely having any thoughts.
Eventually, I felt Kurt nudge me as he took my hand to help me up, and we left the cave. I was surprised when he looked at his watch and then announced that we had been in the cave for nearly forty-five minutes. Hmm , I thought, maybe I could be a meditator after all.
We walked down the rock-strewn beach, and as we prepared to enter Ganga, I was happy to see we were the only ones there.
Kurt pointed down the shore, indicating a spot for me to go into the water. “The Ganga is calmer near the caves, so it’s a good place to commune with the water,” he said as he pointed to the river. “You’ll be safe. Let Ma Ganga take care of the rest.”
The thought of letting Mother Nature take over made my eyes widen, but Kurt seemed so trusting. I wanted to feel that trust, too.
The sun was already blazing, and I could feel my scalp begin to pucker under the heat.
There was no breeze, but I knew the river came from a melted glacier high in the Himalayas, and I wasn’t sure if I would be able to handle the cold water.
I shimmied out of my yoga pants and took off my top kurta, and then tested the water with my right foot and was surprised that it wasn’t as cold as I’d expected.
Kurt, already seated in the river, appeared to be meditating again.
I decided to find a place to sit in the water away from him and figure out how to give my problems to Ganga.
I walked a little way down the beach to the spot Kurt had pointed out, found a shallow area with a sandy bottom, slowly eased into the water, and sat.
It was a great choice because the water was mostly still, and I was only wet from the waist down.
Once I was sitting comfortably, I closed my eyes and raised my face to the sun, and made up a simple prayer of gratitude.
“Dear Ma Ganga, thank you for the beauty of this place. Thank you for being willing to wash away my pain and sorrow. Thank you for the healing of my heart, the healing of my spirit, and the healing of my physical body. Thank you to Mom and Auntie Geeta for supporting me in this journey, thank you for bringing Deepak, Divya, Sadhviji, Swamiji, and Kurt into my life to guide me toward wholeness and healing. Oh, and one more thing, I am willing to let go of my suffering.”
Sitting in the cool, clear, calm water, I couldn’t think of anything else to do or say, so I just sat, hoping that Ganga really did possess curative healing powers.
I wondered when and how I would “know” that Ganga had healed me.
After a short time, I heard the crunch of sandals nearby.
“Are you up for another adventure?” Kurt’s voice lifted me out of my prayer.
When I opened my eyes, I saw him winking at me.
“I would like to take you to the Beatles’ ashram.
” And with that, he offered me his hand as I rose to stand before him.
Our taxi driver was patiently waiting for us, parked underneath a large fig tree.
As we headed to the ashram in Rishikesh, the driver turned up the radio for us.
Repeating the words, “Beatles! Beatles!” as he wildly flailed his non-driving hand in a wave-like motion, I finally realized he wanted to make us aware of the song playing.
It was my all-time favorite Beatles tune, “Blackbird,” which I used to listen to while playing with my dollhouse.
I had never really understood the lyrics, but I knew every word.
As if on cue, Kurt, the driver, and I sang along, doing our best to stay in tune.
The music helped distract me from the man’s erratic driving style.
Our trip to the cave had taught me that not all roads were paved in India.
A cow lazily crossed the lane about a hundred yards ahead.
“Holly, did you know that this beautiful song was written right here in Rishikesh?” Kurt asked, holding on to the back of the driver’s seat as the car swerved to the middle of the dusty road to miss both the cow and a nearby pothole.
His head nearly hit the roof during the maneuver, but he seemed unfazed.
I turned my attention to Kurt as much as to distract myself as to learn about the song’s history.
“That’s so random. How do you even know that?” I asked with more than a bit of skepticism. My hands gripped the side door handle for good measure.
“You are too young to remember, but in 1968, when the Beatles were at the height of their global popularity, George Harrison began practicing Transcendental Meditation. He convinced John Lennon, Paul McCartney, and Ringo Starr to join him at the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi’s ashram.
They had recently decided to give up drugs and were actively seeking a spiritual replacement.
It was George who was really looking for the meaning of life.
I guess you could say their souls were looking for something more,” Kurt explained with a knowing look in his eyes as he took a deep breath.
“My mom still has several Beatles albums from her teenage days. Do you think meditating helped them write ‘Blackbird’?” I asked, curious to discover if there is a connection between creativity and meditation.
An ox pulling a cart of firewood skulked steadily in our direction.
The driver veered deftly out of its path in time for a tuk-tuk to pass us, blowing gas fumes into our open windows.
I exhaled heartily to expel the carbon monoxide that was filling the car’s interior.
“The Beatles wrote most of The White Album during their ashram days. They even used a tiger shooting as inspiration for the song ‘The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill,’” Kurt said before launching into a few of its verses to jog my memory.
Our driver slammed on the brakes as another ox cart piled with eight-foot-high cotton bags towering precariously behind the driver holding the reins merged in front of us.
“You seem to be quite the Beatles expert, Kurt.” I smiled, trying not to reveal the mounting terror rising from my chest. “Perhaps you can get a side gig as a Rishikesh tour guide,” I teased while eyeing the cart before us.
I wondered how the ox cart driver remained so calm despite the load he was carrying. Maybe he meditates, too , I mused.
“Kurt, does meditating make you happy?” I asked.
“You know, Holly, I would say it does. I have discovered something better than happiness. There is a place inside of our soul that seeks inner joy, a place that in Sanskrit is called santosha , which means “utter contentment.” This is a state where I can be at peace regardless of the things that make me happy or unhappy. For me, I reach santosha by meditating, but it isn’t the only way to get there. It’s just what works for me.”
A good dose of utter contentment sounded like something I could use at that moment.
The chaotic drive was everything but relaxing, yet somehow Kurt remained balanced and trusting throughout the entire process.
Could I have that, too? Santosha seemed just the thing, but I had no idea how to get there.
As we bounced our way back to Rishikesh, I wondered if the day would ever come when I could feel that sense of peace again.