Travel time

 Sipping on the last bit of my special Pu-erh tea, my beloved husband sent me to India with. There is no more good tea. It must be time to leave. It is getting hot again after a short 2+ months of perfect weather winter. When I first got here, it was so hot and sticky; I could fill a pool with my sweat. I would break in sweat just chewing my food! And looked like I stepped out of a pond after my dance practice. Now, humidity and temperature are rising, and I dream of the ocean. I'm leaving Orissa in a week. Dance practice used to be the highlight of my days here, now it is skyping with my daughter and my husband. I'm grateful for all the treasures Orissa had to offer me, and still enjoy riding the ecstatic waves of music with dance, but ready for a break, and for intimate time with my dance, internalizing all of what I learned. 

I have loads of writings inspired by the Vipassana meditation retreat I took in Bodh Gaya, but first I want to share my recent Konark-Puri trip while it's still fresh in my mind. 

I took off dreading a bit the bus experience I was about to embark on, but I started off lucky. The bus, that has no time table or consistency, arrived a second after I did, and I ran and pushed, and won a precious sit. Half the people on the bus stands, climb the windows, or hang out on the roof, so a sit is luxury. My knees smashed and banged against the bench in front of me. Body parts, with not-so-good-odor, pushing against me, forcing me to push (gently) back, so I can maintain a decent sitting posture. Loud noises, honking, banging, shouting, but I'm happy. I enjoy checking out the old ladies, their exotic sarees and ornate delicate jewelry. As for the man; there are the fashionable, clean shaved 'cool' looking guys, there are the scruffy, too much oil in the hair, mismatched dressed guys, there are the old, dhoti wearing, red-pan-stained-teeth looking guys, and they all gaze at me with intense dark eyes. For a while, I suspected they take turn standing next to me, pushing their hips against my body...but they are so discrete, it is hard to tell. The man sitting next to me (the fashionable clean type, lucky me!), offered to pay my bus fare. I pretended to not understand, and rushed to pay before he had a chance to. It is not polite to refuse. Then he offered an India style candy - a packet of fennel, coconut and spices, I took it after he insisted. Then, he bought me a mango frooti drink. Of course, I had to accept. He did not talk to me at all the entire 2+ hours of squished together bus ride, but when I was pushed and yanked off the bus in Konark I politely said good-bye. He rejected my good bye, and instead accompanying me as we walked toward the magnificent Sun Temple. Then he talked, in Hindi, but I could understand. He wanted to spend the day with me, and invited me to attend his cousin's wedding that night....hmmm, I wonder if I were to accept, he would have proposed marriage by the end of the day? Anyways I brushed him off elegantly (I have experience:), and hurried to meet my Odissi friends at the Fancy tourist Bungalows. We took a trip into the Orissa back-country to visit an old, obscure and well kept, amazingly ornate Varahi Temple. 

 Varahi is the boar head Goddess. She is dark, and wears black garments and jewelry. She is a tantric Goddess and one of the aspects of the mother. She protects and grants wishes. In her temple I broke my camera. This is after I lost my phone in Gaya. It really is time to leave. 

That night, after an incredible evening of Music and dance in Konark, I found a ride with a lovely French couple to Puri, and all in perfect divine harmony, they stayed at my favorite Puri hotel, and there was one more room left for me. I got up early, greeted the magnificent ocean, and dived in for a long blissful swim. The Puri beach can be somewhat of a nuisance if you lay around. Everybody under the sun might bother you; the beggars, the eager vendors, the shy school students, the laud large families. But in the ocean it is quite and spacious. Indian people do not swim, at least not in the ocean. They only enter as far as knee deep. After my swim, followed the scrumptious breakfast at the famous German bakery, when again, in perfect divine order, I ran into an Odissi dancer I've been trying to meet up with for weeks. I also met an American lady I now refer to as the 'Saree Queen'. She has a fantastic SariSafari web site, where she sells her incredible collection of hand loom sarees she hand picks across India. She is truly passionate about fabric, and it was fascinating to learn from her more about the history and culture of sarees.

In Puri, I went for a long long walk on the beach all the way from the Fisherman village in the north, where the Hippie tourists hang out, to the south end of town at the entrance to the old city, where the Indian tourist flock the beach in their thousands. Then, I meandered through the picturesque old city narrow streets, where I would have taken many photos, should I still have had my camera. There is the wild Kali Temple, and the gnarled old Saddus that look like they are thousands of years old like the equally gnarled banyan and Bodhi trees. And there is the hustle and bustle of life that looks like form a different century. At the end of my walk I washed at the Jaganath bathing complex, and got stung by a bee in the center of my palm. I felt like the bee stung was auspicious, blessings me with an easy journey back to BBSR. 

I'm now busy with last days shopping, packing, and finalizing my affairs and connections here in Orissa. Letting myself sip in, along with my tea, the beauty of this place, the preciousness of this incredible rich culture.  

As I'm preparing myself to travel mode, a few useful language tips for the you who plan a trip to India: English is widely spoken which makes India an easy place to get by. Yet, especially if English is your first language, you may be surprised to find it a bit difficult at first to communicate. As one of my Rickshaw drivers said: "Madam, I speak English fully, but only Indian English". This sums it up. I would highly encourage anybody traveling in India to pick up some words of the local languages. It helps a lot in crossing the tourist veil and having a window into the local culture. A few typical phrases you likely to be addressed with are: 'You are one person or two?' (Means are you here as a couple or travel alone) 'You, coming from place?', 'Madam, your good name?' 'Problem? No problem'. In Orissa they tend to repeat words, especially verbs, twice. A classic is 'Adjust, adjust'. This is a big one since you always have to adjust! Another popular one is 'Thank you, Thank you'. They like to add ee sound to words such as Fatti, frooti, silki. Additional distinctive feature of traveling in India, particularly if you choose to spend time away from touristic spots is the 'super-star' phenomena. If being famous is one of your secret wishes, I highly recommend visiting India first; have a taste of what it is like being in the spotlight. As a foreigner, you likely to attract an all lot of attention in the more rural, non-touristic areas. Some of those back-country little towns and villages folks never met a 'white' or non-Indian person in real life, and if you appear in these places, the all village will surround you with excitement and examine your every move. You are the most thrilling occurrence they had for years! And the concept of privacy is non-existent. Personal space neither. (Be aware and prepared!).

The other day I went to the book fair here in BBSR, and as I walked out of the fair grounds, a young women of college age ran toward me, trembling with excitement, asking if she can speak to me. As we talked, she became increasingly more emotional and teary. She was from a small town a couple hours drive a way, and she revealed to me she prayed to God that morning that she will be able to speak to a foreigner on her trip to the big city. Oh, how sweet and innocent she was. I felt all of a sudden obligated to stand for the occasion, and make this experience truly special for her. In a way, being a foreigner, you are always noticed, and it requires a certain behavior of benevolence.

The whistle guy, weaves of India, and the fabric of life.

I wonder if Indian boys dream of being a 'whistle man' one day when they grow up. In the same way American boys may dream of becoming a fire man. And I think Israelis, of being a soldier. (And of course, in that case, they all get to be one:).

The whistle man is a guy that emerges at night in the alleyways of wealthy and semi wealthy neighborhoods blowing his whistle constantly all night long, when it is finally perfectly peaceful and the chaos of the day has subsided for once. They look something between a policeman, a soldier and a bodyguard, but a little scruffy and less glamorous. They are full of importance and utmost diligence for their job.
According to Indian logic, having someone make noise all night long will scare the thieves away. It makes the citizens feel safe and cared for.  According to my logic, if a thief has half a brain, they can assess how far away the whistle is, and strategically plan their plot. But of course, the thieves are Indian too; so they follow the Indian logic, not mine. And no body seems to be bothered by the piercing noise of the whistle but me. Although, I have to admit, I've gotten used to it by now, and most of the nights sleep soundly through it. I try to also take advantage of the sacred nap time. Another window of relative quietude, when even the mosquito seems to rest.

I've definitely fallen of the blogging wagon back in December. It's not that I lack things to write about. On the contrary, perhaps overwhelmed with subjects and ideas, that I just let it go all together. My time and energy has been consumed by my dance training and the fullness of life, and then felt the yearning to spend more of my precious 'off' time in silence and meditation. I've been dancing day and night, watching lots and lots of dance in many spectacular festivals, and occasionally go on shopping excursions on my days off. These are time consuming and rather fascinating and exhausting affairs. There is so much to look through!!! It is heaven for fabric lovers. The abundance of brilliant weave patterns, colors and qualities is endless. Hand-loom weaving of silk, cotton and wool in a large variety of styles and qualities is still alive and abundant. Every region has its own, often centuries old, specialties and designs, and the products are stunning. There are many selections of natural dyes and natural fibers, and also "Madam, this is 100% chimical, nothing natural, (with a proud smile)". I love colors and fabrics, and I can spend hours examining, touching, admiring...what a delight! Thank goodness shopping unconsciously is not one of my weak spots, otherwise, I might have had to start a saree business with all the sarees I would acquire. However, I do intend to bring a small selection of shawls and scarves as gifts and goods to sell, (and yes, a few sarees too..) just because I can see all of my friends and students enjoying this exquisite fabrics, and also feel moved to support these businesses. Hand-loom weaving is a dying art. The cost of raw materials and the time it takes to produce these items makes it not 'productive' and not competitive in this industrial, digital, high-tech world of ours. This primal link of connection between humans and the earth is disappearing...most kids and even adults in our present time world have never worn a piece of hand made cloth, or naturally dyed fabric in their life! In India, the government (so far...) still support and sponsors hand loom weavers in a large scale. The citizens do too. Hand loom fabrics are common items in everybody's closets. All middle class women are proud of their hand loom collection of sarees. And it is tradition to wear those in all festivities, rituals and ceremonial occasions, as well as in daily life. There are large and successful hand-loom weavers companies and corporations. In Odissi dance classes, it is expected to wear traditional hand-loom Orissi sarees and fabrics. In performance it is compulsory. Traditional fabric designs are integral part of Indian culture and art, and the weave of fabrics is deeply woven in to the fabric of life.

Along with the dance and the spiritual heritage of India, the fabrics are another captivating aspect for me of this rich and diverse culture.

I have many more of my life experiences and insights that I wish to share in this blog, and I hope to continue to do so frequently in the near future. Tomorrow, I'm taking the long journey by train to Bodh Gaya, the enlightenment place of Guatama Sidharta (The Buddha), for a 10 day insight meditation retreat. I'm very ripe for this time of deep silence and reflection, strengthening my mindfulness. I take refuge in the Buddha.
I'll be away for two weeks and will report soon after my return.

love, peace and blessings to all.

The Dance of Beauty

A friend of mine who study Odissi dance as well, approached me some days ago saying: "You know, if I had do describe Odissi in one word, I would say 'Beautiful'!" At first it sounds too simple of a description; all this grace, power, complexity of foot work, harmonious movement, emotional expressions, deep meanings... - but in fact, after I gave it a little thought, I'm completely in agreement. BEAUTY is one of those few quintessential words I use for describing Life's essence. Much like LOVE. BEAUTY is the culmination of grace, fluidity, power and Harmony. Beauty is integral of life and is inherently 'feminine' energetically. I've noticed that I often trigger somebody when I dare to say "Beauty is our power as Women". I think most women don't view themselves as beautiful 'enough', try to avoid being classified as 'beautiful' in favor of 'smart' or intellectual, or they hide or unaware of their efforts to constantly beautifying themselves and seek beauty. Whether is by buying (and loving it!) new clothes, jewelry, purses, shoes, nail polish...having a new hair cut, pampering in any way, exercising, enjoying beautiful flowers, food, fabrics... all of these and more are actions motivated by the yearning of embodying beauty. I dare to say that Women, who do not care to look beautiful and attractive in one way or another, are disconnected from their feminine essence. Beauty is at the core of who we are. We are beautiful, and living in harmony is our natural gravitation.

Beauty is often simplified to mean external and subjective kind of beauty. In one hand it is often seen as inferior to 'intellect' or wisdom, and on the other hand it's exploited and overly pursued in a superficial way that can never fulfill oneself. Perhaps because 'beauty' is fundamentally at the core of life pursuit, it has been overly used, and lost it's brilliance as a description word. It has been reduced to most commonly mean 'Physical Beauty' or often interchangeable as 'sexy', and the kind that is in fashion and socially agreed upon.

Here in India, one of the key words people use to denote beautiful is 'Smart'. You know, well dressed, well groomed, elegant etc. It took me forever to understand what it means. I was very confused the first few times my Odissi teachers would tell me to 'look smart'. How the heck is I suppose to look smart when I'm dancing? And why is it so important that I'm smart or looking like one? Well, I soon realize it means beautiful, in an elegant way. Looking smart while dancing means doing your dance fully and neatly, with elegance and vigor. It means giving it all you can.

 Since English is my second language, I tend to look at it with fresh eyes, and I find it interesting that smart means both intelligent and beautiful...so perhaps these two are not in opposition to each other but one and the same?
Perhaps if I had to describe Odissi in one word, I would use 'Smart'...

Emotional Reality / Compassion

Since I'm a recent blogger, as in every new-found love, I'm still discovering my 'inner blogger' and the nature of this recent relationship; my rhythm and content, my patterns, my readers etc. I'm by no means a seasoned blog reader neither, so I just have to free style it. Although I have the notion I should write about my daily experiences, I find it boring to regurgitate the occurrences of my day...and in fact my inner experiences often have only slight logical resemblance to what actually happens in 'reality'. In short, I'm a dreamer, and I tend to live in my own creation of a 'reality' like I assume we all do. Mine, has a high emotional notes, and my feelings often take charge and carry me into distant lands of inner experiences...
However, I'm intrigued with this new relationship I have with you, the reader. I'm wondering what my blog readers are interested in: Odissi Dance? Yoga? India? My life? If you feel inspired to share the interests that are prompting you to keep reading, please do. Thus it can become more complete, rather then me talking my mind to no one. As I mentioned in an earlier post, one of the breakthroughs I recently had is using writing as means of communication, and so I would love to include listening as well.

The other day I had a surge of compassion take over me. A chain of occurrences stripped me down of the usual armor of aloofness I wear as I'm readying myself to face the world. The suffering I saw all around besieged me. The harshness of life, the difficulty everybody are facing as they try to make it through yet another day. It hit me straight in the heart and overwhelmed me with love and compassion to all. Whatever lot of suffering I normally carry around vanished. There was no room for it. My heart was filled with gratitude, love, and compassion to all beings.

Don't get me wrong; it is not like India is such a miserable place. I could just as well write about all the uncontrollable ecstasy and contentment in the midst of poverty. The suffering here is probably no less in measure then in the US, or any other place, but here, like everything else, it is available to see, feel and touch. The street dogs are suffering, the hard-labor poor ladies in colorful saris are suffering, the fruit vendors are suffering, and the businessman who are buying these fruit are suffering too.

Well, after a couple days of my shifted consciousness, for lack of a better way to explain it, I started to look deeper into negative emotions, and the choices we can make to navigate our emotional experience. I saw that jealousy inhabit the cracks lack of confidence and trust leave. Hatred inhibits lack of love, sadness lack of joy etc. And once an emotional pattern takes a residence in our heart and mind, even in the slightest way, it builds a momentum and over time becomes a pattern. These uncontrollable and unconscious patterns consume our life force, and take us 'down'. We all have this little 'cracks' unless we are fully enlightened. But we have a choice. And the first step is self-honesty and self-awareness.

When we find ourselves jealous, for example, we can shift to examine our sense of self-confidence, and the foundation of honesty in our relationships. We can develop and strengthen our inner confidence, study ourselves, meet our power, and live our truth; carry our Dharma. We often fear our own integrity or lack of it more then others. Shifting our focus inwards, relaying on our inner resources and knowledge give us the courage to shine our light, live our passion, and make choices for the betterment and well-being of all beings.

'The Sound of Noise'

 Life here is filled with sounds: from inspirational divine music to intense racket and everything in between. The sounds come in waves, and much like being in the ocean, there is nothing one can do to avoid them. Thus... at the times I wake up in the middle of the night form the whistling guard that patrol the neighborhood streets with his whistle all night long, or when I abruptly awaken at 3:30 pm from my afternoon nap by the loud auto rickshaws honking and clunking, I start wondering about the nature of sound, and the difference between the sensual pleasure of harmonious sound - music & natural rhythms verses the erratic & disturbing sounds we call 'noise'. I think it is a fine line.  A beautiful music can be pleasing when we are in the mood for it, and when played at a decent quality speakers, but complete nuisance when it is too loud, repeatedly played, blasted out of poor quality speakers, or in the middle of the night...when I want to sleep! Those of you who have been to India, I'm sure can relate:)

I think I have high tolerance to sounds. I used to fall a sleep like a clock around 9pm most of my life, no matter what. I remember falling a sleep while walking with my mom to the children house after the 9pm news, as a child at the kibbutz. I also remember sleeping through a demo terrorist attack the Israeli Special Forces unexpectedly inflict my parents' house one weekend, when I was sleeping at their home. I finally woke up to the repeatedly loudspeaker orders that woke up the all neighborhood, confused why we are being tied up to chairs, while my mom is offering them coffee. I even remember falling a sleep at rock concerts a couple times as a teenager.  I'm a bit more sensitive to sounds now, but I tend to find the harmony in them. I think the intention behind producing a sound makes a difference too. As long as a sound is produced as a natural expression, joining the harmonious play of life, or in an attempt to tap into nature harmony, it is pleasant. A child learning musical instrument with passion and intent, seeking rhythm and melody is enjoyable, while careless banging around can torment the ear. Any expression of creative pursuit is generally pleasing and welcomed, while the sound of destruction, in-justice, carelessness, and ignorance is experienced as noise and is hurtful.
Anyways, I keep tuning in to the multiple lines of sound produced in my surrounding, mostly of the creative kind:) yet, wishing to expand the intervals of precious silence, missing the soothing calmness, the gentle sounds of nature at my home in AZ.

Bhubaneswar

 My days are filled with stories to share. If you are a writer, a photographer, or any artist for that matter, and you ever find your creative juice well is drying out, go to India! Even the most mundane encounters are so incredibly fantastic and colorful. As I adjust to living in this vibrant and rich culture, I find myself constantly challenged to develop new neuron-connections in my brain to fathom it all. I certainly find no lack of stimuli for laughter, madness, compassion, despair - the list goes on. Venturing out in the world with any number of errands to run turns into an ad-venture. I could write a all book, for instance, only on my encounters with the cow-beings. (they sort of have a status of senior citizens, and they move like one too; very slowly an carefully).

Today I received an Ayurvedic massage. You would never guess how many masseuses I had attending me...Four!! Ladies of course. They are very careful here to not mix genders in such delicate situations. At first I thought it will be too much, (which is a theme I constantly find myself 'ADJUSTING' to. Most everything is 'TOO MUCH'). They were surprisingly coordinated with each other though, working in perfect unison like a boat rowing crew. WOW. It was incredible. I didn't think anyone will believe me...so here are the photos of my lovely crew and the traditional wood massage table. It only cost me $18 by the way...which is more then you usually pay. I think standard massage is between $5-$10.

I've been here for two months now, and most of my time is dedicated to Odissi dance study, and I occasionally perform. I take classes morning and evening most days. It's often seems like I spend the time in between to recuperate and prepare for my next class.

Now, when the weather is ideal, it is when many Odissi dancers flock into town from all over the world to recharge with Odissi inspiration. Taking intensive courses, visiting the numerous Ancient Temples which inspire Odissi, and taking part in the many Dance festivals that crowd the city halls through out winter. I live in a house with several such Odissi wander girls from Europe and Japan, and enjoy sharing our common passion and interests.

Most of the time I can't believe how fortunate I'm to be able to spend this winter dedicating myself fully to Odissi dance in the place of its origin. Having a break from family and work responsibilities. Having this 'freedom-window' in the middle of life is such a blessing and I'm deeply grateful. Yet, sometimes I forget how special it is. I get caught up in the day to day tedious activities. After all I still need to make my food, wash my clothes
(by hand, no washing machine...) and deal with my various inner conflicts.

At first glance, Bhubaneswar seems like any other city in India; busy, noisy and dirty...yet Bhubaneswar mean the abode of the Gods, and it is filled with such monuments that reflect divine beauty and profound peace. Whenever I get the chance, I ride my bicycle (or cycle) to one of this incredible ancient temples that are awe inspiring and are inviting one to rest in their graceful and peaceful grounds.

There are also several parks, meditation centers, and exquisite shops and restaurants that I frequently visit. I feel very lucky to be able to steep in this place that has Odissi culture embedded in every facet of it's existence.

I uploaded my Orissa photos as well as my London - Israel - Paris photos onto Picasa:

http://picasaweb.google.com/shaktibhakti/Orissa2009#

http://picasaweb.google.com/shaktibhakti/LondonParisIsrael2009#

Dhai and Papaya

One of the special little treats here in India is the local Dhai. Home made, whole-milk, live- culture yogurt. There is no fancy brand names and selection of flavors. Many families make their own at home, and you can find it at the local sweet shops. Every sweet shop sells Dhai and Paneer (white soft cheese blocks, the consistency of tofu, but much yummier). Small family owned shops are (so far...) the way it goes here. There are very few chain shops in India, and most shopping of any kind happens in tiny shops that surprisingly have more in them then you can imagine. When I first arrived, I scanned my area for all sweet shops in sight, bought Dhai and Paneer from each, and selected my favorite one for continuous supply of this delicious creamy Yogurt. (I thought I'll have it with honey, but it is naturally so perfect in flavors of sweet-tangy-creamy mix that no honey is needed). It is stored in big clay containers, and you buy it by weight. You can bring your own container or they put it in plastic beg. (By the way, they put EVERYTHING in plastic begs here. In the small local restaurants, if you order your food to go, the soup will be placed in a plastic bag too!)
I use the Dhai for making Raita (let me know if you want the recipe:), and one of my favorites is Dhai with Papaya. The papayas are delicious too, however, I'm not sure how it happened, but the papayas lost their seeds ??? Does anyone knows what happened to the Papaya seeds? They use to always be packed with these black shiny-slimy bitter seeds that suppose to help stomach problems, and now most of them are empty in the middle...but still delicious.

I've been visiting in India since 1991, and despite the huge leaps of modernization I've seen here over the years, (In 1991, along with the fall of Communism, India opened its market to import, soon after .com discovered India or maybe India discovered .com and the rest is history), I'm thankful to the still intact natural way of sustainable markets in local neighborhoods. I'm also thankful for fresh Dhai and Paneer, and fresh Papayas picked today!

Sex in the city?

There seems to be never a dull moment here. The streets are buzzing with action. The myriad expressions of human's life is out in the open for everyone to view and contribute their part. Life is happening and crea(c)tivity is abound. Everywhere; In front of shops and home gates, in the Bastis, and in the wealthy neighborhoods. By the railway, and by the banks. There is no hiding, in fact there is explosion of expression; crying and shouting, love and devotion, disguise, hatred, sadness, madness...and then there is trash of all kinds, poop and pee, death, pain, you name it, everything that we, in the west, work so hard to hide behind closed doors, is available to fully experience. The only obvious missing shade out of the spectrum of natural humane expression, is SEX. Sexuality is a big NO; there is no hugging, no kissing, no sexy dressing, no talking in explicit sexual way, not even touching (with the opposite sex, there is a all lot of fondling between the man!:).  Occasionally, when a group of Hijras, the cast of transvestites will pass by, creating an air of sexual vulgarism, I noticed people cringe with discomfort. Sexual expression is the one single thing that get people way out of their solid 'shantiness'. Everybody are oblivious to any kind of sensual assaults and intensity but Sex. Sexuality is very hidden, like hot lava deep in the belly of the mountain. It's buried so far deep under years of British rule, and although England changed it's moral codes long ago, India just got buried deeper in sexual shame, and 'proper-ness'.
The movies, TV, and commercials, on the other hand, just get more daring and sexy, modern ideas and western lifestyle seep in, and the average marriage age rises...people live in large families in small dwellings with virtually no privacy, day and night - so you may imagine the result - one big sex pressure cooker! It is there, yet forbidden. Of course, sexuality does find its way; both in unconscious explosions of blant rudeness and weirdness, and as a natural expression in subtler ways then the eye catches. In quick gazes, in subtle movement, in the tone of voice, and in the Arts.

I remember long ago, I was once in Kerala, alone, in a tiny village surrounded by rice fields, coconut palms, rubber plantations, and ancient temples. There was only one person in the all village who spoke English. Only one road. I lived in that village for one month, sharing a small house with a newly wed couple. They were so poor, that my rent money of about $20 a month, was great supplement for their income. We cooked on open fire, drew water from the well for bathing and cooking, and stroll down to the local pond for laundry. I was taking dance classes in a school about 45 min walk from my village. The rest of the time, apart from long mornings of practicing my Sadhana, and reading over and over the same few Yoga books I carried with me, I went for long walks deep into the night. There, I discovered that as soon as night sets in, and it's pitch dark, at the temple grounds is where the men go to masturbate, and young couples may unite in secret. In that same village, I once climbed a magnificent banyan tree with a beard of suspended roots, to take a rest, and suddenly felt, for the first time since I arrived in India, sexual arousal. I got the hit that the trees may serve as another convenient location for such expression.

In Odissi dance, sensuality is dancing its way into the fluidity and grace of every move. It is permeating into every eye movement, neck slide, wrist turn, and torso bend. Fascinating how it can be so prevalent, so essential to the core of Odissi expression, and yet completely ignored in the realm of conscious communication.

I can't help it but compare between India and the West; In one, sexuality is completely denied and in the other, exploited. Finally, The results are similar, like the two sides of one coin, a huge tangle of unresolved emotions, frustration, sexual weirdness, and the deprivation of beauty, respect, and wholesomeness of our sexuality.

I find it intriguing to continue to look deeper into this phenomena, and start to understand the fine web of cultural and primal behavior, and the mystery of sexuality in such a place that was once a thriving center of Tantric practices, and is now so intensely afraid of the most primal of human expressions. Interesting enough is that the temples have been serving, once with reverence, and now under cover, as viable center for sexual expression in it's most pure, natural, and sacred way.

The Beggar Cow

Today I wished I was a beggar cow.
In India every neighborhood, whether it's the capital city or a small back-country village, has it's own local hangout area of the local stray cows. They are mostly male cows that get sent out of their birth homes, since Indian families are mostly interested in female cows for their milk. In any case, some of this very large male cows patrol the local food stoles in the center of their locality, and beg for food. When evening sets in, they slowly rise up in a relaxed content pace, with full confidence supported by the long history of their respected ancestors, they set off for dinner. Standing at the entrance to restaurants, with their undeniably large presence, their sheer size speaks their wish, and patiently await their share - a chapati, a piece of sweet, something small but rewarding. Once they receive their small offering, they politely leave and keep going to the next shop. This is how they spend dinner time. The rest of the afternoon they lay peacefully at the center divider, watching traffic go by.

Well, today after I made dinner; Dhal with tamarind and veggies, and Gobi with Kaju, I decided to run to the restaurant near by to fetch some tandoori rotis for my meal. I ordered my roti, and unlike the usual 2 minute wait, it was busier, and I waited awhile. This is when I viewed the beggar cow. I was impressed how quickly he got what he wanted. He was standing there for a short moment waiting his share. No one paid much attention at first, however, as soon as he decided it was time to be noticed, he had only to take two steps in the door and someone rushed out quickly with a hot roti, fresh out the tandoori, passed right by me, and the cow followed obediently. Needless to say, I was standing there, still waiting my turn, amazed at how gracefully and peacefully this large creature managed to get his needs met in such an overly populated, poverty stricken, humming and buzzing place as India.

I collect all of our food scraps in our house and go down to the street to offer these to the passerby cows. Sometimes the stray dogs join the meal. I noticed the cows always give the dogs first choice. They have such a calm way about them. I admire their peaceful, yet persistent, unwavering focus. They certainly have their way of getting what they want.
I only wish the men here will give such respectful care and careful attention to their women as they give their cows. Maybe they would if we grow two large horns?

The Journey Here

I'm a dancer and a Yogini. Writing was never something I put much value into, and I seldom used it as a channel of creative expression. I've been traveling the world, living in many foreign countries, where I often didn't understand the local tongues. Naturally, as an adaptation, I convinced myself that I didn't need much of a 'real language' to communicate with, and I gradually placed more value on communicating through movement. However, after making my home in the US for many years, living with English on a daily basis, establishing a vast web of connections, immersing myself in life, community, and general busy-ness, I noticed a natural emergence of passion for language and writing. I discovered in me a new fascination with English, as well as other languages.

I came across the blogging idea as I joined the Online Odissi group, and a blog was automatically assigned to my member profile. I heard about the blogging phenomenon for awhile, but frankly, never had much interest in all this writing business. However, once I was gifted with my very own blog, I was intrigued to discover the possibilities with it, and my fancy blog page was blank, and needed me to adorn it with 'text'. So I felt compelled to get my shiny new blog page ready to present to the world. I hurried to write my very first blog. That was back in March of 2008 (My blog page keep track of these details:). And since, I lost the momentum. Or maybe never started it. Always so involved with my Yoga center, my dancing, my spiritual practice, my family... - life as we all know it. Blogging was at the bottom of my 'To Do' list.

Now, after we sold our Yoga center, moved out of our home in AZ, said goodbye to family and friends and traveled East, and then some more East - to Europe, Israel, and India, and then settled in Orissa, I feel ready to use this medium to share with you all who are interested.

I'm spending this winter in Bhubaneswar, the capital of Orissa. It was once the ancient center of the Tantric Temple culture, and is now the vibrant center of Odissi Dance. 

 64 Yogini Temple

It's been over a month now that I'm here, and the process of setting into harmonious routine of dance, inner practice, and the joys and chores of daily life is taking its course. I'm so happy to have a long winter here, allowing me to really immerse myself in the Odissi culture and art, and drop deeper into the subtleties of this mysterious and magical dance.

I've been continuously deepening my understanding of Odissi, the core yogic alignment that lay in its foundation, and the energetic possibilities of expression that naturally unfold out of its spirally movement. I find tremendous wealth of knowledge bubbling out of my inner source as I continue to practice and dance. I receive precious inspiration from the ancient Temples around me, and valuable information from the community of dancers and researchers living and practicing here. Of course my teachers and dance community are a constant inspiration and support, and the audience who come to watch me when I perform are the most enthusiastic and appreciative crowed! I'm looking forward to this very special winter, rich and full with dance passion. And I look forward to sharing the little stories of my life here with you.

Namaste,

Revital