Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.
I was excited to depart Singapore this afternoon and head into KL for many reasons. First off, I couldn't wait to see the world's largest port and all the cargo ships in the Singapore harbor. What can I say? I'm a geek for the mechanics of the world. Secondly, crossing over from one country to another is like starting all over again. The excitement of the unknown and the anticipation of new sensory experiences parallels equal doses of fear, nervousness and anxiety. It is impossible to even slightly believe that I know what will happen.
Although KL and Singapore are a mere 40 minute plane ride from one another, I recognize that time has nothing to do with distance the moment I land - for this is a far different world then the one I just came from. Bahasa Malay is the main language and it shows. Very few of the important looking signs are written in English so when the plane lands I do what any smart, uncertain traveler does: I follow the crowd. After a healthy amount of walking on the tarmac we make it into the building and head to Immigration. It is a mass of people in 18 "lines" but there is no way of telling where one ends and the next begins. Thankful that there is no sense to be made of the situation, I tack myself onto the crowd and shuffle forward with the rest.
Eventually I make it through Immigration and somehow determine that to hail a taxi I have to prepay inside and then queue in the center stripe of multiple lanes of traffic. My taxi driver has never heard of my hotel, nor the street it is on, but he is as adventurous as I so we are off. He spends the first 30 minutes of the ride entering and re-entering the hotel and street names into his GPS, while dodging motorcycles, pointing out the streaks of Ferraris' and Lotus' flying by and talking with me about everything I need to eat while I'm here - we are instant friends.
We still haven't located the hotel on the GPS, but we know it is near Masjid Jamek, so we head in that direction and when we get close we just slow down, hold up traffic and stick our heads out the windows to look. I spot the name of the hotel way up on a nearby building but neither of us can determine how to get to it by taxi, so we call it good enough and I get out in the middle of a thriving outdoor market. I've got one eye on the hotel building I'm aiming for and every other sense engulfed in the cacophony of colors and sounds surrounding me. I walk one full circle through the market and around the building, but there doesn't appear to be any way in. The hotel is an island with the market its moat.
But there is always a way. So I look closer and start to see that every so often there are slim passages between the vendors and because this is Asia and personal space is a foreign idea, I walk right on through and arrive at the front door of my hotel. This is exciting and disappointing all at once. I found it and it seems way more 2nd rate then my little hostel in Sinagpore, but I'm not settling into any grand conclusions just yet.
To make a long story short: there has been a mistake with my booking, but I can still get a room, the safe deposit box and air conditioning don't seem to work and the room is dingy with an alley view. KL is a cheap city. It is noisy and dirty and dusty and crowded. But after settling in for a bit I notice the muezzin calling the Muslims to prayer (LOVE IT!) and I look out the window. In the darkening sky all I can clearly see are the sparkling Petrona Towers and the KL Tower shimmering in the near distance. The Mosque is right outside my window and I, a woman, a Western woman, can watch the men praying right from my bedroom window.
December 16, 2010
December 15, 2010
TV
Watching TV is not a past time of mine. It's not that I refuse it for any specific reason, just that I wasn't born with the inclination to turn a soapbox on, but I certainly am not immune to its pull. So when I headed down to the communal area of the hostel just now I came face to face with the uncontrollable suction of the television.
The worst part was that my fellow travelers were watching Eat, Pray, Love. The best part was that the English subtitles narrowly accompanied the English soundtrack. Things like "You barely touched your dinner" was translated into "They trust you" while "I'm not checking out" turned into "I just came out" and, my favorite, "My whole life fits into one box" became "Your life will be better then a box" Hilarious!
Suddenly, I can't for-the-life-of-me imagine what this movie must be about according to someone reading the subtitles. So rather then get sucked into my idea that Elizabeth Gilbert is encouraging American woman to give up their shitty little bourgeoise lives for happily-ever-after-Prince-Charmings, I sit back, relax, read the subtitles and enjoy Julia Roberts, Singapore-style.
The worst part was that my fellow travelers were watching Eat, Pray, Love. The best part was that the English subtitles narrowly accompanied the English soundtrack. Things like "You barely touched your dinner" was translated into "They trust you" while "I'm not checking out" turned into "I just came out" and, my favorite, "My whole life fits into one box" became "Your life will be better then a box" Hilarious!
Suddenly, I can't for-the-life-of-me imagine what this movie must be about according to someone reading the subtitles. So rather then get sucked into my idea that Elizabeth Gilbert is encouraging American woman to give up their shitty little bourgeoise lives for happily-ever-after-Prince-Charmings, I sit back, relax, read the subtitles and enjoy Julia Roberts, Singapore-style.
December 13, 2010
The Long Direction
Somewhere about Day 3 I was ready to venture further afoot. So I took myself down to the local subway station (MRT), purchased an E-Z Link Card and hopped a train or two towards the Konk Meng San Phor Kark See Monastery in Bishan. I have to admit that I wasn't really sure what to expect, but in true Singaporean order the subway system was incredibly easy to navigate. Maps everywhere, all things color-coded, including the queuing and exiting lines from the trains. So when I 'alighted' at Bishan station I thought I was doing pretty good.
Ha! Even with a map in hand it is somehow impossible for me to determine which way is which once I make it above ground. Landmarks don't help (I don't know them) and the street signs are just too far away to read. The only choice is to start walking and figure it out as I go. Normally this approach works just fine and after a false start or two I'm headed in the right direction, but Singapore adds another dimension to the problem entirely.
It's not just that I have no idea where I'm going, it's also that I have no idea how it works. All of the roads in Bishan are called Bishan something-or-other! There is Bishan 11 and Bishan 13 and Bishan 20, 21, 22, 23 and Bishan Road, of course, and they all crisscross and intersection because there is no such thing as a grid here. None. It's Asia. The streets are serpentine and all named the same exact thing, which means that I am never really walking in the wrong direction, even though I sometimes take the long direction to get where I need to go.
Ha! Even with a map in hand it is somehow impossible for me to determine which way is which once I make it above ground. Landmarks don't help (I don't know them) and the street signs are just too far away to read. The only choice is to start walking and figure it out as I go. Normally this approach works just fine and after a false start or two I'm headed in the right direction, but Singapore adds another dimension to the problem entirely.
It's not just that I have no idea where I'm going, it's also that I have no idea how it works. All of the roads in Bishan are called Bishan something-or-other! There is Bishan 11 and Bishan 13 and Bishan 20, 21, 22, 23 and Bishan Road, of course, and they all crisscross and intersection because there is no such thing as a grid here. None. It's Asia. The streets are serpentine and all named the same exact thing, which means that I am never really walking in the wrong direction, even though I sometimes take the long direction to get where I need to go.
December 10, 2010
Classical Asian Iyengar Experience
Last night I took my first yoga class in Singapore. On recommendation of David Bennett, I had the good fortune to visit Oasis Yoga where I was lead through a 2 hour Iyengar class, wall ropes and all, by Erika Khoo. In typical Iyengar fashion we began in supta virasana with 2 blocks, 2 blankets, 2 straps, a bolster and an eye pillow and when we are all perfectly set (which is a nearly 5 minutes into the pose) Erika says, "I'm going to wash my hair now, I'll be back in a bit."
For most of us supta virasana is a challenging posture when held for just 3 - 5 minutes, forget the 10 - 15 minutes you spend in it during an Iyengar class and when you add in the Asian sensibility of time, which is none, you might as well just surrender all control because you could be here all night.
I have to admit, it just the kind of thing that I love. I have always envied those who live in cultures guided by their own internal clocks. Though this lack of a coherent schedule can be maddening for many Westerners I love how it prevents me from having an agenda and gives me full permission to show up however I am - late, dirty, ugly, with 5 friends in tow, it doesn't matter. It's not personal. Likewise, the authoritative manner of an Iyengar teacher, completely devoid of options and spiritual metaphors, strips my wandering mind away from its compulsive need to do something, to make better. Instead of focusing on the details and tending to everyone else's needs, I feel safe and supported enough to experience that there is nothing that I can do and it does not matter one single bit.
According to the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, this practice of surrendering to the powers that extend far beyond oneself is a matter of aligning with Isvara Pranadanana. Isvara can be described as The Great Unknown, The Witness, The Seer, The Great Teacher or That Which Exists Beyond All Else. Alignment with Isvara requires that we clear away the obstacles preventing us from standing in this aspect of ourselves. For me, it sometimes takes the form of Asian clocks and Iyengar Teachers to realize that I am not responsible for others. And so I practice. I practice letting go, I practice not being in charge, I practice surrendering to the present conditions and I practice not ruminating on the what could be. I practice with Asian clocks and Iyengar Teachers and I practice until this becomes my way and I no longer depend on these tools to align myself within.
Om Nama Shiva!
For most of us supta virasana is a challenging posture when held for just 3 - 5 minutes, forget the 10 - 15 minutes you spend in it during an Iyengar class and when you add in the Asian sensibility of time, which is none, you might as well just surrender all control because you could be here all night.
I have to admit, it just the kind of thing that I love. I have always envied those who live in cultures guided by their own internal clocks. Though this lack of a coherent schedule can be maddening for many Westerners I love how it prevents me from having an agenda and gives me full permission to show up however I am - late, dirty, ugly, with 5 friends in tow, it doesn't matter. It's not personal. Likewise, the authoritative manner of an Iyengar teacher, completely devoid of options and spiritual metaphors, strips my wandering mind away from its compulsive need to do something, to make better. Instead of focusing on the details and tending to everyone else's needs, I feel safe and supported enough to experience that there is nothing that I can do and it does not matter one single bit.
According to the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, this practice of surrendering to the powers that extend far beyond oneself is a matter of aligning with Isvara Pranadanana. Isvara can be described as The Great Unknown, The Witness, The Seer, The Great Teacher or That Which Exists Beyond All Else. Alignment with Isvara requires that we clear away the obstacles preventing us from standing in this aspect of ourselves. For me, it sometimes takes the form of Asian clocks and Iyengar Teachers to realize that I am not responsible for others. And so I practice. I practice letting go, I practice not being in charge, I practice surrendering to the present conditions and I practice not ruminating on the what could be. I practice with Asian clocks and Iyengar Teachers and I practice until this becomes my way and I no longer depend on these tools to align myself within.
Om Nama Shiva!
December 9, 2010
Ritual
Today I visited the Kwan Im Thong Hood Cho Temple where Buddhist devotees offer up their prayers. In addition to lighting incense, bowing in many directions and offering up prayer to the Goddess Kuan Yin, the Buddhists also partake in reading their own fortunes. This ritual involves shaking a containing with bamboo sticks till one falls out and cham si is released, spelling the message of their fate.
I spent some time watching the Buddhists shake their cham si trying to understand exactly what was going on. Should you pray first and shake second? Did it matter how many times you shook the container? What if more then one stick fell out? Could you shake repeatedly and receive many fortunes? And what exactly are the red wooden petals for that they throw after a fortune is released? But at some point I stopped being so concerned with the hows and the whys of it all and I just watched.
I watched the woman who seemed to shake the container far many more times then she prayed. I watched the man who swirled the sticks before each round of shaking. I watched the woman who never read a single fortune that fell from her container - not a single one. What I realized through all this watching was that ritual had nothing at all to do with what you did or even how you went about it, the only thing that all these people held in common was that they believed so whole-heartedly in what they were doing that their actions became them. They were the offering. All those flowers, incense sticks and cham si were just ways to express what was already within.
If you'd like to see photos from my day, check out the link below:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=92699&id=1068837131&l=ecb9d00440
I spent some time watching the Buddhists shake their cham si trying to understand exactly what was going on. Should you pray first and shake second? Did it matter how many times you shook the container? What if more then one stick fell out? Could you shake repeatedly and receive many fortunes? And what exactly are the red wooden petals for that they throw after a fortune is released? But at some point I stopped being so concerned with the hows and the whys of it all and I just watched.
I watched the woman who seemed to shake the container far many more times then she prayed. I watched the man who swirled the sticks before each round of shaking. I watched the woman who never read a single fortune that fell from her container - not a single one. What I realized through all this watching was that ritual had nothing at all to do with what you did or even how you went about it, the only thing that all these people held in common was that they believed so whole-heartedly in what they were doing that their actions became them. They were the offering. All those flowers, incense sticks and cham si were just ways to express what was already within.
If you'd like to see photos from my day, check out the link below:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=92699&id=1068837131&l=ecb9d00440
December 8, 2010
The Clouds in Japan are Different
The clouds in Japan are beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. They look just like they do in the old woodblock prints you'll see of Mt. Fuji from the 1800's, perfectly flat on the bottom and curly all the way up to a triangular peak. This, I find truly amazing. I had always assumed this stylized depiction was purely a romantic liberty taken by the artists themselves, surely nothing was as lovely, or as quaint, as the appearance of the clouds in these old images. Yet here they are right in front of me, absolutely beautiful, absolutely real and I am absolutely astonished. Maybe Japan is as quaint as it appears.
But then again, maybe not. As we descend through the air I am mesmerized by the landscape. I am just close enough to make out signs of life below: pockets of forested trees, swatches of farmland, houses, pools, big buildings and the roadways that intersect it all. "Oh, there are people down there, doing people things," I think with over zealous excitement. How exciting to approach new lands and see new ways of doing common things, like driving on the right and shifting with your left hand and whatever else we share but don't share. But the thing is that the closer we get and the more I can see, all I can think is "This looks like New Jersey."
I don't know if the slowing voice of disappointment is captured in this virtual text, but it was definitely there. New Jersey? How can Japan - quaint, idyllic, little-Japanese-people Japan look just like New Jersey? I feel displaced and at home all at once and I feel disappointed and reassured at the same time and I'm pretty certain that every inch of me is entirely alive.
But then again, maybe not. As we descend through the air I am mesmerized by the landscape. I am just close enough to make out signs of life below: pockets of forested trees, swatches of farmland, houses, pools, big buildings and the roadways that intersect it all. "Oh, there are people down there, doing people things," I think with over zealous excitement. How exciting to approach new lands and see new ways of doing common things, like driving on the right and shifting with your left hand and whatever else we share but don't share. But the thing is that the closer we get and the more I can see, all I can think is "This looks like New Jersey."
I don't know if the slowing voice of disappointment is captured in this virtual text, but it was definitely there. New Jersey? How can Japan - quaint, idyllic, little-Japanese-people Japan look just like New Jersey? I feel displaced and at home all at once and I feel disappointed and reassured at the same time and I'm pretty certain that every inch of me is entirely alive.
December 2, 2010
Yin & Yoga Sutras
Join me this Saturday at 8 Limbs in Capitol Hill for the next installment of the Yin and Yoga Sutras Series. This month we will delve deeper into the moment by surrendering the body to simple breathing techniques. By utilizing the longer holds of Yin Yoga to open up the front, back and sides of the torso we'll prepare the body for a deep and effortless pranayama practice that helps settle the mind. Once the body and mind are fit for concentration we'll discuss Sutras 24 - 32 to examine the meaning of OM and the power these practices have to deepen our connection to the spirit.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
8 Limbs, Capitol Hill
10:00 - 12:00pm
Saturday, December 4, 2010
8 Limbs, Capitol Hill
10:00 - 12:00pm
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