Future Plans

I have four days left here in Bangalore before I fly up north to the Himalayas. I'll begin the trip in Dheli, for a day, but ultimately in Dharamshala, the shanty town of the Tibetan exiles. I've chosen to do a meditation retreat there for 15+ days.

The meditation centre has a 360 view of the Himalayas. We spend a couple hours a day roaming around in the small acreage of land (the walking meditation, which precedes the creative meditation), letting the mountains breathe through us (I assume, but I can't have expectations for this, since I have absolutely no clue as to what I'm really getting into).

This trip couldn't come at a better time. The last few days, as I prepare for bed each night, my mind becomes consumed with what ifs and overwhelmed at the options that lie ahead. I hope this meditation will ease the transition of not only returning from abroad, but becoming accustomed to living back in Portland, at home, done with the first round of school, and away from many friends.

I also just kinda want to trip. I wouldn't have signed onto this trip if I didn't think, riding through the pain and suffering, there'd be any amount of pleasure. After all, the life occurrences that aren't necessary should be pleasurable. It's up to ourselves to determine the definition of pleasure. And, for that matter, "fun".

All I know is I want to do meaningful work, laugh with friends, and not sweat the little things. But I also am an American and have outrageously high ambitions, of which foregoing may be hardly an option. I've learned that I can't avoid listening to that overpowering voice in my heart. It never seems to even take a minute to shut up and let me be. And while that's produced a lot of suffering, it's also gotten me many places, including here. We've created quite a symbiotic friendship, and I've learned to trust it.

Also, it will help me in my further work. All professional roles I foresee in my future involve talking to people and deeply absorbing what it is they have to say. Talking. To. People. I may get caught in whirlwinds all the time and I have to be prepared; I have to be in the moment. And if continuing meditation after this course will benefit me not only personally, but my friends and family and my future career, then I will take the time necessary out of each day to work toward that.

I know that once I catch a glimpse of something, I work hard to fully rise to that stage, even if the end goal is not guaranteed. If there's one thing I've learned from constantly contemplating mortality in this often ruthless and unpredictable city, is that the only true "end" goal is death. OR, when faced with a finite task, the non-guarantee and exactly the opposite--staying alive. All other goals are simply milestones, hardly crowned achievements. Though celebrations are always a good time...

Though it's a silent meditation, everyday there's a 30 minute personal Q & A session with the leader so we can make sure we're interpreting the material correctly. This is a meditation school. I see this as a valuable technique because it's my personal belief that misinterpretations of self and of "worldly" teachings can stunt further growth.

After the 15 days, I have a choice of staying for a third week for the most intense portion of the meditation, which even at this point I think I could be ready for. If I decide to leave, however, I have planned a 4-day trek through the Himalayas. We reach a pretty damn high elevation, and it would help me to recognize my being and understand my limitations.


I don't know what's after this life--no one does. And no matter how strong my mind is, if I can't use my bodily energy to do well in this world then I don't see much point sitting and contemplating it.

Might make for a great travel story to pitch as well. I've got some pretty cool ideas and angles in the making.



I'll try and write another blog entry before I leave. If I end up being too busy with last-minute adventures, then I'll catch y'all in America.

This is Why...

Nearly two months in and I'm in as much bewilderment as the moment I stepped off the plane and sifted through a crowd of cab drivers to find the one who'd take me to my home stay.


Before flying here, I told myself this wasn't such a time for sincere spiritual reflection. It was a time to come and work my ass off, have a little fun if I could manage, and come home with some good recommendations and a bit of new knowledge from the foreign land. This has got to be the most potent lie I've told myself since the post-Mexico era.


This place has shaken me, in the best sense of the word.

First off, this is not Mexico. And the spirituality that Westerners wish to witness after meandering through a sea of rational-minded, psychologically degenerative philosophies, will find it pulsating through every step if they pay close enough attention.

And that's the greatest advice to anyone wishing to either travel or live abroad: Stay constantly mindful of what you pay attention to. Spirit or not.

Of course, personal cultural and intellectual background will play into the context... but that's a different tangent.


The spiritual endeavors began with my host-pops, who, in the midst of this pluralistic religious stomping ground, is extremely rational-minded. He buys books on modern interpretations of varying religious texts, philosophies on quantum physics, the nature of science, etc... and in the middle of rigorous studies he finds time to riddle me this and that.

The first:
"Starting with the letter B, what are the two places on this Earth where religion ceases to exist?"

Knowing a bit about my own spirituality, but not in a religious context (if that's possible) it took me some time before I could arrive at any plausible answer.

"Brothel!" I said, after a few minutes of contemplation.

One down, one to go...

My host-pops guided me through the next intellectual endeavor, covering topics of sacrifice and sex before arriving at the Blood Bank.

Sometimes it takes a few minutes relaxing in my room to realize to what creepy, extraordinary and intimate heights some of our talks escalate.

But that's just it. I've spent my whole life fiending for conversations that peel back layers with time, eventually arriving at a depth both parties never knew existed. And here, it happens all the time!

**Like the time my host-mom sat down with me while eating my dinner and said, "You know, I just think, women, they're better..." and giggled and walked away. It subtly changed my outlook on India. ('Nother post, If I wish).

All these instances, whether it's with interview subjects, my family or friends, they've allowed me to reflect on myself, exposing parts of me that I've subconsciously known existed, but never tapped into.

I have never had so much fun trying to grab onto the true spirit of the city and all of its lovely characters, knowing I never fully will. People here are human. There is nothing mechanistic about them, and that reflects on the city, just as all personal awareness reflects the objective, communal realm, and vice versa...


And through it all: The job and the professional contemplations that arise with it, the new sights and sounds, the FRIENDS and FUN, the freedom of independence--the feeling came rushing back.

This is exactly why I came. This is exactly why I love to travel. And I've known it all along. It's the same path I've been on since I sat on my empty porch after moving houses at age 7; the age I began to contemplate existential theory... Those first, "Who am I?" and "Why am I here?" questions we all hear too often...


No matter the rice-based meals three times a day, or the garbage lining the streets laced in molden ash from gas pipes, or the 11 P.M. city shutdown, or the bucket of water I sometimes have to call a shower. What makes a place is the people--the ideas. All the rest are personal trials.



Real growth exists in the Self, but it's fun to change up the context from time to time...

Not looking forward to saying my "See you laters"... But I will never, ever forget.

I'm not in a dream, I'm in a book.

Is this a Dream?

Thought I'd give you all a taste of my work life here. It's been a bit hard to convey since my roles change on a daily basis.

For the second half of the internship, I've basically been working on trend pieces. I attend an event, and find an angle focusing on development. I come back to the office the next morning, do research, conduct more interviews if I need to, and write a piece.

Last night, I was sent to an event at the top hotel in Bangalore to meet the distributing director and associates of Sogrape winery, which has its base in Portugal but owns vineyards around the world, with a concentration on Latin America. As always, I had no idea what to expect.

I didn't bring any nice clothes with me, and I rarely find time to shop so I wore a 4-year old Buffalo Exchange skirt that I'm pretty sure I "borrowed" from Emma Bardagjy at the Country Fair two years back. It exposed my hairy legs, which I only realized after my cab broke down in the middle of an intersection and made myself comfortable in the back seat until another ride came.

Once another car reached, I crawled inside and introduced myself to the Bostonian man and journalism professor next to me, whom I will refer to as "Mr. Prof" in subsequent paragraphs. Next to him sat "Sasha", the editor of the lifestyle section of another paper. The man in a tux and the women in a gold dress. Yet again, I was highly under dressed, but I'm used to it by now... I like to think it's a trademark to my "style".

Before we arrived, Mr. Prof first skilled me (precursor to the night) on what I learned to be very crucial etiquette--how to accept a business card. This was the first time I truly noticed how formative this meet-and-great process is. It's the first impression, and by god damn, you better make a good one. On the flip side, my extensive business card collection has increased ten fold since I've held put in this professional playground.

After the B.C. exchange, I was seated across from Portuguese Felipe, and for a temporary escape and a deep breath, took a gander at the 9-course menu we would be served along with the wine. At this time a waitress asked me if I would like a warm towel.

"Umm... what do I do with it?" I whispered. I felt like I was sitting next to Leo D. in the dinner scene in Titanic. I knew he'd be my sole partner for life.

My mind began to focus on the silverware, and table etiquette, but it quickly switched. Never mind all that, my duty for the night was to analyze trends in wine consumption among Bangaloreans through conversation with these men.

As I kept my cynical thoughts inwardly composed, my very own Shakespearian fool showed up. It tends to happen here.

"My friend told me to come to this dinner. What the fuck is this fancy shit. If I would have known I wouldn't have come."

Nice, some easing entertainment. Felipe looked over at him, and said, "We'll try and make this as easy and comforting as possible." Little did he know, he made me feel better as well.

The "pallet cleansing course" passed around the table, and I asked why we were being served dessert before the main course. Laughter erupted among the eight-person crowd.

"Enjoy this Tara, you will be attending many more of these in your life," Mr. Prof said. Then he took me outside to lightly analyze various styles of literature and the global media market, but I assumed his actual intent was to preach about the need to find my own voice in my writing and stay true my source, because that alone will drive me to success.

............

Back inside, the Shakespearian fool was firing questions I hadn't thought of, and I was relieved. He made my job super easy... as I don't know quite as much as he does about imports and distribution between Indian states and shit like that. I listened intently and scribbled down quotes when I thought them decent to print.

He concluded the night with, "You don't even make much profit of the wine. Why don't you market bread? That's what the people need!"

I didn't outwardly display my love for him, but I definitely had the eyes.

During the last course, the marketing executive gave a toast to my future success, "Saaaaalud!"


One month ago, this would have given me an out-of-body experience. A "How did I get here?" moment frozen in time. But now it's a more mild feeling. It's still quite unbelievable, but I now know a great deal more about my true self and my intended path. This is also the most recent in a series of events. So I listen, smile and respond kindly. I'm glad they think so highly after a few glasses of chardonnay.


"Sasha" offered me a paid internship at her lifestyle section. But after the ride home, when she was ferociously yelling about how much she hated Bollywood, and punctuated her argument with, "Bollywood is for my maids, It's servant entertainment and I refuse to sink so low," I don't think I will be joining her team.


I woke up this morning and wondered why I feel so different. It's because I'm truly living in a dream. But it's "reality". And that, is fucking awesome.

Gotta keep workin' hard...