Popullution (…and Easter in India)

This place is absolutely crazy. I love it, but it may also be trying to kill me. So many people, so much garbage, set ablaze daily. Rushing through fumes to youthful tombs. Sewage flowing openly in the streets, often stalling, sitting in the sun baking, caking. Wild animals blocking traffic to nose through each other’s fresh faeces. Smiling men selling samosas and potato pancakes. Flies swooping relentlessly, spreading everything to everything else. Stylishly dressed women balancing heavy loads on top of their heads. Cars and trucks, buses and rickshaws, motorbikes and scooters blaring a steady staccato of horns. Bicycles ringing little bells. A small bearded man in orange robes, somehow untouched, chanting his mantra. I stop in awe to watch it all, breathing it in, then get choked up by a sudden stench and start coughing. My lungs suffer the brunt. I’m amazed they can take it. Some days, waking up is simply a chance to clear out whatever gunk has been cluttering them.

After sharing my first post from ‘Indescribable India‘, I have felt like showing another side of life here, a sort of balancing account. It’s a part of India I haven’t yet mentioned. Or maybe I just glossed over it.

My body seems to be deeply affected by the pollution here. In under two months, I have already burned through two courses of antibiotics. (And I’m the reluctant sort when it comes to that stuff.) It often feels like my body is at battle.

Aside from the quick bout of ‘Delhi Belly’ – succumbing to drugs for the sake of returning to work for our tour group – I have just recently been treated for pneumonia. Though I remain not entirely convinced, the doctor at the Christian hospital (trained in the west) told me that was the cause of my stabbing chest pains, mild fever and cough.

While my chest pains have significantly diminished, I still wonder if I simply tore some muscles doing yoga. That’s what a local ayurvedic doctor figures. Seems reasonable. We took a holistic approach and just finished a week of full-body detox; dietary adjustments, thorough daily massage (not that sort of thorough), oil therapy, steam treatment, ear, nose and throat cleaning, plenty of rest, and three days of warm oil and herbal enemas. I was simultaneously pampered and trampled. It was great. But I couldn’t trust farts for a few days.

Riding in cramped little rickshaws back and forth between my ashram and my treatments, it felt like I passed through dozens of worlds at once; chaotic markets, dusty streetside cafes and food carts, skinny kids rummaging through garbage, others begging for foodscraps or cash, shabby makeshift shacks packed with families, grimy auto garages, sudden palatial temples and freshly-painted ashrams, a father and four kids riding a single bicycle, traffic slowing to pass cattle in the middle of the road, sleepy fruit vendors trying to stay in the shade, wiry monkeys scavenging for anything they can grab, homeless folks with eyes full of life hanging begging bowls from missing limbs, boldly advertised adventure tour companies, a quick glimpse of the Ganges hosting rafts and bright flowers floating along, colourfully-dressed women carting large loads of who knows what, robed rununciates sitting calmly amidst the buzz. At once stunning and mundane, I continue to watch it all in passing.

As I move through my days here in India, I see how population amplifies every challenge facing the nation. And there are no shortage of areas for improvement. Pollution is an obvious one to focus on. Aside from the carpet of garbage casually laid out all over the country, waste is actually collected in some places. But most of it just ends up being burned. Once bins are full, they tend to be emptied where they stand and set aflame. A bit of pleasant incense is usually added to the mix for a more palatable blaze, but it all goes up in smoke just the same. I pass by several fires of various sizes every day. On cloudy days people seem even more keen to cushion the grey plumes gliding by in the sky. (Much like smoke stacks back home – notice they spew more waste on grey days, as though trying to go unnoticed.) One cloudy day last week, I could literally taste the waste in the air.

And yet amidst all this, life carries on. I am daily amazed to see real joy on the faces of impoverished children, living in conditions most of us would shudder at. Their joy is whole, if only in the moment. They don’t seem to be lacking anything. It’s so clear that the attitude of lack is learned, not naturally occurring.

I sense that the cultural belief in karma and reincarnation help people to bear difficult circumstances with a smile. Yet this value doesn’t seem limited to the Hindu faith; I see it also among the local Muslims, Buddhists, Jains, Sikhs and Christians. It’s as though this sense of trusting one’s path is so deeply ingrained here, no matter how it manifests. I see people taking responsibility for their lives and working to address their highest calling. Everything else is secondary. I feel an inspiring depth of devotion in this attitude toward life.

I recall during my first week here, down in the south of India, seeing streams of people pass by my window early on the morning of Ash Wednesday. I was impressed to hear that almost the entire village attended church that morning before starting their day. ‘Incredible‘, I thought to myself, ‘so many people living with such commitment‘. I have been moved again and again by the level of devotion I see in India. Whatever the faith, people here are living it deeply.


Having enjoyed a variety of Hindu gatherings here in Rishikesh, I was curious if I might also find a church to visit this Holy Week. I have encountered several Christian communities throughout India so far, though they don’t seem as common up here in Rishikesh. I asked around and walked around, not having much luck.

I did recently hear, however, that Christ himself apparently spent time in the north of India. He was known here as St. Issa. (Obviously not all historians agree on this.) During the so-called ‘lost years’ of Christ’s life, it is believed that he traveled east and studied with Buddhist monks and Hindu sages. And why not? After all, the wise men from the east had followed the stars to Jesus’ birth. These wise men, themselves, may well have been Buddhist or Hindu sages. Clearly the trade routes were well established between Nazareth and the near east. Why wouldn’t the young Christ want to explore other cultures and spiritual paths? It seems so natural to me. It even has a poetic sort of balance to it, Christ eventually journeying east, perhaps to see what the lands of these wise men had to offer.

It’s exciting to consider Christ having traveled here. It actually makes a lot of sense to me. His words echo a lot of what the Buddha taught, values also long held in Hinduism. If he were still here today (in person) I think it’s obvious that Jesus would continue to foster interfaith relations. He would challenge the walls we place between communities. The more I marinate in Jesus’ teachings, the more I see the unity of earnest followers of any faith. Beyond that, even the faithless are held in this wholeness Jesus points us to. He wouldn’t care about the mountain of petty distinctions we draw. He didn’t come here to convince or convert anyone. Jesus came to shine light and help us see that we’re already free. Heaven is in our midst. Let’s not miss it.

So, after a good bit of searching around town (online resources proving a bit thin), I ended up finding the only church in Rishikesh just in time for Easter Sunday worship. It was an Indian Catholic church and the whole service proceeded in Hindi, with only a word or two of English. It was quite an experience. We all sat on the floor on little mats, old folks and young alike, men on the left, women on the right, and the priest sat at a small altar at the front of the sanctuary. There was incense burning and candlelight being shaken by oscillating fans. There was a good amount of responsive singing and prayer, and some hand drumming. The communion was classic Catholic. There was even a baptism. I followed along as best I could, focussing mostly on the energy of the space.

I felt lifted to picture a nation full of souls connecting with the divinity within, each in their own way. And instead of seeing the massive population as an obstacle of any kind, I realized that there are simply more doors here for love to come through. And the countless challenges of life in India give everyone a chance to help out. It’s no accident that, despite the apparent insanity, there is such a special energy here. It calls us back to our hearts.

I came to Rishikesh about a month ago with a spiritual focus. After sitting in the powerful presence of Mooji – a teacher doing the same work today as Christ did in his time – I feel like wrapping up this ‘Rishikesh chapter’ with two short excerpts from a book of his teachings (White Fire):

“Many have long believed in the second coming of Christ, but why only second? Why not the third, the fourth, the thousandth, the ten thousandth coming? For each one who trusts in his words and is absorbed in his spirit becomes a door through which he comes.”

“You are not here to cope. You are not here to survive. You are here to bear witness to and shine as the glory of God.”

I guess that will do for now, friends. ūüôā I’m feeling about ready to press on, after a decent stretch here in Rishikesh. Except for a few days visiting a nearby friend and his wife up in the mountains (just outside of Mussoorie), I’ve been laying low here, healing, resting and meditating. Rishikesh has been a fine host. My simple Ashram home has beautifully supported this quiet time of recovery and continuing discovery.

I think I’ll hop on a train tomorrow and cast a slightly wider glance around northern India. First I’ll try my luck in Lucknow and then probably check out Varanasi. It may be a brief stop as I hear it’s getting pretty hot. I’ll likely continue east from there to visit Bodh Gaya (where the Buddha ‘achieved’ enlightenment). I may even slip up into Nepal. We’ll see how it goes. I’ll keep you posted once in a while…

In the meantime, keep breathing. I’ll do my best. ‚ô° And moment to moment, as life dances all around us, let’s see if we can notice what doesn’t fade away.



What a week. ¬†I’ve been in bed for days. ¬†It’s no way to live. ¬†Not in the long run, anyhow. ¬†I’ve watched an awful lot of movies and slept a lot. ¬†It’s a luxury. ¬†I know many don’t have the time to be as sick as I’ve been. ¬†But this bug just wouldn’t quit. ¬†Even now that it’s done, it hasn’t quit, exactly. ¬†It left bronchitis in its wake. ¬†It feels like I have butter in my lungs. ¬†When I breathe deeply you’d swear someone was shaking maracas. ¬†When this cold got going, I thought being sick might be kind of nice for a couple of days. ¬†Cuddling up in bed with a few movies and some soup seemed a relaxing recipe. ¬†But here I am more than a week later – my energy back, the fever gone – and I am still in recovery.

Maybe it never ends? ¬†Recovery. ¬†Is that such a bad prospect? ¬†Never-ending recovery. ¬†I suppose it all depends on context. ¬†If we’re in it together, helping one another along, I think I could get behind it. ¬†We could have a few laughs along the way. ¬†It reminds me of a quote by Ram Dass, “We’re all just walking each other home.” ¬†That image comes to mind quite regularly. ¬†There is something very true in it. ¬†And this process of healing, like life, is often a few sloppy steps forward followed by one or two back, or maybe even stopping for a rest on a bench. ¬†As long as we’re walking together, trusting the path, does it really matter where we’re going? ¬†Whether we’re guided by some distant star, or simply the hand we’re holding as we walk along, isn’t the moving forward what matters? ¬†I don’t really know. ¬†Just musing.

Does the road to recovery go somewhere? ¬†It sounds silly, I know, but is recovery a place? ¬†Was there some past state where no illness tread? ¬†What are we trying to recover? ¬†What are we trying to recover from? ¬†I really don’t know.

Recovery. ¬†Now I am sitting here wondering about the word. ¬†Recovery. ¬†To RE-cover. ¬†I don’t know about it. ¬†It feels too much like covering something up – hiding. ¬†To re-cover our wounds. ¬†I much prefer DIS-covery. ¬†Let’s break down all the walls and see what’s ticking inside. ¬†That sounds more fun. ¬†And honest, even if a bit reckless.

*   *   *

This blogging is a funny thing. ¬†Here we are, talking to ourselves, many of us begging for attention. ¬†If you pull the frame back and look at the big picture, it’s what we’re doing – chattering away to ourselves, hoping we notice. ¬†So many of us live such isolated lives that we need to reach through these machines to have contact with life. ¬†I’m not judging the internet. ¬†It is neither good nor bad. ¬†It is merely a tool. ¬†But perhaps looking at it will help us make sense of it.

Some people make a living blogging. ¬†Good for them. ¬†Many offer content of real substance. ¬†But many are out there just making noise. ¬†Anybody who does a bit of blogging, however casually, has likely had their page ‘Followed’ or ‘Liked’ by various ‘professional bloggers’ looking to share their empowered lifestyle and offer opportunities to cash in on website clicks. ¬†We look at their pages and wonder about the legitimacy of their claims. ¬†But what are they actually saying? ¬†Are they simply generating buzz and traffic so their sites will make more money? ¬†This seems to be the case with many of them.

I guess I got thinking about this because I noticed a blog I “follow” asking for money. ¬†It was one of the first blogs I ever followed. ¬†I followed him because he was following me. ¬†He found my page and liked it. ¬†I thought he must have appreciated the content. ¬†Now I realize he was likely just drumming up more traffic for his own page. ¬†He has more than 100,000 ‘Followers’, and in his current campaign he has had only 8 donations (in over three weeks), totalling just over $100. ¬†What does that say? ¬†These ‘Likes’ and ‘Follows’ feel rather flimsy in this light, don’t they?

Why are we running around chasing our tails? ¬†We so easily get caught in the trap of seeking attention, forgetting first to check if we have something to say. ¬†I’m not claiming to be any better than anyone else. ¬†We’re all in this together. ¬†But I know that no amount of ‘Likes’ or ‘Follows’ will bring any lasting satisfaction or happiness. ¬†It’s an inside out job. ¬†So let’s stop accumulating and chasing things outside of ourselves. ¬†Take a minute. ¬†Take a breath. ¬†Feel your heart. ¬†See what’s already here. ¬†(I’m reminding myself…)

As for this entry, I’m not looking for attention, or happiness. ¬†I just started typing and this is what happened. ¬†I wanted to honour my commitment to write a Monday blog. ¬†Here it is, in all its raw, rambling glory. ¬†It was supposed to be about recovery. ¬†Maybe it is. ¬†I’m still working on it.


Here’s a nice little song about recovery. ¬†I highly recommend it: New Buffalo – Recovery.