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Written by Aaron Star
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Prelude
What it is that pulls me to the Himalayan Mountains? What, for that matter, draws anyone? What is the allure and why even make a journey to India?
In actual fact, there are more Yoga Teachers in California than in India and the Yoga Asana taught there is much clearer and safer than what you will find anywhere in India, however living, moving and being in India creates a space for me to actualize my practice. Those questions continue to permeate my consciousness especially in light of recent events when many have asked, “Aaron, was it really worth it?”
After September 8th, my Yoga Practice was challenged in a way I would have never imagined possible and the pull and allure that brought me to India took me to a place in my Yoga Practice that would never have happened had I been in New York City or in a more comfortable setting. My Yoga Practice gave me the strength, the power and serenity to be content with a state of total helplessness and becoming almost stranded in the Himalayan Mountains. People come to India because they know Mother India has something to give them and quite often, she gives them what they need but in way which they may not want or expect.
In publishing this piece, it is my hope to convey “the story” or, more to the point, “a story about life”…my life. It is not being written nor is it being told to gain attention, or attain any status of heroism for me or those involved. I feel that it is simply a story of what happened to eight people on a mountain in the Himalayas. A story about what happened to them and how they dealt with the realities of what life gave to them in those moments. To me, this story is also a prayer and/ or an affirmation and celebration of life and all that it has to offer us. No parts of life are less than the other parts as they are all valuable in this incredible journey.
Why the Indian Himalayas?
I have been very blessed to have spent as much time as I have in the Himalayas and for me, the Himalayas are similar to my parents in that they have taught me much. They create and hold the space for me to be still, to experience oneness and to open the doorway to contemplation.
I have found that the Himalayas not only mirror the best parts of me, they also reveal the hidden, and perhaps undesirable parts of me. I have also discovered that when my ego has become a little swollen, the Himalayas have a way of revealing this to me, helping to bring me back down a few notches. They teach me how to approach life with a sense of equanimity and they reveal my own incredible potential; the potential I often suppress and push aside.
 The Himalayas are like my Mother whose valleys are like arms that cradle and draw me towards her bosom. As a caretaker of all my needs, her streams flow like milk to nurture me, her trees offer shade when it is too hot and her flowers offer beauty and remembrance at every turn.
The Himalayas are also like my father, who presents challenge and invites discipline; the discipline to stay alert and present and as such, causes me to become stronger as I climb the higher peaks and persevere in unlocking their secrets.
At every crossroad one can experience an enormous gamut of emotions and feelings ranging from fear, clarity of purpose, peace of mind, joy, love, excitement, trepidation, challenge and even anger.
The Himalayas have offered a training ground to me on how to approach life and have given me the opportunity to improve who I am and what I can offer in service to humanity. Through the challenge that the father of the Himalayas provides, I see who I really am. I see into my soul and there is no escape.
However, in all of these experiences, the Himalayas continually remind me of the sacred fire that burns brightly in all of us, of those beautiful and timeless Saints and Sages whom I have met and who live in continuous service of this fire and, whom with, we have shared moments of deep and exquisite bliss together. In those moments, no words need to be exchanged and no thoughts need even to be uttered. The fire consumes all ego and time.
For many who live in the Himalayan Mountains, theirs is a simple way of life that has not been touched by the outside world. Most villagers do not have locks on their doors and stealing is a foreign concept. In actual fact, many of the villagers we have met would be happy and willing to bring you into their home to take care of you and provide nurturing. They own nothing and yet have everything to offer you. The warmth in their eyes and the beautiful smiles that live on their lips are treasures a pilgrim can store in the chamber of his heart.
As a leader with the privilege of bringing groups to India and on into the Himalayas as often as I can, I present an opportunity to individual pilgrims to come to India without any of their preconceived notions, ideas and belief systems and experience life in the moment. Some of my students make a choice to let go of their baggage, knowing or sensing that there is a kingdom of rewards which await them while others hold desperately onto their identities as if their very lives depended on it and, in fear that if they let go, somehow they become something less.
From the Journals of Brian Gorman:
“We stop at Darwa Pass where we eat lunch at approximately 13,000 feet. The descent is steep, muddy. We encounter a family herding water buffalo. As I observe them, their smiles, I understand that they have so much less than I do, and so much more. I begin to think about the importance of letting go. Tonight at Dodital, I journal on how so much unhappiness is the result of "need" and expectation, both of which are artificial creations of our culture. I begin to record what I have been letting go of: dry shoes, dry feet, and dry clothes. Letting go of all the scents we put on our bodies in various guises. Letting go of hot showers or any showers. Letting go of being in control. It is small, it is temporary and it is experimental. Yet it is important.
I sleep with a smile on my face.”
Why do I Practice Yoga and what brought me to India?
The reasons why I began practicing Yoga were personal and quite selfish. In the beginning, I was actually afraid of physically aging because I observed that people who “were older” showed signs of limited movement and poor posture.
However, when I witnessed those rare individuals who “were older” and yet appeared youthful with mobility and freedom in their movements, I began to see that it was their willingness to move and stretch their bodies that enabled them to appear to spring through life. At an early age I adopted the mantra, “Use it or loose it.”
Basically, I was a lazy man back then. Yes, I worked out but I had absolutely no motivation to stretch before or after my workouts. My body seemed to be getting tighter with each passing moment and I began to realize how much I really needed to stretch, so I began to practice Yoga.
Over time, my reasons for practicing Yoga have changed as a result of my practice because I began to experience a feeling of clarity and direction of purpose that I had not experience before and this realization motivated me to want to experience more. What I began to observe about myself was that the objects and pleasures of the world that once made me happy no longer held a lot of interest for me. The more I practiced Yoga, the more my happiness was sourced from within rather than from outside of me.
I practice now to unveil those strengths which have been given to me and to transform the weaknesses within. I practice Yoga to have a better understanding of this world and to experience the beautiful people who roam around it.
My practice enables me to become a greater source of good on this planet however, the biggest reason why I practice yoga is to overcome all my fears, particularly the one we ALL have an appointment with and that is Death.
On this visit to India, that fear was put to test.
Many years ago, even before Madonna cast a light on Ashtanga Yoga, I and my Yogi friend and teacher would often talk about traveling to India. “We are going to have to go soon,” he would often say to me. Everyone around us was doing it. My friends and associates and anyone else who was really involved in practicing Yoga, made a trip to India.
As I flash forward a few years to New York and the founding of HNY, I had finally found my teacher and was ready for an adventure. One day while I was reading Yoga International, (now Yoga Plus) I saw that the Himalayan Institute was leading a trip to Kajuraho and the Temple of the Sixty-Four Yogini’s. This was a place which was frequently mentioned in the stories of Swami Rama and I immediately signed up without the slightest hesitation.
That was a hard trip for me and by the end of it I was done and ready to come home. I had enough of India and quite enough of the group I was with, who seemed to be, in my opinion, a bunch of angry, crazy, older women who pretended to be spiritual but were in reality looking for opportunities to bargain with impoverished street vendors over beautiful, hand made silk scarves and rugs. Most of all though, I had enough of smelly Delhi and as I boarded the plane, I swore to myself that I would never come back to “this god forsaken country” again. Mother India however, was not ready to let me go because we made an emergency landing back into New Delhi within five minutes of taking off.
Four and a half years later and after five trips back to India, it was on this trip of September 2007 that I was to really learn and understand the meaning and practice of surrender.
The Tantricas tell us to, “Surrender to the Mother of Life; surrender to her arms. The eternal mother is always holding you, cradling you and protecting you.” These blessed Sages teach us that we suffer in life because we forget this and that through consistent spiritual practice we not only begin to remember, we begin to experience the Lord and Mother of Life who dwells in the deepest chamber of our hearts. Thinking and philosophizing about this is one thing, but direct experience is the surest way to liberation and for me, going to India and doing my practice there, is one of the ways I can immediately experience her splendor.
“The Journey”
We left New Delhi on August 31 and were driven to Rishikesh where we enjoyed a fabulous afternoon of communing and exploring. Some people might think that the journey started in Rishikesh, however it actually started the moment we arrived in India and some might even say that the journey really started as soon as they made the decision to actually go...
From the Journal of Brian Gorman:
“August 31st - We are on the road from Delhi to Rishikesh by 5:00 AM. Though I don't know it yet, this departure is a great awakening for my senses and will serve me well in the weeks to come. As we drive this morning, the sun doesn't rise so much as the haze becomes increasingly luminous. Over the next two weeks we will experience many sunrises, from the road and on the trail. There will be those days when we look up to see the sun lighting the tops of the mountains above us and then look down to see the clouds engulf the mountains below. In Seema, sunrise finds us inside the clouds, while at Tapoban the sky is blue, the peaks of Shivling and Bhagirathi glistening white and gold. This morning, these experiences lay ahead.
Today, as the haze grows brighter, it is clouded over at times by the dust from the road or an infrequent patch of fog. The cacophony of noise, even at this hour, is almost overwhelming. Painted on the rear of every truck is Horn Please. We oblige, frequently.... I quickly begin to learn the language of the horns, and to trust our drivers. The first of these lessons is interesting. The second is indispensable. Two lanes, two way roads quickly become one way as vehicles pass one another in an intricately choreographed dance. The bicycles, motorbikes and oxcarts dance with the cars, taxis, buses, and trucks. Each moves at a different pace, finding its own space. All forms of conveyance share the roads, whether highway or byway, city or-increasingly-country. Tractors pull carts laden with grass while oxcarts are loaded with brick. Mini-buses (many three-wheeled), bicycles (again, many with three wheels), donkey carts weave a living fabric of noise, sight, sound, and motion. Through all of this wend the cattle, the dogs and the pedestrians. One lane in each direction becomes two, three, or even four leading a single way. The road doesn't change width, only flow, until there is no choice but to reclaim its original two-way identity.”
That evening before dinner, we met together for the first time in a formal setting. I spoke about the trip, what to expect, made a promise that they would make it down the mountain safely and, most importantly, spoke about setting an intention.
I let it be known to the group that my intention was that I wanted to be able to emulate Gandhi, or in some way or other, become closer to him and what he was. It is recorded that when Gandhi was shot by a gun, he died with a smile and the name of God on his lips. I want to know the level of peace, contentment and equanimity. At the core of my own Yoga Practice, this is what I am working to cultivate and, I have discovered that being in the Himalayas, walking the paths of so many Saints, Sages and Pilgrims, deepens my connection in being able to experience that much peace, contentment and equanimity.
From Rishikesh on our trip brought us laughter, many challenges, a lot of cow manure and much beauty. On one particular day, as we were descending from Dodital…
From the Journals of Brian Gorman:
“By the time we stopped for lunch, the sun was out and donkeys were grazing in a corral below a concrete patio. When we arrived we were surprised to be told that we should remove our shoes and socks. Although we were used to removing our shoes at religious sites, this did not look like a shrine, nor was it. The reason was much more pragmatic. Shortly before arriving there, we had crossed an area that was known for leeches. Sure enough, they were in our shoes, in our socks and, in many cases, already attached to our bodies. Salt and sunshine was enough to rid us of most of the leeches.”
The trip continuously brought surprises and lessons that were, as you read above, often comical. A pilgrimage brings the potential for us to find out about ourselves, how we deal with situations and to try on new attitudes and beliefs about ourselves and the world we live in.
It was fascinating to watch the group in this situation because as some could not deal with the leeches, others laughed and enjoyed the beautiful sun that had blessed us during our lunch not giving a second thought to them.
When traveling through India, one has to be content with all situations that may appear and often, quite unexpected.
Traffic, flooded roads, travel delays; all of which I am sure we have all experienced before. However, I have never experienced them in the same manner as I have in India.
From the Journals of Brian Gorman:
“September 5 (continued): Shortly after leaving for Gangotri, we find that the road ahead is blocked by a landslide. We turn around and head back a few minutes to the last village we had passed. There is time for breakfast. Breakfast is leisurely. We know that when we get back on the road, it will be open or it will still be blocked. There is no need to rush to find out.
In fact, we discover that the landslide that allowed us breakfast has been cleared. However, not many kilometers ahead there is another. When we travel as far as we can, we pull to the side of the road and park. The parking is a bit random, some vehicles on one side of the road, some vehicles on the other. There are buses of pilgrims, taxis, motor scooters, cars, and trucks. Everyone knows that we will be here for hours. I confirm that for myself firsthand when I walk down the road to see the massive rocks blocking our way.
Imagine this. You have a travel itinerary, a destination. The plan is to drive to Gangotri, drop some gear at a guesthouse and begin the next trek. Instead, you and hundreds of others will be waiting for an apparently significant period of time on a mountain road. For us, the experience was very Indian, amazing and thought provoking.
Some took the opportunity to nap, either in their vehicles or along the rocks on the side of the road. Others read. People walked up and down, stopping to meet others and to talk. We had passed a waterfall shortly before we stopped. The sun was out, so it became a place for people to do their laundry. Some (myself included) set shoes and clothes out in the sun to dry. There was dancing and singing. There were processions of pilgrims. What was missing was the anger, the vitriol, the impatience, the honking of horns, the expressions of rage that such a circumstance would have elicited anywhere I had ever been before.
Eventually, the road was opened. It took a bulldozer, dynamite, and a large road crew. It is 3:10 in the afternoon; we have been here over six hours. People move back to their vehicles and slowly, our pilgrimages resume. We reach our destination three hours later. Tonight we will spend at a guesthouse in Gangotri. Landslides happen, itineraries change. It is about the journey.”
Tabovan, Abode of the Gods - The day before the accident.
Tapovan, at 14,000 feet, is one of the most majestic places I have ever visited. Celebrated in Hindu mythology and religion, the Garhwal Himalayas are said to be the "Abode of the Gods". The river Ganges takes its source in this remote massif, at the sacred shrine of Gangotri and rushes down to the plains in a torrential fury. Very few trekkers follow this itinerary which will lead to one of the most important spots of Hindu spirituality, where people may well experience a strange atmosphere of spiritual fervor.
Upon reaching Tapovan, the group felt an overwhelming sense of achievement and fulfillment and, as the Leader my prayers and hopes were answered as I observed my group feeling the mystique and majesty of this place.
It is in Tapovan that I met Mata-ji, also known as Mama-Ji. Mata means great mother and Ji is a sign of respect and kindred spirit. Mata-ji is a beautiful old Sage who lives in the Himalayas and I had met her on a previous trip. We were very blessed this time, to have Darshan with her. (Darshan, in this context, means to sit with an enlightened one.) As we sat down, Mata-ji, with her beautiful smile, told us the following story.
“There was a village with one Fire. This Fire was kept in a special house in the center of the village. Whenever a villager needed Fire for their own use, they went to this special house to get some fire and brought it back with them.
Late, on one particular night when the whole village was asleep, a man wanted to have a cigarette. Even though it was late, he decided to set out to this special house to find Fire for his cigarette. He took his lantern so he could find his way through the village. Upon arriving at the house, he knocked on the door and waited for a response. Finally, a keeper of the fire answered the door and asked what the gentleman would like. He asked for fire for his cigarette. The Keeper responded by asking the gentleman if he realized that there was a fire that already lit his lantern and that he did not really need to come and ask him for fire but that he was happy to provide him with more.”
When I first heard this story, I felt a deep sense of remembrance. The Sages like Mata-ji, are our direct link to ourselves and to the potential of what we can be. Their purity, their practice, their clarity, and the love they give so effortlessly to Seekers from all over the world, flock to these Sages, or at least attempt to meet them. Many Seekers end up finding the false ones, the charlatans, the shysters who will perform all kinds of tricks like telling a person their future, sleeping on beds of nails, breathing fire, and so on. These tricks have nothing to do with the path of enlightenment and the naive Seekers, eager in their own pursuits coupled with their own lack of spiritual practice and eagerness to cut corners, stop and quickly begin to follow these “pseudo sages”.
The real Sages however, can only be found deep in the Himalayan Mountains and, like Mata-ji, they are not easily accessible, but once you do find them, they pour their love and spirit out to you and one feels as if they are standing at the gates of heaven.
As in my experience with Mata-ji, I felt as if I had come home. I experienced this deep remembrance of who I was, what I was searching for and the power of the latent fire and its potential that lay dormant within me.
As I gazed at her beautiful serene and peaceful face, her eyes overwhelmed me with compassion and love. In many stories, those Seekers who meet these kinds of saints, often tell a story of “coming home” and I too, felt as if I had come home in meeting Mata-ji.
In the story above, we see that the person seeking “the fire” had simply forgotten that he already possessed it.
Mata-ji lives for six month of the year under a mountain which many Indians consider to be the incarnation of Shiva and only through intense service and spiritual practices, patience, discipline and devotion, is God then truly revealed.
I have always read this in many of the stories of the saints. We hear of saints who go through years of testing and ordeals and it is only then that they obtain enlightenment. Now, after my ordeal in India, I now understand their message and have experienced the truth in this message.
In each of us, we carry the fire, but we have forgotten. To remember this flame, some of us practice Yoga. Some of us go to Church and some of us go to therapy, trying to remember that fire. We are looking for some sort of pill called Instant Spirituality to help us to keep remembering; however what we do not want to admit is that the real pill, the pill that is “enlightenment”, consists of hard work, discipline, and devotion - daily devotion to this eternal flame that we all carry which has the power of illumination.
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