popular Hindu ceremony involving gurus, holy people, and other divine representations (like Shiva, Lord of Mercy and Compassion). The ceremony lasted about 45 minutes and consisted of chanting, the passing of a five-wick lamp and other items. During the ceremony, members of the congregation pass their fingers over the flame and touch their foreheads. They also sprinkle water from the Ganga River (per Indian name) over their heads. It was a wonderful ceremony to witness. In concert with the sunset and the sounds of the swollen river, the chants and lights offered a space for reflection and prayer. The stillness of the wind, allowed me to bask in the prayers lifted by my sisters/brothers; to feel their most intimate of desires and needs. Without any promise of delivery, they chanted, clapped, and prayed faithfully. I wondered if Abuelita Lupe was there and followed by lifting a prayer for my loved ones. My prayer included YOU. <3
Keeping with the theme of enlightenment and awareness, we actively searched for a Yoga class on DAY 4-- after all, Rishikesh is the 'Yoga Capital of the World.' After visiting several Yoga Studios, we were fortunately referred to an ashram where we received FREE personalized instruction, tea, watermelon, and had the privilege of meeting Guruji, the founder of the ashram and most revered man by his followers. Having taken a break from Yoga, it was a challenging yet invigorating experience.
We couldn't leave without visiting her... the Ganga River. She
was swollen and cold after the showers from days before. She flowed steady raising the dirt which tinted her with the color brown. Excited to make her acquaintance, I removed my shoes and held the chain attached to a cemented pole as I descended into her womb. Her initial coldness was shocking. It was as if the coldness acted as a defense mechanism alerting her visitors to her strength and value. She felt me and I felt her. Soon, the coldness disappeared and with it went my hesitation to submerge myself in her. "Ram, ram, 1; ram, ram , 2..." I chanted while holding hands with some beautiful young women from Rajasthan, India. With each submersion, she enveloped me with her warmth and energy. I realized that more than washing my body, she had given me a portal into her hurt. Her exasperation became mine. Together we pained over the harm woman/man had violently inflicted upon her, her mother, and her father. Ashamed of my neglect (our neglect) I apologized.... "Forgive us sister, for we have wronged you!"Have we forgotten our mother?
**You can find a video of the arti ceremony on the side bar.
