The lovely Italian family left
yesterday; they’ve been coming for seven years, first bringing their son here
when he was just three years old. Beautiful people: she is a yoga teacher and
husband Emilio maintains property for expats living near their home in Tuscany.
After their son was born, Emilio became a house-husband and full-time parent.
Their entire demeanour radiated a sense of balance, and balance is the one
thing we’ve been losing in this past couple of days.
More new arrivals came in the other night. It’s always
challenging to try to identify where people are from and what brings them to
Shantivalam. The members of this group look like students and are all very pale
and thin. The skin colour rules out Southern Europe, and apart from the
distinctly under-nourished physique, there is no other clear distinguishing
factor that unifies them. They appeared at breakfast, so silence has been
maintained and I wait for the first vocal communication to try to place them.
Maybe Belgium.
Wrong! Americans. Very thin
Americans. Very serious Americans, and apparently a family party. I let them do
the vegetables this morning as I thought they needed to bond. I did consider
making myself a label to wear on my tee-shirt, saying “I am on a SILENT retreat” so that I wouldn’t need to talk to them,
but I decided it’s easier just to avoid contact. I really don’t understand my
feelings, but I do struggle with strangers. They tend to be so different. I am the opposite of my
father, who simply loved people – all people.
He always managed to break the ice and find something to talk about; I envy him
that, and wish I’d inherited that skill. However, I think several of my
children have that ability, and I’m very happy that it’s not been completely
lost from the gene pool.
More new arrivals. Twelve large
middle-aged women, mostly Swedish. They are a troupe of Circle Dancers. When I
went to Skyros in 2000 there were lots of alternative
activities, and they tried to get me into Circle Dancing. It was all I
could do to stop myself breaking down in a fit of giggles when I saw a dozen
adults holding hands and solemnly prancing round in a ring. In Greece this took
place in a beautiful grove of olive trees. Here it’s all happening behind
closed doors: the mind boggles.
More women later arrived this
morning, drifting over from the women’s community on the other side of the
road. I am finding this very challenging now, because the energy is becoming very
unbalanced since 80% of the guests are middle-aged women. This is so often the
case with serious spiritual groups, and it is one of the beauties of the
Lincoln Cathedral congregation that there is a significant number of serious
male members of the community – rather than just accompanying husbands.
Nobody would think that I was
naturally reserved, just to be doing a trip like this, but sometimes I find it
more than a bit challenging at a cross-cultural level. . I withdraw to my room and tackle the next chapter of the book,
which is proving quite daunting, - but overall, it’s taking shape nicely and
should be finished by the summer. I’ll have to start approaching publishers
when I get home.
Off to Madurai on Monday, then I’ll
be back in Kerala in ten days. I heard a rumour that they’d repealed
prohibition and that Kerala is no longer a dry State. Now that would be good.
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