In search of part of my heart I left behind the winter of 1995 and on an adventure my travel partner/friend/most loyal client, I boarded a plane on Valentine’s Day 2019. My friend named this adventure to the east: Do Epic Shit.
XNA>DEL>GOI
We landed in Delhi, cleared immigration and headed to the lounge, waiting for our flight to Goa. The moment the small glass filled with masala tea touched my lips my heart was at ease. An ease I’d felt 24 years prior. What was it about this, Momma India, which spoke deeply to me? What was it about her which caused people to love her or hate her. Very few I’ve met who have encountered her have a middle of the road feeling about her.
She is a land of extremes. A land of chaos and peace. Fresh mountain air and toxic city air. High tech innovative businesses and no-tech mountain ashrams. I’ve often described her as a land where your senses are each on high alert, wrapped with a spiritual bow. A land of powerful generational energy. A land who will welcome you, should you accept her offerings. With an open heart, I accepted.
Much has happened in the 24 years since we met. I left the college which introduced us. I moved. I married. I had babies. I traveled to other parts of the world. I led others on these global experiences. I crafted dreams into reality through business ventures and volunteer opportunities. I achieved goals and set others aside. One thing remained, I longed to return. I needed to tell her in person: You changed me. This was my chance.
The days were filled with sunrises and sets on the Arabian sea, meditation, yoga and learning. Sitting with a local Ayruvedic healer, watching and learning and asking questions is an example of the daily gifts presented. There were sunbaths in between practices, tuktuk rides to neighboring villages and solo candlelit dinners as I watched the children and dogs play in the sand.. A bit of bargaining with the jewelry and trinket sellers on the beach, henna on my hands and feet, as I read books which had been stacked next to my bed for months. Yummy vegetarian meals and mediocre white wine, fish caught that morning and masala tea. Hundreds of cups of masala tea.
There was an ease to the days. A slow routine. An ebb and flow, like the sound of the sea. In the expected of the day, I knew not to. Not to expect. The removal of expectation was one of the biggest gifts.
I traveled with 2 women who were health coaching clients. One for the first half of the trip and another the second half. When they need a coaching session they’d ask and a few times I’d suggest a chat (with masala tea of course). I’d arrange drivers and tickets, sightseeing and run errands. In a way that was expected of me, but it felt different.
After a few weeks with my feet on her soil & sand, body immersed in her water, I knew I’d not found the part of my heart for which I’d returned. I’d board the plane leaving more of it behind.