An Ode to Coconuts

The Practical

Let me tell you about the coconut situation. There are coconut stands on just about every major street corner, and one enterprising fellow who parks his coconut truck in front of the shala gate every morning and reaps all the traffic of sweaty, thirsty yoga students needing a delicious fluid and electrolyte tonic. I don't know how he scored that real estate, but he does a brisk business. We drink a lot of coconuts. There is also The Coconut Stand, which is where the bendy white people drink their coconuts at other times of day.

To drink a coconut, which costs 10 rupees (less than 20 cents), the coconut man hacks the top off of a tender young coconut with an intimidating curved knife and sticks a straw in it for you. You drink the coconut water, then he breaks the coconut open and you eat the coconut jelly or meat that he carves out for you with the same big knife (texture depends on the maturity of the coconut. I found the jelly a bit slimy at first but now I prefer it.) But the coconut's story does not end there. Then you throw your coconut on the ground, where it becomes a snack for a cow or a goat. Then someone comes along and gathers up the coconut shells and I think they burn them.

That is for young coconuts. For older, "grown up" coconuts (as Anita calls them in her adorable version of English), you don't drink them but you grate up the meat inside and cook with it or use it as a garnish. First you split the husk with another scary implement - this time a big pointy metal thing that you impale the coconut on and then crack it open. Anita makes this look easy, as she does with grating the coconut on her little knife/grater/stool thing (see photo, I can't properly describe it. But I want one.)

Then you use the grated coconut to make something delicious. THEN, you save the old coconut husks for the rainy season. Because you get hot water in the summer from a solar heated hot water tank on the roof, but this doesn't work in the rainy season so you burn old coconut husks to heat your bath water. Aren't coconuts the best?

In other news, it has taken a month but I have finally discovered something I don't like about India. It is getting _really_ hot, and I would like to be able to lounge around in a strappy tank top. That is all. But modesty rules are different here, so I have to wear sleeves even around the house (since we live with a family) and to dance class. I would smell a lot better if they were more relaxed with their dress code, but so be it. At least the shala is Westernized enough that I can practice in a tank top, otherwise I might die.

The Practice

Yoga is infinitely deep, even on a purely physical level. I could do nothing but sun salutations for the rest of my life and still not run out of subtler and subtler things to work with. Still, the ego has its own definition of progress, especially the modern Western ego that has been especially conditioned to conquer and compete and compare. "I want more postures!", it says. "I want to prove that I am special and talented!" I am getting better at ignoring this nattering, and today's practice was focused and rewarding for the little steps I notice my body and mind taking toward freedom. When I got to pashasana I actually thought, "Wow, that was tiring. I'm glad I get to stop here".

So, of course I got three new postures.

And, this will surprise no one, apparently I need to have a whole discussion with Sharath every time he gives me a new posture. Today went like this: I did my dropbacks and he came over and said, "korunchasana". I couldn't tell if it was a statement or a question. I said, "did I do korunchasana? No." He said again, "korunchasana". I said, "I should do it now? I already did backbends". He said, "I was supposed to give it to you today. If you don't do it today you have to wait two more days". I shrugged, "meh" (see above...) and he said , "Wednesday, " and held up three fingers, "korunchasana, shalabhasana, bhekasana". "I said, "all three in one day?" because I have never heard of that before. He confirmed his straightforward instructions.

So, I'll be pretty tired on Wednesday. Bhekasana is as far as I had gotten under Matthew's tutelage, so anything that comes from here on out will be new for real. Imagine the conversations I will have with him then...

The Path

What exactly is this phenomenon we call a human being? How is one supposed to work and how can I be better at being one? These are some of the questions that I've been working with lately and a big part of what took me to India. We are so crazily complicated. Reality is like a set of Russian nesting dolls. At one level, it is true that we are subatomic particles, which themselves are just temporary accumulations of energy. At another level, we are our cellular biochemical reactions, and then on up through our tissues and organs and organ systems... our primal brainstem instincts to our lizard/squirrel/monkey brains... to the transcendent inner light of pure consciousness that pervades the entire universe and that every spiritual tradition in the world teaches us is our true nature, and our job is to find our way back to it. The level of reality that is the LEAST real, whether you ask an ascended master or modern science, is this separate-self ego construction that we use to make our way through the mundane world. And yet... that is all we think we are!

"Reason says we are nothing. Love says we are everything. In between these two, our life flows."