My Return to The City of Life
Kashi, The City of Life, is an ancient name for Varanasi, and is said to be the ideal place to die, as dying here brings moksha, or liberation from the cycle of rebirth. It is a city with a three thousand year history of spirituality and is located at the convergence of three rivers. During my first visit here, after ten weeks traveling alone in India in 2002, I engaged with some local amoebas and various anti-biotics could not persuade them to let go of our relationship. Maybe I was on the path towards liberation but I didn't want to die yet. After six days of attempted medicines and avoidance of the Indian hospital, of previously unknown cramp and poo-trauma, I finally checked in and spent five days on intravenous anti-biotics. I emerged from the hospital having gone to bathroom more times in two weeks that in I would in two years, thirty pounds lighter and deathly afraid to be back on the streets of this city that is considered dirty even by Indian standards.
I had wanted to stay and continue my journey through India and around the world when my feet and legs started swelling. Within a few days my feet had become so big I could hardly tie my shoes. Of course no one knew what was happening and so I bought a plane ticket home, an escape plan for life it seemed, and while traveling the swelling continued to rise all the way up to my stomach. I spent my first day back in Honolulu in the emergency room taking every test possible and yet the doctors didn't know what was causing the swelling. They weren't sure if it was some kind of amoebic growth, a lymph-node blockage, a blood-clot, etc., but at the end of day and a full-body cat scan they decided that I was malnourished from my sickness and had lost nearly a third of the blood in my body. My cells were leaking their fluids into the inter-cellular tissue and I had gained 25 pounds of this fluid in five days. All I did for the next two weeks was eat, mostly protein and iron, and sleep. And after another 40 days of western anti-biotics I had mostly recovered from my trip to India. It was traumatic and I was disgusted and wished to never return.
As you can imagine the exciting opportunity to return to India with the Dreamtime Circus brought with it some deeply seated fears and anxiety. However, I had gained some wisdom and had brought with me preventative medicine that I took everyday of my trip (grapefruit seed extract, oregano oil, black walnut seed hull, clove oil, pro-biotics, multivitamins, flax oil, vitamin c and spirulina tablets). I avoided uncooked foods, ice, walking barefoot and swimming in the rivers - and this time I had only minor and quickly-passing stomach issues.
I felt intuitively that it was important to return to Varanasi five years later and in good health, to reflect on life and time passing and to make a full circle of experience from my last time here. I am so glad that I did! I love Varanasi! It is so rich and alive with spirituality and music and creative activity. For six miles Varanasi borders the Ganges River, the mother of all life and most holy of Indian rivers, and is the the only place on the 2000 mile-length that the Ganges turns 180 degrees and flows north towards its source. There is a continuous length of ghats, or steps, going from the city down to the river so that people (and those who have made a pilgrimage to bath in the Ganges) may easily access its sacred waters. The ghats are lined with various Shiva temples (2000 temples in Varanasi!) and boats and places where bodies are burned by a fire that has been kept lit for three thousand years. It is an ancient and holy town and a pleasure and relish to experience.
Upon arrival to Assi Ghat, on the south side of the city, I found the guest house where I'd stayed the last time once I got out of the hospital. The same overpriced-but-discounted-for-me room looking out on the Ganges was available, and the same owner who had convinced me to go home and get well and return was also there. I only had three days to be in Varanasi and each morning I would get up at sunrise and walk the ghats. I walked past the guest house where I'd been thoroughly demolished and sick, played flutes, took pictures, sang, got head massages, drank chai, reflected and gave huge thanks for my life and good health. It was amazing to be here again. I spun fire by the river for two nights with a drummer-friend I'd met in Goa and Chennai. I finally started freestyle chanting during my fire dance and some Indians gave us tips at the end of our show, bakshish as they call it here, usually used as a term for what foreigners pay the police in bribes. Varanasi is a cultural town with a rich heritage in music, spirituality, and history and leaving was so different that the last time. Rather than feeling like I was escaping I wished that I could be staying here much longer and intend to one day return again to Kashi, The City of Life.
A small view of the many activities on the river's edge.
Fishing the Ganga.
Laborers breaking up the road by pick and basket, I wished I could offer a backhoe for them to use.
Stepping on the newest ghat, the cement still setting.
Varanasi is known for its silks and fabrics, a heavenly situation for me.
How hands make poo into fuel for fire.
Temple Cow.
Fire-dancing for the homeless beggar families at Assi Ghat.
I had wanted to stay and continue my journey through India and around the world when my feet and legs started swelling. Within a few days my feet had become so big I could hardly tie my shoes. Of course no one knew what was happening and so I bought a plane ticket home, an escape plan for life it seemed, and while traveling the swelling continued to rise all the way up to my stomach. I spent my first day back in Honolulu in the emergency room taking every test possible and yet the doctors didn't know what was causing the swelling. They weren't sure if it was some kind of amoebic growth, a lymph-node blockage, a blood-clot, etc., but at the end of day and a full-body cat scan they decided that I was malnourished from my sickness and had lost nearly a third of the blood in my body. My cells were leaking their fluids into the inter-cellular tissue and I had gained 25 pounds of this fluid in five days. All I did for the next two weeks was eat, mostly protein and iron, and sleep. And after another 40 days of western anti-biotics I had mostly recovered from my trip to India. It was traumatic and I was disgusted and wished to never return.
As you can imagine the exciting opportunity to return to India with the Dreamtime Circus brought with it some deeply seated fears and anxiety. However, I had gained some wisdom and had brought with me preventative medicine that I took everyday of my trip (grapefruit seed extract, oregano oil, black walnut seed hull, clove oil, pro-biotics, multivitamins, flax oil, vitamin c and spirulina tablets). I avoided uncooked foods, ice, walking barefoot and swimming in the rivers - and this time I had only minor and quickly-passing stomach issues.
I felt intuitively that it was important to return to Varanasi five years later and in good health, to reflect on life and time passing and to make a full circle of experience from my last time here. I am so glad that I did! I love Varanasi! It is so rich and alive with spirituality and music and creative activity. For six miles Varanasi borders the Ganges River, the mother of all life and most holy of Indian rivers, and is the the only place on the 2000 mile-length that the Ganges turns 180 degrees and flows north towards its source. There is a continuous length of ghats, or steps, going from the city down to the river so that people (and those who have made a pilgrimage to bath in the Ganges) may easily access its sacred waters. The ghats are lined with various Shiva temples (2000 temples in Varanasi!) and boats and places where bodies are burned by a fire that has been kept lit for three thousand years. It is an ancient and holy town and a pleasure and relish to experience.
Upon arrival to Assi Ghat, on the south side of the city, I found the guest house where I'd stayed the last time once I got out of the hospital. The same overpriced-but-discounted-for-me room looking out on the Ganges was available, and the same owner who had convinced me to go home and get well and return was also there. I only had three days to be in Varanasi and each morning I would get up at sunrise and walk the ghats. I walked past the guest house where I'd been thoroughly demolished and sick, played flutes, took pictures, sang, got head massages, drank chai, reflected and gave huge thanks for my life and good health. It was amazing to be here again. I spun fire by the river for two nights with a drummer-friend I'd met in Goa and Chennai. I finally started freestyle chanting during my fire dance and some Indians gave us tips at the end of our show, bakshish as they call it here, usually used as a term for what foreigners pay the police in bribes. Varanasi is a cultural town with a rich heritage in music, spirituality, and history and leaving was so different that the last time. Rather than feeling like I was escaping I wished that I could be staying here much longer and intend to one day return again to Kashi, The City of Life.
A small view of the many activities on the river's edge.
Fishing the Ganga.
Laborers breaking up the road by pick and basket, I wished I could offer a backhoe for them to use.
Stepping on the newest ghat, the cement still setting.
Varanasi is known for its silks and fabrics, a heavenly situation for me.
How hands make poo into fuel for fire.
Temple Cow.
Fire-dancing for the homeless beggar families at Assi Ghat.
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