Yoga and Danish
I read Eat, Pray, Love about two years ago…before it was on Oprah’s bookclub, thank you very much. And I instantly loved it. I don’t know why except to say there was something resonant in it. It spoke to me. (That sounds overly earthy and granola-like but it’s true…especially the India section…to be clear she was praying at that point). Maybe it’s because I was in a place similar to hers although with vastly different details. Possibly I admired her ability to continue moving forward despite her emotional brokenness. Whatever it was, it stuck with me. I read that book on a constant cycle; the night I finish the last page I’ll move my bookmark inside the front cover and position it to begin again tomorrow. It’s like a security blanket only with pages you turn full of words.
Since she wrote it (and gained probably unnecessary and unwarranted mass attention), the author (Elizabeth something) has also garnered critiques…and rightly so. Even I, despite my dogged, visceral love for the story and her insight (and I really like her writing style which is very similar to my own) have a problem with the platform raising that occurred as millions of middle-American housewives discovered the power of yoga, dreamed of Bali (and Felipe…who we know now is actually Juan), and checked India-bound Expedia prices to book “spiritual vacations” to ashrams. This story, her story, could only happen to her and as it did. Visit an ashram and, yes, you’ll probably have a spiritual experience…walk around Rome and, yes, you’ll find your fair share of gelato. Go to Bali (wherever that is) and, yes, you’ll discover an Argentinian man old enough to be your father who will passionately love you…wait. Maybe the last part isn’t as easy to generalize.
Anyway, my belabored point is that this book is a diary of a specific journey she took…but it reads (or wants to be read) as the way an “ordinary gal” found enlightenment. Sorry Elizabeth whatsyourface…there’s nothing ordinary here. It was, in fact, an extraordinary journey…and you should be commended…but not followed.
My very first and still most primary reaction is that she found enlightenment of sorts…but she found it on the run. What happens when we can’t run? When we have ties to our places and our people who root us to a certain life, sometimes a little too securely? How do you find an inner peace when ambulance sirens wail past your window every 20 minutes? Can you cleanse and be cleansed when, following yoga, you can’t help but eat a danish instead of pea shoots and tree bark?
I think, resoundingly, the answer is yes. But I haven’t gotten many satisfying answers as to how. So I think that’s what I’m going to try. I’m searching for some urban enlightenment…and not the kind you strive for in the yoga classes at Bally’s with 75 other people. How do you become centered in the place that you’re in so that, when your rigorous “journey” winds down, you don’t reinsert yourself into your “former life” but you integrate it into where you are right now?
I don’t live in Italy (and more importantly, I’m not Italian…tourists in Italy are different than Italians). I don’t aspire to study in an Ashram in India. I’m intimidated even thinking about Bali. I live in Chicago…and I’m gonna be here for awhile…so what can I find without moving beyond. I’m not even gonna say I’ll do it for a year or two years…this journey isn’t some kind of experiment (thanks again, Elizabeth whoeveryouare). I think the only point worth noting is the starting point.
Begin.