Our last night in Odeceixe, Portugal, as we took our couple’s yoga class from Ellen on the yoga deck and the sun was setting over the hills (I’m painting a picture for you here) I looked down at my hands while in down-dog and thought “wow, how much have I changed?”
This was only 20 or so days in to the trip. My fancy engagement and wedding rings had been replaced by a plain silver band, my arms and hands were tanned, covered in bug bites and scratched by raspberry bushes.
I had this same feeling recently while doing yoga on the lawn at the Ashram. That plain silver ring is long-lost (an unfortunate bi-product of taking it off to have my hands painted), my skin is dry from the Rajasthan heat, and multiple layers of henna are fading on my palms.
As Shree notes during yoga: “A flexible body, a flexible mind!”
Yes, India has taught us flexibility. It became a catch-phrase for our little group of ashram volunteers. Yoga class cancelled but no one told you? #flexibility! Ayurvedic doctor prescribes pills he never actually brings to the Ashram? #flexibility! Ask Papu to teach you how to make soup and he makes dry-fried dal? #flexibility!
We got to a place where these things didn’t bother us, they just made us laugh, or shrug, or they passed by without a comment because they were so common place. It takes a lot to bother us, these days. We have both changed here.