Sitting under a banyan tree, the Indian winter sun falls between dappled shadows on the parched earth. A light wind blows, and a huge aircraft prepares to land in the far distance.Then, all man-made sound is hushed and the Indian meadow is still again. The chattering crows and sawing crickets continue the midday overture.
Tomorrow, it will be me in that roaring silver bird. Flying far away from this charmed rural idyll, where I’ve been training in yoga for the past 21 days. I find it hard to get excited about the barrage of ready made entertainment that will greet me from my cushioned seat on the sleek airline. I’ve learnt another melody these past few weeks – I have endless faith and possibilities inside my own head.
After a traumatic year, I’d found myself worn down to someone who showed flashes of bitterness, a tendency to weep and, most of all, of not being able to realise the changes that had been thrust up my family and I. Colour leached out, and a greyness settled in place of all the happiness that we’d known before. I wanted yesterday back.
But time strides fowards, and never back. I knew that more than anything I had to cope – quickly. So I decided to put aside pills, psychology and the barren terrain where I was beginning to lay my head, and instead dive into the strong arms of yoga; my yoga mat had been the only place that I found an escape during the aftershocks of our 2015.
I looked at yoga teacher training courses in Copenhagen (near where we live) and in Spain. But the prices were excessive, and not at all offering the simplicity and tranquility that I strongly feel yogic practices should be about. And I most definitely didn’t want to join this glossy bimbo yoga movement that is becoming the norm; all coconut oil greased blondes flashing their rippling abdomens on beaches at sunset.
India is a destination that always beckoned me with a languid sigh, I Googled Bangalore (where an old college friend lives) and then yoga teacher training courses. Within three minutes I’d found Shrimath Yoga School. By the next day I’d booked; my job and family downcast, but aware the Heather wasn’t thriving and needing to go away…and then come back.
And now, from a bamboo mat in this chattering and magical Indian garden I am healed. My mind is rebooted, my body is fit, my dreams are all possible and I know now that I’ll never feel lost or alone again. I am spiritual and I’ve learned how to meditate, I eat only pure ayruvedic food, I drink water or milk and I smile, enjoy silence and look forward to the next 50 years with relish.
Life is a journey that I love to travel. I always did, but life and circumstances sometimes lead you astray. My sweet family will be waiting at the airport on Friday, and I’ll be rushing through baggage reclaim to bring them my endless love, thanks and a transformed version of their funny old mum.