The First Mysore Moments

Its here. I'm here.

I write this from the infamous Green Hotel, a mile or so from Guruji, aka sri K. Patabbi Jois, and his Yoga Shala. I made my offering (or tuition) in rupees and dollars and let it go. I gave him the gifts and notes I had been carrying from times and time zones afar. He asked about Chuck, "is he still teaching?", I said "yes, at least in Santa Monica until May or so" as I looked at the soft hands draped in gold. I felt nervous, a little tight in the gut - was it true? Had I really become another devotee who traipsed across oceans and mountains to leave his dough at the feet of a 90 year old "Master"? Is this the man of a rational school of thought? And yet for so long I had wanted to come this way to see him before Yama claimed him for himself; so in a sense I have accomplished my goal - to be with Guruji in Mysore whilst he still is clear and present.

A few times I asked myself, "what have I gotten myself into?" Thoughts appeared - hey why don't you just go home to sweet, friendly and familar Santa Monica and let go of this nonsense - and I let those thoughts go, just normal trepidation.

"You come tomorrow at six-thirty".

Ok. I'll see you then Mr. Guruji and I'll be trying my hardest not for perfect asanas (thats too easy) but rather to not have any expectations.