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EASEOFMOVEMENT
by Jess Holl

Points South

Freedom is riding in the open-air sleeper car through the Western Ghats. There are peacocks
on the train tracks and palm tree forests planted on the city outskirts. TheSabari Expressis
bound for Kerala, and I with it.
The train speeds past farms and cows and thatch-roof villages that pass quickly. The
mountains in the distance remain mostly the same. We pass Indian Railway workers with
uniform indigo turbans, happy babies being held by their grandmothers, roadside Sadhus
with painted faces, buffalos with companion egrets.

Follow easeofmovement

EASEOFMOVEMENT
by Jess Holl

Ootys Beauty

There is a distinct point, when driving into the Nilgiri range from the steamy flatlands of Tamil
Nadu, when you feel the air change. Its almost literally as your car turns a bend: the humidity
lifts, the roadside monkeys are more energetic, and you conjure a doctors voice from the
19th century: The mountain air will do you good.
This was no doubt the advice of physicians to many a pallid and sweltering colonialist

headed for Ooty, the British hill station known locally asOotacamund, located nearthe
highest point in southern Indiaand the farthest away from summers heat you could get.
Id connected with a wonderful new friend, Isabelle, whod come to India just for the ashram
program where we met. She now had three days left before her flight home and wanted to
see a slice of India, but had gotten quite ill and was still recovering from her stomach bug. I,
on the other hand, had a grant-writing deadline and needed a quick retreat. Come with me,
I suggested, The mountain air will do you good.

Among the joys of traveling alone, the consistent quality of ones accommodations may not
number. But when traveling as a pair, there are times when a palace stay presents itself and
you can say yes! And so we booked ourselves as guests for the weekend at Fernhills
Palace, the Majaraja of Mysores summer retreat.

EASEOFMOVEMENT
by Jess Holl

DYI: Doing Yoga in India

I thought I would first come to India to Do Yoga. You know: the ashram in the middle of the
jungle on the banks of a large, placid river. I wear loose cotton pants and walk barefoot on
marble floors. I bunk on a hard cot in a large dorm building. I eat lentils, wake up at 5 a.m.,
do yoga 5 times a day, meditate, chant while sitting on said marble floors. Here is where I
would find an Enlightened Practice through a little starvation and a lot of uncomfortable
seating.
And then I came to India for a documentary film instead. And in Udaipur, where the team was
based, was a spare blue concrete building with a cardboard sign out front:
Yoga: 7 a.m. 8 a.m. and 7 p.m.

Anja, my director, and I decided to go.

The floors short-pile green rug looked like AstroTurf, and there were person-size throw rugs
everywhere. Hmm, could we Do Yoga without our Lululemon Non-Slip Travel Mats? They
seemed rather out of place and we hid them in the corner with our shoes.
Turns out: yoga is very possible on a throw rug. Its even pleasurable. And this challenging
class was moreover one of the most meditative Id ever been to. In one hour, I realized this
was a very different kind of yoga than a lot of what Id been doing. Not physically, but
philosophically. It dawned on me that this was yoga as preparation for meditation, a way of
wringing out the body to prep it for something next.
In Pushkar, I sought out a yoga class again, this time tucked away on the second floor of a
hotel. Also on a rug in an even smaller blue concrete room, I practiced what most NY
studios would bill as a restorative class, and then we immediately followed it with meditation.
I was finally able to sit still. I even got my brain to stop chattering for a few minutes.
I began realizing maybe Id been missing the point of yoga. The toning and flexibility and
general well-being that happenthese are side effects. The purpose here is to lay the
groundwork for something greater. But Im not sure the class descriptions at the local gym
chains mention that part.
Ah: I had figured it out. Yoga in the U.S. is, like, totally commercialized, industrialized,
fetishized. Its lost its focus, lost touch with its roots. I need to bring Yoga back to the
People! Ahem. And so in Mumbai, when a new friend recommended his ashram, I thought:
Absolutely! Bring on the cinderblocks and rag rugs!
It was like a spa visit. My room was air conditioned, and I got a required massage once a
day. There were hot showers, the food had inspired its own cookbooktheres even a gift
shop.
Wait, wait, wait, I was just getting used to calm-as-marble yogis gently stretching me to a
higher plane in their carpeted cells. What does this place think its doing with its own caf?
And then I took its program and none of that mattered. Their blissful corner of the foothills in
southern India was actually really nice to be in while undergoing some intensive mental
exercise.
Inevitable conclusion: its not where but what. Its not content but context. I have a new
understanding of yoga in service to a much higher aim for your brain. Had I gone directly to
Eat, Pray, Love and not passed this circuitous route of circumstance, would I have realized

the same thing? Or maybe you connect the dots toward meditation as youre ready. However
it happened, Im grateful for it. After two years of regular yoga practice, I am just now
beginning.

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Posted March 20, 2012 at 6:23pm | 3 notes

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