Purnatva

I have been swept into a fantastic whirlwind of activity and non-activity over the last six days, all of which have kept me, for the most part, away from my computer. This is unusual for me, and has been a tremendous gift. I have simultaneously experienced the moment to moment immediacy of life in all its surface level reality, while being paradoxically drawn into the depths of my heart.

Purnatva is a sanskrit word meaning “perfect fullness”. It is the experience of feeling perfectly contented with existence, of receiving what is exactly needed, no more or less, in any given moment. This is the way we are meant to live. To quote Gandhi, “There will always be enough for people’s needs, but never enough for people’s greeds.”

Wednesday

I met downtown with a new friend, Eri, to attend the Jidai Matsuri, or Festival of Eras. This is held annually in Kyoto on October 22nd, and commemorates the transfer of the capital to Kyoto in 794, the 1100 years it remained the capital (until being moved to Tokyo in 1868), and the completion of the Heian Jingu-jinja where the procession ends. Basically, there is a long parade of people garbed in the costumes representative of the 1100 years that Kyoto was the capital of Japan.

Eri had been at Kiyomizu, where she was working as a volunteer to assist a couple of local artists that are showing pieces there right now. During high tourist activity, the temple hosts local artists so they can get some exposure. We met around 12:30pm, and Eri was ready for lunch. I recommended the onigiri stand (of course), and we sat at the temple while she ate. We got so absorbed in our conversation we missed the parade. Neither of us had any plans for the rest of the day, so we went to Starbucks for a hot drink and something sweet. We spent over three hours talking. The conversation flowed effortlessly, in a sweet pulsation, the rhythm of our words mixing with the jazz flowing from the cafe’s speakers.

We had dinner together too, at Tim’s house, and a lovely walk in the rain afterwards to a nearby park.

A wonderful day of time unwinding in a slow, sinuous dance.

Thursday

I spent the morning and afternoon with Eri, and we visited Pan Do Ra Di, a bakery near Tim, owned and operated by a monk who makes this amazing bread called shichikoku (“seven grains”), and a fantastic little fig and walnut cake. We bought plenty of both, then returned to Tim’s just in time to catch him in between classes. I had bought him a slice of the fig cake. He exclaimed, “That’s perfect. I was craving something sweet.” Eri and I had lunch, and then she went home.

I used the rest of the afternoon to catch up on some much neglected studying, then prepared dinner for Tim and I in the evening. I love salmon, and had bought two large pieces at the Kyoto Coop. I made the rest of the box of red quinoa I had sent over from SF (Thanks, Meredith!), and stir-fried broccoli, porcini mushrooms, garlic, eggplant, and cashews to complete the feast. Tim is the constant at the center of my life in Kyoto. Without his gracious sharing of his home, knowledge of the area, and language expertise I can imagine it would not be as easeful a relocation as it has been.

Friday

The first day of my “work week”. I was looking forward to going to Shinsaibashi this day, because Jordan Bloom, an Anusara teacher from South Africa presently based in Maryland, would be there. He is teaching throughout Japan for a month, and this was his first weekend. Jordan is a thoughtful, observant being, who has a genuine love for teaching. He is enthusiastic, and wants to give the students the most he can each time he sees them.

When I arrived at Shinsaibashi, the training was still in session. I practiced in the second studio for over an hour, and it was a pure delight to play in the flow of the breath, alternately surfing the waves and diving into the depths with my awareness. A practice that brought forth an equal measure of joy and insight.
I finished just before Jordan. When he emerged from the room, and we saw one another it was big smiles and hugs. We chatted only briefly, but began to figure out a good night for he, Tim, and I to get together. Chiho was translating for him, and the first thing she said to me was, “Have you eaten?” She had made up a bento (boxed lunch) for herself, but hadn’t eaten it. She graciously offered me her food, so I once again didn’t need to go out for a bite.
I walked over to Nanba-jinja. It was closed, but I sat on the steps facing a smaller, less travelled street, and happily ate the yummy little sandwiches she had made.
I had another fun class, then a relaxing train ride to Eri’s.

Saturday

A day of indulging the simple joys of Eri’s presence and leisurely meals.
Eri made a delightful late breakfast of miso with tofu, daikon, and negi, and an omelette filled with chopped carrots, mushrooms and soy. There was also a bowl of diced tomatoes drizzled in olive oil, pepper and salt to add to the omelette, and a lovely green tea.
I then set off for Shinsaibashi, and had a wonderful time teaching. After class, I met Eri to go to an Indian restaurant she frequents, called Indoryouri Gulbabu (Indo is Japanese for India, and ryouri means “cooking”). I am assuming that Gulbabu is the name of the attentive gentleman who kept checking in on us. Eri and I both had the vegetarian dinner. Each meal arrived laid out on a large metal platter. There were two curries, vegetable and garbanzo bean, along with saag paneer and a simple salad with a yogurt dressing, each in their own metal ramekin. Along with this was a small bowl of sweet yogurt flavored with goat cheese, a pakora, and a crispy super thin chip (I can’t recall what it is called). On a ceramic plate was a huge piece of naan and a small side of saffron rice. Included in the meal was a mango lassi. Everything was perfectly flavorful, and we spent over two hours enjoying our meal and conversing. We didn’t get back to Eri’s until around 11:30pm, and I slept well.

Sunday

Eri left the apartment before me this morning, and had left a delicious little blueberry and cream cheese bread for my breakfast. I was out of the apartment soon after her for my usual Sunday of class in Kyoto, onigiri, then off to Shinsaibashi. It was raining out, so I borrowed an umbrella from her, and thought, “When I move into my place I should have an extra umbrella or two for guests.”
After my Shinsaibashi class, Jordan invited me to go out with him and the staff for dinner, but I wanted to go back to Tim’s to see him and Maya, and try to get to bed a bit earlier than I had for the past four nights.
On the train ride back from Osaka, a sarariiman sat next to me. “Salary Man” is the name for the typical Japanese businessman, usually dressed in a dark suit, pants and shoes, white shirt, and tie (color optional). One of the requisites for these beleaguered businessmen is to go out almost every evening with their coworkers to drink and bond. The result is that many of these men have a strong smell of stale beer and cigarettes emanating from their person on their way home. My first reaction was, “Egads, how unlucky.” After being drawn into that small thought pattern for a few minutes, I chastised myself for being so small. I was reading a book, and he too had pulled out a book. I looked sideways at him a little more closely, and saw he was slightly smiling too. The thought occurred that, had we shared the same language, we might even engage in a conversation about the authors we enjoyed. This allowed me to relinquish my narrowness, and the smell that had seemed so overpowering at first receded. As we travelled, I noticed he kept nodding off then nap-jerking back awake when the train stopped at a station. Finally, at one stop, he opened his eyes, squinted and looked around, then jumped up with the utmost urgency, and made a mad dash for the door to cross the platform to the other side into a waiting local train. My train set off, and it was then I noticed he had left his umbrella. 

My guests will thank him.
I arrived at Tim’s, and he had once again put aside dinner for me. It was a nice Indian curry with copious amounts of veggies and rice. Simply lovely.

Monday

At the end of my morning Kyoto class, while the students were in savasana, I was playing a name game with myself. I tried to recall each person's name as I moved my attention from mat to mat. As I did this I realized most of the class were students who come steadily, often twice a week. I was filled with an immense wave of gratitude for their dedication to the practice, and acceptance of me as their teacher.

I met Eri at her place around 6pm. Both of us were in need of a good dinner, so we went to the KC to buy some groceries. Eri enjoys cooking, and spent nine months in Italy, where she cooked every day. We had a four course meal, beginning with a carrot soup she had made the night before. It was a clear broth base with large chunks of carrots, diced potatoes, and tomatoes, spiced with salt, pepper, and curry powder. It was heavenly! She also made a tomato sauce containing black olives and maiitake mushrooms, for our pasta course. After that we each had a small slice of cod, pan-fried with curry powder. The last course was a salad of butter lettuce, walnuts, raisins, and gorgonzola cheese, with a dressing of grape seed oil, lemon, salt, and pepper. Oishikatta!

It has been a full six days, so perfect in every way.