THE TRUTH

I always thought 'finding yourself' was when you took time to discover what your core personality was and how to strengthen it. But this isn't so, well at least it's not my definition anymore. Finding myself has been understanding WHAT I am not WHO I am according to my personality traits. It's the what one should be concerned about not the who. And the what is something I've been trying to understand my whole life. I thought being human meant being a mind, thoughts, body and soul and sure this is all true but there's a whole other part. The part that is in charge of the soul- that mysterious part of you that gives you intuitions sometimes. It's the part that runs the whole system. I mean have you ever stopped and wondered how your heart is pumping or mind running? Yes, cells which are made up of atoms and atoms are made up of an electron, proton and a nucleus. But what's giving energy to those particles? That's what I needed to know and not just intellectually but I needed to know it by realizing it. And this is where I couldn't use my intellect, for the first time, to understand something. I just needed physical and mental silence and my breath. John Mayer got it right when he wrote the song Bigger than my body. We are all much, much, much more than our body. We carry the Universe inside. It's quite spectacular, it is indeed!  

TURNING 32 AND FINDING PEACE

It’s my 32^nd birthday today. I hope I can maintain this peaceful feeling all day. It seems like I’ve been away from the ashram for more than two and a half weeks. Things have changed: there’s way more people here and the temperature has dropped drastically. It’s really cold in the mornings and evenings now- good thing I brought my warm clothes from Delhi even though I think once November hits even they won’t suffice.

From today onwards I’m going to vow not to focus on all I thought I would have accomplished by now and just be in the moment. It’s nice to just BE – I have a hard time with that. My mind likes to take me down the road of harmful thinking which has me wondering what more I could or should have done to make myself happier. Thing is I don’t want to concern myself with happiness anymore. It’s none of my concern. My only job is to just be and follow my soul’s calling. Happiness will figure itself out;) To figure out exactly what my soul wants, I need time. Time to change the way my mind works or perhaps just getting my mind to stop it’s habitual thinking pattern. That would be a huge accomplishment.  

Anna, a girl a year younger than me, came over to me today just to talk and find out what happened with my visa. She and I had got to know each other when I had helped her with covering some books with plastic for the library and also because I had edited Satsangs she had transcribed. Anyway, I filled her in on my trip to Delhi and she was so open and receptive and positive. It was really nice and I really needed it. She helped to restore my faith in this path I’m on. Not everyone, actually not very many people at all, will understand why one would choose to live in an ashram. It’s nice to know another female my age is here for the same reasons as me and has gone through some tough moments but is now finally feeling connected and clear about her life. It was so beautiful to listen to her and watch her speak with such enthusiasm – she wasn’t always like this. It was such a generous birthday present and I really couldn’t have asked for more. I’m hopeful again and I’m so grateful I’m here. I’m 32 and I feel blessedJ

FROM ASHRAM TO THE 'REAL WORLD'

So I've been in Delhi for exactly 2 weeks now. I should have been back at the ashram by now but I've come down with a terrible cold that has me confined to my bed. Well not exactly 'my bed.' It would be the family friends' bed whose mansion I'm staying in. It's been very educational going from peaceful, insightful, harmonious ashram atmosphere to loud, chaotic, over stimulating Delhi. On the very comfortable four and half hour train journey from Haridwar to New Delhi I promised myself I would work hard to maintain my peaceful state and take time to meditate daily. I was doing great for the first  week and then boom I get sick. Actually I shouldn't have been that surprised, I always seem to fall sick when I visit Delhi. So even though I wasn't meditating for two hours daily I was managing to fit in one hour in the mornings and was also working out. I was back to running and lifting weights. I felt great.

The weekend came 5 days later and so I decided to visit my Pinky Masi (Masi is the term we use for your mother's sister - every other older Indian lady is an auntie) since my cousin, Mukul, works long hours during the week and I would have missed him otherwise. I thought I was in a for a daring adventure when I decided to take the Delhi Metro to the outskirts of Ghaziabad - a city 19km from Delhi- but nope, the metro was clean, efficient and smooth. I was impressed. It wasn't up to London's Overground train standards but close. I had a nice afternoon and evening with Masi, Mukul, Honey (his wife) and Arna (his daughter). I decided to stay till late afternoon the next day since it was really nice spending one-on-one time with my aunt. My uncle (maserji) passed away earlier this year.

I got sick after I ate stale almonds in Delhi- or at least I think that's what caused it. The next 24 hours were not fun, to say the least. Once I was back to feeling semi-normal, I went to Nehru place which is literally a computer nerds' heaven. It's a massive square jam-packed with tech stores, repair shops, and anything you can possibly think of related to computers.  I had to drop off my dear laptop to the Acer shop. My one last attempt to savage the device which has practically become family these past 11 months of travelling.  Two days later I found out it indeed had passed over to the other side - I know Acer is at peace in computer heaven.

Anyway I was still feeling a little queasy and I think a combination of that and the heat got to me and I fell ill - again! But this time I had a slight fever and a sore throat which then turned into the worst cold I've ever had. I was bed ridden for about 4 days straight. I'm still all stuffed up but I'm eager to head back to the ashram.

So before heading back I've decided to purchase a new laptop considering I plan on doing more writing and pen to paper still feels very primitive. I'm hoping to get in the routine of setting aside two hours a day to write. I know I can keep this up while at the ashram and I wanna take advantage of the tranquil atmosphere for the next couple of months. I really don't know how long I'm going to stay there, I just know I'm not quiet ready to face the world yet. I'm no longer habitually dabbling in negative self talk but I'm not exactly giving myself positive feedback either and I really need this positive self-talk especially since I'll be taking on new projects and looking into new endeavours like theatre in India. How fun would that be!

I met up with an old Woodstock friend, Jenny Kishan which was really nice. We chatted for a couple of hours as we filled each other in on the new direction our lives seem to be going. We're hoping to meet up again in Rishikesh in November.

That same evening I went on my first sight seeing venture in Delhi. I went to go see Hazrat Nizam-ud-din and the Qawwali (Urdu and Hindi religious  hymns sung by men). It was a cool experience but it was odd that they don't allow ladies into where the tomb is placed, especially considering Delhi is such a cosmopolitan city. When we asked why we weren't allowed in we were told it's because Nizamuddin never married. And so...??

I just gotta buy myself a new laptop and I'm all set to head back home...I mean the ashram. Home is where the heart is and right now that's where my heart is.

Big worship Hall - again we weren't allowed in all the way

Sweetidid and I outside the tomb - 'No ladies allowed inside' says the sign behind to my right

Qawwali singers - I felt like I was a part of a Bollywood film since this exact place was the location of a recent Bollywood film

COME WHAT MAY

I never set out to prove anything to myself or anyone else for that matter. I just knew it was time to get up and shake up my life. So before I was fired from a job that I had lost all interest in which was being felt among my colleagues, I decided to quit. See after suffering from depression for 12 years, I knew I couldn’t go on in a job that my heart wasn’t into. So in September of last year, I spoke to my bosses at CTV and gave them my two weeks’ notice. I told them I could stay longer if they needed me to do so but that in month’s time I was to go overseas to volunteer - At that point I didn’t even know if my application was accepted at the organization I was volunteering through- Globalteer. I didn’t care. I was suffocating. That’s what depression can do sometimes and if I didn’t take a deep breath soon my mind was going to explode. I never mentioned my depression at work. I was afraid the stigma that is so often attached to this mental illness would have been used against me and now when I look back I wish I had the courage to speak out. I do now.

My decline in interest at work began only six months after being encouraged to apply for the job by CTV Power Play’s former host. At the time I was working as a part-time chase producer for CTV News Channel in Toronto. Working in Ottawa for CTV’s political show would be a huge step up, as I was told by colleagues. I knew they were right but I wasn’t sure the move would be right for me. I knew by moving home not only would I be giving up my social life but any chance of having a career in acting - my true passion. At that point, my acting career, or lack there of, was going nowhere and I was afraid that if I didn’t jump at the offer I wouldn’t get such an opportunity again. But isn’t that just what we all think when we’re guided by our own misconceptions of what we think we ‘should’ do? So instead of listening to my own inner voice I let fear and doubt guide me – never a good way to make an important decision. So I packed up my little bachelor pad into boxes and headed to the capital city.

Once the initial excitement of having a new job began to subside, trying to keep up pretences increased. I figured it was the 10-6pm routine that had me doubting my decision of taking the job - I had shift work in Toronto, which seemed to suite me quiet well- so I tried to busy myself with ‘stuff’: seeing friends, shopping for yet more work clothes, spending time with family and taking weekend trips to Toronto. But I couldn’t shake the restlessness and I couldn’t make sense of the feelings of depression that were resurfacing. I had been off anti-depressants for about a year then and was naively optimistically about ever having to take them again.

None of it made sense. I was working a job so many other journalist grads would have loved to have. I was an associate producer for CTV’s Power Play with Don Martin - a political show hosted daily from the interiors of Parliament Hill. I was rubbing elbows with the decision makers of our country and the political elite. It was interesting, fun, stressful at times but I was part of something important. My whole life revolved around the job. At least once a week after work, my colleagues and I would hit the sparks street bars frequented by political journalists, MPs, their political staffers and anyone else addicted to the soap opera that is Ottawa politics. My blackberry was my life source and that darned blinking red light was always within my peripheral vision. I could have gone far if I wanted. The opportunities were endless; however, despite all this something was tugging at me.

I couldn’t help wondering what else. What was the purpose of my existence? When I had achieved my career goals then what? There had to be more, no? However these metaphysical questions that kept replaying in my mind weren’t getting me anywhere and they certainly weren’t helping with the symptoms of depression that were resurfacing: the inability to focus and concentrate for long. So after reluctantly admitting to myself that the thick cloud fogging my brain was in fact depression, I was back on my ever so reliable anti-depressants, Celexa. For the next eight months I excused my feelings of restlessness as symptoms of depression and tried to keep my head a float at work. To keep my mind occupied from thoughts of ‘what else’ I took up volunteering with Mood Disorders Ottawa where I was facilitating group sessions in hopes that by focusing on others’ mental illnesses I would get my mind off my own. I also got back into acting and was heading off to rehearsals in the evenings for a play that was to be staged that summer. I should have been so happy, so why wasn’t I?

It would have been easier to justify quitting work if the situation at the office was unbearable but the thing was, everyone at the office was wonderful. I liked my colleagues. It was the person I was becoming I didn’t like – bitter, frustrated and indifferent about my existence. However, what cemented my decision to quit were the all too frequent drives home after work where I found myself sobbing for no apparent reason and having recurring thoughts of death. My restlessness was making my depression worse and I knew I didn’t have the strength this time to pull myself back out from the dark hole that is depression.

When word got out I was leaving work to volunteer overseas, those around me would say things like “wow that’s admirable” and “I wish I could do the same” but then the questions arose: How was I going to survive without an income? How long would I be going for? Did I have a plan set out? The questions were coming from all directions and sometimes from within. I didn’t have answers. All I knew was that something deep in me was telling me I could no longer continue the way I was, so I took the leap. Now I knew at the time my decision was going to be seen as inspired by the acclaimed Eat, Pray, Love phenomenon so I profusely denied any resemblance to author Elizabeth Gilbert’s journey and my own – I didn’t want to be that cliché. I laughed off the idea when my friend gave me the book before I took off but now, nine months later, I’ve accepted the truth that the similarities between Gilbert’s and my journey are in fact very similar. Actually freakishly similar. I too indulged in delicious foods, fell in love with an older Spanish man and now I’m praying in India.

So on November 16th, 2011 with a one-way ticket, I boarded a plane from Toronto to make the long journey to Siem Reap, Cambodia where I would be spending the next 6 weeks teaching English to children at the NGO, Anjali House. I loved the experience and the town so much I extended my stay by 4 weeks. From there I was off backpacking across South East Asia sometimes with a friend, sometimes own my own. Each moment was an adventure where I was experiencing something new everyday. In seven months I had hit seven countries and 15 cities. But there was something missing. What was I hoping to gain by all these experiences I was having? Knowledge about the world perhaps? But seeing yet another temple wasn’t satisfying my hunger to understand why the universe existed and what humans were doing on it. So with my travelers bible in tow, Lonley Planet, and my fingers crossed, I headed to the birthplace of yoga - India.

Without knowing much about ashram life I headed to Aurovalley Ashram about 10 kilometres from the city of Rishikesh and just steps away from the holy river, Ganges. Aurovalley, founded by Swami Brahmdev, is based on the philosophies of Sri Aurobindo and The Mother which encourages the study of integral yoga – the process of letting go of ones ego and uniting all parts of oneself with the Divine conscious. It was exactly what I was looking for. I needed to learn how to quiet my mind and find out who I really was beyond the negative thoughts and habits that I knew were holding me back from everything I had dreamed of. I needed to know the source of my depression. It’s been three and half months and I’m still here. No I’m not scrubbing floors like Julia Roberts in the movie Eat, Pray, Love but I am meditating everyday for at least 2 hours, doing yoga asanas, teaching the school children who come to the ashram from the surrounding village and more importantly, discovering who I really am.

On my first day at the ashram I saw a quote that angered me: “It is the ego that gets depressed. Do not mind it. Go on quietly with your work and the depression will disappear." Now being someone who has suffered depression for over 10 years, I didn’t agree. But months of silent meditation and I finally understand it. I’ve realized that I am more than my thoughts. It’s the mind that gets taken over by depression but if I’m more than just a mind than I am also more than my depression. The depression doesn’t penetrate the truest part of me, my soul.

I’m now off Celexa and I know this time it’s permanent. Managing my depression no longer means trips to a psychiatrist and taking anti-depressants, it’s letting go of my ego – the part of me that thinks it is the sole controller of my life and it alone is in charge of the outcome of my actions. I have faith in something much greater than myself, much greater than the human mind. Now I’m definitely not endorsing weaning yourself off anti-depressants without medical approval or saying that pills don’t work because they did for me, for many years, but I no longer believe that they are a permanent solution. For the first time I feel like I’m in charge of my life and a deeper part of me is in control of my thoughts. Depression is no longer a dark force lurking around the corner.

Some would argue that it’s not necessary to go half way across the world to ‘find yourself’ but for me it was. I needed the assurance that when I was frustrated at not being able to get my chattering mind to quiet, I would find guidance in someone who had already gone through the process. In one months time, it will be a year since I left home and I have now accepted the fact that my self-discovering journey will probably always be seen as inspired by Eat, Pray, Love but if being that cliché means I’m more myself than ever before, I wear that label proudly.