If you have nowhere to go, you can’t be lost: outer and inner landscapes

Helen reflects on her trip to India, the Black Lotus Teacher Training and the insights she gained during her travels

At the very end of January, I set off from Vienna to Mandrem, in Goa, India to spend a month with Ty Landrum. Exploring Black Lotus Yoga within the framework of a teacher training. A Mysore practice every day, workshops around the asana practice, Pranayama and chanting. Woven into all that, philosophy and how to embody it in our practice and in life. 

On the very first day we talked about the foundations of our yoga practice, actually the foundation of life: breathing in and breathing out, Prana and Apana. Our constant companions.
Thinking of breathing in as a form of nourishment, of gathering information, gaining support, of being receptive and open, inspired even. Breathing out as expelling any excess, anything we don’t need, of releasing, letting go, but also as a form of expression, of sharing information with others. 

So the flow of breath with all it encompasses becomes a way of finding balance, a way of ‚navigating the currents gracefully‘ – in our bodies, our minds, our lives. Without picking out only the good parts, without holding on too tightly, but allowing for all that comes up. As Ty puts it, your ‘Udana is standing up’, when Prana and Apana are balancing each other out. Not necessarily as equal partners, but in a mutually supportive way. So, when our Udana Vayu is balanced, we move into a space of greater awareness, we might stand up a little taller, be more articulate, more inspired. We might also be able to listen inwards more deeply and discover unfamiliar or hidden depths. 

Our daily Mysore practice on that magical morning rooftop in Mandrem gave a us safe, protected realm to explore and discover. Held by the attention and dedication of Ty and Anna, carried by the collective breath and focus of everyone there. Letting Prana and Apana oscillate and find their own rhythm – a little different every day.

It was a space in which to unfold: releasing and opening. As if smoothing out a crumpled piece of paper. After about a week I noticed how nice it felt to take a step back from myself. Noticing how ‚I‘ had become less important and could sense a version of myself that was not complicated by everyday situations, stories, connections that seem to play into a certain image I or others have of myself. Something untethered and deeply rooted at the same time. Nurtured by the sun and the sea, new connections and experiences. 

I was starting to feel stronger, physically and mentally, than I had in a while. 

With that came a feeling of vulnerability. Of being so open, that it was letting in and bringing up a lot of sadness, questions, confused emotions that I found hard to place. Coming out of my savasana with tears streaming down my face several days in a row. A form of relief and letting go for sure. And of holding awareness how feeling strong and steadfast allows for these deep openings, for dams to break, for new rivers to form. Feeling uncomfortable and beautifully alive.

At the end of the 4 weeks, I felt incredibly grateful: I felt inspired and enriched by everything I learnt during the training with Ty. I had made some beautiful, fun and touching connections with people from my training and in Mandrem. I had furry visitors to my temporary home every day, most significantly a very bossy cat, who I called Monster. I felt joyful and excited about having learnt how to ride a scooter. And then of course there was the sea, the sunsets, the sweetest pineapples and delicious dosas. So many things to savour and enjoy.  
I was also extremely grateful for the process that had started happening within me. I was worried returning to Vienna and to my usual routines would leave it somehow unfinished. That I might not be able to make space for it. 

I left Mandrem on 1st March and didn’t make it further than Delhi. There were no flights that day. The night before the war on Iran had started. Like many, many people I was suddenly stranded. Thankfully in the safety of Delhi. I hadn’t even set off. 
Not being able to fly home that day was really just the start though. First my visa ran out. Then the airline wouldn’t reschedule my flight because of the expired visa. The Visa process took longer, as I didn’t yet have date for my return flight. What ensued was a kafkaesque circus act of jumping through hoops and going in circles. In the end I stayed in Delhi for two extra weeks.

My first days were filled with trips to the Visa office, the airport, hours in the hotel lobby making phone calls. I was overwhelmed by what I had to do and overwhelmed by Delhi. I was wishing myself back to the tranquillity of Goa. I also felt incredibly sad and angry at what was happening in the world, making my issues insignificant but no less present.
Breathing in and breathing out still happened. Inevitably. But the space within which I was doing it suddenly felt way too big. Or maybe too small?

It soon became apparent that this was not a problem I could solve in a few days. It really wasn’t a problem I could solve at all. I’d done my part, handed in all my documents. It was just a waiting game. A lesson in letting go and trusting that things would come right eventually. 

Since my fears and anxieties, hopes and desires weren‘t going anywhere, I decided I would take them somewhere. So, I took them around Delhi: to monuments and gardens, Old Delhi and its markets, out of town on a day trip to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. 
I also took them into my practice, as I stepped on my mat day after day. The process was the same as on that Mandrem rooftop: moving with the breath, finding balance in movements. Noticing how I struggled to focus on some days, finding solace in the same procedures on others, sometimes finding both in the same practice. It works. It’s grounding, it’s uplifting – it’s a chance to connect and make space for reflection.

Eventually I was able slow down. I felt less of a desire to move around so much. I found nooks within the city that were calm, where I could sit and write, work. Observe my outer and inner landscapes. That doesn’t mean, that I didn’t feel lonely, confused or angry at times. I just didn’t get caught in those nets of emotion so much.

During the time with Ty, sorrow and unconsummated longing were a recurring theme. Sorrow not as the cause of our suffering but resisting it. Longing, as a form of holding on, of not allowing things to flow and unfold naturally. 
The practices of Yoga (meditation, asana, pranayama, (self-)study) provide us with tools to cultivate self-awareness, reflexion and moments of stillness.  They allow us to hold and make space for feelings of confusion, loneliness and anger without wishing them away, without knowing an immediate solution.

I felt wildly unprepared those first few days in Delhi. But the opposite is true. I couldn’t have been better prepared. Exploring the movement and the balancing of Prana and Apana, tuning in to the subtleties of body, mind and soul, allowing for discomfort and pleasure to come up and exist simultaneously in that safe space of awareness in Mandrem, provided me with support and council during my two weeks in Delhi. 

‘If you have nowhere to go, you can’t be lost’. Or in other words: If you’re not longing to be somewhere else, you can be present exactly where you are.
So I realised I wasn’t lost. I didn’t have anywhere to go. Definitely not until I was boarding my flight home.

There was space again for things to unfold, to find joy in moments of connection, to be open to all experiences.

I am deeply grateful for my 6 weeks of travelling the outer and inner landscapes. I’m also grateful for living in safety and for people who care. For my family, my friends old and new, and for anyone who offered me help or shared something of themselves with me, especially when I was feeling lost.

P.S. All sentences in quotation marks are taken from talks with Ty Landrum

P.P.S. If you’re interested in any of Helen’s Black Lotus offerings, check out the Intro Workshops or come to one of her regular classes