Have you ever seen a woman so beautiful that as she walks down the street, men crane their necks to look at her, and in doing so drive right into another car, or an old lady crossing the road, or someone's living room? That's dangerous beauty, and it is rare.
We're in Manali. We arrived just before dawn after a mostly sleepless eight hour drive from McLeodganj. Our guesthouse is about a ten minute hike from the main road in Old Manali, and before dawn, with giant packs and no sleep, the hike is less enjoyable than it has been since. It starts with some steep, shallow stone steps, some of which are broken, then a narrow ledge built into some rock. From there you climb up more steep steps and through a perpetually wet/muddy, narrow ally between two buildings. After that there's a path that runs along the place where they collect the huge pile of dung, which is an easier walk, except that there's a tendency to hold one's breath for longer than is healthy during a hike. That's the first minute and a half. It continues in similar fashion from there, except most of the rest also involves a narrow/slippery path on the edge of a cliff. It's a pretty high cliff, and at the bottom is a raging river and giant boulders – generally a bad place to land if you fall. But that's all fine, because if you're careful, if you focus on the trail in front of you, you won't fall. The problem is that the world around you is that beautiful woman. It's there, minding its own business, naturally too beautiful to ignore. It pulls your attention from the trail, and if you forget to stop moving, if you are too caught up in the view to think of where your foot should be landing next, you could get into trouble. And you don't want to stop moving, because with every step you see something new – the perspective changes, the light changes, the bend opens up into something spectacular. The Himalayas, majestic and snow-capped, stretch out in front of you and behind you. To either side there are glowing green hills and amazing old pine trees, little houses and big estates, rose bushes (roses are so plentiful here that you could literally stop and smell the roses for entire afternoons) and the river, which winds and rushes and roars below. The water is light blue-green with the white foam of a river in a hurry, trying to make room for all the glacier water as it melts and comes down from the mountains. (The same glacier water is what we get to drink from the tap, cold and crisp and clean.) There are edible (and smokable) plants underfoot, fruit trees lining the path, adorable mountain dogs waiting for a pat on the head and sunshine, sunset, sunrise or the giant golden moon overhead... The air is so fresh, perfumed with all the mint, roses, wild oregano and fruit blossoms, but still crisp. The sky, most days, seems to be a clear, vibrant blue with just enough white cloud for contrast. And that's not even the best part...
We're in Manali. We arrived just before dawn after a mostly sleepless eight hour drive from McLeodganj. Our guesthouse is about a ten minute hike from the main road in Old Manali, and before dawn, with giant packs and no sleep, the hike is less enjoyable than it has been since. It starts with some steep, shallow stone steps, some of which are broken, then a narrow ledge built into some rock. From there you climb up more steep steps and through a perpetually wet/muddy, narrow ally between two buildings. After that there's a path that runs along the place where they collect the huge pile of dung, which is an easier walk, except that there's a tendency to hold one's breath for longer than is healthy during a hike. That's the first minute and a half. It continues in similar fashion from there, except most of the rest also involves a narrow/slippery path on the edge of a cliff. It's a pretty high cliff, and at the bottom is a raging river and giant boulders – generally a bad place to land if you fall. But that's all fine, because if you're careful, if you focus on the trail in front of you, you won't fall. The problem is that the world around you is that beautiful woman. It's there, minding its own business, naturally too beautiful to ignore. It pulls your attention from the trail, and if you forget to stop moving, if you are too caught up in the view to think of where your foot should be landing next, you could get into trouble. And you don't want to stop moving, because with every step you see something new – the perspective changes, the light changes, the bend opens up into something spectacular. The Himalayas, majestic and snow-capped, stretch out in front of you and behind you. To either side there are glowing green hills and amazing old pine trees, little houses and big estates, rose bushes (roses are so plentiful here that you could literally stop and smell the roses for entire afternoons) and the river, which winds and rushes and roars below. The water is light blue-green with the white foam of a river in a hurry, trying to make room for all the glacier water as it melts and comes down from the mountains. (The same glacier water is what we get to drink from the tap, cold and crisp and clean.) There are edible (and smokable) plants underfoot, fruit trees lining the path, adorable mountain dogs waiting for a pat on the head and sunshine, sunset, sunrise or the giant golden moon overhead... The air is so fresh, perfumed with all the mint, roses, wild oregano and fruit blossoms, but still crisp. The sky, most days, seems to be a clear, vibrant blue with just enough white cloud for contrast. And that's not even the best part...
Manali is divided into two parts – old and new. New Manali is pretty gross – tons of traffic, dirt, pollution, trash, smoking tourists and pushy vendors. (But thereare also some amazing characters wandering around.) It's loud and bustling, but not in an invigorating way. Also, the main ATM always has a huge line, and has run out of money several times. To get to it, you need to cross over a huge ditch by way of a rickety railing stretched across as a bridge. Old Manali is much smaller and quieter. There are shops and beauty salons, cafes and guest houses. The river runs alongside parts of old Manali, and the rest is very steep with narrow roads, so there aren't many cars or tuck-tucks. It is much cleaner than New Manali, and looks newer, too. Yogi warned us that all of Manali is “The Junkie Corner.” (Yogi has a way with words. His way is hilarious and honest, and this is one of his phrases that we use constantly. It means a place where junkies – aka people who smoke or drink or worse – congregate to get high, or low, or to “use each other as closets.” I'll let you work that last phrase out on your own, it's another group favorite.) Anyway, of COURSE it is the junkie corner. Weed literally is a weed here – it grows everywhere, and many shops sell baby hookas, rolling papers, pipes and other smoking paraphernalia. I can't think of a better place to sit and get high than anywhere along the path to our guesthouse, or at our guesthouse, which is in an apple/apricot orchard with a giant yard full of roses, honeysuckle and plush grass, a staff waiting to make you food, a view of the river and mountains and Yanu, an amazing dog who is always ready to hang out. As a non-junkie, I would prefer it if the junkies would stop smoking and go to bed at a reasonable hour (like 9:30), but to each his own...
Anyway, Old Manali and New Manali are joined by a road and a park. The road is icky, and the park is the best place I have ever been in my life, so I generally take the park. It's the Great Himalaya National Park, and I want to live there forever. I have spent the last few days trying to figure out how to accomplish this goal, and I'm not generally a pessimist, but it's not looking good. (It would be a much more attainable goal if I had an invisibility cloak or the ability to generate electric power from inside the park without drawing any attention, so let me know if you have any ideas on those fronts. I know in the Yoga Sutras the whole last chapter is on super powers like floating and invisibility, but Yogi says I'm not ready for that yet...)
The park is an ancient pine forest with lots of moss-covered boulders and grass and a little stream and, past the cliff, the river. Forgive me for not trying to put into words the beauty of this forest, but I know I cannot. The pictures don't even come close... There's nothing that can even come close to describing the feeling of being amongst those trees. It may sound crazy, but the first time I walked into the park, I cried almost the whole way through to the other end. Everyone has their form of nature that moves them the most – some people want to be on the beach forever, others love the mountains, and a few even love the desert most (but those are the crazies). I'm a forest person. I've been trying to understand the reaction I had, and here's what I got: we are energy, flowing through these organic human bodies. That's fact – we all have an electro-magnetic component that hasn't been fully explained by modern science. Energy vibrates, and those vibrations travel past our bodies and can be felt by others. (Think about when you “feel” someone watching you, or get a bad feeling from someone without any tangible reason, or like someone right away, before you even speak to each other.) The forest is full of trees and plants, all vibrating at their own levels, and creating a certain energetic “hum” that must just really amplify the “hum” going on in my own body. Oceans, mountains and deserts all have their own different vibrations due to the energy in the rocks, the crashing waves and the plants. When I walked into the forest, I felt it through my whole body. It was amazing, but completely overwhelming. I've been back a few times since then, and it mostly isn't overwhelming anymore – I've figured out how to deal with it. Lori, Dia, Mac and I went to the forest yesterday to take some pictures for our yoga websites and bios, so I will post a few here, but again, they don't even come close... (Oh, but the “photo shoot” was hilarious! There are tons of Indian tourists in Manali now, so there was a constant trickle of people down the path through the woods, and many stopped to watch us, cheering after we finished particularly difficult poses, and one family even posed with Lori as she did her pictures.)
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