Mother Ganga

I will probably be reincarnated as a plastic bag for what I'm about to say, so pray for me.

I recently visited the sacred city of Varanassi, which is on the super-sacred Ganges River. The story goes that It's named after the goddess Ganga and that it flows from Vishnu's toe and is blessed it with all kinds of spiritual magic powers including Moksha, which is liberation from the cycle of birth and death. This was the place that John has been longing to visit ever since he missed the opportunity five years ago when he came to India with Jake.

It actually required some challenging planning to get there since it is a very popular place for Indians to visit. All trains were wait-listed with all those pilgrims wanting to have a salvation dip. John even ventured to suggest that we skip Varanassi, but I was adamant that we go there. This was the place he had been talking about for the last five years! The consensus of this billion plus population and John Pitcher is that the Ganges will wash you clean of all your sins, so millions flock there for a dip or even just a sip. I wasn't about to miss that!

Before we arrived I learned that the Ganges is so polluted that it is aseptic. Fish don't even survive there anymore. We watched a documentary special on it a few months ago, and I realized that if John ventured to bathe or splash or even worse, sip from the Ganges River, I may be spending a good portion of our "adventure" in an Indian hospital. But, in spite of all this, I knew we had to go to see Mother Ganga.

Since my visit, I've been grappling with my less than enthusiastic reaction to Mother Ganga. I believe that she is sacred to a lot of folks, but I didn't get all that great a vibe from it all. Maybe it was because I was just a tourist to everyone I met. Maybe it was because I didn't grow up with a family that shared such reverence for her. I'm sure a giant chunk of my indifference is because of my own lack of spiritual evolution, but I spent a bunch of time thinking it was gross. I still can't get my head around how a river that is so revered can be so polluted. The shore was riddled with trash and other smelly things. I read in the guide book that 100% of the cities on the Ganges still empty raw sewage directly into her. And there are sacred cows wandering everywhere leaving their sacred "good luck" behind. Our guide Golu warned us to not step in the "good luck" as we navigated our way around the steps of the many ghats along the river. John managed to get a little good luck, but at least he missed the dead rat next to it.

The atmosphere didn't feel very spiritual either. Most of the time I was dodging folks trying to get me to go to their shops. Men dressed as swamis and gurus and other holy men would anoint my forehead or wrap prayer threads around my wrist and then ask for a donation. When I decided to buy milk for a woman and her baby, I was quickly ushered to a store to purchase an expensive milk that cost five times more rupees. I was sure I must have been missing something, but I wasn't feeling any enlightenment, any shakti. Even the sunrise boat ride we took one morning didn't move me. When I looked at John, he was so serene and filled with spiritual contentment, while I was trying to see whether the men washing laundry along the shore had any of the clothes I had sent off to be cleaned the day before. I felt sad about this. I really thought that "being there" would make it happen and it didn't.

I need to digress a bit and explain that I know I have my own spiritual path, but sometimes I'd like it to happen more easily or obviously for me.

So, we left Varanassi and my greatest memory seemed to be tasting the street food. I felt sad and disappointed. And, I felt more confused about the whole spiritual journey than I had before.

After a few plane rides and some discoveries about the meaning of "budget" hotel, we eventually ended up in touristy Varkala, Kerala. (Just trust me when I tell you that if you ever go to Trivndrum, "Kukie's Holiday Inn" will not be what you expect.)

Varkala was like going to Ogunquit or Kennebunkport India. It has more westerners living and working and vacationing there than Indians. But something happened today that helped me to reconcile at least one of my spiritual dilemmas.

We headed down to the beach this morning and took a long dip in the ocean. As I was diving and floating and surfing about in this amazing vast body of water created eons ago by some power greater than myself, it reminded me of Hermit Island, an ocean side campground we have journeyed to every summer of our marriage. Sally has been there every summer of her life. It occurred to me that Hermit Island is my Mother Ganga. I already worship her. I have shells and stones at home that I'm certain are imbued with healing, powerful, spiritual energy. I have made a promise to myself and my family that I would make a pilgrimage there for the rest of my life and I'm absolutely positive that God has bathed in the waters around Hermit Island. I realized that Mother Ganga was someone else's source of spiritual power, but it didn't have to be mine. What I realized I had learned in Varanassi was about how to show reverence and gratitude for something that you believe has spiritual meaning. So, I think I'll honor the goddess of Hermit Island and do a Pooja to her this summer.