Why you should join Margi on retreat

 Hey Margi’s Friends, 

I just got back from 10 days in India with Margi. Here’s why you should join her wherever she goes. 

Thirty-five years ago, I met Margi on a semester abroad in Spain. She was already wise and fun as hell, so when she and another friend took a train, then a boat to Morocco, I jumped onboard. When Margi said she was leading a yoga retreat in India, I enlisted my wife and we bought our tickets.  

I hate to admit this, but I was afraid. I knew India was crowded and was sure I’d feel claustrophobic, but here was a chance to see something different. 

Time moved slower there, at least it did for me. If our guide said touring the Red Fort would take two hours, we knew it would take four. The streets—bikes, cares, buses, tuk-tuks, rickshaws, motorcycles, walkers—looked frenzied, without lights or rules, but you’re safe if you move slowly and deliberately, like a cow. The buildings were spectacular. I can’t get a window replaced in my house in Miami, but somehow in the 1600s, thousands of artisans worked together without modern machinery to create the Taj Mahal.

On the second morning, Margi led us in sun salutations to the rising sun in the land where yoga was invented. The Lodhi Gardens, one of Dehli’s Central Parks, was filled with Indian yogis. A group behind us was in a pose that looked like a seated, one-legged happy baby. They looked like they were smelling their feet. Margi joined in, but not until a nonverbal communication went down between Margi and their teacher and she knew that he knew that copying poses was the highest form of flattery. Margi told us to smell our feet, then she said, “No, let’s talk on our phones, into our soles/souls.” 😀

Later, Margi quoted Patanjali, an ancient Indian philosopher who said, “Let go of future suffering.” I’m not typically woo-woo, but every day after, I thought about letting go of future suffering. 

While walking through a narrow street filled with people as far as I could see, an occasional cow, and impossibly, a motorcycle, I didn’t panic. I’ve been dealing with anxiety (future suffering) for years, maybe my whole life, but at that moment, I thought: Maybe I can let go. Maybe there’s a different way.

In Varanasi, we joined 20,000 people who gather every night at sunset on the Ganges River to pray and heal and to bid their dead loved ones goodbye in one of two open-air crematoriums. We watched quietly from a boat offshore. We were surrounded by boats. There was no getting to off. Again, I could have felt claustrophobic, but I was calm. 

Smoke rose from several wood piles. A man stood at the water’s edge holding a black mass about the size of a hand…kerplunk. 

Our guide told us the chest bone of a man and the hip bone of a woman are the last to burn–the part of the body released into the Ganges. He told us Hindus practice non-attachment and let go of their loved ones with joy. I don’t know if this is true. We weren’t close enough to see or hear if anyone was crying. But from the serenity I felt, I thought: Maybe it’s possible to experience something completely universal—death—in a completely different way than I know. 

I’ve been home a week and back to the realities of the world, though India is still with me. Last night, I re-watched the movie Gandhi. In the face of hatred and brutality, Gandhi led all of India in standing for what they knew was right (Indian independence) without fighting back. When he was asked if nonviolence would work even against Hitler, Gandhi said there’d be great losses, people would have to be willing to die, but yes. 

I’m so glad I went to India with Margi. Now, I know it’s possible to live, die, and disagree in a different way.  

Love,

Andrea
(GUEST AUTHOR ANDREA ASKOWITZ)

P.S. I’m a writing teacher and podcast producer at Writing Class Radio, a podcast that airs true, personal stories. If you want to learn more, like join a class or writing group on Zoom, check out www.writingclassradio.com or www.andreaaskowitz.com. If you think you might want to do a yoga/writing retreat with Margi and me someplace beautiful, email me andrea@writingclassradio.com.