As our group gets ready to depart to North Sikkim, I am left wondering if I should have asked everyone to bring winter clothes and gear as we sit in the atypical autumn heat of Gangtok. The cars load up with all our stuff, and we head north to move up the mountain ridges. We have heard the roads are still not completely repaired from this year's late and long monsoons, and they are still being repaired from the multiple landslides.

Solitude rings in the far regions of Sikkim, and the further one travels off the beaten track, the thicker the silence and more breathtaking the natural beauty. Within hours one can move from the subtropical heat of the lower valleys to the cold of rugged mountain slopes amassed with perpetual snow. In many ways, Sikkim is the last Shangri-La, with glimpses into a way of life in the Himalayas that may soon be only memory. A life of simplicity, hard work, and commitment to faith. Abhyasa and vairagya in the purest form--commitment to work with the greatest effort, with no attachment to the outcome. This is part of why I am dragging the group on a precarious journey up the Hims.

A few years ago, it was in Lachen, North Sikkim that I left my heart in this Himalayan range. The skeletal transport system, road construction, and annual landslides makes it difficult to get there. And even more difficult to get back! There is something in the raw adventure of it all that makes me crazy enough to make the journey.

I remember years ago when I proposed this part of the journey to India Supera, who runs Feathered Pipe Ranch, and Raj, our Indian tour operator--they both, along with everyone in their offices, tried to persuade me out of the journey. It was the one part of the trip that I could not give up, as it is a wee little window into what life really is in the "hinter Hims," a place remote enough to leave the world behind.

It's a place that lives in and on its own time. Isolated by snow and roads and lifestyle; this is really where my heart began to soften into the experience of living in the sacred mountains. I have since learned that taking people on long and arduous journeys through the highest mountain passes in the world, to arrive at guest houses with no toilets, doesn't make for happy travelers! This year may be my last foray with a group into this magical place. Sadly I acquiesce to the needs of my students, and am left with the Kanchendzonga range deeply, quietly, and forever etched into the memory of my heart mind.

As in any spiritual journey, there are moments when you think you can't quite make the last bit. Much like a particularly active or difficult practice, when that last standing pose, backbend or Chaturanga seems out of reach, yet you take the last bit of energy you have and get through it. You're then rewarded with a feeling, an energy that is spectacular and profound. Abhyasa and vairagya. Working with great effort and letting go of the outcome. The journey of a yogi. The path of Arjuna, the great Karma yogi on the battlefield. Confused, and contemplative. Asking for guidance from the Divine spirit within us all.

This year, we journey to Lachung, a remote village of 1,200 people, only 8 km from the Indo-Tibet border. Our five cars are loaded with the members of the group, propped up with sleeping bags, disposable bath towels, and yoga gear. I know our guides and host are trying to anticipate needs and requests.

Yogis on the road, looking for adventure and connection to the vanishing hill tribes of the Himalayas. Hima means snow, and alaya is abode, home. This is a place that exudes the Hims, remote, barren, unknown and untouched by the extravagance of "civilized" life. And my heart seeks refuge here every time.

We arrive after an arduous and exceptionally long journey. We bypass some of the sites, given the monsoon-rutted roads and slow pace we are traveling across these mountains. After another "4-14 hours" of bumpy jeep rides, we arrive in the village of Lachung-pa. It has an exceptionally strong military presence; machine-gun wielding young men watching the border for any sign of Tibetan refugees trying to cross into India for asylum. The site of so much military is disconcerting to say the least, and Modern Residency, our home for three nights, is charming, but intrinsically basic. And cold.

At least I didn't make the group lug sleeping bags, thermal liners, and a ton of fleece and goose down for no reason! We ask for a fire in the wood stove to warm our bodies and spirits. The hotel is serviced by native Lachungpa people along with various Tibetan and Nepali heritage tribes. Our eating hall becomes our practice area, and is adorned with brightly colored Tibetan furniture amidst in the 8 Auspicious Symbols and images of dragons, garudas, and lotus.

Here's a picture of Collete Hoglund swathed in mystical Himlayan light on a misty morning. As we turn our bellies to the eastern ranges of Tibet and China, a wee bit of our heart mind is left here in these remote mountain passes.

Morning brings us another "short" journey up to rhododendron forests and the remote Yumthung Valley, land of nomadic yak herders and prayer flags fluttering to ward off evil spirits and welcome abundant harvests. We are all tired, yet exhilarated at being up 12,000 feet in the mist and clouds. Even though we can't see the mountains, we know they are there.

As we practice and move to stay warm, we know we are blessed to come to these places, and enjoy a few moments of connection to ourselves and to our bodies. We do Sun Salutations and know that our hearts and spirits will be warmed by the memory of these moments, despite the difficulty of our travels. Isn't that the warmth of this yoga practice? A place of warmth, of connection, and of refuge for body, mind and spirit? Savasana is possible with the use of hot water bottles as sandbags, and memory-making images lull us into the sweet surrender of the pose.

Some in our group decide to head out to "Zero Point" the next morning. It is where the road ends, and is up at almost 17,000 feet with spectacular views of the Himalayan range. Duggan, our Blackfeet elder, is in search of a local yaktail broom; Linda, the resident photographer; Sue and Oscar, wild, adventurous hunters of local produce and medicines; and Tina, well-travelled in these ranges, head out in search of the elusive mountain views. The rest of us stay behind. We're tired, yet awake in ways that will only be processed much later at home.

The journey back is worse than anticipated. Roads are closed. One of the jeeps actually gets stuck, and WinterSong and her crew get out to push the jeep through the mountain impasse!

Eight hours later, the sight of the Norkhill hotel in Gangtok welcomes us back, like an old friend. I know the group needs rest now, and I am grateful for the comfort of a freshly laundered bed, and a place to lay my weary body.

This is the practice of yoga. Working with great effort and nonattachment to the outcome. What did we see up there? Only mist and mystery, yet we knew that the mountains that lay beneath are physical and spiritual reminders to carry our practice forth. To listen inwardly, and find ourselves. Sometimes we just want that which we know and are comfortable with. As yogis, we push forward, and something happens. The unexpected, the unknown.

These memories will linger like a delicious fragrance after we go home. Isn't yoga the true home for us? Returning to our practice every day, getting on the mat, even when we don't want to. Especially when we don't want to!

Keep on keeping on, and "Be gentle on my curves," as the signs remind us. Inconvenience regretted, as yoga transforms!

photos courtesy of Tina Kauffmann and Cinzia Columbo

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In this part of the world, all seems magical and sometimes it challenges your view and viewpoint. There is a statue of Guru Rinpoche, the second Buddha who is supposed to grow every year, so there is a hole in the top of the temple to accommodate the growth. An overflowing vessel that never stops flowing is shown once a year in a Spring ceremony, and there is a golden stupa which holds a wish fulfilling gem.

This wishfulfilling gem is quite amazing as it is contained in a room with a large golden stupa covered in precious gems of diamonds, rubies, amber and the coveted eyestones. The stupa holds the relics of the 16th Karmapa Lama and is believed to hold great power for any intentions you ask that are offered with great dedication to practice.

Much like yoga can help us to see clearly and bring our attention into the presence of breath and 

movement, this magical and mystical journey of body, mind and spirit is the ultimate reminder of my practice. Sikkim is an amazing place of natural beauty, rugged adventure and spiritual tranquillity. This land of mist and mystery casts its spell, as one dreamy, hazy day floats into the next. Tradition asked all houses to face northwest, towards the benevolent face of Kanchendzonga, and reap the protective spirit of this sacred range.  The grandeur of these high mountain peaks with gaping chasms and terrifying gorges, lush valleys, fast flowing rivers and glacial lakes, creates a rare and singular experience. 

 

One of the most well known monasteries is Rumtek Dharma Chakra Centre, seat of the Karmapa Lama. Rumtek was placed in its location because the 16th Karmapa had a vision of a rainbow from K3 which landed at the spot of Rumtek. Perhaps this is the true pot of gold at the end of a rainbow! It houses many sacred Buddhist treasures, including the mystical black hat of the Kogyu sect (in Tibetan Buddhism), which is said to give its wearer the power to fly. How can one not love a monastery that houses this mythical and magical hat? Images of the Karmapa are recognized by his mudra of holding 2 thunderbolts, or showing him holding his hat so it doesn't fly back to the heavens!

At Rumtek, we arrive at afternoon prayers, and as we enter the main altar area, many monks are sitting in prayer chanting. I have many recordings of Tibetan monks chanting, and have always felt the power of prayer as it echoes in my practice room. But this! To be filled with the presence of so many young and old monks chanting in unison fills my heart with Mudita - appreciative gladness. 

I bow the obligatory 3 1/2 times in full prostration to honor the large altar, and our Indian friend and tour guide Raj Madaan enters and bows as well. I am surprised as he is Hindu, yet he feels the significance of this room, and this place, and in respect bows to the giant Buddha. What connections we can have, how wonderful would it be if all religions could honor one another in this way. A bit of my heart swells more as I watch him. There is another Indian family visiting with their small child, and the child couldn't have been more than 3, and he too mimics his parents and bows to honor the Buddha. I am thinking to myself - how much would the world change if we taught our children to respect all faiths?

Lama Paljor, our Tibetan monk has joined us today, and risen at 4am to drive for 5 hours from Kalimpong to accompany us on this day. Paljor and I met in San Jose when he came to make a sand mandala blessing at the SJ museum this past spring. I see him and immediately go to hug him. And then realize, I am hugging a monk! Uh, is that ok? Is there some protocol when one sees a friend, and he happens to be a monk, and a sand mandala artist, and an amazing Tibetan throat singer? Was I supposed to bow down, or bring my hands to my heart in namaste? That all seemed too formal for my beautiful monk friend Paljor.

He of course makes me realize it is just my delusion, illusion as we are walking down the hill and he puts on a hairband wig thing that he finds funny!

We head out of Rumtek, and stop at another monastery Rangan on the way, and a bit of rain comes down, and as we reach the monastery, we all gasp as the skies cast a heavenly light on us, and the light streams through the rain, looking like God has indeed seen us, and is smiling.

 

We head out of Rumtek, and are driving a "short" ride to a waterfall and monastery, and out of the jeep in front, I see a flash of light. I ask everyone in the car - "is that lightening?", as it has rained on and off every day we have been in Sikkim. Winter Song says to me - "No Cora, that's not lightening, that's just Linda!"  Our friend Linda, who is responsible for many of these images I am sharing, has been our resident paparazzi and photo editor, and given the spectacular scenery, hospitable Sikkimese people and colorful prayer flags, monasteries and wild and abundant flora and fauna, she has been snapping pics like mad. We now know her as Linda Lightening!

Another monastery, and another bumpy ride leads us to a large waterfall area, which is dedicated to Ban Jhakri Shaman and has some wild statues amidst the green tropical jungles. They remind me of South American deities, and I am momentarily confused - was there a cross culture I missed somewhere between the rainforest peoples of the Amazon and these rainy forests of the Hims? These flowers cant exist in these high mountains, can they? Are we in the rainforest, or the highest mountains in the world?!

These thick, verdant forests and lush vegetation seem out of place in these mountain places, and Sikkim has over 4,000 different species of plants, including 30 varieties of rhododendrons and 546 varieties of orchids! The setting sun paints everything with incredible hues of light and shadow, and we come to the waterfalls that are at the end of the walk. A perfect place for the first header of the trip!

We are all grateful and happy to be in this magical land, filled with the genuine, gracious and hospitable people of Sikkim. Indians, Tibetans, Sikkimese and Nepali all living together and sharing the magic of these mountains!

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Our morning trip was to Enchey monastery, which is very special in this area and is considered home of the guardian spirit Kanchendzonga. Local legend has it that this spirit was tamed by Guru Padmasambhava, the deity integral to this land. Guru Padmadsambhava is one the most important images in Vajrayana Buddhism and his presence is everywhere. It is believed that he entered the earth by stepping into Gurudongmar Lake

which is more than 17,000 feet high and hidden in the northern corner of Sikkim. It's a place I have been dreaming of visiting.

Enchey is filled with magical stories and is considered to be blessed by Lama Druptob Karpo, a Tantric master known for his flying powers. This monastery is part of the Nyingma order, yet all people worship and pray at Enchey - Nepali, Bhutia, Lepcha and Tibetan are welcome here, and the energy of this place is strong.

 

Much like our yoga practice, which is open to all bodies, shapes, and sizes, Enchey is a refuge for all. This solitary monastery that sits by itself on a hillside is always a mist-shrouded place, full of magic and mystery. This image captures the tone of Enchey to me. As we were leaving, I turned back and caught a glimpse of this monk looking out to the vistas of mountains shrouded behind clouds and mist, and it seemed an apt image reflecting my feelings.

Knowing those majestic mountains are there, yet never really catching full glimpses. It is only in the belief of presence behind a shroud of delusion, ignorance and inattention that we can find faith. And isn't that what faith really is? Believing when nothing is proven, trusting when nothing is confirmed? In the traditional Chinese Buddhism of my home, the Pure Land Buddhists have few requests - to believe there is a pure land of light, and to work this lifetime to gain merit to join into this pure land.

 

This magical, mist-filled landscape amazes me every time and fills my soul. The gratitude that fills me on these trips is profound, and I feel the abundance of life, of love and of connection to all people. This monastery, which is refuge to all faiths, and our yoga practice, which is refuge for our spirit. My soul comes home here, and can feel where the mind truly resides - home in the BrahmaViharas of Loving-kindness, Compassion, Gladness and Equanimity (Metta, Karuna, Mudita and Upeksha). 

An early afternoon ride up washed out roads to our Tibetan friends and esteemed Thangka painter, Thinlay Gyatso, is the next stop. There are prayer flags over glacial waterfalls and strewn across the hillsides up the steep grade of Gangtok. Splendid views and boundless hearts greet us as we enter a room filled with divine blessings of traditional Thangka paintings. Manjushri, Buddha of Wisdom slaying ignorance and delusion, Avalotikeshvara, Buddha of Compassion with 1,000 hands and eyes to see and help all beings, and Sakyamuni Buddha overseeing all.

 

Thinlay Gyatso is one of the most respected Tibetan Thangka painters living, and he is one of the few who are still using the traditional ways. All of his paints are ground of precious and semi-precious gemstones, and each color is ground by hand for eight hours a day, while chanting the prayers of the images. So when he is painting the sky for an image of Manjushri, Buddha of Wisdom, he will chant and grind lapis lazuli eight hours a day, for five days to get one shade of blue. When that light shade is put aside, he returns to chant Manjushri's prayer for another five days to get a deeper shade of blue. And finally, he will grind and chant for another five days to get the deepest shade of lapis blue. The natural resin and gemstone provides an otherworldly sheen to each color in his Thangkas..

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This morning we went to see Dul Drop Chen Rinpoche, the abbot of the local monastery. It is a highly esteemed chorten, and people travel from many countries--especially Bhutan--to pay respects and get blessings. This monastery has 108 prayer wheels set around a large stupa, and is considered one of the most auspicious monasteries in the land.

Rinpoche has had health issues of late, so he limited audiences to one hour in the morning. The protocol for these visits is to bring an offering and a Khata, a Tibetan prayer scarf, and wait in the altar room. Once visitations begin, there is an Asian line up toward the small door leading to his residence. An Asian line is more of a mandala rush than a singular line. People move toward the entrance, taking turns filling in any gaps, until they get there. It's always a bit confusing to a Western practitioners, so often the Westerners end up in the back of the line, not wanting to push grannies and monks out of the way!

Santosha (contentment), one of the main principles of yoga, definitely eludes me at this moment. My attachment to time and the desire for a blessing overpowers the peaceful calm that permeates the residence quarters of Rinpoche. I am reminded of the great image of the Wheel of Life (Sipa-Kharlo) in Tibetan Buddhism - the center of the wheel is an image of a rooster biting a snake biting a pig. These images symbolize Greed, Anger, and Delusion (Dohchar, Shaetang, and Timuk), and whenever my mind is agitated with desire and attachment, I remind myself to return to this central image of the mandala and use the view to reflect on my own practice. Many a meditation hour has been spent on this contemplation, and I am still looking for guidance on how to quell these feelings as they arise!

This morning we wait, and our Tibetan friend and Thangka painter, Thinlay Gyatso, came to join us to translate. He was told that Rinpoche was holding a Phowa, or a traditional prayer for releasing the spirit after a death, so we would have to wait longer. Thinlay suggested we go to the funeral prayers, and get a blessing there. After prayers were completed, the Bhutanese family that had driven their beloved departed one across borders, went to receive blessings. All others were turned away.

After the family had been blessed, Rinpoche returned to his quarters, and we were asked to go back to the waiting room. At this point, our Western minds were agitated and worried about the rest of the group, which was waiting for us back at the hotel to begin an arduous excursion up to North Sikkim. Letting go of the attachment to outcome is one of the main lessons in yoga, and yet I find myself attached to this outcome--I want the blessings from Rinpoche. As I always say, my Tibetan friends are wandering Bardo realms while I am consulting calendars and schedules! Finally, Thinlay sees Rinpoche's handler, and we are let in to receive blessings and the auspicious string.

The difference of East and West always strikes me when I return to countries closer to my homeland. I have lived so long in the West that many assume I am an ABC (American Born Chinese), and yet the memories and echoes of my childhood ring strong and clear. I often feel I am straddling two cultures as Hanuman straddles two continents on his leap to Lanka. There is a saying in Asia: "Same, same, different," as I wander through my multi cult wabi sabi yogi mind, I definitely am "Same, same, different".

For example, in a class on twists, we were turning toward the East as we twisted right, and looking toward the mountains of Tibet, as we turned our heads to the left to deepen the twist it seemed appropriate to connect our hearts turning toward the East as we looked back toward the West. Perhaps this is part of the resonance of these trips - a small bit of our hearts are left here in these mountains as our lives return to the duties of life in the West. Our hearts turning and opening toward the East, as our bodies and minds come home to the West.

Are we ever the same after these journeys? Do we change because of what we see? Or do these awakenings percolate into life-changing paths that never leave us. I know I have never been the same after my first trip to the Himalayas, and a part of my heart remains in these mountains every year. I hope some of you can experience these mountains some day. They are not just spectacular and massive; they are filled with an indescribable magic, a familiar and distant feeling that rises through the mist. Something we know is home, even having never seen it before.

Our friends Cinzia and Daria have just joined us, coming from Italy last night, and on this first day of their journey, we all feel the prayers of Phowa and Rinpoche's personal blessings. We put our strings on our necks and tie them, knowing they will act as a reminder of this day, and this place.

Our yoga practice can also be this reminder. Every Sun Salutation, or movement towards a difficult pose asks us to look at ourselves, to examine parts of our bodies, of how we move, and how we think we can move. As we begin to understand our bodies more clearly, we gain insight into ourselves. Most of us have had this experience in yoga. We think we know something--we think we understand how the body will move or be, and then we learn something more, something unknown within ourselves. It isn't always what we thought we would find, it may not always be blissful and happy, but as the sage Mick Jagger says, "You can't always get what you want."

This is the power of practice, this gift of ourselves to ourselves. Being able to practice and sit in the blessings of this moment, every moment. Learning about our breath, our bodies, and our minds is the lesson for us all. May we develop a lifelong friendship, and be transformed by this thing we call yoga!

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The first few days of being back in the Hims, and I am once again sinking into the feeling of returning home. Sikkim is filled with extraordinary sites, from lush green jungles to barren mountain plateaus, tiny orchids bursting on hillsides and colorful prayer flags scattered across the skies, and a people filled with generosity of spirit and endless smiles. The country derives its name from Sukha (happiness) and the original Lepcha people understood it as "Nye-mae-el lang" - Abode of the Gods.



When I am here in these mountains, I can understand how the Lepcha, Bhutia, and Nepali people view this as a fertile and sacred land. I feel especially protected by Kanchendzongna or K3, the world's third highest mountain looming over Gangtok. This is a jewel of ethereal beauty, cradled deep in the splendors of snow clad Himalayas. 

In morning yoga classes, we work in asana and move in our bodies to awaken the prana inside. The majestic mountain serves as an anchor for the spirit of this land. As we come to know ourselves in the yoga practice--the differences in each hip or shoulder, the way a slight movement of the foot can change an entire standing pose--this same subtle awareness and awakening of what is already inside of us is what K3 represents to me.

I have visited this land three times already and saw K3 the first morning I was here in 2007. I took it for granted -- took a quick pic and assumed we would have glorious views throughout the trip. Alas, she never appeared again, and I was always looking to the clouds and waiting for her majesty. This mountain sets her own schedule, and no one can predict her whims! On this visit, we keep looking to the horizons to catch a glimpse of these splendid views. Each day, the mist and clouds look like they might lift off the high peaks, but still she hides in the clouds.

I use it to serve as a reminder in my yoga practice: The hidden mountain peaks are a reminder of that which remains hidden, yet lends the strength and stability of a great force, whether you can see it or not. The mountain I affectionately call K3 has landed deep in my heart somehow, and I have been touched by her majesty. This sacred deity feels like a protective Mother to me and all people of this land.

And this morning, a knock came at my door at 5:00am, and Tina Kaufmann said "The mountains are out"! We quickly threw on clothes and woke up the group to run outside and catch the elusive Protector. She was glorious and radiant and glowing in the morning light.  An auspicious start to this day!

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The Magical Mystical gang has arrived in Delhi, India after a pre-tour in Varanasi, the city of light, whose sacred waters are the culmination of many a pilgrimage. People wait their entire lives to come bathe in these waters, and we had our own "Accidental Pilgrim" Jill Johnson, who fell into the river Ganges and completely submerged herself and her camera for a spontaneous blessing amongst a herd of water buffalo!

We gathered at the new terminal in Delhi airport, and flew Kingfisher airlines to Bagdogra in West Bengal. From there we took jeeps up the Himalayan range toward Gangtok in Sikkim. On Kingfisher, I read the airline magazine and caught up with Bollywood gossip. It is the most interesting thing to read an airline magazine that doesn't describe adventures and places to go and see, or tips for packing and traveling light. Instead we get to catch up on who is a new star, who is dating who, and what films are coming out. I often wonder, if I lived here, would I save money on the magazines I read on take off and landing? ;)



The journey up to Sikkim is always a wild ride, and a challenge for the yogic calm in all of us. The locals and trail guides all tell you that the trip is four hours. Ha! I have ridden this road several times and never made the journey in four hours! The roads were better than expected after monsoon and the traffic not bad for high season, so the journey only took 7.5 hours. These roads are incredibly narrow and the trucks amazingly wide. These factors can jangle the nerves in the ride up the mountain!



This road traverses tea plantations and Bengalese villages, winds along the raging river Teesta and opens into wild orchid groves slithering up giant tropical trees, before making the slipping, sliding trail up the Himalayan foothills. Once you get to the border of Sikkim, there is a checkpoint where foreign tourists register and show their Sikkim visa. We always stop here for chai and some hot noodle soup while we wait for our passports to be stamped. It's a good place for a few back and shoulder stretches or wall Handstands to get energy for the rest of the journey.



As one begins to climb up into Gangtok, the Border Road Organization (BRO) has unusual road reminders to drive safely that are funny and strangely poetic. We might have stopped and laughed more, except the sheer drops and wildly decorated transport trucks careening at lightning speed straight at us raised the inner fear factor!



Just as you think you can't bear another moment of twisting, turning, intertwining Himalayan road, the lights of Gangtok shine through the darkening night. It reminds me of working with a particularly difficult  asana, where it can ask a lot of you, and it may seem an elusive goal, and then you find yourself in that pose and enjoying it. And after a few more times in the pose you find ease and steadiness.

Isn't this similar to the journey that we have all experienced in this practice? Perhaps it is a reminder for us to look at a key philosophical aspect of yoga, Vairagya translated as detachment or dispassion. It is this power of renunciation for yogis to pursue the truth over the false, and the eternal over the ephemeral.

As we enter Gangtok, the streets and people look familiar from past visits in an almost dreamlike way--sharp and out of focus at the same time. Like a familiar fragrance that you just can't place. We arrive at the Norkhill heritage hotel and are greeted with the traditional Tibetan blessing and each of us are draped with Khata, white prayer scarfs. These scarfs are auspicious symbols and give a positive note to the beginning of our journey. Sinking into bright blue damask couches, we all enjoy the tiny snip of local Sikkim sherry that greets us!

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