It’s 8.30 in the morning as I walk bare footed over the beach with the Indian ocean washing over my feet. Small crabs dive away in their holes when my shoe seize 12.5 comes down close to them. The sky is clouded, a sea breeze cools my head off a bit, whereas the Indian ocean feels lukewarm at my feet.
Cows lay scattered around the beach, chewing the cud of last night. They give a new meaning to the word sea cow. Dogs stay at safe distance. Fishing boats return to shore with the catch of the day. I look at it, whit a smile on my face. Then I get caught up in my thoughts again. I always promised myself I wouldn’t get a midlife crises. Everything men ‘need’ when they are forty I promised myself I would have done by then. I have put my money where my mouth is. I’ve been around the world twice, have had beautiful relationships with amazing girls, jumped out of airplanes, dived with whale sharks, have had different careers with ‘well respected’ positions and I have my own company. But still, still there is something missing. Call it fulfillment or the meaning of life.
This journey to India is a combination of a lot of loose ends. I have worked fifteen years in journalism and by now I know the little tricks of writing an article. I still love to do interviews, but I’m not that keen anymore making an article out of it. That is: for the magazines and newspapers I’ve been working for the last couple of years. What is more journalism is bankrupt due to the financial crisis and the internet. It’s hard to make money as a freelance journalist and photographer. Especially as a photographer. Thanks to the digital cameras everybody is calling himself a photographer nowadays. Quality is no issue anymore and the amateurs are asking next to nothing for their photos, putting the professionals out of business. So I’m asking myself: why keep working as a journalist and photographer if I can’t make a living out of it anymore.
Passion for yoga
Alongside that their is my need, my quest to find the meaning of life and my aversion to the freaked out, impersonal, cold society, in which people are chatting away hours a day on their phone or computer, without seeing each other face-to-face or have a ‘real conversation’ about things that matter. And there is my urge to travel, my passion for yoga, which I discovered two years ago, and my quest for personal development. Al those things together account for me being here, for this ‘me time’.
Off course I could have done my yoga teacher training course (TTC) at home, in the Netherlands, but being here in India, the country yoga originates from, was more appealing than studying in the Netherlands. For me this is a retreat, a withdrawal from society to rediscover my path in life. A path overflowing from love, overflowing from meaningfulness and personal growth instead of a path full of widescreen televisions, apartment buildings full of pigs, washed-out friendships, innated bodies, brain killing television programs, terraced houses, iPods and xenophobia where other people seem to be happy with.
This is and old story. I wrote this at the end of 2010, when I went to India for the first time, to do my first Yoga Teacher Training. I finally translated it in English. My first yoga teacher training was the starting point to walk to path of yoga seriously.