Awakening: Adventures in Hinduism

You may or may not know this, but on Sunday I go to church. I spend, oh, up to 2 hours exploring whatever religious institution I've chosen for the day and then I go home and pretend it never happened. I don't spend much time thinking about it. I don't talk a lot about what I experienced. I don't make notes or write anything down. I go and then I put everything that happened in a box to open sometime on Monday when things are quiet at work. I've tried to write on Sundays, but I can't. I need a full day to process things. It's something I've learned about myself during this journey. So, when I'm writing, I'm Monday Sarah writing about Sunday Sarah's experiences. This hasn't created much of an issue....until today. You see, this week Monday Sarah is vastly different than Sunday Sarah.

Sunday Sarah:
Mood: Pleasant and positive
Weather: Sunshiny and gorgeous
Favorite Color: The orangey-red of the tulips growing in my neighborhood
Listening to: Kishi Bashi - Manchester
Activities: Church exploring, shopping, laying on a jelly lounger in the sunshine drinking wine, attending a fancy fundraiser and getting free booze, watching Christian Slater movies and swooning.
Motto: "Life is beautiful"

Monday Sarah:
Mood: Grouchy, irritable, weepy
Weather: Humid and raining
Favorite Color: The blackness of closed eyelids
Listening to: Screaming. Loud loud screaming.
Activities: Crying, doubling over in pain, cleaning spit off my leg, getting head banged in the chest repeatedly, feeling nauseous, staring off into space, sitting in the darkness
Motto: "Please kill me"

Funny how 24 hours can really change a person, eh?  And no, I'm not hungover.

With all that out in the open now....let us proceed.

This Sunday I journeyed to a far off place full of strange and unusual things - West St. Louis County (ba dum bum). Those of us (snobs) who proudly display their St. Louis CITY residences on their cars seldom journey to this far off place, but instead tease and torture people who do. There is a super hip store in the city that sells postcards, t-shirts and bumper stickers taunting County dwellers with fun sayings like "Friends don't let friends live in Chesterfield". I'm a city snob and proud to be. BUT I have to give the County it's due, because tucked away behind Whole Foods and rows of massive mansions is a remarkably beautiful and unusual building - The Hindu Temple of St. Louis.

I pulled into the parking lot on this exceptionally beautiful April Sunday morning and stood in awe of the intricate carvings covering the temple. I felt like I had stumbled into another world - like I had driven through some kind of portal and magically arrived in India. Much like someone who drove through a magical portal would be, I spent the rest of my time at the Hindu temple feeling incredibly confused and out of place but totally enthralled and excited.

Getting into the building was a challenge. There were dark rooms and stairs that led to nowhere. There were cars in the parking lot, but not a single person inside the building to tell me what to do. I stood in a hallway for a few minutes hoping someone would find me. A 10 year old boy came by and refused to speak to me - so I followed him, like a weirdo, until he told me what to do. He showed me a staircase and then ran away. A sign read "No video. No shoes". So, shoeless I walked up the stairs to yet another room devoid of people. I found myself in a large space where colorful deities rested silently in elaborately carved white wooden boxes. I stood in the doorway hoping someone, anyone, would come along and give me some clue as to what the hell was happening. Services are supposed to start at 9:00 am. It's 8:55! What the hell?

I thought seriously about leaving, but then finally a man in a white robe found me. "You're with the large group, yes?" he asked me in a quiet whispered voice. Um, I'm the only person here. What large group? "No, I came by myself." I whispered back as I smiled that humble smile that always gets me through any awkward situation. "Very good. Please, walk clockwise." was his reply and he handed me some information about the deities then pointed me in the direction of the where the Pooja (service) was being held.

Around the corner, I joined a man and a woman sitting quietly on the carpeted floor in front of the Sri Shiva shrine. Two robed men were preparing various materials and then seemingly out of nowhere one of them began to chant. Slowly, more and more people joined the service - bringing various offerings of fruits (bananas usually), jugs of milk and fresh flowers. Books of the chants were passed around, but seeing as how I am unable to read Sanskrit I just continued to sit quietly on the floor and tried to take it all in. While the group chanted one of the men performed a series of various rituals inside the shrine as offerings to the deity. He lit incense and candles, he rang bells, he poured water over the shrine, then milk, then butter, then honey, then alternated between milk and water and then bleach. This lasted for about 30 minutes and all the while we are chanting. Then the curtain of the shrine is closed and when it's reopened the flowers brought as offerings are revealed covering the shrine in a beautiful arrangement.

By this time there were about 30 people sitting in the small carpeted area chanting. My skin color and clothing style placed me in the minority - I was one of the few women not wearing a sari. Most of the men were in khakis and dress shirts, although a few had on robes. The chanting continued and then the group suddenly stood up. My legs were thrilled to no longer be in the crossed position. Then while chanting we turned in circles, clockwise of course, maybe 3 times. Don't ask me why. A man brought around a silver bowl of flowers. I watched as other people touched the bowl with both hands and then touched their faces. When it was my turn I did the same, again not knowing why. Napkins were then passed around. I took one, not knowing why. I watched other people accept a white liquid in their right hand, drink it and then clean their hands with the napkin. When it came my turn I cupped my left hand under my right just as everyone else had and drank what looked like milk with mangoes in it. It was delicious and sticky. Finally a flame was brought around and people gave money to cup their hands over the flame.

All this done to awaken the diety, but also to awaken the indwelling spirit - the god within.

You weren't allowed to take pictures. I snagged
this from their website.

After the service, I walked from shrine to shrine paying my respects to each of the deities. Each person near me had a different way of honoring the deity - adorning the shrine with flowers, offering money, leaving fruit, walking around the shrine, touching it in a special way, kneeling before it or doing a series of bows. Each person was different - but the meaning was the same. I just stood there. No need to pretend I have any deep connection with these deities, let alone any rituals or flowers to offer them. I looked at them and offered my respect for their beauty.

Hesitantly, I left the temple. I didn't want to go, but I didn't know what I would do if I stayed. I lingered in the parking lot for 20 minutes - taking pictures, walking around the building and watching people.

Back in the car I started on the path home, but found myself not wanting to go. So, I rolled down the windows and turned up the music and drove myself around St. Louis County taking in the sunshine and a feeling of freedom.

We must pause this blog for a breaking news story and an important realization...

While writing I learned, through facebook, of the bombing at The Boston Marathon. My heart sank, personally knowing someone running the race and having family members living in Boston. I felt sick and not just because of this horribly terrifying tragedy. I felt sick because of what I said earlier in the blog - the "please kill me" part. I could amend it and pretend I said something less awful. You wouldn't know any different, but the truth is that's what I went around thinking all day - "please kill me". I felt ashamed. True, I felt awful today. So awful I actually started crying. Still, that's no excuse. It's a horrible thing to say and today I was reminded of that. In hearing the news about Boston, something awoke in me - a reminder of how precious and uncertain life is. We seem to be getting these messages a lot lately. So, instead of moping around in pain and sorrow I took my ass outside and played soccer with my kids - teaching them how to knee the ball and hit it off their heads. We laughed. We got sweaty. It was awesome. Then we went to the garden and flipped over an old tree stump to examine all the amazingly disgusting creatures living underneath it. We took turns finding worms and tossing them into the garden boxes. My hands are still covered in dirt.

So, if you please, I would like to amend my Monday Sarah status...

Monday Sarah:
Mood: Grateful
Weather: Perfectly lovely
Favorite Color: The deep brown of the garden dirt
Listening to: The sounds of my children gleefully pulling a wagon full of weeds
Activities: Thinking about loved ones, reflecting on blessings, playing soccer, reading books, digging in the dirt, getting and giving hugs, being incredibly lucky, removing my foot from my mouth and my head from my ass
Motto: "This is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it" coupled with "The highest tribute to the dead is not grief but gratitude.”

I just don't even know what else to say.