Tagged hiking

Raga – “Post Travel Syndrome”

Raga – Suffering from attachment. Wanting things you can’t have. Wanting things that aren’t there. Attachment to a person, place, thing, idea, or feeling. A branch of avidya, or ignorance.

Oregon and Washington are the prettiest places ever. This is the first time being in my grandmother's backyard since I was 10 or 11.... #sequim #seattle #yogateacher #pond #island #farm #beautiful

After being enlightened by my spontaneous trip to Portland, Sequim, and Seattle, I am now anxious from attachment that has grown like the moss that overwhelms the rooftops of Oregon and Washington, and causes them to collapse in winter time.

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I can either sit in these feelings of anxiety, these desires to once again see those tall green trees that are so different and plentiful than these dry saharan LA bushes, or move and keeping moving.

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This is where yoga helps me. Yoga is my medicine. It is the most natural way to cure, cope, and find balance.

I was very playful during my trip, and I brought that sense of playfulness to my mat in class tonight. I took a Level 1/2 Hatha Yoga class at YogaWorks Valencia, and though Aundrea Politi guided us, I played with her directions and added on. In high lunge and high lunge twists, I grabbed on to my back foot. In vasisthasana, I lifted my top leg up. In handstand, I challenged myself to use my core to lift up rather than relying on the wall.

I fell out of the high lunge a few times, and wobbled a bit when my leg was up in vasisthasana. I was unable to actually get into handstand by using my core. But I played. I had fun. I felt bliss where there was challenge.

It was a challenge to get myself to travel on my own. Without my parents. Without anyone! To take a risk, and trust in humanity. To trust that the people I was visiting, whom I didn’t know very well, would greet me with open arms and treat me with kindness.

And they did.

The chemistry between two kind strangers is beautiful and surprising. I forgot that the human race cares about each other.

My trip was perfect. But now I must ground my mind in the world I actually live in. Return to my routine, to my jobs, to my home tasks.

My mind is not fully grounded back home in LA, there’s still a part of it expecting to see the majestic waterfalls cascading down the mountain sides in Portland, expecting to still have to feed my grandmother’s llamas and donkeys at 5pm, and to help her with dinner afterwards, and to hear the friendly voices of the northwest rather than being shoved around and not cared for at all by Californians in LA.

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But these feelings of attachment, of raga, will soon pass. It is merely “post travel syndrome,” in which I desire to be back on the road catching flights, trains, and buses, trying new foods, meeting new people, and feeling something DIFFERENT. Escaping LA.

Portland, Sequim, Seattle, you were my escape. Thank you for everything. I miss you, and will return to you soon.

But for now, hello LA. I know better than to expect a warm welcome home from you, but I’m ready to trip and fall until I land in my niche again.

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