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The Ganges River is affectionately referred to as Ganga Ma by Hindus who revere the river as nature’s embodiment of the Divine Mother. It is said she flows from Heaven onto the matted hair of Lord Shiva’s head before descending onto Earth in the Himalayas.

Art by Shiv-Ram of Ramana’s Garden Orphanage, Rishikesh, India :: Artseva.org

If she were to hit the Earth directly, her intense force would destroy it. Ganga Ma flows through Northern India, traveling over 1500 miles from the Gangotri glacier to the Bay of Bengal, bringing her life-giving waters and compassionate blessings to all along her path. She heals the land, making it fertile as her waters overflow during monsoon season. To touch or even look upon her is believed to be a great blessing. Our friends Deepu and Vijay showed us photos of the flood that spilled into their house when the river rose during heavy monsoons. They enthusiastically told us, “Yes, Mother Ganga came in and blessed our family’s home. We were very happy.”

To bathe in her life-transforming waters removes all sins and can bestow moksha, or eternal liberation from the cycles of death and rebirth. Every Hindu desires to dip into this holy river at least once in their lifetime. It is auspicious to have one’s ashes offered to the Ganga after death to be carried directly to Heaven. As she flows, she gathers both prayers and sins to be sanctified and released into the depths of the ocean. She is liquid grace, unfathomable and eternally giving. She is Mother.

There are certain places on Earth, call them vortexes or centers of the universe or suns shining with divine light, that attract celestial bodies who are empowered by circling around them.  The 14th century Bodnath stupa in Kathmandu is such a place.  From morning until night, hundreds of Tibetan Buddhists circumambulate the enormous white, dome-shaped shrine to the Buddha’s enlightenment.  Chanting Om Mane Padme Hum in low, resonant tones, they slide worn prayer beads between their fingers and turn prayer wheels built into the wall of the stupa.

As soon as we were in view of the stupa, a heartfelt attraction drew us into the mantra and into orbit. Spinning prayer wheels inscribed with the mantra, we became part of the collective prayer of pure compassion being sent to all sentient beings.  The subtly palpable vibration of the mantra was carried by the ringing bells, the wafting amber incense, the movements of the embodied souls walking clockwise around the stupa and through the stupa itself, like a transmission tower, out into the universe.  Even at night, as worshippers sleep, thousands of colorful prayer flags continue to release the mantra of compassion into the wind, while Buddha’s calm, omniscient eyes stand witness.

Bodnath sits in the heart of Kathmandu’s Tibetan community, making this not only a religious center, but also a social gathering place.  So, after recharging our spiritual batteries and broadcasting our love into the stratosphere, we honored our bodily call for comfort with some masala chai and a chocolate brownie at a stupa-side café.  Who says you can’t sip chai and awaken your Buddha nature at the same time?

My dear friend and teacher Hamid lovingly served me my first cup of masala chai 17 years ago. It was a moment I will never forget…sitting on the floor of his Chicago flat, the elevating aroma of incense mixed with spices, classical Indian rhythms vibrating through my being. Hamid emerged from the kitchen with two steaming cups of his spicy chai. I remember that first sip. It was the most delicious taste that had ever passed over my tongue. I sat spellbound in a chai-induced state of bliss as the chai coursed through my body. It warmed me all the way up to my soul.

I would go over to Hamid’s for tabla instruction, but before the lesson began, we would sit with our chai and embark on conversations led by our mutual love for the Divine. We would discuss spiritual practice and Hamid would illuminate the teachings of saints like Sri Ramakrishna and Bawa Muhaiyaddeen.  Hamid became a guiding light to my inner path. I learned by his living example the way of compassionate activity and the unity of all sacred traditions. Finishing the last sip of chai, the lesson was over and my drums would still be sitting in their bag. It soon became clear that tablas were not my forte and perhaps our meetings held another purpose.

When I finally asked him for his chai recipe he replied, “I’ll have to show you.” Along with the other spices he crushed up in his mortar and pestle, he would add enough peppercorns, black, white and red, to make it a fiery brew. After boiling it twice, he poured the chai back and forth between two pots to let it breath in the air element. Sometimes he would garnish it with a few strands of saffron. To me, the taste of saffron became synonymous with the heavenly taste of chai.  Still today, i use saffron as my special ingredient that rounds off the bitter taste of tea with a flowery high-note.

Hamid’s chai remains in my memory as the finest. He always made it with goat’s milk and maple syrup. When I started making my own chai, I didn’t know there was any other way. Now on those rare occasions when I drink goat milk chai, it reminds me of Hamid.

Hamid was my chai guru. He taught me not only how to make chai, but also his “secret.” He told me that chai should be prepared with prayer or mantra or loving intentions. This was the most important ingredient. It imbued the chai with a blessing that would pass onto whoever drank it. Since then, I have been preparing homemade chai almost daily. It is my ritual and my offering.

Ganesh is the inspiration for probably millions of artists. Everywhere we turned, we saw his image. We sighted this Ganesh-in-motion on the back of a rickshaw in Kathmandu.

We passed this Ganesh on a narrow alley in old Kathmandu. He seemed to be glowing.

I colored this ‘chai wallah’ version of Ganesh in my sketchbook.

Our friend Veejay is an artist living in Varanasi. He’s made (literally) thousands and thousands of Ganeshes.

Veejay’s brother, Deepu, carved this Ganesh for us.

And this special “lucky Ganesh penny” sits on my desk — my friend Amanda sent it to me from India.

I love to surround myself with reminders of the Divine, because it does just that — reminds me to REMEMBER. This is something I definitely ‘took’ from my visits to Nepal and India. Here, my days are filled with so much activity–work deadlines, cooking, cleaning, errands, and exercise — that I appreciate the reminder to pause for a moment, breathe, and give thanks. Whether the reminder is an image of Ganesh or Buddha, or even a vase of flowers or a walk in nature, it takes me to the same place within. Peace.

As we ascended the steep stone path to the hilltop Tashiding monastery, each step took us deeper into a palpable prayer. Thousands of colorful prayer flags stamped with Tibetan mantras released their blessings into the clear sky above our heads. The breeze playfully spun windmill-like prayer wheels, spiraling out loving kindness towards the blue mountain horizon. A field of stupas rose out of the earth like white and golden Buddhas popping up in Heaven’s flower garden. The silent blessings permeated our being and carried us barefoot around the monastery grounds.

A wall of mani stones, slabs of granite painted in bright colors with the great Tibetan Buddhist mantra om mani padme hum etched into them, encircled the entire stupa compound in an energetic ring invoking compassion. As we came around a corner, we spotted a figure inside a corrugated tin and stone shack built into the prayer wall. A man peered out from behind stacked slabs of gray stone. As we approached him with obvious interest on our faces he signaled us to come in and sit.

He sat surrounded by engraved tablets, chiseling the next prayer. His long fingers held a chisel in one hand braced against the carving easel, while his other hand gently tapped with a small hammer. His graying dark hair was tied in a knot like a small stupa on top of his head. His face had sculpted asian features and long, thin strands of hair hung from his chin and moustache. He worked diligently as he peered through thick brown glasses tied with a string around his head. Occasionally he stopped and looked at us for a few minutes, the three of us speaking no words.

I somehow asked him if he had carved the thousands of prayers surrounding the shrine. It is like a game of silent charades. You can have an entire conversation this way and not even realize you haven’t spoken a word. He signaled his hand in a circle then pointed to himself to indicate that, yes, he indeed was the artist of this massive body of prayerful work. It seemed irrelevant to try to ask him how long he has been living here as a sculptor. If he told us 300 years, when this monastery was first built, we would have believed him. It is that way in India — no unbelievable truth is beyond doubt. We sat in wonder and witnessed this timeless being living in the heavenly realm dedicating his life to extracting prayers out of stone.

He laid his tools down, and with a flick of his head, flung his glasses to his forehead. Aromatic smoke rose from under his blackened teakettle. He took the kettle and poured another cup, took a bite of a biscuit and a sip of tea. He then sat in silence and closes his eyes. I think he was napping. After a few minutes, his head nodded foreword and his glasses fell back onto his nose. He opened his eyes, took a long sigh and continued his work.

We later learned his name, Yanchong Lodil.

Namasté is the essential phrase and gesture one must learn when traveling in Nepal and India. It is used as both a greeting and a farewell, but its meaning is much deeper than a simple “hello” or “goodbye.” Namasté is a Hindi word derived from Sanskrit, the sacred language of ancient India. Sanskrit was used to write the Hindu scriptures, medical texts and classical poetry and is still used today to recite prayers and sing devotional hymns.

Namas means, “to bow, obeisance, reverent salutation or adoration.” While Té , from the root tvam, means “your or to you.” Namasté then simply means, “I bow to you.”

If you break the Sanskrit down to the root syllables, another level of meaning appears. Na means, “no, not, to negate,” while ma has many meanings including “measure, binding, time or death.” Put these together and the hidden meaning becomes that with no measure, no binding, no time and no death — or the boundless, free, eternal and immortal – Divine Consciousness. Our bow is coming from, and being offered to, that pure place of perfection that is within us all. It is the acknowledgement of our higher self – beyond the personality.

Namasté can be translated as, “The pure goodness within me honors the pure goodness within you” or “The God in me sees the God you.” This recognition of our self as not separate from the Supreme Self is a central tenant of Hinduism. The Namasté greeting, however, is nondenominational and universal. It is a greeting of souls.

Namasté is a mantra, or sacred phrase with a subtly powerful energetic effect. The energy of its meaning is created by the sound vibration of the word. It is spoken with the accompanying gesture of hands together in prayer position in front of the chest and the head slightly bowed. This hand position, called anjali mudra, signifies not only the gesture but also an attitude. The attitude is one of humility, love and compassion as well as transparent awareness. Mudra internalizes the mind unlike a handshake, which focuses energy outward. Anjali mudra balances the left and right hemispheres of the brain and our masculine and feminine aspects. It reminds us that we are not separate from one another or from the Divine Source, just as the two separate hands come together as one in front of the heart center.

Namasté is a practice of yoga, or union, of the body, mind and soul. The body performs the mudra and speaks the sacred word. The mind reflects on its meaning. The soul unites with the infinite soul of the other person and with universal awareness. When sincerely performed, there is a realization, if only for a moment, that we are surrounded by the divine presence.

Sometimes the Namasté mantra is not spoken out loud, but internally. In India, the gesture itself is understood as Namasté. It is customary for a younger person to perform Namasté to an elder first. Namaskar means “the act of performing Namasté,” but “Namaskar” is also said when addressing an elder or highly respected person, with the hands together in front of the forehead. The hands may be taken over the head when in the presence of a saint or an image of God, sometimes while falling into a full prostration.

In yogic esoteric anatomy, a chakra is an energy center where consciousness resides within the subtle body. When we Namasté with the hands over the anahata or heart chakra, in the center of the chest, we connect with the seat of divine love. With folded hands touching the forehead or third eye, the ajna chakra, we bring our vision to that which is beyond the physical form, the higher self. When placing our hands over our head on the crown or sahasrara chakra called the thousand petal lotus, we are merging our soul with the primordial vibration of OM, the awareness that created the universe.

When greeting a Muslim, the appropriate salutation is the Arabic, As-salam Alaykum, ”may the peace and blessings of God be with you,” and the response, Alaykum As-salam. Sometimes, by mistake, we offered Namasté to Muslims. While this is traditionally a Hindu greeting, it was still taken with respect. When greeting Buddhists in South Asia, one also uses the Namasté greeting.

Performing Namasté is a blissful opportunity to see the Divine in all beings. It is one of the ways that being in India almost forces you to perceive God. Namasté acts as a good starting point when meeting someone and the perfect final word. It is my favorite Indian custom and one that I try to preserve back home.

Click the arrow below to hear these women singing, or click the link to download the mp3.

Choti Maharaj’s Ashram in Vrindavan, India: Sita Ram Radhe Sham

Religion and Spirituality are the essence of Indian culture. At any time, wherever you are, there are reminders of India’s religious diversity and our relationship with the Divine.

Religious dress distinguishes Hindu women in saris, Muslims in burqas and Tibetan Buddhists with red and yellow robes. People greet one another with hands over their heart while saying the sacred salutation “Namasté” or “As-salam Alaykum.” Children are named after Hindu Gods and Goddesses or companions of the prophet Mohammed. Even restaurants and other businesses bear the name of God, like Buddha Airlines, Hanuman Tea or Ram Milk Sweets.

God’s names echo across the city, as chants from temples or the call to prayer from mosques broadcast through blaring loudspeakers. Throughout the day there are processions celebrating a marriage with drumming, dancing and flashing lights, or honoring a death by carrying the colorfully wrapped body through the streets, chanting Ram Nam Satya Hai (the name of God is Truth). Flowers, ghee lamps and incense are offered at roadside shrines. Street musicians sing devotional songs to God. Wondering monks ask for alms. Images of Hindu deities hang on the walls of chai shops while carved stone icons silently observe.

Although chai is not a doctrine of any faith, (except perhaps our own), it seemed to be the element that transcended all gender, age, caste or religion. Like God, chai was everywhere. So, as we traveled through Nepal and Northern India, we drank up not only chai, but also the rich spiritual way of life.

Click the arrow below to hear one man’s morning prayer on the Ganga in Benares, or click the link to download the mp3.

Ganga Solo

Sikkim, India: Rumtek Monastery Chanting

After several months of reorganizing our lives around the trip, preparations were finally complete. They had to be. We bought cheap, non-refundable airline tickets, told our clients that we were leaving, and our house renters were moving in the next day. We carefully packed a pile of necessities that had accumulated in the middle of the living room into our backpacks.
“Water filter.”
“Check.”
“Flip flops.”
“Check.”
“Toothbrushes.”
“Got ‘em.”
And so on.
Then, on a full-moon winter night, we took off for the other side of the world.

We set our intention to spend the next four months thoroughly steeping ourselves in chai culture. Our mission: to connect with people and document our experiences with chai drinkers (which in Nepal and Northern India is just about everyone), tea farmers, tea leaf pluckers, fellow chai wallahs (makers of chai), tea cup potters, spice merchants, dudh wallahs (milkmen) and the cows too. We realized this was much more than a creative research project. It was a personal pilgrimage to the land where chai was born and continues to flow in every home and at chai stands on every street.

Although we enjoyed one the most memorable times in our lives, it was not easy. For a foreigner, a full India experience includes a certain degree of discomfort. Inevitably, you get sick, either from amoebas in the water, a chronic cough from the thick pollution, or any number of obscure viral illnesses. Often, frustrations are brought on by cultural gaps and attachments to what we perceive as ‘normal’. Litter, noise, spicy food and extreme smells overload the senses. At the same time, the lack of a Western standard of personal space amongst a billion people, and the sometimes-frightening, heightened awareness that we are living in the mystery and anything could happen, became endearing. We oscillated between ecstasy in the present moment and longing for home and our own bed. We prayed continuously, laughed a lot and were constantly reminded of how blessed we are. This is what made our chai pilgrimage a spiritual journey.