It’s happening again. I leave tomorrow to fly halfway around the world to practice yoga at KPJAYI in Mysore. About eleven months ago, I was gearing up for my first trip to the same place, and taking in everything everyone was telling me about how amazing, how life-changing it would be, and how I might hate it at first and it might be really difficult to adjust and I would be sick, and jetlagged, and to give it three or four weeks before I started to enjoy myself.
Expectations are a funny thing. I might have believed it would be really hard at first, and so noisy, and cockroaches everywhere, and perhaps because of that belief, when I got there and had my actual experience, it was not so dramatic. I was happy, that very first day, and that happiness and ease carried over into the rest of the trip. For the most part. Because my expectations were on the extreme side, my actual experience was a bit more moderate. This seeped into the practice realm, too; lots of people told me that my practice would be so totally different there, that I would grow and learn by leaps and bounds and that I’d come back as a taller Kino MacGregor. Ok I exaggerate. But again, once I got there, I found that my practice was essentially the same. There’s a certain magic in that room, to be sure, but for me it was the kind that made me sink in to the practice deeper, with more steadiness, not overleap any tall buildings.
I’m not sure what I can expect this time. If I expect a similar experience to last year, I might be inviting disaster. Let’s just play it by ear, and the only expectations I’ll cling to will be dosa and coconut water.