Shanti Travels, part 3.

“Life is going to fast to make a decent report of it.”
I have heard myself say this line quite often the last year or so.
And here it is going so fast that it is even almost impossible to make decent notes of it.
By now it has dawned that there must be a notion of feeling obliged to do so.
Which is under investigation.
Yet we go on duty bound with writing the last episode of Shanti Travels, the part on me.

A lot has happened for me / in me / around me, due to the earlier described action.
In between part 1 and part 2 there was a day during which lots of people talked to me, telling me their related stories, expressing their emotions like surprise, gratitude, admiration, etc.
One woman told me about her schizophrenic brother. He spends his life alternating between being in institutions, behind bars and travelling.
(Once he took a jeep of one such an institution and travelled for half a year in Africa).
On the one hand, as family they wish for him that he travels abroad, there he is happy.
On the other hand (also here this deep violent layer) she wishes him to be kept structurally away from her elderly parents, where he once like an angry 50 year old child demolished their complete interior.
With her I shared the advise to forget about this woman and she concluded at the end of our conversation: when you do it, (help this lady to go home), then do it from a karma yoga attitude. This brought tears up, surely something was touched.

It seems the best to just launch a series of star-notes on what happened.
Followed by some reflective paragraphs.
Like this ABC one for instance:
A. From my notes of Februari 1, 2011.
What a day! Slept again long, till 7.20 this time. Chai at Ramanashram chai shop, breakfast at Pumpernickel, capucino at Shanti Cafe, satsang with Ram, lunch in Shanti Cafe.
During the afternoon to pharmacia with Rikshaw to Shantimalai Hospital, then to 4 pharmacias in Tiruvanammalai. all in search of 8 cm Hansaplast, an unknown thing here, although they all seem to have this very small childrens fingersize prepacked tiny plasters from? Yes indeed: Hansaplast. Later that afternoon also made contact with this woman that is clearly psychotic since a few days and talking to the moon all the time. Quite a story, worth telling in more detail.
B. More notes of Feb. 1, 2011.
Also this morning around 6 in a flash a dream image of the place where I live in Amsterdam; my houseboat was gone, several others too, there were some boats sunken and part of the street had disappeared. A bit Pearl Harbour like, except that the scenery was bright, clear and sunny.
My reaction was quiet, kind of: okay, that was it. My idea of what is means: it fits in the feeling since the rebuilding is finished, that I am emotionally ready to part from the ship. It could be left behind, but no urge. Afterthought were that on the boat is still a lot of stuff only related to the past. (Tears came).
C. Addendum from memory.
During the taxi drive to Chennai Airport, while the woman was asleep for half an hour, I felt quiet and in peace. There was the realisation that I could live like this from now on, going with the flow that is. Again no feel of urgency, just an observation of a state of matter.
And I was remembered of the dream image of that morning of course, kind of when we passed Gingee Fort, I guess.

*After I got this news from  Kumar of the used boarding passes, (which meant that she had succeeded changing flight without making enough trouble to get refused abourd), I went to satsang with Ram. I asked him if I could speak some words from my overflowing emotional body. He allowed (Please, please, don’t torture me, he said actually, the rest           was nonverbal). So, I shared that this lady was presently to land in Frankfurt.
James thanked me for doing this service to this woman and to the field. Then, thru questions, it became a topic for a while  related to the merit of doing karma yoga.
*After this satsang I saw myself walk over to this chai shop where they had kept her luggage for a week where I informed the Indians there of her possible safe arrival.
*Then I walked to the office of the ashram and informed doctor Murthy. He also thanked me and asked me if I could write to her mother to convince her to not let her daughter travel to India anymore. (This was the first thing put on my shoulders).
*Dozens and dozens of people have thanked me, praised me, expressed their relief and their admiration. And some shared their stories with me.
(In a discussion at Ram’s table someone said that she thought that I was
amazing and I said that I agreed because I was myself also quite amazed, and James
complained that when he said that he is amazing she does not buy it from him, and and
and, yes we have a lot of fun these days).
*When I went back later to doctor Murthy, he asked me to follow a man, cause the President also wanted to thank me. So, I had a nice conversation with a nice elderly man, mister V.S. Ramanan. He told me that the ashram was going to try to have the woman a visum refused. I asked if I could quote him on that and he said yes.
*That night I came to the feeling that it is not right to do so (I was reminded of the story of the schizophrenic brother), so here I was, in the middle of the night telling to myself:
“Fuck, now I am disagreeing with the President of Ramanashram. So I have to tell him”.
*Another conversation with doctor Murthy on the above. Well, that is your take of it, was his reply. He told me more about the amount of bother the woman has caused over the years. Also that she is banned in a Zen center elswhere in Tamil Nadu.
I had done my say and left.
*During satsang Ram gave as an example of accommodation (one in a list of positive factors ror reaching moksha in the Bhagavad Gita) this Dutch man who took care for this crazy woman, while others did nothing.
Now I write this, I remember that he shared the first time that I spoke of him having seen this woman stop a bus, that could halt just in time.
*I had to find out if writing to the mother was still my task. And yes, here I am, writing this reports, which I would have done anyhow, (but slightly different maybe).
I will write a short note to the mom in which I’ll give a link to these blogs.
This woman will travel to India, or not.
Thiw woman wil be permanently taken care for in Germany, or not.
I wish her well, I wish us all well.

hans

We are not the author of the outcome of our actions. (Bhagavat Gita)

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As an addendum the mail that I will send to the mother of the German lady:
Subject: Feedback from the Dutch guy.

Dear mother (of …..),

I had a plan to stay out of the story. I had the idea to ask the travel agent to write you a another letter, I even composed it for him.
When I went over to see him for this, the first thing he told me, was that you had emailed a confirmation of your daughter’s arrival.
So my plan failed.
(And I am happy that she made it home, and I doubt that her mental situation needs to be
diagnosed, as you wrote. I think that it is already clear for long and it is more a question of
finding proper treatment for her, which might include motivating her to cooperate with
this. Something anthroposophical might be nice).
Much has happened for me too.
My way of being in this world includes a open‐hearted outspoken openness about what is going on with me.
(This might be a compensation for my experience with family secrets).
Therefor there is no need to write you more than this.
If you are interested, you can read my reports on the internet, on my website, in myblog:

Shanti Travels, part 1. https://hansvandergugten.nl/?p=312
Shanti Travels, part 2. https://hansvandergugten.nl/?p=318
Shanti Travels, part 3. https://hansvandergugten.nl/?p=355

Greetingz,

hans