“As within, so without. As without, so within.”
“What we are today comes from our thoughts of yesterday, and our present thoughts build our life of tomorrow: our life is the creation of our mind.”
Dhammapada (“The Path of Dharma”), Buddha
I am eight days in to a fortnight-long Panchakarma in Kerala, not only God’s Own Country, but also the land of Ayurveda – India’s first and favoured medicine.
Panchakarma is the Ayurvedic process used to cleanse the body from toxins (ama) and increase digestive fire (agni). The literal meaning “five actions”, speaks to the Panchakarma healing techniques using the five basic activities that control the body: vamana (medical vomiting), virechana (purgation), vasti (enema therapy), nasya (trans-nasal medication) and leech therapy.
I haven’t yet had the benefit of all five, but so far, I’ve been pummelled, heated, powdered in healing herbs, and bathed in warming oils (also known as the royal treatment), from my crown chakra to the tips of my toes. And I feel as though I’ve been through every emotion under the warm South Indian sun. This, I am told, is down to the purification process, and the ever-changing Vata dosha (constitution) that I am, as it seems, we Vata-types are the lucky ones, especially prone to emotional releases as well as physical.
The process starts with 6am wake up calls from the in-house Ayurvedic Doctor. Given I’m still in the throes of jet lag, this is effectively waking up at 12.30am (UK time). Dr Nishanth arrives looking considerably more awake than me, an enticing glass of warm medicinal ghee in hand. I tentatively sniff it. Big mistake. It’s foul. And the Doctor is now rooted to the spot, aware that after this fatal whiff, I’m less inclined to drink it. The oily beverage discreetly doubles and trebles in quantity each day. After three days of ghee drinking, comes the purification drink. In comparison, this is a walk in the park; a dark green, purply-coloured liquid tasting strongly of ginger, which I suspect is a key ingredient to disguise what’s really doing the purifying.
And for me this is where things start to shift down a notch – physically yes, but mostly mentally and emotionally. Confined to my room, not strictly, but recommended, in order to rest (and for close proximity to the bathroom), cabin fever sets in, quickly followed by tears. A lot of them. A lovely email from a yogi back in England makes me cry, a comment at the permitted lunch from an unwitting fellow guest, a poorly interpreted message from a friend, I even start to wonder what on Earth I’m doing in India – one week in to a 6-week sojourn. I start to question everything.
As my internal environment starts to fall apart, my external environment quickly follows suit and as it does, the frustration arrives, followed by irritation, and then just plain old anger. The more things don’t seem to be working to plan or my keen expectations, the more angry I become. I long for a glimmer of universal flow, or just an ability to accept.
Suspecting I am starting to affect others, I hide in my cabin, lie on my bed and repeatedly chant: “Accept, allow, release. Accept, allow, release.” More tears flow, now for the loneliness.
That was day 4.
Day 5 brings more of the same, I try a cycle ride and a beach walk. Neither shifts these emotions. I visit the Doctor who reassures me this is normal – somewhat helpful but it doesn’t clear the heaviness in me. As lunch and the social hour looms, I decide enough is enough. I know the only way to pull myself out of this watery and mournful slump is meditation. I force myself into a sitting position I can sustain for 20 minutes and stick with it, no matter what thought stream joins me. The afternoon is a little lighter and come sunset, I am venturing out towards people again. Thankfully, they are still happy to talk to me. A child enjoying the beach in wonder and pure, innocent joy reminds me how to smile. I meditate again before bed and sleep a little lighter.
Day 6 is a Sunday and some of the staff are out (on leave), but the paranoia arrives and I feel as though I’ve chased them away with my clipped responses and obvious irritation. How can I be so awful? Is this really me? I start to recognise that perhaps these emotions – the anger, the frustration, the irritation, the stagnancy and weariness, they were all long-term residents of a rather distressed liver, and this intense detox and purification wasn’t just a physical one. I was finally beginning to hear what the Doctor had told me yesterday.
This marks a shift in me. Instead of irritation at my body, in my mind and with my surroundings, I begin to feel a well of compassion for my liver. For all I must have put it through and put into it – to have caused such a violent outburst in detoxing. I begin to come out of my shell a little more, fake a return to the old me, until she reappears fully. I can tell by the faces of the staff and Dr Nishanth, they are aware, they understand, they’ve seen it all before.
On the morning of day 7, I make my way down to the yoga shala, hoping a new day will bring fresh perspective. There seems to be a deep incompatibility within me to be feeling this way in such heavenly surroundings. As though I am conscious of the beauty of morning, the golden skies paling as the sun rises, the cawing crows, the lush green palms, and yet I am unable to see or feel the magic. And it frustrates me. I want to be myself again. I want to enjoy this time. I want to be joyful.
At the end of the practice, I stay behind to do my Kriya and as I do, I ask for help – that this day will be different. I ask for the grey to clear, for an incessant, inexplicable weight that has followed me around to leave, essentially, a return to love. I lie back in savasana and close my eyes.
After a few minutes, maybe more, I start to become aware that I’m lying on the floor. I start to notice my surroundings. There’s a shade of difference. The sun is brighter, there is a lightness in and around me, and I feel good to be here. This quickly morphs into an overwhelming sense of love for this place, which is then rapidly redirected to the people. I think of all the staff who work here, one by one, and I feel a sense of love for each of them too – even those I was frustrated with just a few days before. Remembering this, I feel sorry. I want to get up and go and hug them, apologise, explain. Explain what, I have no idea. I’m only aware that I’m coming back from what felt like a strangling, stifling place. I thought of the doctors, the other guests, all of them, I loved them all.
A powerful Kriya.
As the day unfolds, the Universe offers up little gifts in the form of flow. A dragonfly hovers around me, a fisherman waves hello down on the beach – the very same beach I had walked along unseen until now. Crows entertain me standing right by the water’s edge, hopping up as the tide comes in, just as children do, again and again without tiring. The yoga teacher takes me kurta shopping and I find some beautiful silk pieces at next to nothing prices. I return to catch the motley crew of stray beach dogs joyfully racing each other at sunset, as though part of an organised greyhound meet. I find kindred spirited souls in my fellow Panchakarmies.
The staff are all back, and despite my detox doldrums, they greet me with big Keralan smiles on bright, shining faces, full of patience and care, love and acceptance for all they have witnessed.
The magic continues and grows into day 8 (at the time of writing). I feel a return to myself, with bountiful supplements of even greater joy, delight and wonder, and a huge amount gratitude for this accepting, non-judgemental and compassionate gathering, or family (as they call themselves), of humans, who seem more loving than ever.
I have witnessed more than ever before, a rather challenging example of how one’s internal environment creates the external reality, something I have spoken about with yogis and friends, but never actually fully understood through my own experience in the way that I just have.
I now recognise that as the toxins were surfacing to be released from my body, I was also experiencing them. I had a choice to witness this, simply as part of the purification process, instead I (unconsciously) chose to fully meet them, to live them again. While it felt ugly to go through it, I am grateful for the experience and the gentle and deeply nurturing environment in which it happened, because it’s given me a valuable teaching I wouldn’t have had otherwise.
Such a lesson, such a learning. And to think I was only planning a little detox.
I stayed at Veda5 Wellness Retreat in Kerala under the care of Dr Nishanth and his team, and Retreat Manager Datchu and team.
