A Boy Called Aum (Fear of Falling)

A Boy Called Aum (Fear of Falling)

…sense of urgency. The birthmark of an unloved daughter of confused parents, forever running, because if you stop, you fall. You must maintain the speed, like an aircraft. You must have muscles of steel, and sharp brain, or else no one will love you. And, ah, no one did love you, because they were concerned with their own speed. My mother. Your father. Uncle Steve who lost his job, started drinking, and no one wanted to talk to him him anymore. Therefore you must also be fit. You must have no fear. Except for the fear of falling. Your fear of falling must be insane. Even in your dreams. Especially in your dreams.

There was this boy called Aum, who was doing really well, but all of a sudden started falling. Everyone was shocked, because they would never expect him fall. They were so puzzled in fact, they called it brain cancer. They didn’t know any better, and they had to call it something. Thus, for everyone, Aum became a boy sick with an illness called cancer. And that is why he was falling.

By some weird coincidence, as Aum kept falling, for a second he was falling past me, and I clearly saw him winking his eye. He was as though smiling, but I’m not entirely sure of that, because the encounter was so brief. Well, he was falling, and I was running, and these were two different directions. And yet, since that day, Aum was stuck in my head. I was thinking of Aum, dreaming of Aum, feeling of Aum.

As days passed by, the memory of the incident wouldn’t fade. My obsession with Aum became so strong, that soon it started questioning my fear of falling. What if I slowed down just a tiny bit, fall an inch, and then pick it back up again? What if I try, and see how it feels like? I tried. It felt like a tiny earthquake. I was so scared, that I could hear clearly the blood rushing madly through the veins. This very sound also calmed me down, because it was like ocean waves washing the shore. One of my favourite things on Earth.

This falling business became a quite a thing soon. I couldn’t sleep at night. I thought I was mad. But then, if I was already mad, it would do no harm to try and fall just a little bit more. Each time I fell, I was fell for a little longer. I was afraid to tell anyone. If I did, no one would love me. I would be forever alone. And then one day I found myself madly missing Aum, a boy whom I saw for a split second once in my entire life. So I said: “Aum”, and started falling.

As I was falling I fell past many other people falling, and others running. Then I fell past the planet Earth, then the Moon, and then all of a sudden I ceased falling and started pleasantly floating, and it was precisely the feeling I always wanted to have.

I keep pleasantly floating as I write in fact. Can you believe it? Me and Aum, we are eating chocolate here without fear of becoming fat. We are cracking jokes, checking the Facebook. Well, all of the things we did before, basically. It’s hard to explain, but you should try it. I’m not saying, like, now, but, eventually. When you are ready. And have had enough of running.

Big Love,

Me and Aum, (both alive and real people, just a little nuts.)





– Do you have a Guru?

– I don’t know. Who is a Guru? Someone who inspires you very much?

– No, not that! They say Guru is the one who dispels the darkness.

– Oh, is it like when you meet him/her, then the darkness disappears in a snap? Or does it go away gradually?

– I’m not sure. Gradually, I guess…

– Well, then… David Lynch is my Guru.

And we laugh wholeheartedly with this guy called Harsha, who happened to induce this short guru conversation. As a matter of fact, I saw the very same guy sketching my modest (but graceful, so he says!) figure, when I turned away from the speaker who was talking us through Bhagavad Gita on that occasion. I was meaning to take a photo of the sketch so I can put it on Facebook, but then something else happened, and so it be. Anyway, these are the kind of folk you get to meet when you are on the spiritual quest in India. In fact, you could go on a quest for these people specifically. Surely, they will be looking out to you too.

That’s how our days are. The other day I went out to get some fruits in the morning, but instead ended up in a Sikh temple having lunch with be-turbaned guys who adorn their altar with knives, machettes, swords, and other weapons of sorts, because their is the warriors’ way, and so is their religion. Say, I met one of them on the street past sunset, you would see me quickening my pace. But here I am, sitting cross-legged right next to them scary Sikhs, listening to the stories as old as 16th century, casually munching on some chapattis. They insist I have more of the chapattis, in fact, and I don’t dare to refuse.

Next morning, I go out to get the fruits again, and this time I actually succeed. I come back home with a papaya of a size of a good watermelon, a watermelon as sweet as pineapple, and a pineapple so fragrant, that when you cut it in half, your head gets fuzzy with all the sweetness that awaits you.

Life is good.

Om Namah Shivaya.





I’m in the quiet surroundings of my room. There is everything I need in here, and my mind has finally settled. I haven’t been writing much except for some unfinished sentences scattered across my notebook like homeless dogs that frequent the streets of Gokulam, sniffing around, desperate to find their place, while their share is no more than occasional chapatti or idli, delicious, nevertheless thrown over the fence, a leftover from someone’s lunch. And then there is just hope for something more that that. Love? Connection? A feeling of belonging somewhere?

The greatest lesson India gave me so far is: let it all be. Just like India lets everything be, regardless of its importance or non-importance, prettiness or ugliness, usefulness or complete uselessness. Take homeless dogs, they are allowed to be. Take confused, disorientated, overheated tourists, they are also allowed to be. And so life flows, in an uninterrupted brilliant current of all things you can (and can’t!) imagine.

Today is Sankranthi. A festival of harvest, and also a day when the Sun is starting its journey Northwards. Cows roam the streets all covered in a tumeric paste, wearing flower girlands and banana hats. There are things burning and smoke everywhere, there is music and noise, everyone seems to be busy but, bizarrely, I can’t tell what they are doing, and it doesn’t really matter, because when I lift my head up wanting to rest my eyes, I can see the Sun, steadily making its way North, and my breath calms down.

From the festival, I bring back home a bag of candy and a very calm head. Candy is too sweet, but I eat it anyway, because it has been given to me with sincerity. I’m in an place where saying: “I don’t eat sugar!” seems like the most ridiculous thing to say. I’m in a place where smearing the turmeric paste over the cow makes perfect sense. And I’m back in my room, fingers on the keybord. Om Namah Shivaya.




A couple of days ago someone I know has volunteered their take on being female. He said “ I’m from [erased: country of origin], I think that woman’s strength is her femininity.” I was silently wondering how does it work in the world where there are still countries (of origin), where, among other, infants are frequently being killed just for being born females. Also, by mere mistake and with no harm in mind, he said “feminity” instead of “femininity”. Just saying.

This little story aside, I daydream of the times that will see people awakening from the macabre myth of masculinity and femininity; the myth that is making us all repeatedly perform the reactive social grimaces we consider appropriate in most of the situations we ourselves create according to our own beliefs. Round and round we go, skirts and pants on, randomly.

Now, imagine, one day some highly regarded assembly of psychologists, and other deadly serious scientists, altogether with a Cosmopolitan and Times Magazine, in one mind-blowing article of the year release a statement saying that your femininity or masculinity is just another habit of yours, that’s all there is to it. They’ll tell you that with help of the “romance” we were conditioned to uncritically believe the penis-vagina tale (replace with vagina-vagina or penis-penis where appropriate) in order for us to stay put, in this case with regards to our own Nature.

It doesn’t really matter what is my or your take on the subject, the truth is that the Nature is ours to play with, not be slaves of it, and so are the concepts we ourselves create. The point is when you learn to play freely, it stops mattering whether you are male or a female. You just play. So…

The Game is on.




Arms raising above the head, palms softly joining, sharing warmth and tenderness of touch, fingertips stretching towards the skies, clouds passing by, lovingly made of water, just like us… Feet are firm and steady, soles of the feet earthbound and firm in knowing the Earth. As ancient as the Earth itself, the spine holds itself wisely, now arching slightly to allow the chest come forward and expand the lungs, filling every cell with fresh oxygen. In a wavelike motion, the upper body sways down from the hips, falling towards the Earth in a graceful bow. The eyelids softly fall, letting the eyes rest for a moment in the cozy twilight, just before opening up again to the play of light on the petals of a flower. Bowing down, becoming one with a flower, the body, too, bathes in light. Raising back up to gaze into horizon, freezing briefly to listen to the hips, ready to jump- and the legs shoot back to land on the ground. Supported by the  tiny blades of grass underneath, the body is alert and vibrant with the energy of the fall. The arms in focus, lowering down to feel the gravity steadily pulling towards the center of the Earth. Deep inhale and strong arch of the spine, as the wind kisses the skin and sends shivers down the crowns of the trees- tiny leaves whisper.  Palms pressed into the Earth, the hips spiral up to the sky, leaving the mountain-shaped body to breathe, as if motionless, and yet inevitably pulsating, one with tectonic plates moving deep underneath, reshaping the Earth we rest on, moment after moment. Always in motion. Namaste.



Many if not all would agree that the best (yoga) teachers are the most humble people on Earth. But, I like to enquire, are they?

As I’m pondering over this, I keep watching David Lynch’s Quinoa Recipe Pt.1 video over and over again, thinking that it’s sooooo freaking genius! Later, as I walk down to the kitchen to make me some tea, I can’t stop thinking how badly I want at least a little particle of this genius within myself. I find myself imagining communicating simple truths to people in such profound ways that it changes their life for better.

Now, notice there are two semantic segments to my last sentence:

–       changing people lives for better,

–       it’s me me me who is doing it!!!

As I sip my tea (a chai, of course! soooo very yoga) I wish we could all just freaking calm down. Why why why so many desires, so much confusion in those heads ???? And whyyyyyy, after practicing mediation for 7 years, I still haven’t made anything like David Lynch’s Quinoa Recipe ???

Man, I need a sandwich. Now, vegetarian or the chicken one? Which will make me more genius? Is it sugar-free, by the way? Oh, God, I forgot to be humble again. OK, humble humble humble. But… wait, what if there is no God? If there is no God, who is it talking through the lips of David Lynch each time he speaks that is so profound? My flatmate on the sofa on the Facebook, is rolling her eyes: “It’s David speaking, you nutter!” I am quick to reply: “Are you saying David is God?!” And so it goes… I had vegetarian sandwich on that occasion, but found myself craving chicken afterwards.

I had a break for a little chakra meditation, before I resumed writing. During my meditation I had a vision of a human-like figure floating freely among the stars in the dark matter of the Universe, glowing as if made from light itself. It was an overpowering image, and I thanked Universe for it, but, on the other hand, it  wasn’t actually deepening my understanding of who we are and what we are doing here as human beings. I mean, when you think about it, floating like this in the Universe may look cool, but it doesn’t make much sense. As in: dude, can you stop cancer, for instance, instead of just floating there? And I was realy trying NOT TO THINK  about it, but  I couldn’t stop because, anatomically, I have brain.

By the way, I teach Yoga & Meditation, can you imagine? LOL, isn’t it? But I honestly think that an important part of the practice, before becoming humble, is to freely and fully ride each part of your painfully split personality. It means being a person you wake up on the day without judging, but mindfully observing instead and see how you can transform it from there.

So, as you must have noticed, this morning I woke up greedy and confused. Why am I calling it bad names? Because it doesn’t feel nice. It messes me up.  But, I’ve acknowledged it, stayed with it, and transformed it….. into this text. It’s a very powerful mindfulness practice some wise wise teachers had taught me. This text  may be not as genius as David Lynch’s Quinoa Recipe, but it feels amazing to be writing it. It feels amazing to be able to transform things I don’t like. Into something even possibly useful for someone else out there.

By the way this is the Quinoa Recipe by David Lynch: