Natural Healing: Not For Wussies

It’s funny. I’ve been through a lot -- needles, medications galore, tests I can’t spell, and the list goes on.

But, I’ll tell ya…the art of mind/body connection is some tough stuff! I’m just now getting around to fulfilling a promise I made to myself when I left California for embryonic stem cell treatments. I vowed that while I was in India, I would stretch my healing boundaries into all that encompasses wellness: Yoga, Ayurvedic therapy, meditation, or whatever else came my way. After all, is there any better place to do it? Admittedly, I’ve lagged a bit on incorporating the things I wanted into this journey. But with the clock ticking down, it is all coming together in perfect harmony. Such is India.

I’ve been passive aggressively looking into yoga studios in Delhi for most of my trip now. I find them online, leave the screen up and then when I accidentally close the window, I talk myself into it not being the “right” one. Ahhh, the joy of excuses -- I could teach a course. My delayed alternative therapy kick-start actually came to me. I love when things work out that way. Dr.  Geeta Shroff hired someone to teach a class at the hospital in the physio room. I’ve always wanted to do yoga -- like with a real mat on a wooden floor. Watching DVD’s on the living room carpet at home can only give so much inspiration. There is nothing like a real live yoga instructor twisting you into positions you never knew you were capable of, to give you a real sense of the practice. The class is three times a week, free to patients and their families. The teacher is all about proper breath and absolutely no fun. But, he knows his stuff. He directs us to perform far-too-difficult moves for beginners and expects nothing less than for me to at least “Try, try!” when I insist “I don’t bend that way.” He doesn’t care and just stares until I attempt something, even if to miserably fail (and in front of the mirror to add insult to injury). He informs us “Americans do yoga breath wrong.” You all breathe in through our nose and out through our mouth, he thinks out loud. True yoga breathing (according to he, the master) is in through your nose, down to your navel and back out through your nose. It takes awhile to undo my previous incorrect American habit but I soon feel confident I’m living up to his standards (when he stops reminding me, it becomes proof). At the end of each session, he joyfully proclaims “Your are now light and free!” And, surprisingly after hearing him bark for an entire hour in his thick Indian accent, he’s right. I kinda do feel that way, which leads me to believe I’ve been missing something great all along. Maybe yoga is not only meditative, but magic too.

Yoga instructor

Next on my list is the exploration of Ayurveda. An ancient Indian system of healthcare, ayurvedic medicine includes healthy living along with therapeutic measures that relate to physical, mental, social and spiritual harmony. Although there is a massive wealth of knowledge and extensive system behind it, I realize starting small is best way to approach it. An ayurvedic massage seems simple, gentle, and a way to ease into things. My sister-in-law and I book appointments at a center and so begins the realization that all massages are definitely not created equal. Think of cushy padded massage tables, gentle manipulation of sore muscles, soft towels draped over your body, relaxing music and total peace. Now, erase every spec of that image from your mind. Auyurvedic reality is a rock hard wooden table (more accurately feeling like a “platform”), a tiny itty bit thing that you wear like a bikini bottom (no soft towels in sight), women with hands strong enough to break bones if need be, and the sounds of two rapidly speaking Hindi massage therapists confusing you left and right while they work -- one on each side.

Massage therapists

The massage goes against everything women believe is fair and just: laying on a hard surface (and having to pay for it), wearing something far too small for her figure (on purpose), and having to listen to the sound of her own thighs slapping together (repeatedly). The uncomfortable table, called a thoni, is necessary because of the amount of massage oil they use -- which by the way only enhances the echoes of jiggling thighs. I used to be self-conscious about things like this. Now, I look at my body, however imperfect it may seem and all I can think is I cannot believe it has survived so much. Perspective is a beautiful thing.

My favorite part of the experience was after my somewhat traumatic body massage when they did a treatment called Sirodhara. It is a ritual where luke-warm herb-infused oil is poured over the forehead in a continuous stream using a special rhythmic swaying movement, while a gentle massage is given. You relax almost into a comatose state. The oil feels like liquid heaven and if it never ended, it would be too soon. By the time this last part is over and I take a steam bath in something that looks like a time machine from an old movie, I am ready to do it all over again. I overcome the strangeness of this new approach to total bliss in no time at all and realize embracing the hard table is well worth the reward. Usually after getting a massage, my muscles throw a fit from the pressure and work that has been done. But, this time, they just mellowed out all the way into a deep sleep that night. It was either a sign that it is the right kind of therapy for my body, or a blessing that my body might finally be strong enough to take a little bit of rough housing.

The area the facility is in was entrenched in a shady (I'm not talking about the shady associated with trees) neighborhood. But, the spa itself was beautiful, complete with a pond, and lush greenery. As we were leaving, I found myself in disbelief that our experience was just had in dusty, dirty, Delhi.

Ayurvedic center surrounding neighborhood

Inside of building

I regretted not taking a picture of the charming old house-turned-retreat before it became dark. I pull my camera out to snap a shot even though it might not come out perfect (perfect lighting is overrated anyway). After taking the picture, I look at the playback in the camera and quickly notice the whole left side of the roof is missing. My sister-in-law refuses to accept it when I show her, but eventually we compare it with the real thing and agree. All I could do was laugh. “Now, that’s more like it” I thought. This is the Delhi I’ve come to know and hesitantly, maybe even love.

Roofless

I’ve just barely dipped my toes into the last part of my wellness goal plan, which I thought would be meditation, but is turning out to be more of a path to spiritual empowerment. The lessons from Buddhism I was drawn to at a very young age (with a hefty Buddha figurine collection to prove it) are somehow making their way back into my world. I’m totally intrigued by the concepts of enlightenment, compassion and life all over again -- as if it’s the first time I’ve ever pondered them.

I find myself amazed that things are lining up the way they are, here and now. But then I remember that this is how it works -- the twists and turns of life bend or widen to hug you just where and when you need them to. A wise woman and amazing physician I met when I first arrived here, reminds me just a couple of nights ago that “nothing is by chance.” Silly me. How could I forget even for a second that things are anything less than exactly how they were meant to be?

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About Amy B. Scher

A passionate author, pioneering patient, and sassy spirit with just enough sweetness to get me by, I live by my self-created motto: when life kicks your ass, kick back.Amy B. Scher's profile Amy B. Scher's blog