Trust in the goodness of life

From the Vedic center, the clay road continues through a picturesque landscape: on the left, sharp edges rise up a long mountain range - on the right, endless palm forests. I take the mala, a pearl necklace made from 54 lotus flower seeds. "HERE AND NOW". As this mantra is repeated over and over, it slowly becomes present. Only in the evening does the beautiful clay road merge into an asphalt path. A long house appears in the first darkness. Warm light penetrates the windows. A moped driver comes towards me and stops. He answers the request for accommodation critically and negatively because he has to be considerate of his old mother. I accept his decision and stay relaxed. - Then he reacts that it might be possible after all. But there are still doubts on his face. Since I feel safe inside, I guarantee him and pray that he will have a nice, warm feeling inside the next morning when we say goodbye. His name is Shankar; he's no longer young either. His mother eyes me...

 I had actually hoped to stay at the TEMPLE OF CONCIOUSNESS for several days. It is not a big disappointment to have to leave the place after lunch: the address is good for meditators who are not yet so practiced. The traffic rushes in front of the temple. Opposite a trail leads to the lake. The quiet there on the shady bank is good. The need for outer and inner silence can be clearly perceived. Back on the main road I discover a wide clay path next to the temple complex, which leads to the west. The direction is good and I prefer nature trails. But it is risky, because in countries like India such nature trails sometimes end in the jungle. Anyway, I want to be in the silence. It doesn't matter if I had to go back this way after a few kilometers. A young man approaches on the moped. He assures that after 8 kilometers the path will lead back to an asphalt road. Very well. The outer silence also invites inner silence. Because a Tuc-Tuc is driving out of a large gate, my gaze falls in...

I slept a long time in the temple of the priestly family. The next day, however, I am not feeling well. Dizzy I trot through light rain showers in the direction of Aliyar Dam. Someone had written down an address and said that it would come to a temple where pilgrims could spend several days free of charge. By arriving there, I am amazed at the aesthetic areal and good organization of the "Temple of Conciousness". In the entrance area of ​​the reception there is a painting with the portrait of the founder Vetathiri Maharishi. His charisma touches me in the heart. I don't think I've ever seen a picture of someone I need to be so close to. The special thing is the beautiful smile all over his face. - Something invites me to look like this face. Vetathiri Maharishi But there is an unpleasant surprise: I cannot stay for free. The minimum is 500 rupees per day including meals in a 7-bed room. And even worse: There are questions about my visa status, which currently does not...

Black Forest Cake A street café in which the refrigerator is full of black forest cakes. I have nice feelings about my home in Baden, where the Black Forest is and I order a piece. It tastes very sweet and has little to do with the original. Since the owner speaks good English, I show him via Google where the original comes from and how it is made. And because I'm so lively in a teacher mood, I also invent that the cherries on the Black Forest symbolize the red wool balls on the Gutacher Bollenhut, a famous traditional hat which is traditionally worn by unmarried women. I never heard this interpretation before, but it sounds nice and may impress the other person. Bollenhut But the cake doesn't sit well on my stomach. Maybe it's because of the made up boast. Or my rude dismissive reaction to a local is to blame, who previously insistently annoyed me with unsolicited recommendations. I also annoyed him because instead of answering his questions, I smugly recommended this bl...

Babu takes me back to where we drove to his house yesterday. He gives me two big bank notes. His face is calm and benevolent. Something special connects us. I will keep in touch with him. The street out of town is loud and monotonous. Finally the junction comes to a smaller road to the southwest. Today I don't feel so present in myself and I unwind monotonously from kilometer after kilometer. A small village in the evening. I don't care where and how I stay today - the main thing is a shelter because of rain. The bus stop on the next corner is suitable. - With my hands and plain English, I speak to one of the men crouching around the bus stop. "Yes", I could spend the night there. Another has a relatively good command of English and asks questions. Others join in too. After a quarter of an hour someone appears who wants to offer me food and a better place to sleep. Later I lie on a covered ramp. It appears to be a village meeting place. In ...

Babu's IT-Trainingcenter The nice family, with whom I was allowed to stay overnight in an office garage, brings a small breakfast. The farewell is short and nice. A little later, I don't know why, I feel happy for no reason. Nothing special happened. Suddenly it's just there. Either there are many good people who are praying or sending their good energy - or the gods are in a good mood today - or something has changed in me without knowing what. IT trainees In the afternoon, the quiet route meets National Highway 83. Soon after, Udumalaipettai appears; here I am looking for a PC working place to update the blog. There should be an internet café behind the central bus station. The man behind the counter is nice, but his usage fees are very high. Outside on the wall of the housefront, I look at the advertising signs of other shops. There is a PC training center two buildings down the street. A quiet man is training a group of young people, but accepts the request for a workin...

 It takes a long time to find a place to have breakfast today - there are no tea stalls on the side routes. But the landscape is interesting. I am amazed at the many isolated mountain ridges that have pushed themselves out of the plain as capricious structures. - The entrance gate for a wedding has just been prepared on one property. There comes a roadblock with a police station, something in me is afraid because my visa matter has not yet been finally resolved. If they check me now and ask unpleasant questions ... - But the officers smile nicely as I pass. One of them even waves and makes a respectful gesture. A little later I sit on the side of the road and take a drink break. A police moped and brakes in front of me. Same fear as before, only bigger. It's the same policeman as before, only nicer: he brings me breakfast. An interesting person In the afternoon I stop at a temple. An elderly man stops next to me with his moped. He carefully takes his granddaughter from the saddle a...

 Around noon I arrive at the "Holy Mountain" with the venerable temple and the lotus flower rock lake, which the host had shown me yesterday morning. The mountain is enveloped in a beautiful silence. It invites one to experience deeper stillness while meditating. For hours. In between, however, one can also bathe, secretly, I don't know whether it is allowed, because the pond belongs to a historical temple school where the Siddharths were instructed. I drip water on the leaves of the lotus flowers; when the leaves are held up, the water runs off completely - it apparently hasn't gotten wet at all. A beautiful symbol for a person who has been cleansed inside - he can no longer be wetted or soiled from the outside. In the evening I visit the priest and ask for a shelter for the night. But he refuses. Nobody in the neighborhood is open to me either - on the contrary: the women get very loud right away, some even screeching, some don't even let me finish the matter. A...

 I often use Google Maps to plan the route on quieter back streets. The day before, the ad for the “Open Door Prayer House” appeared on the map - today I stand in front of it and hope to find a place to sleep there. But the building is deserted. Neighbors direct me to someone who will put me through to the pastor by phone. He's nice, but rejects me. I thank him for his efforts and would like to go on. - Suddenly Pastor Daniel calls back. His son will take care of arranging a place to sleep for me in their community guest house. I am attended by three parish ministers at the Pentecostal parish hall. They are a bit reserved, but they take care of a good stay in an fine and elegant way. For the first time since the start of the pilgrimage, I can sleep on a mattress - wonderful. The next morning, when I say goodbye, the oldest pushes two 500 rupee bills into my hand. I'm surprised - this generosity is somehow too much for me. But I am also happy and accept it gratefully. Donated al...

 I decide not to take the mountainous path that leads to the northwest, but instead choose the flatter path to the west towards Kerala. But the street is noisy and I take an additional detour on a quieter south loop. When it is dark, I see a lighted house with canopies at the end of a property. The door is slightly open and I call. Father and son inform me that I should better ask at the neighboring house about a covered place to sleep. The neighboring house is small but brightly lit. A man my age is sitting outside listening to my request. His English is simple, but he understands my concerns. With a noble gesture, he invites me into his house and welcomes me. He is so kind and interested and presents spiritual books and icons of his teachers and role models. His son comes over and translates. There are some similarities between his father's biography and my career path. As a young man he too was in a spiritual community - and like me, he is still a spiritual seeker today. A broth...

  13 days have passed in the Sarguru Temple. I am feeling good here. The other volunteers are friendly. Maghesh has ideas every day to extend my stay again.   It's time to move on.   I update the blog in an internet café. I move on in the late afternoon. The atmospheric city of Palani presents even more beautiful facets of its versatile appearance.   At the roadside, traders have spread tin goods on a sheet. I need a new spoon, but the quality of the street vendors is not good.   Two men are standing in the shop across the street.  They seem to have cutlery also. The one behind the counter seems to be the boss, because he orders his employee to show me all kinds of things. The boss obviously notices that I don't like the goods. His tone to the employee becomes louder, rougher, more unpleasant. I'm about to leave the store. Then the employee shows exactly what I'm looking for: a small, sturdy, stainless steel multifunctional spoon. The price is good....

The pujas in the temple are loud. I like the many bells and shell horns and, on special occasions, drums. For a few days now, I've been ringing the hand bell alternately with Maghesh. There is actually enough time to meditate in relative calm in the temple, but some noise is constant and I miss the silence a little. Children are here every day. There is a magic demonstration at  the weekend. Soorya translates during      the magic presentation   The food is simple but sufficient. I haven't seen showers and western toilets for over 10 days. But it is also easy: right hand to eat - left hand to clean. As soon as you get used to it, you even discover advantages. Sleep is on the floor. I got used to it quickly. But something else is tough here: Indians apparently have no problem speaking out loud when people are sleeping around them. Maghesh recommends that I move to the building that used  to  be the dining room. There it is noticeably quieter and it...

Almost all the time, people look at me like an exotic guy. Many ask "Where are you from?", Others want to take a selfie together. Sometimes it annoys me. 2-3 times I am offended because guys command me in bad English to come over to them. It seems favorable for the temple organizers to be able to "present" an exotic person who has come from afar to honor the divinity of Sarguru.  In an interview with the Sarguru TV I exjplain that I didn't come for the blessed Sarguru , but because pilgrims can sleep and eat freely here. - Their plans for the publication of the interview on Youtube will  be put on hold. The given answers are not matching well to the expactions of the movie maker. -

The following day the temple priest calls me "Swami". Since this is an honorary title, I reply that I am just a pilgrim. He doesn't care. He indicates to give me two green vestis tomorrow, which are typical for the worship here in the Sarguru temple. Later I learn that "Swami" is also used in the broader sense as a general salutation, just like addressing someone with "Mister" or "Lord".

There is a  wedding in thetemple . Both are divorced. But they have known each other since they were young and now there is (hopefully) a happy ending. An organizer encourages me to come to the ceremony to offer a blessing for the couple  It's a small company. The priest introduces the ceremonies. Then I step in front of the couple and  tie their hands together with the vesti , bless them and say a few words I don't remember.

In the temple I am one of the dozen volunteers. I am assigned to the devotional booth with Maghesh and two others. I am told the prices and what they are called in Tamil. My main job is sorting and refilling the devotional items. During the pujas, Maghesh and I take turns ringing a hand bell. The thing weighs 2-3 kg and should be swiveled for 20 minutes at a time. Only after a few days can I keep my rhythm. After the pujas, the believers come forward for their worship rituals. At one element they open their hands to a bowl and get "holy water" trickled into it. One of the priests wants me to do this ministry. It's good here and I am offered to stay for a longer period of time.

The next morning we are at the police station on time.  Besides Maghesh, two other men who had spent the night in the temple came with us. An officer fetches the bag, stands with me in front of a wall, holds the bag between us, another officer photographs the scene, then he hands the bag over to my hands. A quick look inside: there is nothing important in it. But the sign is great! Thanks. And that's not all: Maghesh explains that the police had given the honest Tuc-Tuc driver a reward. And that the photo of the handover of the bag should appear in the newspaper - for the positive image of the Palani police.

While the priest and his son honor all important objects or the sacred behind them with light and incense sticks during the puja , I meanwhile feel the pain of the lost bag. Yes, I can let it go and trust that Providence will give me everything I need at any given moment. When it is time to go to sleep, Sarguru seems to ha ve already solved my problem: Maghesh asks me if I would miss a piece of luggage. But - that can't be ... how does it work? - Tomorrow morning at 7 a.m. we can pick up my bag at the police station in Palani.   I resolve to be more generous with others in the future, specially with auto drivers.

In the evening I arrive in Palani, a great place of pilgrimage. The temple, where one can stay and eat for free, is outside. Not 4 km and not 6 km away, as some volunteers assured, but 11 kilometers in Kanatkanpatti.   I can't walk this distance anymore, so I decide to take a auto. The fare is way above my limited budget. I'm trying to keep the price down.   When we arrive at the temple, the driver asked for more fare than we had agreed. I'm tough and don't get involved.   He is leaving. I am going towards the temple of the saint. Then I suddenly realised that I left the small backpack in the back of the storage space of the auto. If I had given him another small note, I would have noticed.   Brief panic arises including remorseful insight into the consequences of my hardness. There's another auto next door that I could drive after him. But no, pointless: They always drive at full throttle and I suspect that we will not be able to catch up with the others. -...

  ·    Before you mentioned of getting a blessing by asking people to put their hands on your head while you are kneeling in front of them. I would never do that! It's embarrassing! o   Embarrassing?! That is too bad. It is certainly unfamiliar in many areas or only priests do it. But then what is our self-image? Why are we reducing our options on this topic? We are free and do not have to be unnecessarily humble. We need rituals with one another with which we can express something deeper! - Imagine how you will feel as a person if you not only help someone else in a situation of need, but in the end you lay your hands on them and let good wishes flow to them? It's unusual, yes, but it is so good for you and makes you grow. There is the biblical word: giving is more blessed than receiving. I'm sure you'd feel more great than embarrassed afterward if you did it a few times in appropriate situations. But I have to agree with you a little: Such a blessi...

The night under the roof of the abandoned house was bearable. I had pulled the second sleeping mat into the thin sleeping bag and covered myself with it to have better protection against the cold. A strange man shows up in the morning. He watches as I pack my things. His words sound like "I should get out of here". He's back a few minutes later, just as I'm about to leave. He's nicer now and answers my sign language question about where to have a milk tea. There are snacks at the first tea stand or at the first snack bar. I order something and clean my new plastic shield. The owner is wondering about my appearance and the luggage and asks something. I sense the content of his question and answer in fragments and gestures. When I want to pay, he waves it away - invited. ......................................................... Soon afterwards the next tea booth: I'm really hungry for breakfast and order tea and a snack again. The owner's boy c...

  A nice saturday morning. The sun is shining and offers magnificent views of the mountains around the Perumal. It's good to be alone again for a while. and to turn one's gaze to inner calm. The road leads up again. It's getting hazy and foggy and it is raining. After the ridge, it only goes gently downhill. Towards evening I look out for suitable overnight accommodation. A chic resort complex that is still under construction can be seen in a beautifully situated section of the forest. I find a way through and see signs of housing in the unfinished buildings. I make myself noticed and present my request. But the workers turn me away because the owner imposes conditions: Strangers are not allowed to enter. When it starts to get dark shortly afterwards, I discover an abandoned forest house. Doors and windows are locked. But the roof goes far down on one side so that a sheltered night camp can be set up. In the last light of day I sit quietly on the mat and listen to the...

The next morning in the pastor couple's house: We are well looked after - especially 20-year-old Adarsh, who ran away from home. I feel sorry for him because Umar, the pastor's wife, doesn't stop talking to his conscience properly in the local language. Above all, she tries to make him understand how his parents feel. In between I ask her for understanding for his attempt to free himself from the pressure of his parents. The pastor also seems to understand the young adventurer's experience. Again and again I pay attention to how everything feels in my own stomach and notice that the inner "self" is able to keep a pleasant distance. After breakfast, I take heart and ask Wasan and Umar if they would lay their hands on me to bless me. Umar encourages Wasan to put on his solemn robe for it; she doesn't want to donate the blessing herself. But Adarsh ​​surprises us: He would also like to have his hands on and the pastor to pray for him. Suddenly the boy doesn...

It's raining. It feels comfortable under the large umbrella. One last time I walk the beautiful path through the Jesuit coffee plantations down to Perumalmalai. On the way I buy a large plastic mat for the overnight stays.    There is more traffic than expected on the quiet road to Palani. And there is a lot of honking. Nevertheless, being mindful works and my path feels good from within. After half an hour, four young motorcyclists wave at me from across the street. They have found shelter from the rain under a temple-like building and invite you to take shelter there as well. A fun bachelorette party. Their English is reasonably good and they seem to understand most of my answers to their questions. When the rain subsides, we say goodbye. Someone who appears to be the oldest exudes a fatherly warmth. I ask him if he will put his hands out to bless me. He does this with a maturity that goes without saying. The rain stops and I keep walking. Another person comes toward...