Paradise (Really)

My writing muscles are very out of shape but the rest of me feels great after my recent week at Sivananda Ashram Yoga Retreat in the Bahamas. Other than notes in my journal, I’ve never written about my trips here. Maybe I’m worried writing about it might mess with the alchemy of this magical place. Silly, I know. My intention is not to gate-keep. I love for good people to know about destinations I love in case they might too. See what you think…

An ocean of so many shades of greens and blues, palm trees and a taste of warmth in winter – who wouldn’t want to return again and again? I’m not talking about a fancy Caribbean hotel with cocktails by the pool. At this place, I sleep in a tent, wake to the gong of a bell at 5:30 AM, share a bathroom with strangers, line up with a tray for vegetarian meals and often help with the dishes. I know that doesn’t sound fun to many of you but this remains one of the best vacations I have ever had. Rejuvenating, centering, inspiring.

Last week I returned from my 4th visit in 33 years. It took a search through decades of journals but I found my entries from the first two times I went – in 1991 and 1992 just before going to my posting in Bosnia. After a lifetime (and one child!) I returned in 2018 to the same yoga ashram. Each time, I was loathe to leave and the internal peace I found there lingered for weeks, even in war-time Bosnia.

This 4th visit, I worried the spell might be broken that something would go wrong. Nope – it was amazing. I returned feeling centered, refreshed and rejuvenated. The routine there has not changed in the years since I first visited. Wake early (yes – gong at 5:30) to join other sleepy-heads in the temple for silent meditation and then chanting. The chanting initially feels awkward but then, what feels like muscle memory kicks in and I raise my voice with the rest of the group. It’s a kind of sing-song repetition of Sanskrit words I don’t know the meaning of but it feels like a praise of life and awakening. There are words available for those who want to follow but I found it easier to close my eyes and fumble my way along in repetition. After a few days of morning and evening Satsangs, the chants come easier. I think not understanding the ancient words actually makes it easier for me to join in. Maybe if church were still in Latin, I would find comfort in prayer? I am moved by the joy in the music the tabla beating like a heart and the harmonium like a human wailing voice, not quite as ominous as the huge church organs of my childhood.

The first yoga class of the day begins at 8. I am no expert and cannot twist myself into an inverted pretzel but yoga has long been a constant in my life and often, a conduit of spiritual connection with meditation and breath-work. I went mostly to beginner’s classes held on the bay rather than ocean-side of the island. I was glad for the slowness, happy to embrace beginners mind and poses. A set of movements not changed since forever, are generously punctuated by Savasana – corpse position with time for rest and meditation. Even the racket from the cruise ship’s docked in the bay loudly broadcasting announcements, failed to wreck my peace as I lay on the wooden platform, birds singing and breezes rustling the exotic leaves around us.

I arrived on this trip feeling discombobulated and bone tired, wondering if I’d ever quiet the chatter in my head. It took a day of the Ashram’s daily routine to feel back to myself. Yoga is twice a day – at 8 and again at 4. The teachers vary and while we had our favorites, all were wonderful and brought something different to the class. I say ‘we’ because on these last two trips, I went with my friends Helene and her dear husband, Paul. Helene and I have been pals since being tour guides at the UN and remains one of my favorite people in the world. Connecting again with my friends – who I see way to infrequently, and sharing this leisurely time with them, was a gift. Everyday, we made more friends from other states and countries. My phone is full of new bright and thoughtful people discovered over good meals and shared spirit.

After yoga, we joined the line for meals, meeting more vacationers like ourselves, earnest yogis doing teacher’s training or working as Kharma yogis – like the volunteers who cooked and dished out each glorious meal. The food is always incredible across 30 plus years. I think the magic ingredient must be an abundance of love stirred into creative dishes. Always a soup, different vegetable dishes, a huge helping of fresh salad with interesting dressings, scrumptious fruit and herb tea. (I snuck some PGTips tea bags in to avoid caffeine withdrawal!)

After brunch, time is free for napping, beach lounging, walking, reading, lolling about in a hammock or swimming in the pristine Caribbean water. I did a little of each. Helene and I and sometimes Paul or another new friend or two, walked barefoot down the mile or so stretch of incredibly soft and mostly empty beach. The big (ugly – I think) Atlantis Resort is down at the point and the usual lounge chairs, kiddies and fruity drink scene gathers in front. Otherwise, the Ashram is the only place along that bit of beach so there are long stretches of empty sand. While Atlantis wasn’t there back in the 90s, Club Med was right next door to where my tent was set up and every night I regularly went to sleep to the beat of dance music and drunken revelry. At least now, I heard only the sound of waves.

The routine, the structure, the community and obviously, the beautiful setting – suit me. And I know I’m not alone. I’ve yet to meet anyone – either coming or going – that didn’t hate to leave. A spiritual vibe in the purest sense – that’s welcoming and without judgement, permeates this tiny plot of land in the world of resorts. There’s no one checking on you (even the yoga classes are pretty hands-off) or taking attendance. I rarely thought about work or what I need to do at home. Being present becomes effortless as during yoga and in meditation we are reminded about breath. It’s all so simple. A quick walk down to the waves in the dark or along a teeny jungle path, voices chanting through the palms, the smell of salt water and a warm, humid breeze in March – tonic for the soul and spirit. I’m trying to stretch the memory and peace of this time for as long as possible. And plan for visit number 5. I know it will be wonderful.

If this sounds appealing, go!