By telling us your country of residence we are able to provide you with the most relevant travel insurance information.
Please note that not all content is translated or available to residents of all countries. Contact us for full details.
Shares
6 days into this latest energetic vortex I’ll call ‘The Arambol Experience’, my body is shot, my mind is dull, and my emotions have become a thick well-seasoned winter stew. I’ll set the stage: Arambol, on the southwestern coast of the Indian state of Goa is a (probably once sleepy) little beach town, but has since become a place unlike any I’ve known— an affordable and accessible playground for souls like mine, drawn to work centered on heart and spirit and mind. You’ll find breathwork, shadow work, yoga, tai chi, qigong, dance (til u drop), massage and bodywork, tantra, Ayurveda, hypnosis, gong therapy, cacao ceremonies, numerology, Vedic astrology, meditation, satsang, acro yoga, kambo treatments, DMT trips, and every other manner and breed of light and energy work you’ve ever desired (and most assuredly, then some). And to top it all off, live music every night, and all the delicious Indian food and tropical fruit you can stuff in your gullet. Spending time here becomes a FOMO gauntlet of epic proportions: Something amazing is happening ALL. THE. TIME. Something potentially illuminating, life-changing, and/or soul-mating is available and beckoning, on banners and on posters and on flyers, in the glowing eyes and on the tips of tongues of those who can claim to have been ‘Experienced’— demanding your presence and energy and time. Long story short— it’s absolutely spectacular AND a total f*cking sh*t show, all at once. And so, I’m finding some of the deepest, most challenging work is not what’s found in the plethora of courses and workshops, but rather in being able (and more importantly willing) to listen to the exhaustion or overwhelm of my smoking synapses and flaming joints, and to simply hit PAUSE— and by doing so risk ‘missing out’, or feeling passed by— and in the process almost surely suffering through the parasitic mental monologue which shrieks of my valuelessness and a doomsday state of isolation when not perpetually in the throes of doing, connecting, being seen. My guess is that you don’t have to be in Workshop-ville, India to relate— that a similar dynamic is awaiting us on the homefront, in the work place, in our daily relationships, in the cafe, at the gym. All the choices and decisions, and the pangs of fear and guilt attempting to juggle them one-handed. 🌀🕳💗⌛️💎🚀🎯😵🤹♀️🍌🔥💥✨🌺🐒 A moment of silence then, por favor, to remember we’re enough, that there’s still time, that we’ll receive what we need to, that nothing is lost and perhaps there’s everything to gain, not by swimming upstream, or even necessarily floating with the current— but simply by finding our way to the shore, finding a cool and comfortable seat under a tall tree, and just watching as the divinity of the universe unfolds around us.