When Death is the Highlight of the Day!
What do you do when your day is interrupted by an offer you are dying to refuse, but can’t?
I had made it to Varanasi, one of the oldest living cities in the world and one of the 7 sacred cities of the Hindus. It is the place to die! I knew that Varanasi was home to the finest religious river frontage, with miles of ghats (steps) along the Ganges. I also knew of the burning ghats in Varanasi, a place where people come to be cremated. What I didn’t know was that they would be the place to hang out!
Now, having become used to a colourful mix people greeting me with an even more colourful mix of requests every time I ventured out, and all with relentless enthusiasm, I was gobsmacked as I disembarked my first cycle rickshaw into town………
‘Madam! Dead Bodies this way!’ ‘Many many bodies today, Madam’. Is very good day to come’.
I hadn’t even decided if I wanted to go to the burning ghats, such was my reluctance to stare death, literally in the face, and whilst on my holidays. I was now being persuaded to have my senses assaulted by big, smiling, enthusiastic faces! How does that work?
It occurred to me that there was great disparity in what I made death mean and what it meant to die right here in this city. Where I come from, it doesn’t matter where you die, it’s sad, we grieve, pay an unnerving visit to the Chapel of Rest and then get the hell out of there and leave the rest up to the funeral director. Come the day we lay ours to rest, it’s sombre, we talk in quiet tones, wear black and NEVER lift the coffin lid!
To die here in Varanasi is cause for celebration because it means that havingdied in this
Holy City of Light, you’re straight on your way to Nirvana – God. No more life cycles for you, my friend, you’ve hit the jackpot, your work is done! Funeral parties were coming by, with bodies wrapped in gold and orange silk, surrounded in flowers and bobbing around on a bamboo stretcher, carried by the men in the family. Drums were played and the men chanted all the way to the Burning Ghat. At one point, a body zoomed past, propped up in a makeshift tray built on to the back of a tuk tuk, with around a dozen family members in it, on it and hanging off it – how do you get 12 people in a four seater vehicle? Come to India.
I decided to take my merry little friend up on his offer and bob down there myself to see how it was done.
So, with some more of my new best friends, off we went. The streets got narrower as 
we
headed into the dense labyrinth of the narrow streets of the old City. As we got nearer to the river, stock piles of wood began to line the confined paths and suddenly, my mood changed from one of street carnival to Nightmare on Elm Street. This was thewood used to make the funeral pyres and I could smellsmoke and death. I couldn’t turn back, there were too many people behind me, including the dead who 
clearlyhad a date with their final destiny. I couldn’t turn off because there was nowhere to turn off to. Buried amidst the crowd and the cows, the drums and the dancing, I was headed for the river.
The smell of smoke got stronger and finally we were there. A big stone building, built on
two storeys and standing right next the ghats, shielded my view from the burningpyres. I was asked if I would like to visit the ladies that lived in there, all sick and all waiting to die. I climbed the stairs, hoping that the sight of the living would be be preferable than the sight of the dead. Around 6 ladies lived in one room, which had big glassless windows all around. They were literally living above burning bodies everyday and no window to shut out the smell or the smoke.
I was called over to the window. I hesitated, as I knew this would give me a birds eye view of all that was below. I was the only one in the room that had a problem with this. I was also the only one from the crowds below that had a problem with this. I figured that this must be something to do with my internal map of the world, as no one seemed to share my fear. So, I moved over to the window and, not daring to look, or look away, I allowed my eyes to focus on around 18 bodies burning below me. It was strangely OK and moreover, I was strangely OK. I stayed for a while, I watched arms and legs being poked back into the fire, faces crumple under the flames and flesh turn to ash. And it was all OK.
It was the day I discovered another meaning to death and a meaning that was to serve me in what was to become my destiny. That said, I had not desire whatsoever to change the meaning I attached to bathing in The Ganges alongside the devotees and the dead. Not a drop of water got anywhere near me. This was one map of Indian culture that I simply couldn’t get my head around!
How do you know when something is real or perceived? At what point do you recognise that the meaning you give to any experience is a choice? When do you decide to loosen tight perceptions, often cultivated from past learnings, into an expanded map of the world? Have you ever noticed that language and tone of voice often determines your choice of meaning. I had a happy little soul share with me his delight for all those fortunate enough to die and burn on the banks of The River Ganges in the Holy City of Varanasi – good enough for me to think, Oh, Ok, I’ll pop down and check it out! I wonder, which of your experiences in the past, present and future will now change as a result in having choice over meaning.
For a life gifted twice
And in honour of bubbles, botox and red velvet gloves
Jacqui Lane
www.jacquilane.com
Loosing The Plot!
What is it about us that so often, we are prepared to place our lives and our decisions in the hands of others? Perhaps it’s because we think that by doing so, our lives will become easier and everything will be taken care of?
Still on the playing field of an unknown game and feeling like I was the only one on my team up against a rival team of 16 million (the population of Delhi), I decided to book me a 5-day tour comprising Delhi, Jaipur and Agra (home of the Taj Mahal). Mustafa, a congenial fellow, was exceptionally good at his job and appeared to take care of me beautifully when organising my itinerary. I would have a driver who was also a ‘professional tour guide’ and I would travel in the comfort of nice cars with everything taken care of. Breathing a huge sigh of relief as I left his office, having enjoyed a particularly lovely glass of chai with him, I prepared for day 1 of my trip. All I had to do, was be ready at 9am.
Day 1: Tour of New Delhi. My driver was Mr Kahn, great guy, great car, great English. Mustafa had done me proud. Day 2: Tour of Old Delhi. My driver was Mr Misira, not so good English, not so good car, not so good guy as he took me to more shops than sights where I was very deftly persuaded to part with money for over priced stuff. Day 3: Mr Coro rocked up in battered Mk 2 Ford Cortina, spoke absolutely no English whatsoever, and was my driver for the next 3 days on a road trip of around 1,000k’s. This was not a round trip and my end destination was a very long way from Mustafa’s office and he knew it!
I was beginning to see a pattern and far from being taken care of, it began to dawn on me that the money I had parted with for this trip was simply the entrance fee into a much greater game, for which I was the pawn – or prawn, depending of your frame of reference. It seemed that everywhere I was taken, everyone who was involved in this trip was on commission from what I spent! Further more, not one of my drivers was keen to leave anywhere until I had spent! What was more puzzling was that they could say “Very good Sari shop Madam’ but could not understand ‘No, I don’t want another Sari”. Now, whilst it was not actually very difficult for me to be drawn into the shiny shops of silk and silver, I did have to drawn the line when I was deposited outside the ‘Genuine Taj Marble Factory’.
Definitely taken by the Indian Tourist Bureau!
Part of the trip included a visit to the Amber Fort in Jaipur. In my ever-evolving tone of assertiveness, I had felt particularly proud in negotiating a deal of 400 rupees’ to ride to the top of the Forte and back down again on a rather magnificent elephant! The journey up was a hassle from the beginning with all manner of people trying to sell me all manner of stuff. How they thought I could actually purchase anything whilst perched on top of an elephant was beyond me. Whilst we in the West generally equate persistence with pain, it would seem that our Eastern neighbours equate it with pleasure. Finally, I was lifted down from my elephant in the courtyard of the Forte. I had one hour. Within 1 minute, I was surrounded. “Madam, look!” “Madam, buy my sparkly elephants!” “Madam, look my postcards, very beautiful” “This way Madam, I have best dolls for you, very cheap”. I lasted 15 minutes and found no escape from the army around me. Very decisively, I marched back to my elephant, and demanded to be taken back down the mountain. I was in complete and utter overwhelm which had culminated over 5 days of having no control over my space, whom I shared it with and for how long. Somewhere in chaos, I heard my elephant driver utter “400 rupees’. As I tried to concentrate on what he was saying amidst sparkly elephants still being thrust in front of my face, I finally and absolutely, lost the plot!
Scene of My Outburst!
“I am not paying any more rupees!” I shouted at the elephant the driver. “I’ve paid for my trip down the hill, put me back on my elephant immediately” (that’s the thing about elephants, you can’t just get in them like you can a car). My arms were now thrashing about and the crowd had moved back for safety. “And all you, you can all just leave me alone!” I screamed, gathering momentum as continued to spin round the stunned gathering.
“I don’t want any sparkly elephants, no postcards and no bloody dolls!” pausing briefly to lunge and point randomly and furiously at the increasing throng of onlookers. “Take me back down the hill NOW!”
Having expended 5 days of frustration all over the courtyard of The Amber Forte, I suddenly stopped and in a moment of mortifying self-awareness, focussed on the bemused faces around me. In that moment, the whole place dissolved into laughter and I fell in heap of defiance and defeat! Three men picked me up and carried me up the steps and onto my elephant with the crowd cheering on. My elephant driver assured me “No rupees’ Madam” and as my elephant plodded away with me slumped on top, an array of dolls, postcards and sparkly elephants were thrown up to me from the bunch of smiling faces below.
It was the day I took charge of my adventure. It was the day I learned The Game. It was also the day I fell in love with India.
What do you do when temptation to hand over responsibility for your decisions weighs heavy? Do you trade short-term gain for long-term pain? How much pain has it cost you to live somebody else’s game and at what point did you decide to create your own rules? Have you noticed that when you are driving your own bus, or elephant, your life moves with direction, purpose and validity? I’d love to hear from you on my travel blog!
For a life gifted twice
And in honour of bubbles, botox and red velvet gloves
Jacqui Lane
Fight or Flight!
Why do very healthy people jump of the edge of a cliff with an elastic rope tied to their feet and bounce up and down over the chasm of nothingness beneath them? I’d often contemplated this apparent flaw in human nature whilst sitting on a beach in Greece, watching the bus pull up across the street to load a seemingly never ending supply of adrenalin junkies. I mean, for what purpose, would you ever willingly throw yourself off a cliff? I got the answer to my question as I stumbled through the arrivals terminal in New Delhi. A bungee jump suddenly seemed like a very reasonable alternative to getting my kicks and if there had of been a cliff edge on the other side of the terminal doors, I may well have jumped with little consideration as to whether I had a rope attached to my ankle or not.
I arrived at 11am to 47 degrees of the driest heat. The frenetic energy in the arrivals hall was tangible, overwhelming and pure chaos. It comprised a mass of local people all looking for business with a particular and precise ability to pick out those of us that had ‘My-1st-time-out-of-Europe’ stamped across our foreheads. Within moments, I was surrounded by around 12 Indians, all talking to me at once, offering to take my bags, take me to a hotel or to tell me that the hotel I had booked, had been burned down just the night before!. They all had uncles, cousins, parents and brothers who were all hotel owners and they all had a taxi waiting outside. I tripped, stumbled and fell out of the airport with all 12 of my new best friends and in my English politeness, attempted to graciously answer and decline their offers of help, coming at me in stereo! My heart was visibly pounding to the very well trained eye of the Indian and I had no space, physically or mentally, to think.
‘Madam, this way, come!’ No Madam, with me please, I have best taxi!’ ‘Madam, I take your bags, only a few rupees!’ ‘Madam, all of New Delhi has burned last night, no hotels left!’ Madam, my cousin has very good hotel, is best for you!’
Follow that cab!
Through the chorus of my entourage, I stared at the array of transport outside the terminal doors in disbelief. Quite unlike the orderly line of black cabs I had been used to back home, all I could see was a tangled mess of what I can only describe those kiddies coin operated cars, except these were for real, had engines and could drive for miles! The noise was deafening as my group of 12 was duplicated many times around me and every vehicle was sounding its horn to manoeuvre into a better position, or out of the airport. Total gridlock is not a concept the Indian driver either understands or accepts! In amongst this metal mass of confusion, stood a random elephant, complete with ‘driver’ sitting on its head and several cows, goats and bullocks, all un-phased and totally at home amongst the bedlam. Well, I thought, if they can leave the comfort of a green field for this, I need to take a few lessons from them on how to do that. I later learned that the motivation behind our four legged friends to live in the inner suburbs and cities of India, was their penchant for exhaust fume intoxication! Hmm, Ok, so that’s how you do it, just get stoned!
I wanted to run, to flee. I had no idea how to fight. I was in an environment that was utterly alien to me and I knew that somehow, I was giving off easy prey signals! I did not know the game, how to play the game, the rules of the game or the psyche of the players of the game. Trouble was, of the bundle of damp tickets tucked into my money belt which had been wrapped around my perspiring self for the last 20 hours, only one of them had ‘Destination London Heathrow’ stamped on it, and that was in 12 months time and leaving from LA. And so, in the absence of a cliff, I gathered myself up for the fight!
A driver eventually took decisive action with me and I found myself climbing into his Metal Mickey cab. Fortunately, the deafening sounds from the engine and the multitude around us, prevented him from hearing the fear in my voice. The decibels I had to rise to, to answer his never-ending persuasion to take me to his cousins’ hotel gave off the illusion of assertiveness and I finally arrived at the ‘hotel’ I had booked for the first three nights of my 12 month long adventure.
What do you do when your mind and body switch in to fight or flight mode? Do you take the time to learn The Game, to adapt to a new environment, or have you retreated back to safety. How many times have you decided to fight, to move forward and noticed that your fear soon turns into excitement and all that was missing was familiarity in the unknown? How did you create familiarity? How did you embrace the uncertainty of new surroundings to find previously undiscovered depths within yourself? I’d love to hear from you on my travel blog!
For a life gifted twice
And in honour of bubbles, botox and red velvet gloves
Jacqui Lane
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The Eve of New Beginnings
Have you ever opened your mouth and your brains have fallen out? That’s what happened to me back in 2003 when I announced to my family and friends that I was embarking on a solo trip around the world! Having stated this with great confidence and clarity, I then gave my boss two months notice, refinanced my house, found a tenant and a home for my cat! At the time, it all seemed like a good idea. A great idea in fact!
For those of you who are familiar with Antony Robbins six core needs (see previous blog entry) this decision met my need for variety, growth and significance. I was going off on an adventure! I was going to learn so much of what was beyond my comfort zone. And I was going by my brave little self – how cool was I! I won the admiration of those around me. I felt excited and exhilarated. The spark had been lit and I knew that this decision was going to change my life. You see, that’s the thing with coming out of your comfort zone, stuff changes and growth is inevitable. You can’t not know, what you now know!
As with all good ideas, they are only as good as the action that follows them. I now had to follow through. And isn’t it curious how, when a good idea springs to mind, it is often as a result of our comfort zone becoming stale and unsatisfactory. And yet, when it comes to the action part, our comfort zone suddenly looks quite appealing and we wish we had never opened our mouth.
So, with my brains well and truly all over the floor, a tenant in my home, a few thousand pounds in the bank and the eyes of my family and friends upon me, it was time to take action and the only thing in the way, was me. And I was scared witless. Excitement had turned to fear, the spark was now masquerading as anxiety and I risked looking like a right plonker if I didn’t follow through. I managed to stall leaving for four months with several ‘must attends’, and ‘must do’s before I go’ to fill in the time.
Then the What-if’s started. I was leaving my life in England during the most stable and secure phase I had known. Was I mad? What would I do when I got back? What if I could never find a stable job again? What if I could never afford the new and increased mortgage on my house without renting it? What if something happened to my family whilst I was away? What if something happened to me whilst I was away? What if my cat didn’t recognise me upon my return?
For one day, I allowed myself the comparative luxury of my comfort zone. I gave myself 24 hours to live with the decision of not going on my big adventure. In doing so, I assumed I would be giving myself the day off from fear and rising levels of anxiety. But a strange thing happened – the anxiety didn’t disappear. In fact, it felt worse! I put this down to one of two things; either, I had labelled my current state as anxiety, when in fact it was still exhilaration (the two have the same biological response) or the anxiety of staying was worse than going! Whichever it was, I booked my ticket the very next day.
Giving myself the day off from what wasn’t the problem (staying), I was able to answer the issues of what was the problem (going) It was because I was in the most stable and secure phase in my life that I had been able to make the decision. Who I would be at the end of my adventure could only ever shape my future with richness and vitality. There was every possibility that, upon my return, I would chose to live elsewhere anyway. Wherever I was in the world, I was only ever a maximum of 24 hours away. I had plenty of reference points of survival in my past to know how to stay safe. As for my cat, well, that’s the thing about cats, they don’t give a stuff about anyone anyway.
I was a mess the week before my 9.30pm Virgin Atlantic flight from London Heathrow to ‘New’ Delhi. Anxiety or exhilaration, my brain and body needed this fight or flight nonsense to be over. I caught my plane to New Delhi on Oct 2nd, 2003. I arrived at 11am local time, to unimaginable heat and incomprehensible chaos. Every trick I had been cautioned on in my Rough Guide to India, happened within 30 minutes of me stumbling through the arrivals terminal. If I had labelled my feelings as anxiety, whilst in the comfort of my Mum’s home, enjoying never ending cups of tea and chocolate digestive biscuits, then I was now absolutely having my need for growth met, (be careful what you wish for) as I experienced and handled a level of being within myself that had, thankfully, not been tested for 37 years. But that’s another story……
Have you ever come to the end of a chapter in your life where a part of you felt incredible excitement at the possibilities of change, of adventure, of a new beginning? As the time grew near to take the leap from the known to the unknown, what did you do? Did you allow your fear to consume the clarity of your truth? Did you peruse your dream even though your fear existed in the same place? I love to hear from you!
For a life gifted twice
And in honour of bubbles, botox and red velvet gloves
Jacqui Lane
Tony Robbin’s 6 Human Needs
Robbins states:
…the force of life is the drive for fulfillment and all human beings share this need to experience a life of meaning. Ultimately, however, fulfillment can only be achieved through a pattern of living in which we focus our lives on two primary needs: the need to continuously grow and the need to contribute beyond ourselves in a meaningful way. Unhappiness, emotional distress and all dysfunctional behavior arises from an individual’s inability to find a consistent way to meet his/her Six Human Needs. When our attempts to reach fulfillment fail, we will settle for comfort – or for meeting our needs on a small scale. Every person finds a way to meet his/her needs; the only question is whether they will act in a way that is destructive or empowering to themselves and others long term. The goal of Six Human Needs Psychology is to help people create additional consistent choices – new patterns that allow them to be fulfilled long term. Ideally, they will achieve this is a way that feels good; that is good for them; that is good for others; and that ultimately serves the greater good.
Defining the Six Human Needs
Need # 1 – Love & Connection
This is the need to experience bonding, sharing, feeling a part of, oneness, intimacy, at one with, etc. In his book “Connect – 12 Vital Ties that Open Your Heart, Lengthen Your Life, and Deepen Your Soul”, Dr. Edward Hallowell refers to connection as “the other vitamin C”. Hallowell says connection is as vitally important to us as Vitamin C.
Need # 2 – Significance
This is the need to experience a sense of being needed, feeling important, sense of meaning, sense of purpose, uniqueness, etc. Notice how this need contrasts with need # 1.
Need # 3 – Certainty
This is the ability to produce, eliminate, or avoid stress; or create, increase, or intensify pleasure. It’s also about security and survival.
Need # 4 – Uncertainty / Variety
The need for surprise, difference, diversity, challenge, excitement, etc. Notice how this need contrasts with need # 3.
Need # 5 – Growth
This is the need to continuously fulfill potentials, to “be all that you can be.” This need drives you to become the “most complete you” possible.
Need # 6 – Contribution
This is the need to help others to be fulfilled (to help others meet their six human needs in a constructive way).
It’s possible to meet any or all of these six needs by changing either your:
Perception (belief or appreciation of)
Procedure (vehicles or approach to).
Welcome!
Four years ago, the course of my life changed in heartbeat. I flat-lined – literally. An horrific car accident left me on life support in a foreign country and 12,000 miles from home. With life threatening injuries and 17 surgeries to overcome, life as I knew it had come to screaming halt. My fight for life began in ICU. It was only when I made it of there, did the real battle begin!
For a while, it seemed as though I had lost everything – my sense of identity, purpose, direction, and independence. My brand new relationship and the reason I was on the other side of the world, was now under enormous pressure. With formidable injuries and a long recovery process in front of me, I was trapped for the first time in my life. Ill health and immigration laws precluded me from leaving the country for 18 months.
With no personal history, no status, no familiarity, and no friends or family by my side, not one person truly knew me – including my newfound love. I now embodied the polar opposite of whom I was, to him anyway…
The only thing I truly had, was the relationship I had with myself. Through those dark days of introspection and drug induced days euphoria, not least when I was in a coma, I had only myself for company. It was then that I further deepened the strength and depth of that relationship. No matter the level of love and support of others, it was only ever going to be me that could make my life happen once more. All roads led back to me – and that was a real bummer at times.
Now, four years on, I have experienced a purpose and passion for life that I believe had been in the waiting in the wings only to be freed by something that was to shatter my very existence. Today, my life is transformed. I have finally achieved the success and fulfilment I was looking for when I made that decision to jack in my job, refinance my home and go off on a solo trip around the world. It was a decision that was to shape my destiny in a way I could never have imagined and beyond anything I could ever have dreamed.
I would like to share that story with you. My vision is to make a difference and save you the inconvenience of tubes, pipes and catheters!
If you enjoy travel and adventure, love and passion, tragedy and triumph, then you’re in for a treat with my Monthly Muse’s! If along the way, you’re curious as to how and why those paths were taken, then you’re in for some wonderful insights in to how to play this game of life, and occasionally, how absolutely not to! If any of my stories are like yours, then I would love for you to share them on my travel blog! And if winning strategies and formulae are useful to you, then right here, each month, you will find an amazing abundance of them. Red Velvet Entertainment guaranteed.
I have noticed that my life shrinks or expands in proportion to my capacity to embrace change. My fear of an inadequate life has always been greater than any fear of change. To have courage the existence of fear is presupposed and yet fear is about something that hasn’t happened yet. That’s living in the future. I have learned that fear is but an illusion and that courage comes from by being present to the only thing we truly have – this very moment in time.
For a life gifted twice
And in honour of bubbles, botox and red velvet gloves
Jacqui Lane
