Something in the air smells of DMT

Pondi's a pretty French colonial town (am I partial because I was French at some point in time?) where the influence is still very much alive, but is divided by a canal which is more or less a stream of rubbish.

The continental divide

On one side it's mostly beautifully renovated colonial homes with vibrant paint while the other side has more of that stench, run down architecture, broken streets and chaos you often find in forgotten third worlds.

Don't get horrified by these words, it is often where you find more food, more life and more smiles.

We stayed in a small guest-house owned by an Indian woman married to a French man. They have a young daughter who goes to a French School, and of course she speaks just like a Parisian or a Tamil when she wants. They spend about half the year in France and the other half here in Pondicherry, which is something a lot of mixed couple seem to do here.

We spent a few days exploring, walking and eating, than on a Sunday we decided to go to Auroville. The bus stopped at the bottom of a road and we started walking up the hill, asking for direction along the way to make sure we were on the right track. After a couple of miles, the heat broke us and we hailed a rickshaw to take us the rest of the way. We had only walked half the way to Auroville…

A futuristic and spiritual city built by some hippies guided by a Guru's ideology for human equality and unity of nations without religion or other material attachment.

This was our second time coming to Auroville. The first time, we just stayed down by the beach with some friends from a school where we volunteered teaching English. And this time…!!!! This time it was Sunday, and on Sundays, only the visitor center is open to the public. We never got to see the actual city itself, we couldn't stay the night because of some plans we had previously made. Sad, but the internet is loaded with images and texts of the place if need be.

We will have to come another time to see Mother’s Work. Even though at the time it kind of all seemed a little too Hippy Dippy for me, I still wante to go and check it out one day. At least we got to see a few alternative energy experiments on the grounds we were allowed on. A parobelic solar cooker, and water purifiers that were very interesting with liquid tornado effects to give the water molecules back their curvy shapes.

Is someone smoking something funny...?

Rural Street Art!

Through our time in India, every so often I would smell something in the air that reminded me of smoked DMT, but I could never find the source. We thought sewage, garbage or just the simple filth we came across sometimes, a mix of it all maybe...On the walk towards Auroville, I smelt it in places no where near any living area, garbage or sewage. Maybe it was a tree or a combination of different species or some small animal secreting that very smell?

It could be simply because I was in the middle of reading DMT: The Spirit Molecule, by Rick Strassman. An excellent read by the way. There is a documentary by the same name, but do yourself a favor and read the book first.

I was also reading Adventures Beyond The Body. Both books talk about different realities, alternate universes and our non-physical beings made up of vibration energy, inhabiting a physical body as a way to evolve to the next non-physical realm once we die.

All this reading into the crazy world of reality vs reality had motivated me to start a long overdue project I had in mind about dreams and practicing Lucid Dreaming. I decided to call it Project Lucid Dream. This is a page (to be transferred onto steemit) and workshop dedicated to teaching and learning different techniques for controlling your dreams.

Writing down your dreams is the first step in remembering them. The more you do it the easier it gets. Remembering your dreams enables you to recognizing you are dreaming while you are dreaming.

I was practicing this for a little while until I got lazy… it’s too easy to forget! We could have pushed each-other to keep up the practice but Jessica wasn't into it like I was.

On one of last days in Pondicherry, we stopped at a small theater to see if they had anything playing for the coming days. The troop was there about to have a dress rehearsal and invited us to watch!

It was a very powerful play that put us into another world.

It was just a piece of a story most Indians know (I believe). Unfortunately the name escapes me and I never wrote it down… Perhaps someone can tell me if it rings a bell?

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A 16 year old girl from a royal family has a baby out of wedlock and feels compelled or maybe forced to abandon it by the river. A passing chariot driver saves the boy, raises him and somehow becomes aware that this child comes from royalty.
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As he grows older, he wants to fight in the war that is erupting, but is not allowed to because the “chariot driver” cast isn't allowed to fight. The boy disobeys the law to challenge a young man in the royal family. They fight but both young men are fighting in a form of martial art only known to royalty. “How could this be?” people asked “The boy is but the son of a chariot driver!”
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It was then that they all realized who the boy was and that they shared a mother. She tried to take him back, begged for forgiveness but the boy had made up his mind and wanted to keep fighting his brother… It got to a point where he nearly killed him but he stopped himself just in time and chose to let himself be killed.

~~~

Off the stage was a small square concrete pool built close to the audience, lit only by candles and a warm glow coming from two little spot lights. On stage, it was mostly dark with a few areas lighting up slightly, at different times here and there. It was light and dark, and it made the whole thing very intimate. The play was mostly silent, only a few grunts, puffs, cries and screams, it was magical.

I wish I could tell you the name of the play and the story it came from or even the name of the troop... perhaps when we can find my wife's travel log we'll find she had written it down for us!!!

It was empowering having been invited into an Indian world without harassment, stairs or the million questions! I guess art is art everywhere you go… Open minds stay open to the strange and lives without borders.

To Be Continued...

You can read PART ONE of the Honeymoon HERE to get a synopsis of our way of life.
And then, here's PART TWO.

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Next Week:

Bambi really is just a bully

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If you want to know what is inside the Coconut, take a look at my #HumansOfSteemit entry HERE and afterwards go and give @ashleykalila a digital hug or something sweet for creating such an amazing project and motivating people to chase their dreams!

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