A pilgrimage of Nine Thousand Miles Begins with a Single Impulse

(Part 1 of a  Three-Part Blog Series “In the Presence of the Master”)

The impulse to go to Ojai for the two-day event by Byron Katie.

I had been toying with the idea for a while — "Sometime, I will go." Sometime is a very comfortable word. It doesn’t ask anything of you today.

Then a dear friend came back from the previous event and told me this could be the last one. This shifted me from sometime to now.

What made me go was this deep longing to be in the presence of the master. The presence that permeates the former Church Hall (that is now the Centre for the Work at Ojai), even before she enters the room.

· · ·

Like every time, the "retreat" started before even the travel began.

This was a particularly challenging one logistically. My husband was travelling. I was travelling. Our daughter would be with neither parent for a day. Some of the plans we had made for her care fell through, and that set off a series of stressful thoughts.

"They don’t care about my daughter." Working through that thought, I could see how the turnaround — "They cared so much" — was much truer, and the decision was in the best interest of our child.

Still, I stayed paralysed with multiple thoughts about the travel and my child for a couple of days, and it slowed down my packing considerably. There were so many nuances — multiple airports, connecting flights, mobility assistance, medications, jet lag and food management, the commute to Ojai itself.

· · ·

Finally, I set off. Singapore to Hong Kong flight. Check. 7-hour layover with shower, food, and rest in awkward positions. Check. Taking pictures of random spots at the airport so I wouldn't get lost. Check. Wheelchair aunty going missing, and me walking despite leg pain to catch the connecting flight. Check. Final 12-hour flight to LAX where I drifted in and out of uncomfortable dreams and fears when turbulence rocked the aircraft. Check.

On the morning of my travel, one more plan had fallen through — my ride-share from LAX to Ojai. Without it, I would have to add a shuttle bus to an already gruelling 30-hour journey. I can’t walk long distances. I did not want another transport in the mix. What choice did I have? I did the Work and prepared for the alternative with more peace.

As love would have it — everything went perfectly.

At LAX, the wheelchair assistant got me to the shuttle pickup point following directions from my multitude printouts, with time to spare. Landing at lunchtime, I pulled out a pack of snacks from my suitcase and spread a towel on the sidewalk, to sit down with my luggage. I enjoyed the LA sun, letting it reset my body clock — which is what AI had said I needed most when arriving east-to-west with eighteen hours of time zone to adjust for.

Setting up temporary camp at the LAX sidewalk

The shuttle ride was both smooth and turbulent, I couldn’t say exactly. I slept the entire way. One final Uber ride later, I reached my pretty hotel room.

· · ·

My body wanted to drop on the bed and never get up. But something in me pushed me back out.

I found the bicycles at the Inn for the local commute. Good that I tried them right away; it took a few attempts to figure out the right key, the right lock, the right cycle for me. I set off into the Ojai evening, trusting Google Maps to get oriented with directions before the event.

When my eyes rested on the Center for the Work, I wanted to cry from happiness.

This is when I believed I had arrived and I would actually make it to the event 😊

A glimpse of the destination. A glimpse of peace.

A takeaway dinner from Hip Vegan, and I got back to the hotel just in time to join my daughter’s PTA conference over Zoom, while my husband attended in person in Singapore. Somehow this worked out too. Two parents, two hemispheres, one daughter, and her school conference somehow held by technology, love and grace.

Finally, it was time for dinner and bed in the Ojai night, which happened to be my body’s night too, by some small mercy. There was hope for the jet lag adjustment despite my shortest trip to the US yet.

· · ·

In my eagerness, I had planned my morning ahead. I got ready without hurry. Breakfast. Buffer time. Cycle again.

Only thing I was unsure about was the celebratory Indian dress that I was wearing. “What will people think? What if they find me overdressed?”

Then my answer came — this was MY celebration, and I felt celebratory.

· · ·

At the registration table meeting the staff, old friends and acquaintances from The Work brought so much joy to my heart.

I felt ready. I was in an Indian dress, with a bicycle helmet hanging off my arm, on the other side of the planet from my family, about to spend two days in a room I had been drooling in anticipation of.

I had worn a celebratory Indian dress and came on my bicyle for Day 1 of the event with Byron Katie to the Center of The Work, Ojai, California

The doors were open; I entered and sat down. Absorbing the peace – where my hard-won pilgrimage had brought me.

To the place you can only reach when the impulse to come is strong enough to survive the logistics. The place where the ride-share can fall through and you can eat a bag of chips on an LA sidewalk, and it can all be, somehow perfect.

And it could only begin with a single impulse.

(to be continued...)

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