It’s been pouring rain steady since yesterday afternoon here in Kerala, as, in this season of monsoon,

it should every few days or so. Now it’s 9 am, and in my house we have been “current illa”– without electricity–since about 5 am.

 

The rain–whether drizzling or pelting–forms a blanket of soft vibration over the landscape, softening the sounds of regular life, turning down the dial on the intensity of normal activity. This sensory insulation makes monsoon the season traditionally considered best for internal focus, a naturally supported time to turn inside for meditation and spiritual study, as well as for taking Ayurvedic treatments.

 

Of course, with no current, there is no chance of TV. No mixies, no refrigerators, no motors are running. The roads are nearly flooded, so only those who must press on are out on their motorbikes. The streets are quiet. And the usual banter among the ladies of the neighborhood dies down.

 

There’s no point in doing the wash today. Nothing will dry. Without electricity, eventually cell phones lose their charge. My laptop will too, and I’ll be forced to cease pushing my mental agenda until the Almighty sees fit to amp the wiring–and me–back up. In Kerala, blessedly, there are times when there is just no way to keep on keeping on.

 

Monsoon is the ideal time to take Ayurvedic treatments. The softened environment renders mind and body more receptive to the qualities of the therapies. As the outer world blurs and recedes from the senses a bit, one’s attention shifts from the usual outward flow of energy, to an inward, more personal awareness. Quite naturally, one discovers less preoccupation with mental constructions about the future,  and more experience of a gentle and present physicality. This state of awareness and receptivity promotes deep cellular and energetic integration of the benefits of Ayurvedic treatments.

 

The moist qualities of monsoon also help soften and “ripen” the seven tissues of the body – the dhatus – during poorva karma, the preparatory phase of pancha karma involving snehana (oil application) and svedhana (steam treatments). When the tissues are well prepared–soft, moist and pliable–the Ayurvedic techniques used for eliminating toxins and excess doshic energies from the body and mind are accomplished easily, effortlessly, and completely.

 

 

But if you are spiritually inclined, and not sleepy, a rainy day is a gift from the Gods, a chance to fall fully into internal surrender. Monsoon’s gray skies transform everyday bright-and-punchy-Kodachrome India into a more muted, watercolor world where layers of mystery loosen and separate, floating apart to be more clearly revealed. I notice on these quiet, saturated days, that my breathing comes to the fore of my awareness. If I let myself, I could easily be lulled to sleep by the mystical softness enveloping me, and by the gentle rhythm of  Ham (inhalation) and Sa (exhalation). But after years of japa practice and no small measure of grace, the syllables of my mantra arise automatically with every breath, and meditation meditates me, the only interruption the occasional subtle crackling of the oil lamp on the altar table.

 

It’s a respectable 78 degrees out, but local people consider this cold weather, a time to protect oneself and one’s family from the affects of the climate. Letting rain drops hit one’s head is be strictly avoided. (“Mara, mara, jwara, jwara” Rain, rain, fever, fever!)  Stepping outside at all requires a head covering of some sort. (Any sort! Come on over here during monsoon, if only to admire the inventive variety of head coverings people devise. Umbrellas? OK. And amusing hats are one thing. But look also for dish towels, shopping bags, hankies, the husk of a coconut, the corner of a sari... Even interlocked fingers make a popular shield from the rain. Anything goes!)

 

Yesterday, as I sat talking with Sanju and Bindhu thru the soggy afternoon, Amma brought out steel cups of “coppy tea.” Amma’s always mixing and offering traditional medicinal treats to meet the moment thru Ayurvedic principles, bringing balance to all. Coffee tea is pungent and heating, the perfect antidote to the cool, soft qualities of the climate. She has boiled together dry ginger, fresh tulasi (holy basil), cumin, black pepper, palm sugar (all in photo above), and a dash of coffee powder. Coffee tea alleviates dampness and any tendency toward congestion.

 

If you happen to show signs of a cold coming on, Amma is sure to sit you down in front of a big pot of herbal steam, too, tied off with a banana leaf lid. To clear your sinuses and kill the virus, sit close to the steam pot, allow yourself to be covered over with a few layers of blankets to keep the steam in, then slit the banana leaf to fill your healing cave with a warm dispersion of the essential oils of tulasi, fresh leaves of black pepper vine, ginger, cloves and maybe a few other secret ingredients. After a few minutes you’ll not only feel your sinuses open, but your breathing will be a sensual enjoyment, and your mind will be stable and clear.

 

Rain, rain – no need to go away. When we live in harmony with the qualities of the season–accepting her benefits, and balancing any excesses–monsoon time is the right time for so many good things.