Volume 24

Friendly Attractions

We last left the autobiographical traveler of Chronicle infamy, in a post-shiatsu state of blissful contentment (“santosha ”) somewhere near Rishikesh (India). Everything was perfect just the way it was. Over the following month, I did move out of Phool Chatti, but I never ventured too far from the ashram or from that state of contentment. However, if it were that simple, I wouldn t bore you with details.

Rishikesh was in spring bloom and the weather was warming (hot days got hotter). The Ganga had transformed from a river too frigid for more than a quick dip, into a sanctuary too refreshing to ignore. Don’t get me wrong, it was still snow-melt cold. As if we needed to test that theory, Matt, John and I decided to swim across and back. Across was easy. Back was when the cold sucked our energy as the current sucked us towards the rapids. The chill caused the doubt. The doubt led to fear. Conquering that fear (not to mention survival) brought a feeling of elation with the shore. Despite deep appreciation for all those emotions, I am presently content to let my running count of major world rivers swum across stall at one.

		Some of the meditative conspirators on an epic hike. The three on the right comprising the Ganga swim team.

Though I formed an undeniable bond with the sacred river, it was the bonds with friends that kept me in Rishikesh. Some friends were new, but many of us had met months earlier, in silence, in Bodh Gaya. Most (as I learned subsequently) had struggled as I did from social overload in Sarnath. Our ranks in Rishikesh fluxuated around a more socially-manageable level of 20-30. Not surpisingly, as deep friendships were formed and serious emotions were explored, romantic inclinations appeared. I was not immune.

After a week in the backpacker ghetto of Laxman Jhula (where the energy had changed with the weather and the arrival of the hash smoking crowd fleeing the heat of Goa), I returned to the flock (or at least the core of it). I moved into a different ashram and joined Jaya, Brian and Ajay’s refreshingly “open” retreat. Here, my days were a spiritually appealing mix of meditation, yoga, dynamic group discussions and shiatsu practice (on the roof at sunset). Yet, the open format still left me time for Ganga swimming, e-mail and intimate personal conversations. It was, to date, the most rewarding blend of dedicated practice, social interaction and personal freedom I have found. As if some drama needed to be introduced, my yang (male) energy woke from its winter hybernation.

	Parmath Niketan meditation center (with many great rooftop memories)

In my calm state of mind, I was actually able to see romantic urges and attractions arise just as I had learned to recognize thoughts invading an otherwise peaceful meditation (I thought that was really cool, but the adventure had just begun). By disassociating from attractions (each was simply “an” attraction, not “my” attraction), I saw them as clearly natural emotions. This alleviated the previously documented feelings of guilt, but I wasn’t out of the woods yet. Now there was the question of honesty. “Satya” is a different (though clearly inter-related) ethical principle I have attempted to embraced in all aspects of my life (as you may have noticed in my writing).

Though all share aspects of honesty, clearly there is an element of discretion differentiating construction workers whistling at pretty women or Indian men copping a feel from “wise and caring sexual conduct. ... I found myself searching for that subtlety when an attraction surfaced during one particularly open and personal conversation. At this point, the emotion seemed so obvious I was sure she would recognize it as well. With blatant disregard for comfortably established personal and/or social norms, I decided to tell her. It has been said, “life begins at the edge of your comfort zone.” I was venturing well beyond mine now. There had been no indication of reciprocal feelings. Nor was there a strong sense that my admission would produce any favorable response. It just felt like the right thing to do.

Her reactions came in phases over the next few days. Initially, there was surprise (not so much to the attraction as to the confession). Then there was confusion (because she did not know how to respond) and resentment (that she felt she had to respond at all). I told her that no response was necessary and attempted to persuade her that I desired nothing more than the continuation of our honest and open friendship. Her protective skepticism became apparent when she indicated it was a recurring pattern for male friends to “hit on her.” Rather than becoming defensive about her choice of words, I let them be a crucial turning point. Not that it was the last of her harshly phrased retorts, but it demonstrated that threads of openness and trust had survived the initial shock wave. And we were back on a common topic.

I shared my recognition of this pattern being a recurring one for me as well. Going all the way back to my collegiate youth, I recalled having “crushes” on some of my close women friends (with the only one ever pursued eventually leading to marriage). I inquired whether it necessarily “wrong” to get to know someone as a friend and then become romantically interested? That question was never answered (and is ripe for reader feedback) but it restored an atmosphere of open inquiry. Testing that atmosphere, my friend brought the conversation back to the immediate issue at hand. “What was the nature of the attraction?” Rephrased for clarity (and sharpened for effect), she asked, did I just wanted “to shag?” I did not deny that there was a physical component to the attraction, but also indicated there more. Into this category of “more” fell a deep appreciation for her perceptiveness to question the nature of attractions.

Learning is seldom easy. This experience, however awkward, must have been rewarding, because I repeated it a few weeks later with another friend. While less dramatic (she calmly accepted it as a compliment) and equally as “ineffective” (where its primary intention sexual), it again proved to be an interesting milestone in a deepening friendship. Furthermore, it gave me another opportunity to explore the nature of the attraction. The similarities were striking. In both instances, it was the closeness and caring (with an admitted dash of physical attraction) that I found myself most attached to. The fear associated with the pending loss of that closeness and caring (a nuisance applicable to most traveler relationships) only fueled the confusion.

		As personally challenging as this topic is to write about, it occurs to me that it might also be disconcerting to the many women friends who are reading it. It might therefore be wise to introduce a disclaimer. Though immeasurably appreciative of all my friends (men and women), it is the exception (NOT the norm) when I am romantically attracted to a woman friend. However, in each of the female friendships I have experienced since my mid-life emancipation, there has come a certain point at which the nature of the relationship is questioned and defined. Often the determination is clear and agreed upon (whether spoken or simply understood). Things only get dicey when these inquiries result in dissenting conclusions or when initially accepted conclusions are subsequently (and often unilaterally) revised. Is this not a wise and caring time for honesty?
One of my friends Dory, who had already become too close for romance

I have since tried to adopt a three-inquiry approach when perplexed over what to say (or not say). Is it honest? Is it relevant/significant? Is this the right time to say it? I ultimately decided to send this Chronicle because it is my truth, it is a important part of my learning process and there is no time like the present.