Wednesday 18th March 09 – Byron bay

I am on Karma yoga duties this week.
This means I am responsible for any cups, glasses, plates etc lying around that need to be washed, lighting candles and incense before each class, making sure there are fresh flowers at the altar, filling the hot water urn and sweeping/hoovering the studios daily. So im a pretty busy bee as you can see. This means that my frustration levels have skyrocketed somewhat as people seem to think it appropriate to leave dirty plates, glasses and cups around the place as “someone will surely clean them up”.
My duties this morning however, extended to a new realm of karma yoga, that I think should be renamed “sally yoga” and elevated to a higher status. As I spotted, and disposed of, a rather enormous rat that Silver had obviously had a whale of a time with last night, as he had no head and was covered in ants and, as Becky so pleasantly put it, “eeugh dude, whats that frothy stuff coming out of its neck?!”
After nearly treading on the rotting rodent that was lying in the middle of the garden, I went and found a shovel in the tool shed, which is a feat in itself as one has to have eyes in the back of your head in that place so as not to disturb a snoozing snake or two. I strode over to the crime scene with headscarf tied firmly over nose and mouth like some sort of yogic bankrobber, and ‘oh so carefully’ scooted said rat onto the shovel. This, the ants didn’t take kindly to, and started their march up the handle towards me, antennas wavering wildly. I worked swiftly and delicately and with a flick of the wrist the rat was flung, what can only be described as poetically, into the bushes and was gone. Phew.
Feeling very virtuous I strode back into the breakfast room after first rinsing the rat juice from my spade, and announced to all that would listen that the coast was now clear as I had removed the aforementioned chew toy, to which I received a small round of applause. I thank you.
After a celebratory cup of Rooboos tea with honey and soy, I went to my cabin to grab our bag of washing for the week. As you can imagine our load is plentiful but pretty light as we live in leggings of various sorts, and vests most of the time. I legged it back to the rusty but reliable washing machine, dumped the grimy garments in along with a rather generous scoop of washing powder, slammed the lid, turned the knob and sighed with relief as the water swooshed in to begin its load. It is somewhat of a trial to get in there and be one of the first to get your washing done, as we have discovered, if you don’t have it done buy 11am it wont be dry before bed. So there is always a bit of a rush after breakfast.
So I trotted back to our cabin, empty laundry bag in hand and grinned at my cabin mate as I came thru the door.
“you haven’t put the washing on have you?” said my Norweigan chum.
silly question.
“yes, I swooped in there before the others, how good am i?!”
She then went on to explain that it was infact Wednesday and not Thursday as I had thought, which is our allocated washing day. This may not seem like a big deal to some but in the small confines of an Australian Ashram on a 27degree summers morn, believe me, it is.
“Oh no. ill go and tell Dawn.”
Dawn is the ‘leader’ of the cabin next door. This title had been allocated to herself, by herself. A lovely lady if somewhat scary, she sports a hefty looking sovereign style wedding ring, wears fetching sloganed sports wear, and apparently enjoys an alphabetically ordered library card system in her house at home, in which to lend books to her other accountant friends.
So skipped up the wobbly wooden steps to her much larger cabin than ours and pushed the hammock aside to peek thru the door. She was in mid conversation and glared at me over her compadreys shoulder.
“Hi Dawn!”
I twittered
“umm.. im really sorry but I thought it was Thursday and ive just put our washing on.”
Her face dropped like I had just wedged a Roald Dahl book back in the Rudyard Kipling section.
“well, we had a plan. We had a washing plan so that we could all do our sheets today you know!” she hissed thru gritted teeth.
“I know and im really sorry. I didn’t realise untill Siw just told me. But it will only take 25 mins and its still only 8.30am, so you have plenty of time.”
“That’s not the point, if you are going to use our washing day that’s fine but you should tell us.”
I had a firm feeling that it was not fine at all, and after apologising a further 2 times and having my offer to do their washing shot down, I left, seething quietly under my breath.
So now I sit here half slumped against the wall of my cabin, trying not to scratch any one of my 150 mozzie bites, typing away.
Damm I forgot to wash my sheets.
x