Traveling through time and space.

Chapter 2: The Confusion of First Visit to Ancient India - "The Suffering of Being in a Foreign Land, Worrying about the Uncertain Path Ahead"

As the first rays of sunlight filtered through the dense foliage onto my face, I awoke from my humble shelter. My consciousness briefly drifted into a trance, as if I were lying in a comfortable bed in my modern home. However, the unfamiliar chirping of birds and the smell of damp earth instantly brought me back to reality. The harsh reality of my presence in ancient India weighed heavily on my heart like a mountain.

I stood up, stretched my body, slightly stiff from a night spent outdoors, and gazed at the mysterious, unknown forest before me, my heart filled with confusion. The language barrier was my primary challenge. I tried to communicate with the occasional locals using simple gestures, expressing my needs, but they mostly gave me puzzled looks, as if I were a monster from outer space. I felt like a child lost in a foreign land, isolated and helpless, with waves of fear and anxiety washing over me.

To survive, I forced myself to observe the locals' behavior and imitate their methods of foraging for food and water. After wandering through the forest for a long time, I finally stumbled upon some edible wild fruit and a clear stream. My first taste of the tart fruit was filled with mixed emotions: a sense of relief at having temporarily quenched my hunger, yet a yearning for the abundant, varied, and delicious food of modern times. As I drank from the stream, I gazed at my own somewhat disheveled reflection and shook my head with a wry smile. I looked a world away from the neatly dressed, elegantly instructing students in the brightly lit yoga studio.

Night fell once again. I lay in my humble shelter, gazing through the leaves at the vast, boundless starry sky. The stars twinkled, their brilliance particularly dazzling in this night sky devoid of modern light pollution. Yet, this beautiful sky offered no solace to my lonely heart. Longing washed over me like a surging tide. I thought of my family and friends in modern life, my beloved yoga studio, and the familiar streets and buildings. "Can I ever return to that world?" I silently asked myself, my heart filled with worry and fear about an unknown fate.

In the days that followed, I began wandering around the outskirts of the village, carefully observing the villagers' daily lives and striving to learn various survival skills. I saw women expertly grinding grain with simple tools, men toiling in the fields, and children playing and laughing in the village. Their lives, though simple and unpretentious, were full of life and energy. I tried to integrate into their lives, but the language barrier made it extremely difficult.

Just when I felt hopeless and helpless, a kind old man appeared in my life. That day, I was crouching in a corner of the village, hungry, my eyes revealing fatigue and confusion. As he passed by, the old man seemed to sense my plight. He stopped and looked at me with a gentle gaze. Although we couldn't communicate, his eyes were filled with kindness and sympathy. He gestured for me to follow him, and with some trepidation, I stood up and followed him.

The old man took me to his home, a simple yet tidy little house. He handed me some food. It was just some bread and vegetables, but at that moment, it felt like a delicacy to me. I gratefully accepted the food and thanked him with the few local gestures I knew. The old man smiled and waved his hand, as if to say, "You're welcome." I spent a relatively warm and comfortable night in his home, lying on a soft straw mat, my heart overflowing with gratitude for the old man. However, beneath this gratitude, I couldn't shake the deep uncertainty and confusion about the future.

As time passed, my life in the village gradually settled, but my inner conflict intensified. On the one hand, I knew I had to adapt to the times and learn the local language and culture to better survive. On the other hand, I couldn't let go of my longing for modern life. Whenever I saw the villagers devoutly practicing Buddhism and performing various religious rituals, I couldn't help but recall the seventeen stages of practice described in the Yogacarabhumi Sutra. I realized that perhaps this was a special opportunity bestowed upon me by fate, allowing me to personally explore the true meaning of yoga practice in this ancient land, starting with the "Five Senses and Body" and gradually advancing to higher levels of practice such as the "Mind" and "Self-Reflection and Observation." However, the path of practice is long, and I worried that I would get lost in this arduous process, completely forgetting my original world and identity.

By chance, I followed the villagers to an ancient temple. A solemn and awe-inspiring atmosphere permeated the air. Monks, clad in long robes, held prayer beads, and chanted incessantly. I stood quietly by, watching them perform their rituals, and an inexplicable urge surged within me. I wanted to delve deeper into their practices, to learn how I could achieve spiritual liberation and enlightenment through them. So, I summoned my courage and, using gestures, tried to communicate with a young monk, expressing my desire for spiritual practice. The monk seemed to understand my message; he smiled and nodded, motioning for me to follow him into the temple's inner hall.

Inside the inner hall, I encountered exquisite murals depicting scenes from the life of the Buddha and various Buddhist teachings. A monk pointed at the murals and began to explain their meaning. Although I could only understand fragments of the words, his gestures and expressions gave me a glimmer of the profoundness of Buddhist culture. At that moment, I felt as if I saw a glimmer of hope: perhaps through in-depth study of Buddhist practice, I could find my way home, or at least find inner peace and balance in this unfamiliar world. However, I also knew that this path was fraught with challenges and uncertainties. I must overcome my fears and uncertainties and persevere.

Days passed, I traveled between villages and temples, diligently learning survival skills and the local language while attempting to understand and practice Buddhist practices. Each time I meditated in the forest, I could feel my heart gradually calm, as if I had established a subtle connection with this ancient land. Yet, in the stillness of the night, longing still washed over me like a tide, causing me to waver and struggle on my spiritual path. I knew I stood at a crossroads, a choice to be made: continue to dwell on the past, or bravely embark on the unknown path of practice, seeking the ultimate secrets hidden in the seventeen stages of practice described in the Yogacarabhumi Sutra.