Associate Advice

The Return of Hope During the Recession: Adventures at The Ashram (Part III)

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[Ed. note: This post is authored by ATL guest columnist Hope Winters. Hope is an early retired lawyer, turned Senate staffer, turned corporate lobbyist. She lives in Washington, DC. Read her previous work here. Read part I and II.]
There are no structured activities left (other than Karmic Yoga which I will not even respond to here) so we decide to take a hike on the pristine lake the Dining Captain told me about before he attempted to rape me. Olivia whips out the sketchy map we can’t follow, and we end up not on a trail but stuck on path of poison ivy and prickly things and mud. We muddle through streams and rocks; my Chanel sunglasses slip and crash on a rock and break. I remind myself that I hate the Ashram and all its surrounding premises.
But suddenly, as we exit the rocks and the African bush, we really do emerge on flat land facing this huge vast beautiful lake. We just stare at it. It’s sparkling and navy blue and placid. Not a ripple. Not a crescent.
We’re suddenly silent. Peaceful. Grateful. We are Whitman and Thoreau.
We’re getting into it.
But will it last? The adventure ends after the jump.


After our brief interlude of peace and bliss, Olivia and I hike back to the compound. It’s time for lunch, and this time, they have tofu lasagna and Green Goddess salad dressing. Love the Green Goddess – so reminds me of my mom in the 70s dousing it on iceberg lettuce for us kids while she smoked her cigarette and drank her Tab.
But this time, the food is pretty good actually. I get seconds. Can you believe it?
We’re still not talking (except to each other in private places) but as we exit the lunchroom, we meet a panoply of healers – the massage/reflexology/facial people. Now that’s what I’m talking about. Treatments. Olivia and I are all about the treatments. Ashram spa. And they see us coming . . . sign me up.
I try writing “Deep tissue massage? Sea salt wrap and exfoliation?”
Our massage therapist shakes her head — she isn’t following so she lets us talk to her to set up the appointment. Her name is Deepika – see? I knew there was a Deepak in this program for me somewhere.
Deepika picks us up and drives us back to her little blue cottage in the woods. It’s charming like a red barn but it’s blue, and she’s so chill. So at peace. I want to be her. She is like Xanax cubed.
During my massage, as she flips me over, I can’t help but ask her. “What is the secret? How are you so happy? And why am I not?”
She tells me that all the bad things happened to me for a reason – a reason that will soon become clear to me, and that very good things are to come. (I of course don’t believe this. I’m convinced as soon as I get back to the city someone is going to try to shoot me or screw with me again). She says the secret is letting go, just surrendering and not worrying anymore. Not worrying? Who lives like that??
She says she visualizes money – and it just comes to her. She always has enough and never needs more. One day she decided she wanted a husband and wrote a list – very specific list – of all the qualities she wanted him to have, and then one day he just showed up at the Ashram. Everything exactly as she wanted – except he couldn’t cook but that’s because she forgot to write that.
“Are you kidding me?” I ask her. I can’t believe this. Is it really true? That we can have whatever we want? Can I just will myself some hot, brainy, tall, rich, loves foreign films and J.D. Salinger guy and he’ll just show up?
“But, have you ever had a 9 to 5, Deepika? You know, like a real drag of a job with real stress?”
She did. In Israel as a hotel concierge. And she actually liked it but gave it all up for this life of simplicity and tranquility. She came here for the guru. Everyone loves the guru!
“Deepika, do you eat there a lot or do you cook here at your house?”
“Both. Just depends.”
“Because I need a lot of space. I mean a lot of space. That whole communal thing… that would just set me over the edge, you know?”
“I know. I get you. That is why I moved here. Off the Ashram but close enough to it.”
“You’ll find your way. Good things are coming your way, Hope. You are asking all the right questions. You obviously must believe in this or you wouldn’t even be here. There are no accidents in life. We met for a reason … you know that.”
Wow.
Deepika is like the messiah. She really believes that something larger than us is controlling everything. She tells me what to read, how to think. I take copious notes. This chick seems to get whatever she wants, and she didn’t go to Harvard Law School and doesn’t seem to be working hard to do anything. I start to believe it — maybe she did come into my life for a reason. And what is it I’m holding on so hard to anyway? What am I fighting so hard for? This life isn’t making me happy. And all of my friends are on antidepressants and/or sleeping pills. All these bright, beautiful, everything going for them people. . . and so restless and unsatisfied and heavily medicated.
She says that is because we always want more. It will never be enough. Well. I know. But I have to compete against Anna of Summer Wives and she gets to buy $300 gold earrings with rubies in them and $150 t-shirts…..
But she’s right. Is this highly competitive environment in this megalomaniac macho misogynistic world in which I exist — and once in awhile succeed in– worth it? Is there maybe a simpler better way?
Olivia and I leave Deepika’s massage table relaxed, at peace at least and full of hope.
Until we have to kick these Japanese wenches out of the sauna in our house. We needed to detox. And they had been in there like an hour. It really was our turn.
Earlier: The Return of Hope During the Recession: Adventures at The Ashram (Part II)
The Return of Hope During the Recession: Adventures at The Ashram (Part I)

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