Spiritual Growth in Singapore

It began as an adventure - something odd from the start but no one ever had a tale to tell about something that started safe and easy.

We could be doing clean mall yoga - members benefits, individual showers, every possible form and variation including laughing yoga. But no we want to hunt out "genuine" - to find it dirty and real in it's place of decent.

And so to little India, The Yoga Shop. Angels and charms a plenty signify something - there's some sort of belief system attached to this set of stretching exercises.

So yoga classes - how do we get one. There's a course starting next week. It's in the diary, anticipation of doing the yoga rustic style and for free (another indicator to those wanting to see warning signs).

Leaflet given explains what it's all about - question three rhetorically answers "it is not a religious sect" (warning in big fluorescent letters should you choose to look at it). "Ha Ha HA - that means it is a sect" - the cynical westerner retorts (she's sharp you see).

Day of class is here - familiarize self with location and arrange to meet safety (in form of boyf) with food at near by eatery directly after generous offer of 1.25 hours of time to the cause.

Whilst doing the recky spot another yoga advert - now in full scale yoga junkie obsession so head in. (Green for envy)

Another funny little atrium complete with multi racial, staffed desk and odd smellings greeting me. Beyond there's a room stuffed full of art of Indian looking origin decadently hung in every possible position like a Parisian exhibition.

Yoga classes - can I have the info. Yoga needs another utterance as my UK/Australian/american accent fails to annunciate in ways others can understand. Another form to fill out - regardless of data protection I provide my info. I'm number 5 on the list after Nathan, my fellow westerner perhaps.

As I leave oddness ensures - outside, framed by the pillars of the shop house five foot walkway, stands a recently stretched Indian man. He's incongruously tall, lean - his shoulders fall away to his hips. "You doing the yoga then". We walk and talk. This is the second random conversation today so I'm obviously leaking adventurous spirit and desperation for conversation juices. The inevitable where from, what doing, how long all follow. He's eloquent - has the air of a dandy or elegant spiritualist about him, could be dangerous to judge either way.

Continue chat, comfortable and easy. But aware that door ways offer ample opportunities to be shoved into and forced to join yogic harem. Instead of this romantic possibility, head off walkway across the street. (Red for Chinese new year)

"Bye - nice meeting you" He's gone although newly learnt fear of stalking results in his form being seen and then unseen many times in many places.

So now stop for drink - being sucker for "genuine" opt for all male Muslim cafe on corner. Sit and wait for service as no discenrable counter only huddle of men with centuries of age in loin cloths and caps.

Previous form suggests that waiter (seems bizarre term to use for wizened, bearded, pot bellied chap who limps with heavy glum tread towards me) will approach. This may be to the tune of "what the hell do we do to get rid of her", but results in drink so all's well. Ginger tea - and slight panic. Dead phone and it's getting dark. OK so going to new odd place with no means of communication and no time so likely to be late or early.

Gulp tea, gingerly (look at that pun!!!!!). Then realize also have no money. Gather things and then head away from cafe and into sensory overload that is the streets of this town. Noise, people, fruit, flowers, bangra, scent, shouts, gold, dried chilies, chat, bikes, silks and dirty stairwells.

Get to clean, nowhere which is MRT station. MRT station has no ATM so scoot ASAP. (When I grow old I'll wear purple)

Figure don't need money as lesson free - although imagination conceives of requirement to ply session leader with cash so as to avoid shame or kidnap.

Back at the yoga shop, a little jaded, I explain presence and discover that lesson isn't here. Well why would it be, that wouldn't really help with the story. So gather from shop assistant that it's down the road, across the car park, into a HDB block (although not built by communist regimes they sound like they should be) above the shop called Xrays. So down the street, with a little trepidation, at end of road there's a dust bowl and no car park - damn. The light has gone and there are plenty of men lurking around, chatting to their mates and hanging out or plotting tash abductions depending on how much nineteenth century realism you want to believe.

Realize have already seen car park on initial recky of area, had spotted it as the bit I don't want to have to walk around when traveling form class to food. Bugger. Anyway head across to block, scan shops left and right. Walk round shops left and right - nothing called xray to be seen. Spy the staircase, it's the type of stair you'd find on an estate in UK without the needles and graffiti. However even without the associated crime and violence of my native state, concerns for personal safety are inevitably ignited.

About to give up and bugger off when head towards building that's not a shop but some sort of building of other usage - it's an X-ray department. Hmm. Also spot stairs and sign to Yoga Centre. Well this is it. \turn to plan escape route, which constst of walking down the stairs and round the corner - it's risky but without climbing gear there's aren't any other options.

Clean feet are a bit of a necessary accessory in this nation; home owners, buddhas, allah and other people in command require you to leave your shoes outside. I haven't got and probably never will have clean feet - they get dirty very quickly. Anyway proceed in to the centre.

The room is like a class room at college minus the colourful project work from two years ago and tatty tables. Fluorescent lighting above and carpet tiles below. But there's another light in the room - in front of a set of chairs and odd L shaped meditation accessories there's a huge print of orange and lemon rays. The rays meet at a central point on the canvas where a real pinpoint of light sits. Quite obviously this is going to used to lead us in to a catatonic trance.

Next to the rays is a portrait of an old Indian guy in bright colours he grins at us. Now I have a natural aversion to spiritual leaders, didn't know it but it's there. God, amongst others, has always perplexed me. I don't seem to be into being told what to do, this is the most simple explanation (and analysis of the basis of major world religions). So I'm not warming to this set up. But I'm greeted with friendliness - unabounded smiles come towards me in the shape of caftan covered Chinese lady with clip board. Hey it's another form, but this time some new questions.

OK I'm looking for some spiritual input, what do these guys want to know about me - are you single? That's not really an acceptable question. Fill rest out though and begin to realize that have been subconsciously plotting escape route, head towards desk of administrator lady which is obscured by a pillar. All that can be seen as I approach is the edge of a fan and side of her leg. Well what an opportunity to discover something unseemly, something which inconclusively proves that the door will be locked behind me and mass suicide is only a few weeks away. Another chap jumps up to foil me, he pleads "let me take the form - it's OK". No way matey I'm about to uncover this sham - I reach the edge of the column. Smiles beam again and a desk sits happily.

Returning to my seat I gaze up at the pictures on the wall, psychedelic images of minds connected to celestial objects by a beam of light (theme develops). I consider the form again, are you single, what are you reasons for seeking to join us? Looking up at the picture of the guru, leader cum icon and the haunting dot of light - I thought ... I'm not gonna stay, instinct says go now. Be polite but just go.

There are two reactions that drive me away from things, one of them is fear. I know this bugger well so tend to ignore it. But the other is worth listening to, even if it turns out to be a false master it provides a genuine sense of correctness and integrity when followed. So I followed it, explaining that I felt ill but would join the next course if they keep me posted. I probably will too, just in case!

(Blue for calm) This is my garden...back and front...in the rain...on my hill.