Peace Within Chaos

Right now I’m writing this from the quiet comfort of my bed, back in my own home; a strikingly different environment from the bustling streets of Old Delhi where I was immersed just days ago. Experiencing Old Delhi as the last stop on our incredible trip felt perfectly planned and beautifully conclusive.

For most of the trip, I had been waiting for that “India experience” everyone talked about—overwhelming crowds of people, hundreds of lives mixed together, blurs of color, wafts of smells, snatches of sounds—but we had yet to come across it in full. Finally, I got to experience this whirlwind of the senses. By then, two weeks into the trip, I was so used to India that I didn’t think twice about the strong scent of the pollution, the cows in the roads, or even the incessant honking. I felt peaceful among these things that had only briefly, in the past, felt new to me. I was ready for one final experience to test the level of this comfort that I’d developed.

I was surprised at what I found. Though I was physically aware of the information that suddenly crowded my senses as we stepped off the bus into a packed street of criss-crossing vehicles, my insides felt utterly calm. At this moment, I took time to appreciate my growth. At home, I often feel overwhelmed in crowds, or when shopping, and I am constantly worried about germs. Right before we left, I’d been overwhelmed just shopping for the trip in a Target, but somehow now I felt perfectly peaceful. 

I marveled at the packed, wide street we made our way onto. It was so full of life; motorcycles close to running over your toes if you weren’t careful, vendors appearing out of nowhere to push objects in front of you, people of different religions and backgrounds dressed in different ways, speaking words I couldn’t understand. 

The atmosphere was so exciting, and it all started to blur together. I wasn’t, however, in a state of overwhelm, I was in one of focus. My attention dialed into simply tracking the shirt of the person in front of me as we wound through the crowds in a constant state of brief separation, the paths of so many others meeting and breaking ours. I found this strangely meditative. Throughout India I’ve found my opportunities for meditation amidst commotion to be somehow more impactful than those for meditation amidst silence and calm. Within the chaos, our mind is turned to the present, and we are forced to focus it on something coming from one of our senses. I found that beautiful. I had learned to cope, and thrive. In this case, I was just attempting not to lose the pattern of Kyler’s purple shirt ahead of me in the crowd, instead of letting my mind drift to places that cause me anxiety and unrest. 

I marveled again at the peace found in spite of the bustle of the street. There in Old Delhi, we introduced our bare feet to new germs, entered magnificent temples, and had the opportunity to learn more about the traditions of Sikhism and Jainism, which we hadn’t been able to engage with yet in India.  So many vastly different lives were being led and mixed together all in one place, in a way that is a rarity in the United States’ individualistic, separated culture. The  stimulating experience of Old Delhi added to the fullness and clarity of our journey and helped satisfy some of my curiosity and hunger for more as the trip came to a close. Now, in my comfortable home, as I realize that I haven’t had chai or seen a monkey all day, I start to reminisce on those crowds, the devotion, and the noise, with a sense of grateful longing.