Superpowers

I love the mysteries of the Universe, they give me energy. Sometimes, what we search for so much arrives when we stop looking for it. When we simply resign ourselves because we’re tired, we’re angry, and we give ourselves permission to flip the board and send everything to hell. And there, exhausted, we stop trying, we free ourselves, we take the time to do what, without realizing it, we enjoyed, what came naturally to us. Our escape route. That thing that was always there, that was there for so long that, being so obvious, we never even registered it as a gift, as a Superpower, but in the end, it was. That thing we never thought of as productive, because it never was. It was simply at our service by being ourselves. Of all that we are, the purest part.

Yesterday, there was a strong storm in the town of Dharamkot, and the power went out all over the mountain. There was no light, no electricity, no Wi-Fi anywhere.

"No Wi-Fi?!" – we all asked, as if the air on planet Earth had run out.

"No," –replied the café owner, laughing. –"Now you’ll have to talk to each other."

Half the town went into chaos for a few minutes. After the panic attack, it turned into one of the most peaceful days of all. There was a different mood in the air, time felt slower, like a Sunday at 8 in the morning.

I had had a very creative week and intended to keep working on my book, so I went to a café with a view of the mountains, but neither my phone nor my laptop had any battery. A bit frustrated, I just ordered a chai, sat down to look at the mountains, and started writing on a napkin.

I was taking a creative course that talked about finding our Superpowers.

The day before, I had been talking to Franco, an Argentine who had recently arrived in town and in India in general. He was a bit overwhelmed—like everyone when we first get here—questioning the different philosophical traditions, the various practices, the different paths to enlightenment, and the cultural shock that comes with being here. All of it at the same time, because India is like that, it hits hard.

"I wake up at 5 a.m. to meditate because they say it’s the right time, and then I do some breathing exercises as I learned in my Tantra course. But then I go to a Yoga class, and they tell me something different. Each teacher has their own techniques. Buddhism, Hinduism, Tantra, Yoga, Buddha, Shiva… At times, it’s just too much, and I feel like I have to choose a path, but I don’t know which one. And after all that, instead of starting the day in peace, meditating calmly, I wake up in a bad mood, burdened with a list of practices I’m supposed to follow.

I feel overwhelmed, and instead of centering myself, it has the opposite effect—it becomes an obligation. In the end, instead of relaxing and meditating, I start the day stressed, and I don’t even know where to begin or how to handle it all."

Typical… welcome to India. Who hasn’t been through that? The land of a thousand gods and infinite possibilities, where there’s room for everything.

Franco was interested in how to attain enlightenment. After a long conversation, he reminded me of myself when I had just arrived in India—just as desperate as he was, trying to understand which path was the right one and which was the best.

In my case, I wasn’t so focused on how to reach enlightenment; I would have settled for a little peace and for silencing my mind, which had been torturing me for so long. But the idea of enlightenment is tempting for everyone.

I saw myself, a while ago, sitting with an innocent expression among some cows in front of the Ganga, talking to a monk in an orange robe.

He spoke to me about jumping, about "surrender," about forgetting worldly pleasures. About the exercise of detachment and devotion to the path of the gods. Just having arrived, reaffirming many things I already felt, I imagined for a moment leaving everything behind and dedicating myself to the pursuit of truth and enlightenment—because that’s how answers appear to us at first: extreme. I remember that, almost in a state of inner shock, the only thing I could think of was my mother’s face as I told her about my decision to become a monk and dedicate myself to spirituality. I had taken it seriously—perhaps a bit too much—and had felt overwhelmed, just like Franco.

After a year in India and going through various processes, I was already in a different place—and, as often happens, I didn’t realize it until I spoke with Franco. Deep inside, I had understood that maybe things weren’t so drastic, and that not all of us have the same paths, lessons, or challenges—at least that was the conclusion I had come to for myself. And that, probably, the interesting part is discovering what shape the path takes in one’s own life.

"Would you really want to attain enlightenment? Would you really like to become a Buddha or live like a monk? I don’t think I’m on that search anymore," I told him.

We talked about it as if it were an everyday topic of conversation, as if we were discussing whether or not we wanted to have kids or buy a car…Maybe, in our current situation, the question of enlightenment still seemed easier.

"When I arrived in India, I also asked myself how to find true happiness and peace, and at that time, in my mind, it looked something like renouncing everything and living a life of complete detachment and austerity.

Now, I see it differently… I think peace or happiness can take different forms depending on each person’s path. And I discovered that, for me, it was about being at peace with myself and with the life I chose. Implicitly, it had to do with the courage to choose that life—which is neither the best nor the most suitable, but it’s the one I choose today, and that alone is enough for me.

It’s been seven years since I left 'home,' and today, I have finally found my peace in movement. Every day, I look at these same pine trees and feel grateful to be here, in harmony with the decisions I made to get to where I am now—which is not a 'physical place' or a country, but an inner state. I feel that what I longed for so much resembles the sense of peace I feel now, and when I perceive it, that is more than enough."

Could it be that this is what happiness feels like? I wondered.

"So, did you find happiness in Yoga, in what you do here?" Franco asked me.

"I found peace… I don’t know if peace and happiness are the same." – I kept thinking about it for a while –"What makes you happy?"

"I came to India to try to find and understand what happiness is and what I want to do with my life. Before coming here, a friend told me that I already knew the answer. I love surfing. I loved living in that coastal town where I used to live and having that life. I feel like I was happy there."

"So why did you come here to look for happiness if it seems like you had already found it?"

Do we all have to find happiness in meditation, Hinduism, and Yoga?

I don’t think everything is for everyone...

I don’t know if the search for truth looks the same for everyone because not all purposes or karmas are the same. We don’t all have the same process, the same timing, or come into this world for the same reason. Thinking that we must all follow the same path that led others to liberation is tempting, but not everyone has the same mission, nor are we all at the same level of learning to find peace with the same formula. Maybe the trick is to take the tools and see how to apply them to the life we choose, as Buddhism says, but for that, we must be awake enough to see which life we are actually choosing. The Great Path itself.

For Buddha, it was surely about understanding the cause of suffering and enlightening us all with that truth. That was his calling… What will ours be?

Marina, the Argentinean-channel, works in hospitality.

She told me that for her, service—referring to hospitality—was her dharma: her task and her personal fulfillment.

"If someone needs something, I get desperate to fulfill their need, and it comes straight from my heart. If someone asks me for hot water, I run to get them hot water, and I mean literally run, so that person can truly see that I genuinely care about what they need. And I show it to them, I let them know, I give importance to what that person requires. To me, ‘service,’ spiritually speaking, is that."

She wasn’t talking about hotel service; she was talking about her mission, her life purpose, and how, for her, it took that form.

Speaking for myself, I could also go fetch hot water if someone really needed it… Once. The second time, I’d probably tell them where they could find the water, and the third time, I’d ask what part of my previous answer they didn’t understand.

I consider myself a very kind person, but I don’t have that sense of hospitality the way she does. That is her magic, her superpower. Her way of contributing to the world, of making it more beautiful—because that is what she does best, where she feels most fulfilled. "That" is what comes naturally to her. That is her gift.

Rohit is the owner of a café in Dharamkot called "Da Wiara." It means "I believe in myself" in Polish.

Rohit dedicates himself to making coffee—here in India, where most people crave the famous chai, the Indian tea with milk, and where coffee isn’t even well regarded in the eyes of yogic Ayurvedic life.

But Rohit doesn’t just make coffee—he also teaches barista courses on how to prepare it while thinking about offering live jazz concerts… here, in a small town in the Indian Himalayas.

"You're going to give coffee-making courses here? Who would even be interested?" an Indian friend asked him.

And yet, he teaches how to make a good coffee in India, complete with foam art and everything. He invites jazz musicians to play in his café, where no one listens to jazz. He wears a pendant with a coffee bean embedded in it that he changes every six months, and he has a tattoo of a coffee maker on his arm. He told me that years ago, he was sitting on the hill across from here, looking at this very plot of land, sketching where he would place his café. And then he made it happen.

"Now, you're sitting right there," he said, pointing to a black ink drawing of the land.

Now, he owns this café and another one in South India, and he travels to Bali from time to time to learn more about coffee. He lets me smell the coffee he brings from there as if it were a magical potion—and for the time that I sit with him, I believe it.

That is his passion, and that is the most beautiful thing about it—when he tells you, his energy overflows his own body with every little story surrounding his dream. Because he’s not talking about coffee—he’s telling you how he touches the sky. He shows you that dreams are possible, and through that act, he invites you to believe in yours too.

I don’t run for hot water, nor am I obsessed with coffee, but every time I hear one of these stories, I feel an internal rush to grab my phone and capture an idea, to make sure that magic doesn’t slip away. I am fascinated by seeing passion in others, and I need to capture it, turn it into poetry, imprint it in some way so that ordinary people who believe they have no magic can see that magic does exist—and that it has form! Right here, in the shape of simple people, in the construction of stories—stories that give hope, that prove that dreams come true. And to me, that is pure gold. The meaning that proves everything.

"How have I never seen you in town before?" someone asked me the other day.

"Well, to be honest, I don’t go out much. I just go sit in a café with my laptop, find a nice view, and write. That’s pretty much all I do lately..." I laughed because it was true.

"How many people read your website?" "Actually, I’m writing a book. My website? I don’t really know, maybe 100, 150 people?"—I answered playing the overachiever. "I don’t really care that much. In the end, I do it for myself..."

At the time, it was just a response but later, I realized it was true. I don’t have much sense of how many people actually read it—of course, I hope it’s a lot!—but even though I don’t know for sure, I keep doing it because I can’t help it. Because I need to. Because it’s stronger than me. And simply because I believe in it. Because I feel my fingers fly when they need to capture that enchantment—that one that perhaps only I see in a room full of people looking at the same thing.

I don’t understand how others overlook it. To me, it’s clearly an extreme expression of beauty. And that is what I need to share: that magic hidden in the small but grand things. To shout to everyone that yes—yes, that dreams are possible!

And I enjoy it, I add drama, love, sparkles, and color, and I turn the story into something even more wonderful than it already was. And it comes naturally to me. It’s a gift.

Maybe that is my service, my form of fulfillment, my personal contribution. The place where I feel most authentic, where I can spread my light, my vision, my uniqueness. Maybe it’s my dharma, as Yoga says. My way of finding peace and the way I can share it with others.

Carolina, my Yoga teacher and friend, has been living in India for seven years.After a long time searching, she found her Guru—or perhaps her Guru found her. A woman from South India, very well-known in these parts, whom people call Amma ("mother").

Caro had thought about changing her life and joining her as a brahmachari: embarking on a path of renunciation and dedicating her life to her Guru. One morning, she sent a letter to Amma, informing her of her decision. Amma replied with a no… just like that, dry and drastic. No.

— I don’t understand why, she just said no. It hurt so much. I had already been working on myself and was convinced that this was what I wanted… and she rejected me. Five months later, I met Rodrigo, my current partner, who, like me, had lived in India for over five years… It was crazy because we had been in the same places at similar times but had never crossed paths. After three years, I returned to Argentina, and we met there, almost randomly. At that moment, I wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He was one more reason for me to return to India—this time, together.

Now, Caro dances Kathak, a traditional Indian dance, while Rodrigo plays the same music on the Tabla, an Indian percussion instrument that traditionally accompanies that dance. I saw them doing it together—it was as if their eyes were making love, but through music, dance, and fully clothed. An incredible fusion, as if they fit together, like two puzzle pieces.

— Being Amma’s brahmachari was not my karma, and she knew it. According to Hinduism, each of us has a purpose in this life, something we came here to learn, and also a way to offer our gift. And evidently, that was not mine...

I love the mysteries of the Universe; they give me energy. Sometimes, what we search for so desperately arrives when we stop looking for it. When we just resign ourselves because we’re tired, frustrated, and allow ourselves to flip the board and send everything to hell. And then, exhausted, we stop trying. We give ourselves time to do that thing we unconsciously love—the thing that is our escape route.

That thing we do for pleasure, that thing that flows. The thing that was always there, so present that we never even registered it as a gift, as a Superpower—but in the end, it was.

That thing we never considered productive, because it never was. It was just us being us. That thing that existed purely for our own sake, just by being ourselves. Of everything we are, the purest part.

Surfing, hospitality, coffee, writing, Yoga, Kathak, Tabla...Those gifts that become Superpowers—gifts that, without realizing and without knowing, bring us a little closer to enlightenment, to God, and to the magic of life.

» Buddhism is not a strange tradition from foreign countries, nor a method to escape one's own responsibilities, nor a collection of dry words in books and libraries.Buddhism should only be understood as a means to overcome mental suffering and achieve well-being for oneself and others. «

Geshe Rabten - Tushita, Dharamkot

And perhaps there are multiple paths to that as well...

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NOTE: This idea of "Superpowers" was inspired by a course on Self-Promotion for Creatives by Carla Bonomini, which I highly recommend. She has a very simple way of conveying ideas, and what she offers is truly inspiring for everyone in general—especially for those in their own process of entrepreneurship. An invitation to empower ourselves and learn to see ourselves with more abundance so that from there, we can explore the full extent of our talents.