OK, universe. Whatever you say.

The first lesson we were taught when we, the yoga teacher’s training course of April 2007, arrived at the ashram was to let go of expectations for our spiritual path. We were counseled to drop our images of what this training regime would look like, how we would feel, and what our swamis would be like. It’s smart, from the perspective of the organization; they wouldn’t want a lot of yogi dropouts who complained that it turned out a month in an ashram in the Bahamas means a lot of mosquito bites and an affordable vegetarian diet on an island in the Caribbean is quite heavy on starch. The path to enlightenment does not always look the way we expect; even the ashram’s founder, Swami Vishnudevananda, had a surprising love of ice cream.

But expectations are easy to build and tough to let go of.

I had a game plan for this trip. A mapped out route, an itinerary, goals, and yes, expectations. And I had a desperate want to spend a month at the ashram for the program I was trained in. I emailed them in December, before I left, requesting space. And they said then it was too early to book for March, and I should write again in February. I emailed them on February 2. Already, they have no space available.

So. At the end of the month I’m heading to India. I still plan to go to Rishikesh. But where I’ll be living, who knows.

Meanwhile, I'm rolling the dice again, leaving Ton Sai at last. It's time and an urge for the unknown has started to blossom. I’m heading up north on Feb. 11 for Kanchanaburi to dig in history for a while, to Chiang Mai to trek in the hills, and, soon enough, to India. Bring on the jungle.

As I take down all the little things I’ve strung up in my bungalow here—the dresses I've hung from randomly placed nails, the shells collected on the beach that now line the windowsill, and packing everything up, I’m also dismantling my own agenda of lessons I’d hoped to explore and goals I’d planned to meet. I’m forced to surrender to the one lesson faithfully beating me over the skull: Let go of your expectations.

But basically, I’ve started to get the feeling that I’m not the one driving this bus. I’m in the front seat wildly snapping photos while someone else steers.