Thursday, August 19, 2004

Hair down 

Managing practice as late as one or two pm while cooking smells emanate from the kitchen, eight-year old blasts cartoons, four-month old sleeps on couch near me. Dancing on ledge at outdoor club with friends to bone-crunching thumping music amidst flashing white lights until well past five in the morning. Flying down late afternoon sun-softened hills on massive black motorcycle behind giant man soaking up my spectacular island of glistening silver olive and magnificent towering cypress, wind tangling my hair and twists and turns making me drunk.

In my last week on Chios, as friends depart and evenings cool, no longer angry that this is not India and neither my self, body or practice can possibly be as in India. New friendships emerge as old chapters close and others are opened, if only for a night. Happy to have been here while I was and drawn from lessons and experiences and images to fuel and inspire during dark winters and lonely nights.

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