I spent last weekend in the ancient city of Varanasi, and I saw the sun rise perfectly red and perfectly round over the Ganges. A man bathing on the Ghats laughed to me like laughter is a language, our rower rowed the boat with a half-smile, and I understood with the depth of my being why cultures the world over worship the sun.
On that same Ganges, near the burning Ghats where bodies are cremated, I was approached by a man carrying two cages filled with blinking, snowy owls. Bodies burning.. nocturnal beings faced with daylight... It's like I was an observer of someone else's sacred nightmare. "For two-hundred rupees," the man said, "I'll set them free."
Our new meditation teacher is Yoda. An acclaimed Tibetan Rinpoche is teaching us this week, and he is purported to be George Lucas's inspiration for that Jedi sage. Yogi Mike told me to guard my mind around Yoda/Rinpoche, and I wonder if he can see through walls. So far, I have accrued no Jedi powers, but I'm bad at meditating.
With the beginning of the Tibetan meditation section, I'm experiencing strange resonances between now and my summer in Tibet. Monks in gold and burgundy robes, Tibetan script, ceremonial white scarves... to me, these things will always be inseparably intertwined with the 72 children with whom I fell in love this summer. When the Jokhang temple was mentioned in lecture today, I knew exactly what it smelled like.
For Halloween, I am going to be a sugar glider. I have explained the concept "sugar-glider" to an Indian taylor, and I am excited to see the result.
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