To Mark Eleveld and Michelle Mega, students from the Golden Years when Philosophy hurled itself down the hallways of the third floor of the LRC
Mark and Michelle know me way too well. They know a priori that India will only increase my angst and that Nirvana and my nervousness are like oil and water.
Here’s a case in point.
The damn ATM’s run out of money quickly around here and I had to hitch a ride on a motorcycle to get to one in the far reaches of town to find a reliable one. I haven’t been on a real motorcycle ride since the days of Easy Rider and I was petrified then and more petrified now. The three of us on the motorcycle—the driver, myself, and the Angel of Death or maybe it was his brother, the Angel of Near Death, or his sister the Angel of Scaring You to Death—cruised up and down hills and around bends almost trucks, cars, cows, dogs, monkeys, and homo sapiens. During the ride, he asked me how I liked India. Now even if I didn’t like India, I don’t think that was quite the right time to tell him at that particular moment.
I made it back intact on the physical level.
Several teachers who have helped me get into my poses (asanas) have noticed the tenseness in my body. This can be explained. Everything affects me deeply. Always has. Still can’t get over Bambi’s Mom dying and still have a vendetta against the hunter. If he’s only FB I’m going to friend him and then when he least suspects it and when he thinks life is just rosy, I’m going to unfriend him like a shot in the head. But it goes deeper than that and into the deep past. I think I am still trying to overcome the trauma of the Big Bang, which I believe has been indelibly impressed on my genes.
As far reincarnation of my soul is concerned, it’s going to take a long time before it evolves to a higher plane. My soul is in remedial purification courses as we’re speaking. It will be about the time the Cubs finally win, so the two of us can be self-realized together. Ah, Karma.