ok…so now listening to krishna das chanting is part of my routine. thank you krishna das, for opening my heart. you are my path to the oneness, i know it’s not you, but what you bring through you, hanuman, devoted, unconditional love, pouring through you from your guru into me…all i can do is thank you for wanting and going to india to find him and being with him, and everything you went through since, to chant to us. your guru knew. and i feel it when i watch you chant. thank you for chanting to us. my heart is widening open. happiness is the taste on my lips when i wake. not for anything on the outside. the happiness is for everything i feel on the inside. still the longing pervades. still the animal calls to the full moon. still, the crankiness. but it’s ok. i am ok with this now. i am ok with life and me and the tension, and being a mud ball in the oyster shell. i love that now i know i have a bhakti heart. and to come back when i stray, i shall listen, and sing. i will just keep listening and singing. over and over and over. it’s amazing what’s happening on these insides right now. blessing all the karmic loves i have to let go of. blessing the suffering. blessing the trauma and abuse. blessing death and loss. blessing the entire show. sitting with those i love around a table under red lights, drinking red wine. how we’ve known one another for so many years. how different we each are but it doesn’t matter. we are also the same. listening only to kd at work. skipping over the beatles or anyone else. how she has inspired me. how i relate to whom she had to let go of, and know that completing my first book was my necessity. and writing the next book is what will come after the port townsend trip. after mid-october, i will commit again. i don’t know what to commit to yet. the love story, the myth, the memoir, the sitcom, or something from the blue? i don’t know. in port townsend i will know. or i will choose. one or the other. you live by what you live by. soothed by structure as fall approaches…i want writing and yoga and reading and working and loving and writing and painting and sleep and dreaming and holding and warming and eating and loving, for every second i can be here. i don’t know why i get to have what others don’t. it plagues my heart. i don’t understand. the contrast fills me with sorrow. i feel my sorrow have an outlet when i read “dune”. when i read this novel, certain feelings make sense…that stem from….injustice, sacrifice, the quest, transformation, and evolution. “dune” is my muse right now while my writing muse is on vacation in the greek isles. “dune”, yoga, vajra, wishes, and kirtan. an author, a practice, work, hope and a singer. i am melting right now, listening to the maha mantra on headphones, as i type, when will i grow tired of this? ever? “dune” and the desert. how i love the desert, love it’s harshness and beauty, always felt kinship with the red rocks, blue sky, stillness, dry heat, and the way i am spoken to when in that ecosystem. the deepest part came to life when i moved to the desert. dark and light both. what paul feels, i feel, reading “dune”. god, i feel more intimacy with a novel than with a man. i know what’s more important than sameness, is understanding. what does understanding mean? not sure. hell if i have experienced it yet. perhaps i need to let go. intrigue could be more fun. i am talking cryptic again. will take the right connection to blow my mental ideas to bits, and i welcome that. i welcome the theatrics, and being stark naked. i claim not knowing. the sun will keep rising. but i don’t take for granted that it might not.