Many things were moving within me in Rishikesh...
some things, emotional were shifting... some things came up through chakra two... some forgotten things unforgotten or still hurt... and so I wrote...
dear unborn, dear Soul,
i write to you from India - we never talked about going to India, we never had the chance - i never gave you the chance.
first, let me say hello again.
i’ve said it before in our eternal dialogue; just as quickly, i say goodbye.
you should see the pretty orange flowers here - they are as if floating with halo butterflies and moths; but they are not floating or defying gravity, they are held, supported. Green Tara, the almighty material.
why the decision? the answer is uncertain. unforgivable? uncertain. it is i - can i forgive?
i want you to know about India, from where i sit... although, i understand you sit here now with me - you do, eternal child of India, of boundary-less-ness, of timelessness, eternally without borders and hang-ups.
do i make this up?
you never spoke but i felt your heartbeat. i never took you to kindergarten though i did, one million times. little heartbeat. you did meet me at the river in the form of a snake, on the ice in the form of hunger, you were everything to me even when my story was loveless and then you were gone.
one swift decision.
speak to me, child. speak through me. Divinity flows through you. you were in me. you, i felt you. you, i knew you. you i said goodbye, too. just like that. and you were gone. mighty, mighty ego of sterilized metal and septic disconnect.
let me tell you about India, darling...
i in India. the India I, the Great We… but yes, yes... you already know love