Beings of Light

In Hindi, Usha means the first light of the day, the predawn, the preferred time of meditation and puja.  In Hindi, Kiran means the ray of light, as that which emanates from the Usha of the early morning.

Usha is also the name of my beloved teacher and friend, my guide on this path of Reiki and Light.  She thought once to name her daughter Kiran, that which is an extension of her, only to understand as her daughter grew that she is someone else, someone following a different path.

But for four years, Usha has called me Kiran.  She doesn’t accept the name Karin as mine, looking a bit befuddled when she hears it.  And for four years, she has been a steadfast guide and mentor, as well as a precious friend.

Four years ago I came to Dharamsala in my journey through India.  The first day, I walked down the little dirt road of Bhagsu, meeting teachers and inquiring about classes with my rational mind, whilst listening intently to the responses of my heart.  I walked toward Usha, then sitting on her little porch in the morning sun.  She smiled and said, “Yes, and what can I do for you?”  My heart sprang forward and replied, “I want to study my Level II Reiki with you.”

The course is a number of days.  I remained in Bhagsu, and with Usha, for 2 ½ months.  Every morning I remained in silence, with attention and dedication to my practices.  Each day I wrote my questions that arose in my practice, and journeyed down the hillside into the village to meet with Usha, and over a cup of chai she would begin, “Yes, so tell me.”  And the next lesson would begin.

Over the years, I have received other Reiki initiations, including my Master’s initiation so I could share the teachings with others, and initiation into Karuna-ki, which is an additional form of Reiki.  Each brought its benefits, and from each teacher and friend playing with Light I’ve learned.  And yet, there has been one constant:  In my meditations, in healings to myself and in healings to others, whenever I have sought guidance or sought support, and called upon the masters, it is Usha and the lineage behind her that has been there, an unwavering, constant presence.  In time I came to understand this, to accept that this is my true lineage.

And so, I have returned. 

I arrived to Dharamsala seven weeks ago, and walked from the tea shop above Dharamkot, along the winding path in and out of the valleys overlooking my beloved Bhagsu.  I smiled to the warm sunshine (after the longest winter on record), rejoiced with the dancing butterflies, and deeply breathed in the crisp mountain air.  In time, I arrived to my family home, the Bhajandas family, for joyful reunion with this family I’d stayed for so long.  Our reunion was bittersweet; as we laughed and embraced, Barki shared with me the tragic news that Bhajandas fell to his death less than two years ago. 

Bhajandas…the noble gentleman who proudly walked with his baby son on the veranda each morning, with whom I enjoyed an unspoken understanding about the majestic beauty of silence in the early morning, and we would cordially nod to one another as I climbed to the roof each morning for my practice.  Bhajandas…the kind and perceptive father of four Indian mountain village girls and two sons, whose home was always filled with joyfulness and love.

In tearful embrace with Barki, I wept to learn of this loss. 

So, life has changed, but always we must carry on.  Home life now is more intimate, more sisterly.  Each night I ascend the mountain and join the girls for dinner around the fire.  Laughter still fills the home, and yet no one is afraid to cry when the agony of loss arises.  My family is part of a mountain village, closely connected with many sisters and brothers, uncles and cousins.  They are not alone.  The night Harsh thought it funny to hide in the chicken house from everybody when we didn’t know the game, and in rising frenzy the girls shrieked his name into the growing darkness as we searched for the little boy, women appeared out of the darkness from every direction.  Within ten minutes, we had twenty or thirty women searching for the little boy (wow, did he get punished for that one).

And so, Bhajandas is dearly missed, but the girls are not alone.  The strength of community perseveres.

And then I descend…down from my home and into the village, to the Buddha Hall and into the jubilant embrace of my Usha-ji.  When I arrived, I felt a bit of conflict in what I was hearing and what I was experiencing; “I know these feelings, I have been attuned as a Master for three years.”  In time, the lotus of awareness emerged.  With Usha I have come to understand the embodiment Master Consciousness, the essence behind the words, the responsibilities to self and others that come with this commitment.  I have come to experience an enhanced connection with my practice, with my masters, with my Higher Self. 

In participating in many of Usha’s classes, I have joyfully discovered the volumes which she has learned in her own work, even in these past four years.  As she speaks, her voice tinkles like chimes, glowing with wisdom and grace, sharing with her students an understanding of the work, of the practice, of the symbols, that is pure poetry.  In my own courses with her, I have learned healing techniques that reach beyond the parameters of a simple treatment, that exemplify the work of a true master healer, and as usual, this work begins within.  As I furiously scribbled my notes my heart sang in excitement with the understanding of the depths of healing these techniques empower.

Yesterday Ahlima and I received our Karuna initiations.  How to express this to you?  Beyond Ultimate Joy.  A gasp as I felt the profound depths of a compassion so blissful…I sway and gasp again as I sit here and recall…we haven’t a word for this…a compassion so complete that there is no forgiveness, because there is only love.  There is no right or wrong, because there is only love.  There is nothing, absolutely nothing, beyond Divine Love. 

breathing…… .

In these past weeks, I have come to realize that I want now to nudge my roots in a little, to nestle down, make a home, know the plants all around me, love the people all around me.  It’s been on my mind for a while, actually, but the where has always been a question.  And so, tomorrow I take a train to Delhi, and thus begins my journey home…

A brief foray to New Hampshire to walk in the forests of my mother’s home, to plant flowers along her pathways, to watch Little League baseball games, to drink a beer on Michael's deck and tea on Anne’s porch.  And maybe Carolyn will make some cookies.  Of course she will.

And then in a couple of weeks’ time, the journey continues west, first to New Mexico for Rainbow Nationals, and then to Northern California, to Rose’s sacred union celebration, to reunite with treasured friends, to come to know even more.  And it is here I will peek about, in the forests of NoCal and Oregon, and listen to my heart once again, to where she would like to plant her roots and nourish for a while…

Since the beginning, Usha and I have talked of collaborating, of working together, teaching together, writing together.  She is thinking to come to Northern California this winter, to join me in my home and offer classes together.  She wants also for us to travel to her sister’s home in Toronto and offer classes there, which means she also finally meets my cherished Erin, the Light Sister of my life.  As we talk about ideas, about teaching and writing, about Northern California and also both teaching here in Bhagsu, I laugh to recall the many times that I have answered, to the perplexed question of many, “But where will you make your home?”  And I have said, “My goal is to have seven places around the world I call home.  Even if I spend a month or a year, that it will still be a home.” 

So, let’s see.

a wise man once told me that alaska is the most beautiful place on earth.

he could be right.

its beauty is in the alpenglow that bathes the snowy mountains in pink and orange light for as the sun casually makes its way back behind the horizon from whence it came; its beauty is in the churning chunks of ice that tumble and crunch, together and apart, forming and reforming as they respond to the influences of the alternating currents, the fishing boats, and the dynamic weather;  its beauty is in the plenitude of the massive animals that make these cold waters and this barren tundra their home, and in do doing teach the people what is necessary for survival in a frozen world, the symbiotic relationships among beings and beasts, and how to adapt to an ever-changing homeland.  its beauty is in its remoteness, in the imposing silence that blankets the land, in its demand for ruggedness from its inhabitants.  it's unforgiving land.  here, you don't get a second chance to mistake nature's power.  

we lived in anchorage.  some say you can see alaska from anchorage, which starts about 30 miles out in any direction from the city. we lived downtown; we had a nice private room  in a hostel that offers a winter community, mainly for folks coming in from the bush (alaska-speak for most of the land, that which is off the road system), coming in from the boats (fishing boats), the north slope (oil workers) or coming in from the parks (tourist season in denali, for example). 

anchorage is a utilitarian city.  it was built over its original tent city some years ago, and just left that way.  it's been a state for less than fifty years, and up here at the end of nowhere, they aren't bothered with too much, and so the adage of, 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it' has really held on in anchorage. all the buildings are square, blocky numbers with no ornamentation.  all are weathered and worn, darkened with years of exposure to the harsh elements.  the roads don't really get plowed as most folks would define it.  it's more like the snow gets brushed off so you get an idea of where the sides of the road are.  at times it seems to say, "what, you want it clear?  you live in alaska, don't you  have four-wheel drive?"   the sidewalks  in some areas are apparently just for summer use, while downtown they are better maintained than the roads. 

downtown is an overstatement.  it's a quaint little collection of buildings a few blocks by a few blocks, with more furriers than restaurants.  yes, i said furriers.  apparently p.e.t.a. hasn't made it up here lately. fur coats, boots, mittens, hats, dolls dressed in fur, and even good old-fashioned pelts hanging upside-down in shop windows.  and then there's the ivory trade, alive and well.  miniatures and statues of walrus tusk ivory, from a figurine of a seal or a fisherman to a chess set of ornately carved ivory pieces.  my sister asked me to bring her a wall decoration, something fabric, not a photograph or painting (she's been a bit spoiled by my forays in asia, clearly).  i thought about it, and said, "well, i could get her a fox pelt." 

no, i didn't, but she was well-horrified at the thought.

the thing is, though, all of this work in fur and ivory is a reflection of the land and its people.  the alaska natives have long lived in symbiosis with the great creatures of this land, and it is only through this relationship that they have survived for thousands of years.  alaska natives are afforded fishing rights and hunting rights in support of maintaining a subsistence lifestyle, access to free medical care, and other benefits we could only wish our forefathers had had the acumen to offer to the native peoples of the rest of the continent and to hawaiian natives.   and so, i understand why all of this is for sale in anchorage.  i get it.  but there is a big difference between several village fishermen bringing in a seal, cooking its blubber for oil, its meat to feed the dogs that drive the sleds and protect the homes, preparing its gut for waterproof clothing for seafaring voyages, and using its bones as well...there's a big difference between that and an ivory chess set.

ehem.

so, back to anchorage...the city is surrounded by snow-covered mountains, resplendent with little sanctuaries of nature, and filled with hidden delights. where else can you be scurrying around in the freezing cold, walking across the wind-whipped parking lot of the shopping place and see the big box store with the backdrop of snowy peaks in alpenglow?  i used to walk from the restaurant where i worked to my favorite little spot, resolution park.  in winter it is a simple affair of a wooden-planked deck overlooking the cook inlet.  it had a little (big) sign explaining which mountains you could see across the inlet.  i just liked it.  it was my main motivation for getting out of one shift on time before arriving to the next, that i would have time to go to my park.  and on the snowy days, you bundle warmly and walk....down to the shipyard was my favorite, out to the point on the docks...so incredibly cold out there, but so beautiful. 

and nature offered a gift i was always grateful for...the crystals of hoar frost that coat every branch of every tree...in the weak  sunlight, they glow, midday they sparkle. and in the darkness, they remain starkly beautiful and bright.  and, they are everywhere. 

the alaska natives are kind and gentle people, friendly, fun, committed to family and village and tradition.  they come into the city by float plane for supplies, for conferences pertaining to their land rights and the preservation of their ways of life, for medical care.  it feels a bit funny to try and talk too much about the natives, because i wasn't in the villages, i was in the city.  i met the people from the villages and the bush when they came to town and ate in my restaurant or i met them at the conferences or markets selling their hand made crafts.  there are opportunities to live in the villages, to work with the native people and learn their ways of life.  this is the true experience of how they live and what it takes to live in this land.  this, at some point, i hope to do.

but, for bright light there is always a shadow, and for the alaska natives that shadow is what alcohol does tot heir bodies.  it is poison to their bodies.  it is not metabolized properly.  it ruins them.  you see natives in town, stumbling drunk, bleary-eyed and aged beyond their years.   they become incapacitated. there is a police unit, i think it's called dps, designated just to this alcohol problem, and daily you see the officers collecting people from the street and putting them into the van.  if i understand it properly, they go to the dry out center, stay for up to thirty days, and then are released.  among the homeless, native or not, there's a system:  you stay at one of the shelters for the time you're allowed, again, i think it's thirty days, and then you're out for a period of time.  but if you get picked up by this alcohol police unit, you can get thirty days in dry out, so even a guy who doesn't drink anymore will throw back a bottle of whiskey to get himself inebriated, get picked up and taken in for thirty days.  if you take the bus or walk around downtown, you become quite familiar with this story.  it's common to see the van pull up and the police to come out and help an inebriated person into the van.  what impressed me was the compassion.  every time i saw the officers helping someone, they were patient and kind, they seemed genuinely interested in helping. 

one afternoon walking home, i saw a young native man struggling to stand up, his duffle bag on the ground and his hands on his bag, his body bent over with great effort.  as i walked toward him to help him, he fell, face first onto the icy pavement.  i helped him to roll over, his face scraped and bloody, and his whole large body now lying in cold slushy puddles on the side of the busy road.  i called to some guys on a smoke break for help, and one came while the other called dps.  within minutes the van was there, along with five or six local people, and the young man was lifted into the van. 

when i got home, i was sharing the story with alec.  right away he asked, "who was it?  what did he look like?"  i jsut stared at him and repeated, "young alaskan native..."  he explained, "i want to know if he's one of my mates."  alec went most mornings down to beans cafe to see about day laboring.  people needing help moving furniture, cleaning up junk, or loading a truck pull in and pick up a few guys as they need them.  beans cafe is the soup kitchen, next door to the brother francis homeless shelter.  the shelter let out at 6:00am and beans opened.  folks went in for their breakfast, and those interested stood outside waiting for opportunities for day labor.  in this, alec met lots of beans' characters and learned a lot about the homeless story in anchorage.  it's from him i learned about the shelters and the dps dry out center.  he reiterated the schedule shared by at least one man of each place to get a meal in the course of a day and at what times they were serving.  and one evening, when walking home we found a man passed out in a doorway, it was through alec explaining to me the shelter story that i was able to understand the importance of learning from the man at which shelter he was staying before putting him in a cab, because if he was registered to be at one and we sent him to another, they wouldn't be able to take him in.  and, as it was about 7 degrees farenheit that evening, being out on the street for the night wasn't an option.

out in the bush, the alcohol problem is handled a bit differently.  there are about 200 villages in alaska, and 136 of those have voted to be dry.  dry villages maintain a prohibition on alcohol sales, importation, production, or consumption.  there are also damp communities, usually larger hubs providing municipal services to the villages. in a damp community, limitied amounts and kinds of alcohol can be imported for personal use.  the laws, however, are strict.  in many damp towns, a violation of the ordinance can result in a class c felony.  this isn't to say there isn't alcohol coming in to damp towns and even to dry villages.  bootlegging and smuggling are prevelant.  it is, however, a strong recourse state wide to combat this poisoning of the alaska natives.

alaskan people, native or not, are as rugged as the land. the non-natives may or may not have been born and raised in the last frontier, but each has a frontier spirit, a love of the land, a respect for nature.  many came as wide-eyed young backpackers on a holiday and never left.  many more came later in life, to get away from the hustle and bustle of more modern and complicated living.  still others simply followed their hearts, and their hearts lead them to alaska.  none see any reason to leave.

people here are down to earth, back to nature, and living simply. it's common to have a remote cabin in the bush, accessible only by float plane, with no electricity and no running water.  people spend their time hiking, boating, fishing, skiing, and gardening.  people are warm, friendly, and easygoing.  there are no pretenses, no reasons to impress, and folks will help you out before you could even think to ask for it. 

i was homeschooling an autistic boy in eagle river.  i took the bus, and his mom picked me up at the bus station, then dropped me off again in the afternoon (!).  one day, while waiting for the bus, chris was still there waiting to ensure the bus arrived, as she knew i had to go straight to the restaurant for my next shift.  after ten minutes she called dispatch and learned the bus would be 20 minutes late, and quite matter-of-factly she said, "well then, i'll just drive you.  ask those other folks waiting if anyone needs a ride to town."  minivan loaded, chris drove us all to anchorage. 

just because.

our one venture out was through the kindness of a local. alec helped a guy move some things from his house, and they hit it off.  by day's end, demitri had offered alec the keys to his extra car and his cabin on kenai lake.  it was an amazing trip.  the silence was deafening, as i heard my own breathing.  it was broken only by the sound of alec chopping wood.   we cooked and read and played scrabble by the light of the oil lantern.  we walked in the new snow along the shore of kenai lake and gazed out the window at icicles forming on the eaves.  we wished we could stay forever.

so, yeah.  gotta return.  and we have plans for this.  soon.

see you there?

.....so.....where were we?

ah, yes...just arriving to sunny england...

it was perhaps my best landing yet...armed, so to speak, with my sumptuous salad and rations of peggy's 420 cookies, a big glass jar for water (woman sitting next to me exclaimed, "how did you get on the plane with that???"  "just walked on through, ma'am."  glug glug....luckily she turned down my ill-placed cookie offer...)

...so, back to england...

well, from minutes off the plane, i tried to make it a culinary affair, which is more out of humor than anything, and did quite well.  first stop was keith's mum's for some champagne and cheese toast.  you make cheese toast by putting the bread under the broiler in the oven...keeping to the english theme, i enjoyed heaps of milk tea, pasties, cheese toast, crumpets, fritters, marmite (it's actually quite fantastic), and even indulged in fish & chips a few times (batter on fish-yummy; fish iteself-could take it or leave it; chips-consistently really horrible, actually, but i kept on trying)....and although not interested in drinking, i did manage to sip some hard cider in the pub from time to time.  the brits can't make a cake to save their lives, or a cookie for that matter, but i kept trying that as well....

never give up.

moving right along, i delighted in all things british...the tiny little lanes rambling through the countryside, the footpaths and hedgerows, the thatched cottage rooftops and itsy bitsy little doors.  oh and the gardens!! everyone has a lovely back garden resplendent with flowers and herbs.  alec's mum's garden was my hands-down favorite with her fish ponds, weather-worn gnomes and statues, flowering nooks and cascading vines turning bright red in the autumn chill....

straight away i went to chichester with noam and helped with the herb (pronounced h-h-h-e-e-e-r-r-b, not e-erb) stand, smiling all the while from everyone's enthusiasm for hhhheeerrrbs and flowers and back gardens and the lot.  love it love it love it.

i learned something...i don't speak english, darling, i speak a-mer-ican (mildly disdainful emphasis there).  a truck is a lorrie and a shopping cart is a trolley.  pants are trousers and underpants are pants. a bag is a sack and a fanny is not where you think.  that's a bum.  it's not how are you?  but ya'aright?  which was quite challenging to get used to, as i thought i must look quite bothered to be prompting such concern all the time.  incidentally, it's not, 'i don't care,' or, 'it doesn't matter,' but, 'i'm not  bothered, really.'  a stove is a hob, a teapot a kettle.  in your car, the hood is the bonnet and the trunk is the boot.  try that one when you see a sign that says, 'car boot sale this saturday!'  first time, i was left thinking, why the hell would you buy a car boot?  to put on your friend's car as a joke?  a car boot sale...it's really a flea market.

indeed, i was quite surprised by how difficult i found the accents of england, of which there are many.  half the time i didn't know what they were on about (you get to do the linguistic translatations yourself from now on), but at least when i had no idea what anyone was saying, they could understand my clueless musings (the shop girl asked me three times something along the lines of, ya'aright with the sack?  and after three times of not getting it, i finally just smiled and said, i don't actually know what you're saying, so i'm just gonna keep on doing what i'm doing over here, okay?  (i was putting the things in the bag).  she laughed and nodded and left me alone.  in korea in that situation, i used to sing-song mullah-yo mullah-yo mullah-yo-o-o...(i don't know i don't know i don't kno-o-ow...)

'twas nice, though, when folks asked me where i was from, and when i answered the u.s., they not only understood that part, but upon furthering questioning actually knew where new hampshire was!!!  unbelievable.  most people think i'm french or israeli or some such thing. 

oh, what else...the niceties!  i laughed to witness the brits stumble over themselves with sorry-sorry and thank you-thank you: when helping noam with the h-h-h-e-e-e-rb stand people would generally thank me four times for the 1-pound plant they'd just purchased, and sorry means about the same as excuse me, but that comes with the assumption that the other person is always in your way. 

but this part of british culture wasn't a huge surprise to me, coming from a british-american bloodline where we ourselves trip over our family and new england niceties.  what i realise we missed, however, in continuing on the practices of the homeland, was the counter-balance to all that politeness...

like when the crazy twiggy girl was kicking the hell out of keith's empty car, yelling, "middle class c--t!" or the inebriated pikey was screaming at the gigantic train conductor to f--k off, he wasn't paying to get on the train and she couldn't make him...or the random acts of vandalism like throwing rocks through pensioners' car windscreens or stabbing an unassuming passer-by, just because you can...

i delighted in england, and was disgusted as well.  i witnessed first-hand the grave shortcomings of national health, a system which runs on rampant inefficiency and spends all its funds on programs that don't actually exist beyond the paperwork.  as for privacy, wow...big brother is watching...every move you make.  cctv cameras overlap one another on every building, street corner, and public place~all in the name of your safety, but when you watch things like, 'big brother is watching,' on tv~a show where the host guides viewers along as the camera zooms in from satellite into the window of mary-on-the-seventh-floor , and they call mary and say, 'hey, smile, big brother is watching!'  wow, what great fun! 

completely insane.

it was disturbing to come to understand the difference between 'the british' as seen on television and 'the british' in real life.  it's incredibly expensive, impossibly so for far too many.  i had difficulty rememberi ng to make the exchange conversion& nbsp;from pounds to dollars (yes, i still think like that to ascertain value and worth) because everything was so expensive that i assumed it had to be in dollars, only to realise no, it's 2 dollars!  that fish & chips isn't 8 dollars, which would be a lot for roadside greasy food in the u.s., it's 16 dollars!!  whaaat??

and that brings me to banksy.  i suppose he could be described as a street artist, a vandal, or a revoluntionary, depending on who you talk to.  but i think he captures something very british, however you describe him.  banksy goes about england adding his impressions here and there and photographing them.  i discovered his work through a seemingly classic banksy book of photographs that i think each of my friends had.  thought-provoking, challenging the status-quo, mischievious, and for me really funny.  he captures british society at face value.  then he captures its restrictions, ironies, and contradictions.  then he pushes the limits on what is acceptable, and shares some of the consequences of going too far.  please take a minute to search his work out and see what i mean.  good stuff.

i loved brighton for its street art.  we walked for hours, meandering through the neighborhoods, admiring the work of so many artists.  i loved saffron-walden for its lanes and villages, i loved hampshire for its heaths and flowers.  i loved wales!!  wow!!  i was only there a few days, in powys, and fell madly in love with the land.  rolling, lush green hills, dark soft soil, really, really interesting people.  i am intrigued.  i will return.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~

in the course of things, i left england and went to a rainbow in serbia.  we were in the east of serbia, high in the mountains.  after the gathering we spent some time wandering around, hitching about, and meeting lovely local people who shared with us their homes, their lives, their endless hospitality.  we hitched out of serbia with a turkish trucker who brought us in a few days' time to central germany, where we hitched the rest of the way back to england. a few weeks with alec's mum, and it was time for a transition.  i needed to work.  thoughts and ideas were many, and finally, over a morning cup of coffee, alec said, 'how about alaska?' and here we are.

we're in anchorage, and i'm a waitress.  ha!  straight away i got work at the white spot~oldest diner in anchorage.  spending my days slinging coffee and burgers to folks, listening with rapt attention to the talk of the locals, to what motivates them, what is important to folks up here, and what they thought of their 'girl' running for v.p....oh, to be a fly on the wall....

our visit here is short-too short.  we'll be leaving again end of the year and returning to england.  i'm hopeful we can get out and see some of this vast country up here~the glaciers to the southeast, denali park, the aurora borealis from the north.  it's wonderful being here, even just in anchorage we're quite enjoying.  it is surrounded by snow-covered mountains and sits on the cook inlet, where i like to watch the shipyard and listen to the train.

another one worth coming back for.

so many great places, so little time.

so, there you have it, briefly.  i haven't been on the internet much these past months, and even less now in anchorage.   i have many photos to share, but have yet to get on that one.  i'm a bit surprised to share so little of the serbia story with you, but a bit overwhelmed playing catch-up here for not writing for so long.  anyway, i'll next work on getting photos up.  how's that?  please forgive my cyber-silence~it's not intentional.  please write and tell me what's what...i'll write again soon!!!

lovelovelove,

karin

big sigh... at least since canada, i've been longing for winter. a time to rest, rejuvenate, drop in...when i look back through my everything book that spans my time from new hampshire hitching up to montreal and across to british columbia, then back to new hampshire and then to hawaii, i see the lists and bits of hopes and plans and dreams, of what colors i wanted in my rainbow, from which sources i sought my inspiration for my coming sojourn into winter....

i wanted to sew. i wanted to make clothes. many. but, i don't want to buy new fabrics, as it seems so wasteful that it takes a lot of the fun out of it for me. and then guess what? here i am in hawi, i am given a circa wwII sewing machine that cha-chunks along pretty well, and a thrift shop that exists only in my dreams.

the st. augustine thrift shop opens wednesdays from 12-3pm. only. and every week, they have new and amazing finds from all of the transient mainlanders coming and going and not taking it with them. the most expensive thing i ever bought in this shop was a horribly decadent mumu for my sister (don't laugh~she'll actually wear it)(okay you can laugh but she's still gonna wear it). anyway, that designer mumu was $1.75. i have bought blankets, pillows, mumus, dresses for giant women (aka big bolts of fabric), funky shirts, flowing pants, and countless other finds for as much as 25 cents. my best finds are in the 10 cent pile. great stuff, probably there because although nice fabric, a bit too much of it. i consider it a community service to buy these things and cut them up, giving the world smaller doses of some really funny prints.

;)

so, that is perhaps not so interesting to most people, but the little thrift shop and all of the great things i found there, plus the fantastic clothes i made from them, will remain a fond memory of this little place at the end of the road in hawaii...in this long winter's nap, the weekly outing to the thrift shop was often the only time i left home. :) he he!

jewelry...i've had all of these strings and beads and whatnot that i've picked up along the way, and as the stockpile started to wind down, i found myself considering where to go with it, because again, i don't like buying new things that require new production in big factories and all the sufferings that go with that, especially to buy them only to put them together and sell them again! so, there i was, thinking that when the strings finished, that was the end of my macrame. and literally the final day, sitting at market making a necklace of the final bit of strings, no less than four people (that's a lot at the hawi market) commented on how much they love my work, how pretty are the knotting styles i use, etc. um...sign? i try to listen when these things come up.

and so, i sat with it a while, and found my peace..i went to hawi headquarters, the new head shop, and bought the thin hemp strings. my concession. it's newly produced, but it's not dumping chemicals into water supplies. and for beads and bits and pendants, i'm not buying new. i'm using what comes, from ground scores, from reusing, from gifting. it gives deeper meaning to my work...a week later, chris at hawi headquarters bought nine pieces from me to display (sell) in his shop. the end of my work with synthetic strings..

new beginnings...

ah! manna bread...i started sprouting and making bread this winter, cooking it in the oven in the house. and as thoughts began to turn to building a solar oven, jesus at cinderland showed me his solar oven..such a simple design! ha! even with my rudimentary woodworking skills-from all those forays in the woodshop in high school-were enough to construct this number. and so, days later, reusing materials found (the beveled glass top a fantastic 25 cent find at my trusty thrift shop), i constructed my solar oven.

and so, attending my sprouts is part of my daily routine, and every few days i concoct a new manna bread. the favorite so far is what my students call, "manna bread pizza," seasoned with oregano and thyme, blended with loads of raw garlic and nourished with ground flax and sesame seeds, and topped with slices of tomatoes...yes..sun-dried tomato manna bread pizza...divine.

................................

my daily practice begins with the sun's early rays flickering in through my home...i lay in bed and give myself reiki, then rise and move to my little sanctuary...a little patch of grass overlooking the miniature ponds of papayrus and frogs with the little temple behind me. i'm practicing a few different meditations, my reiki meditations and love energy for others, and then my asana practice...ever-grateful this is how i begin each day.

as winter became spring, i embarked on a cleansing journey...in it, i recognized old hurts and habits holding me back, and experienced healing work of sound, light, realignment, and touch reaching into those places of pain and blockage. letting go letting go...

................................

and now, spring moves into summer, and i move on to the next chapter of my story. in a week, i leave for london, to reunite with many friends i haven't seen in years. friends i've known and loved since korea, since india, since panama, since thailand...the land of my ancestors is welcoming me with such wide open arms i can barely contain my excitement. open arms and open doors await-homes, markets, friends, festivals, creation...

it's usually a simple transition for me when i change geographic realities, preparations and particulars, tying up loose ends and looking forward to new adventures...but with the knowing of the loves i'll hold again, this one has had me ecstatic for weeks! and as i've shared my plans with other butterflies, we find our paths uniting, plans joining...

...and there's always room for more, so if you're in the neighborhood and fancy a reunion... ;)

in the u.k. through july, then journeying south easterly for european rainbow in serbia, again reuniting with some wonderufl people in my life, and on to winter in spain... and finally the call for africa comes, and the signs are coming stronger...things happening, people coming, paths crossing....so maybe in a year, i'll find myself in africa.

but that's a long time away.

.......................................................................................

i feel good. rested. able to breathe deeply (except for the vog). ready. yesterday i bade farewell to my writing class students; in the coming days i'll give some last bits of love to the land here, work on some jewelry, join the full moon women's gathering, and perhaps celebrate the solstice alone in pololu valley... and then, fly, fly away...

~~~ bling! ~~~

also known as the big island...

so, i didn't go to vermont. i went to hawaii. and so for two and a half months now, here i've been.

the punaverse. also known as puna district, but the punaverse is so much more apropos. entering the punaverse with my backpack and friend was like entering a permanent rainbow gathering. puna is an enclave of forward thinkers, visionaries, artists, outlaws, fugitives, travelers, healers, and well, lunatics. it's fantastic. each is living in his or her own definition of paradise, from a bedroll in the jungle to nomadically living in a tent on various beaches; from creating home under a collection of tarps, corrugated metal shelters, simple cabins, yurts, and cottages, to community living on shared land with private self-sufficient spaces centered around a common shared space. fruit grows on trees, as you might imagine, and is there for the eatin. some unnamed pirates of the meditation are known to harvest the seemingly ornamental coconuts from the perfectly landscaped estates of vacation-home owners and redistributing them throughout the day from the back of the pickup..."wanna coconut?"

and each is on her own journey...some are here for the first time, some return year after year, some came and never left. many were here for a visit and have been here decades since, finding no reason to leave. a central focus of puna is sundays. it begins with ecstatic dance, which is an intentionally-created sacred dance space where each can go within, access his own challenges, and release them. in short, it's a silent space, a safe space, to get your freak on. some are dancing in solo space, some flit around and engage with others in a moment of shared dance space, some meditate, practice yoga, contact improv, etc. it's a space without judgement, expectation, or much in the way of rules except all are respecting the silence of the space~if you want to talk, you go outside. no talking in the dance. folks range from babes in arms to young children running amidst the freaks, to mamas carrying those babes in arms to grandmamas smiling and expressing themselves in complete freedom. for many, the dance is their church. it's a time to connect with the source by whatever definition, a place to come and experience yourself and others loved just as you are, and celebrated for trying on different personas as each explores who it is they feel to be inside. the dance closes with a circle for sharing..sharing your experiences in the dance, sharing your heartsong, sharing your expressions of self or needs to your community..looking for a place to stay, looking for work, looking for a ride, seeking and finding.

after the dance, community time spills out onto the red road, where russ is giving divine light transmissions at the point, stephanie and david are vending raw food decadence, and adrian is hacking open coconuts. and from there, if you're up for a bit of high energy, go down to kahena beach for the drum circle and splash in the (scary) waves, or if you feel for a chill out go to seaview park for potluck picnic and lounging together in the grass, where kirtans are sung, guitars are strummed, bodywork is rampant, and conversation is inspiring and creative.

ah...sundays in puna. love it.

here, a car isn't necessary. thank god, because man, do i love the hitch. it's common, it's easy, and it's fun. so many different kinds of people pick you up, you make connections, make friends, and experience other people's adventures. and, you can get from a to b without adding fossil fuels to the mix, as the cars are going that way anyway.

and now, i'm in hawi. it's a small place on the north kohala coast, on the northwestern tip of the big eye. i'm on a piece of land named artesia, where creative expression, self sufficiency, expressing visions, and living in harmony is celebrated, is what makes it special. each on this land has unique gifts, talents, and colors to shine, and it is here that i'm making my home.

i live under the christmas berry trees, protected from rain and wind, looking out over the pasture land of the neighboring cows, calves, and horses who come to visit me, in a giant tent (i call it the condo), under a cathedral of twisting, moss-covered branches, tucked away behind the lush vegetation, with little nooks in every corner calling out for a bit of love and companionship..."come sit here for a spell and enjoy my natural beauty!" ...here i celebrate my creativity with encouragement to share my talents in sewing, creating, painting, writing, healing, and being. we live in the company of fruit trees, vegetable beds, flowers blooming, and visionscapes of ocean view, pastureland, and intentional gardenscapes, a natural ampitheater for performance, and countless nooks of artistic expression and natural beauty from which to feed your own inspiration.

i'm newly attuned to karuna ki reiki, compassionate reiki, and slowly integrating this into my practice, experiencing such profound compassion through empathetically experiencing the pain and challenges of others...i'm sharing reiki with others~offering classes at health care and rehabilitation centers, offering treatments in the moment, making my own clothes and wares for sale at market, preparing to display my clothes and other crafts at an exhibition at the hawi artist's collective, and making manifest jim's creative vision of adding artistic expression to his remarkable land...("see the view from here, it's very nice, but this spot could use a bit of something...i'm envisioning some fabric with a few different colors blowing in the wind...play with it...see what you come up with..." jim shares...).

today i'm planting around my space, clearing out the nooks and preparing them for sharing my company as i write or read or create. probably see a couple of rainbows. you know, just another day in paradise.

:)

k~

sometimes i feel like what i'm writing here is to report, instead of writing the life that happens within the moments...and sometimes my reality shifts so rapidly that i know i would be perpetually writing here in order to keep things current. yes, i know this is a 'blog' site and that many people write on this thing every day, but sorry~not happening...

what i'm saying is, i want to shift into writing more about the moments...which means i may write a story of something that happened two years ago or five minutes ago, and that i wouldn't be really updating here as to where i am...

ironically, as i share these thoughts with you, i have entitled this entry 'the two week realities,' with the intention of updating you about where i am...what's more funny is that i'm not even sure who reads this sometimes, which old friends are using this as a way to keep up with my shifts in reality and which would rather hear the adventures in the middle.

hm..perhaps if you have perspective on this you could post a comment here on it, or send me an email? in the meantime, i have a date in five minutes to read a stack of curious george books with elias and hope, so i should stop babbling and get writing.

e-he-he-hem.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~

so, with the last entry i caught you up through thailand, which brings us to (i think) late january or something. for a while, i was living in six-week realities, leaving balmy thailand in late january to voluntarily subject myself to the tortures of a korean winter...

sometimes i really frighten myself with these choices.

actually, it wasn't quite so random to show up in korea in the winter. moon and hyeon su were getting married, and i was fulfilling a three-year old promise to hyeon su that when they eventually married, i would come to their wedding. so really it's their fault i had to brave a korean winter.

;)

luckily, katja had left a warm jacket with a friend there, and others had extra clothes , so i didn't lose any limbs to frostbite. beyond the wedding, i stayed to make a bit of money and spend some time with old friends. in six weeks i filled up on dwaeng jang chiggae, kimchi kimbap, and pine nut tea. i went with steven and mei to an island near incheon which i hadn't visited before (ijakdo-population 193), spending a long weekend filled with the kind of life-with-the-adjashis adventures that define the korean experience. i really wanted to go back to mu sang sa and sit kyeol che (silent zen meditation) with them (the monks of mu sang sa) for a month or more..i really wanted to travel in the south with hannah when we reunited..i really wanted to connect with korea in a non-city way...but it seemed not to be going that way. things weren't coming together, costs were higher than what i had to spend, and winter life was getting me down. so, what to do?

i left.

six week stint number one.

a train to the south and a ferry to the east, and a great big customs-official welcome with a stern, "this is japan!" hm. a bit surprised they didn't send me back to korea, but finally they let me in, and i began a five day, mutli-ferry journey to iriomote, a small island in the far south of the okinawa province, in the south-south of japan~almost to taiwan.

i was quite happy for this trip~having wanted to spend more time on boats. i enjoyed attempting yoga on the back deck (standing postures don't go so well on the boat, but the entertainment level for fellow passengers is far higher than practicing on land), and trying to walk around the fancy-dancy lobby one night with the waves rocking our boat like a dingy on the open sea was high entertainment. that night, i surrendered to the movement of the sea; i lulled myself to sleep in a meditation of her rhythms, of connecting to her as great older sister, as she rocked me as in the womb. i don't know when else i have slept so deeply...so serenely...

eventually, i arrived on iriomote, where i was met by a truck full of sugar cane workers, with davide's big smile shining out among the dirty faces and rumpled clothes of a hard days' work. we returned to the farm, where davide and i had a tent in the loft of the barn (one for the farm machinery), which we shared with fumi, a flute-bird (a karinism), and a couple of mice. each day we shared morning coffee before the guys loaded up and left for the fields, and i went for my practice before the shinto altar maintained by obasan, the great-aunt of the farm boss. afternoons i taught yoga at yoshi's shop, and in between i sewed and made jewerly.

the island was lovely, with morning glories trailing down the roads out to the fields, with long stretches of beach strewn with shells of great variety. obasan had a big garden for the farm workers in the back of the house, and each day i picked a basket of cherry tomatoes and greens, as well as carrots, turnips, and radishes. for a while we camped near the beach, with davide riding a simple, no-geared bicycle 7km to the farm each morning and evening. there i picked berries and made us a large palm frond mat for our camp, and shared laughter and coffee with the japanese travelers around us.

and soon, we left.

six week stint number two.

we took ferries to taiwan, with plans to get a china visa and take another ferry to china, then overland to dali for the rainbow, and then continue on by land into eastern europe, and down to bosnia for the european gathering in the summer. by autumn we thought to be in spain..

but, sometimes the white noise of politics invades the lives of the people. you can't get to china from taiwan. taiwan hates china. and, in fact, you can't take a passenger ferry anywhere from taiwan. you have to fly. so there we were, in the industrial city of kaoshuing, facing the decision of not if, but to where to take a flight...

from a budgetary persepctive, this wasn't great news.  when you plan for a boat trip at $100usd, and then are faced with a flight at a minimum of $500usd that doesn't even get you to the country to which you're headed, you have to make some calculations.  and our calculations left us in the mountains of china broke.

we decided we had to fly to the west, and we had four choices from kaoshuing:  aukland, nz; sydney, aust; san francisco, ca, usa; or vancouver, bc, canada.  we decided to think on it and come back in the morning. 

each had its benefits and drawbacks, espeically to a couple of butterflies.  i've never been to oz and nz, and davide hadn't been in half a lifetime.  but those are island nations.  which meant to visit my family in six or eight months, i'm looking at yet another flight, another big expense monetarily, and another big blow to pacha mama, for whom many of us are trying to tread a lot more lightly and take a lot less flights.  so, san franciso was the next logical choice, as i'm a us citizen and can more easily find work, which was going to be necessary upon landing, thanks to our impending airline tickets.  but davide's passport is one that requires a visa to enter the u.s. these days, thanks to tighter controls on europeans, and so that was also not an option, as there wasn't an embassy in sight in kaoshuing. 

two tickets to vancouver, please.

maybe we could find a farm and do some woofing...maybe we could find a rainbow connection...and nina came through with a connection on salt spring island, and so after a slice of pizza in east vancouver, we started on our way to salt spring island, to a rainbow brother's farm where we could stay a couple of days and look for somewhere longer term.  in the meantime, davide got talking (and as such entertaining) a woman at the bus stop.  he's convinced we won her over when he gave her the package of sugar from the iriomote sugar cane factory (he's very proud), but really i think his showdog performance was the clincher. and, he moves rocks.

either way, that night we weren't on salt spring island but galiano island, a 20-mile long spine overlooking vancouver and the mainland to the northwest and salt spring and the rest of the gulf islands to the southeast.  she gave us the servant's quarters (full apartment) downstairs of her house, and davide started moving rocks and earth around her land.  he first repaired and finished the greenhouse.  when dora came downstairs to see the work, she smiled and nodded, turned to me and said, "so, what are you going to grow in your greenhouse?"

my life on galiano was my plants and cooking.  davide built me beautiful boxes and shelves for the greenhouse and re-landscaped the side of the house to create for me a gardening workshop and outside garden beds.  i helped dora with her many plants and flower gardens as well, and read extensively about what was growing, reacquainting myself with the plants in this part of the world. 

it was still late winter on galiano, and i never got warm.  each day as davide moved rocks and trees and dirt, i bundled with layers of all the clothes i had, tended a woodstove fire, and cooked and baked and listened to public radio.  it was a nice time of remembering the winter kitchen in north america.  i baked apple pies and pumpkin breads, made butternut squash soups and vegetable stews with dumplings, and introduced davide to an american cuisine he didn't know about (that beyond hamburgers), and learned to quite enjoy. 

but for all the growing and building and cooking and loveliness, something was missing for me.  there was an emptiness that wasn't filling, an emptiness that was hurting me more each day.

what to do?

i left.

six week stint number three.

and now we move into the two week realities.

i returned to new hampshire, to my family.  i spent two weeks moving among anne's, carolyn's, and mom's, wondering what to do, where to go, how to find my elusive happiness that had somehow escaped me in recent weeks.  i went to kala's, in western massachusetts, and sought it there.  another two weeks.  then i returned to new hampshire to house- and puppy-sit while carolyn went on holiday.  another two weeks.  then i returned to kala's, with intention to try living there, even renting a room and bringing 'things' for a room.  and yet i knew the first day, as i sadly painted the walls of my little room, that this too wouldn't last.  and when i started thinking about about going, i knew i needed to change my reality.  i was talking to my sister anne on the phone about my sadness, and said, "but tomorrow i'm going to the rainbow (in quebec).  and in the rainbow, magick happens.  so, by the time i'm out of the rainbow, i'll know what i'm doing. 

let's pause a minute.

when i decided to go live at kala's, i wanted to experience some of the festivals of this region, and kala goes to many.  but, having landed here on borrowed money, i was in no position to make plans for festivals.  i came to a place where i decided, "if there is one thing i can do this summer, it's go to the quebec rainbow." 

manifest manifest manifest.

i learned of the quebec family in thailand, from two beautiful quebec sisters i met there, patchane and cindy.  at our daily morning chai at gael's, cindy talked with me often about the quebec family, and encouraged me to come to a gathering.  it's so close to where my family lives~montreal is just two hours north of my mother's~but i didn't expect to be with my family at the time of the gathering.  but, the universe conspired and i was here, and the draw was so great, the reasons so many...seeing cindy and patchane, seeing chad and maria, seeing patrick and others who were at the thai gathering...and then cindy told me brooke was coming...my ozzie sister i had thought of so many times and had not her email to see how and where she was...and then there was nina..one of my slovanian sisters with whom i spent time every day in thailand for the five weeks i was at the gathering.  we stayed in touch a lot, sharing our travels and troubles..and when each heard the other was thinking to go, each got more and more inspired, until nina finally left guatemala and headed north for quebec.

i arrived durin g main circle.  the first faces i saw, sitting right in front of me as i walked up, were nina and brooke.  we looked, we hugged, we laughed and laughed and hugged some more. 

by that night, it was clear i was returning to new hampshire to spend two and a half weeks with my family, then returning to montreal to reunite with nina, and heading west.  brooke is already there.   so is chad.  so is davide.  so is emily.  and maybe katja and mirko are coming as well.  and maybe we'll stay in b.c., and maybe we'll go to california, where half the thai gathering will be.  but in less than two weeks, i'll go again.   

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~

and maybe soon, i'll start with that idea to write a story, just as it randomly enters my mind...

for now, though, i'm with my family, who more and more accept my life and my ways, who support me and expect nothing from me except that my plans will change.  i'd like to return to them for december, to share the holiday season with the kids, making gingerbread cookies and trimming trees and singing songs and taking a sleigh ride.  just before then i'll be in mexico at the rainbow, so i don't want to make any promises here (nh) yet, but i like the sound of it.  i haven't joined them for december holidays in many years, and it would be really special. 

who reads this anyway?  it would be nice to know who i'm talking to. some i know because we write otherwise, some i'm not sure, and some i may be surprised.  please, drop me a note in the comment thing here or an email and let me know...and while you're at it, could you tell me what you're up to?  i'd like to know.  ah~and i've posted some photos on my photo gallery, so have a look if you fancy...

okay, time to eat some of anne's blueberries...i'm really late for my curious george appointment, too...

love,

karin

well, a bit of a crash landing, really, but with a sense of humor and love for adventure, it always seems to work out. just weeks before leaving, i asked the wise sage kala if she would pass me my level 3 reiki attunement. this she graciously did, along with the teachings over a three week period, and in the process we together passed about twelve attunements to others.

naturally, i met this with some detoxification, and this of course started the morning of my flight out of new hampshire. it was alright, unpleasant at high altitude but manageable with the sniffles and congestion, but remembering how asians do not approve of blowing your nose in public (remember that one too, ron!) then landing in bangkok a day and a half later, and spending several days quite ill~a fever and chills~i am now perhaps the only person alive to have shivered under a wool shawl in bangkok~and then when i was well enough, i traveled north to ayutthaya.

and there, heh heh heh...i started to see red spots on my skin, and thought it heat rash, until the next morning when it got worse. alarmed, i went to the hospital and was told i had hand-foot-mouth disease...a funny coincidence as the wonderful children from whom i had just departed had been exposed, their mother found out as i was sharing lunch and kisses with them, and in my sensitive state, well, they passed it to me. my mother was surprised as this is a disease of young children and young adults mainly, and i reminded her that i am a faerie and that's why i got it. forever young and old.

;)

anyway, by now i could scarcely walk from the swelling and burning pain on the bottoms of my feet, and the man at the guest house gave me soft slippers to wear in the house. i spent my first days in ayutthaya thus, padding about in my slippers and laying on the balcony with my feet elevated, and eventually they healed.

and then it was my night to catch a midnight train to bangkok to meet erin. i went to the moon cafe with si, my funny japanese companion, to goof about with our tribe of performing thais. a cocktail and spliff later, i was sideways and unable to walk. three expulsing trips to the loo, some grounding energy work and great effort, and some assistance from si, and i was at the train station...except as i arrived and asked for the train to bkk, she told me the next train was at 1:40...and i looked to see my train pulling away.

no matter. i was just going to sit in the train station in bangkok for the night. probably less chance of getting killed here.

and so, in the wee hours of my ride, the train pulled into a station. i looked up, and something compelled me to ask my seat companions the station name...and of course it was my station, and so i hurried to get all my things together and get off the train... but when i got to the door, the train was again in motion. and so, i jumped. yes, folks, i jumped from a moving train. i have no idea what compelled me to this stunt. i jumped from a moving train onto a platform of asphalt, and then remembered that i was wearing my full backpack, as it pummeled me into the ground.

once i assessed that nothing was broken, i managed to peel myself up from the platform, much like wile e. coyote might. and then i laughed. i laughed at my own stupidity, at my burning need to get off the train right then instead of getting off at the next station and taking a ten minute train back. i laughed out of surprise and fear that i was nuts enough to do that, when i well know that i don't jump and land it very well. i laughed as i shuffled across the platform, giving reiki to the pain on the side of my cracked head, and i laughed when i saw the places where my skin used to be. i laughed when i went to the loo and saw the blood running down from my eyebrow, and thought of the confusion this must evoke in the men about the train station. and so, the mosquitos ate at me while i wrapped myself in shawls and gave reiki to my head and arm, and for hours i sat this way, healing so quickly i could see it happening.

and in the train the day long with erin, together we watched the rapid healing. i love healing with light.

and now i get to add that one to my cap. i get to say i jumped from a moving train, and you get to say you know someone who jumped from a moving train! isn't this relationship great?

...........................................

and so, things have mellowed out a bit. now we're living outside of chiang mai, in a cabin along the huay kaew waterfall. owned but unused by a 76 year-old friend of erin's, it has been neglected these past 6 years and seems happy to receive our love and care. it is at the end of a lane in a small village, and the village folks are quite nice, always saying sawadeecaa and smiling as i pass. even the sawng thaew drivers now recognize me and only laugh and joke as they try to offer me rides to the temple or the city, like they do with the streams of tourists coming out of our neighbor, the chiang mai zoo.

our gate is at road level, and then we descend a steep staircase through the lush vegetation to our simple home. in front we have a porch, then a few steps down to a lovely veranda where we sleep many nights under the moonlight, listening to the rushing waters cascading down the river. in the mornings i rise and walk past here still, down the stone steps and out the gate to my little perch on the water's edge, where i maintain my morning practice. and as i reach up in salutation to the sun, i feel the canopy of trees tickling my fingers with the healing vibrations they send to me. i lay back for final svasana and breathe in their healing light. oh, so beautiful.

erin takes a bird bath in the river every morning, squealing with delight as the waters rush all around her, laughing and thanking the universe for this place we call home. i am far too spoiled for that, finding the water cold, and only get my feet wet. i'll leave the cold water to those who appreciate it.

and somehow we've managed to create a little social circle here in chiang mai! not two weeks ago, erin said she wanted to have a party for my birthday. i laughed and said, "who will we invite?" and not two weeks later, we had many friends join us in celebration. most of them we met because of the rainbow connection. vallaz and sandra i met in the rainbow yahoo group and they were here in chiang mai, and vince, bobby, and mei i met because they looked to me like they were going to rainbow when i saw them on the market, and i asked them as much. and now, our circle includes gil who has changed his flight home to israel to join the gathering; chaen, who is forsaking morning television for a moment in the nature around our home and to join us for the morning coconut ritual.

abundance creates abundance.

........................................

i return to the dentist on sunday for the second half of my root canal treatment. this isn't something i'd recommend, this root canal business. a bit freaky, really. i sent some reiki to the procedure, as you can when you practice distance reiki, and then at the office it began flowing when a woman came out of the office very upset and in pain, and i offered it to her, and she gladly accepted. within minutes she had calmed down, and soon i was able to stop. what a blessing for me as well, as it prepared the energy to flow through me for my procedure.

but then, sitting in the death chair, no pain from the needle, but so nervous, so wanting to run away, trying to control the breath and giving myself reiki, and then kala came in. i saw her before me, and saw her sending me healing, calming light. i calmed. i dropped in. soon i was able to take the bwaabwaabwaa vibrations of the tooth jackhammer out of my mouth and down into my chest and use the vibrations to expand my lungs and focus my intent on healing my lungs, clearing my lungs. i had noticed resistance in my morning pranayama practice, and was grateful to have this opportunity to work with that block. and so, my root canal became only a meditation, and i barely remember it.

just the same, the pain in the days after was incredible, and i was unable to chew anything for days, because to bring my teeth together on one side meant bringing them together on the injured side, and it sent sharp pains shooting through my head. the pain was so strong and i couldn't escape it. it wasn't sending a casual message to my head, it was pummeling my head.

really, i don't recommend it.

but, this too shall pass and it did, and now i can chew on the intact side, and sunday she'll finish the job. then i anticipate her telling me i'm out of the clutches of the dental establishment, and free to go frolick at rainbow. and so, i'm planning to leave here maybe tuesday or wednesday of next week, go by train to penang, malaysia to arrange a 60-day visa, and then go to rainbowland..

ahh...

so, that's my story. what's yours?

inspired by the yoga for peace event, kala and i created sacred space and held ritual, calling in healing powers of light and love and all who suffer from war and violence. 

we called, and they came.

for four hours, we held space.  kala sang beautifully the mantra of eternal peace and love, om mani padme hum, while i prostrated my body in 108 sun salutations.  in the space, i envisioned women with me, women living in the throngs of greif and despair, groveling through rubbled dirt roads of a wartime land to scrape together food for their children.  i felt them.  i saw them.  i had to change the way i raised my arms in salutation in order to keep from hitting people in the face with the upstretch of my passing arms.  instead, i reached out, widely to each side, and embraced us all.

...............................

in the first months here and riding my bicycle~a fantastic 3-speed competing with me for age, gifted me by my mother's dear friend carol, and adorned by me with a great basket on the back~i felt myself move through ghosts of my past, through unspoken tales and long-forgotten dreams.  they were everywhere.  then scotty died.  suddenly.  tragically.  i was thrust back into a family i once called my own, propelled by compassion and love to bring nourishing food to his grieving parents, to offer my respects to this family of which i was a part for four and a half years...about 15 or 20 years ago.  and in that space, amidst the budweisers and the legion post and the hunting camp and the reunions, i found myself making amends with the past, having conversations that were 15 and 20 years overdue.  sharing with people and learning from people our truths, our dreams, our souls.  our gift from scott.  somehow, i'm not surprised.

and now when i ride my bike, there are no ghosts, no chills, no dark and cool spots along the sunny road.  what remains is a clear ride, with familiar buildings and places singing with soft memories of another lifetime, of a childhood, of a community that lingers on.

...............................

soon i'll flutter off again, and say goodbye to some amazing people.  some are blood, and some are spirit.  all are family.  it's been an amazing journey home.  so transformative.

and from here, to thailand.  to detoxify, to cleanse, to purify, to renew.  and then, to carry on.

you know, if i did this more often, it wouldn't be such a daunting task to update you as to what i'm doing...but the thing is, when i'm in transition, i don't write.  i wait until it's sorted out somewhat. 

but this one...this one will surpise even the best of you.

okay, let's see...the last you knew, i was returning to h.o.m.e., in costa rica..  good.  that's where the story takes a turn............

i was walking to the waterfall with hanna one lovely afternoon, each talking about our plans after h.o.m.e., and mine was something like, "back to panama to find out about boats and get a boat across to england..want to teach yoga and give reiki treatments on the boat...time in england~ festivals, reiki, yoga, make & sell artesania, meet faeries and pigsies, eastern europe, then italia, thailand for world rainbow, india~study for reiki masters with usha, jaipur for stones & crystals, ashram time, go to korea for the spring, then the u.s. to see my family~~~~" ...it was then i realised that it meant another two years without seeing my family.  it meant that each of my neices and nephews, whose photos i carry and show to whomever will entertain me with looking at them, the children i talk about incessantly, would be two years older~that two more years' worth of growing and learning and memories would have again passed, whilst i was busy doing other things.  it would mean that my mom, newly retired, not getting any younger, would be two years older.  i groaned, and lamented my sentiments to hanna. 

hanna replied, "just go.  you miss them.  you want to be with them.  just go.  the rest will sort itself out."

i stopped in my steps.  i looked at hanna and said, "you're right.  i'm going home."  a sensation came over me, i can't describe it, but it grew and grew with each passing hour.  i went from bargaining with myself that i'd find a boat to take me up the coast of the americas so i could spend a week with them before finding another boat to take me to england to jumping on an airplane and flying to boston four days later.  and with that, returning to a place that most of you have probably never even heard me call "home," because i haven't thought of it as home in many, many years.

my family lives in new hampshire.  it's a small state on the east coast, north of boston.  "home" is in a small town in the white mountains of new hampshire~the woods that inspired the poems of robert frost.  my sisters and brother and their families are now in the small capital city, an hour south of here, but i accepted my mother's kind invitation, and, after seventeen years away, i am living again with my mom.

she gave me the basement of her home.  i've converted it in to my own little sanctuary.  i have a large area for sewing and craft projects, plenty of room for my morning practice~in front of the most beautiful sacred space i've ever created~with stones from the forest in a spiral & a lovely dish with my crystals charging in the center of the spiral,  moss from the forest in clay pots, pinecones from our trees, bits of wood from the faerie forest in costa rica, river wood, etc...my bed is covered with the large patchwork quilt i sewed myself twenty years ago...the floor is riddled with books and papers and all the things i do...

it hasn't been an easy transition, that's for sure.  i've had to learn to separate the novelties of a visit from the things that aren't part of my life anymore.  it's been a challenge for my family, too, especially my mom, since she has to live with me.  we've had to come to some understandings, like that i don't watch television and she does, and that i don't talk before my morning practice and she's already doing the crossword puzzle & listening to the news, and that my practice is essential to my everyday life, so i'm not trying to be rude when i disappear for two or three hours.  and i've had to find balance for myself with things like dishwashers versus dishwashing by hand, non-biodegradable cleaning products,  and the ghosts of a rural mountain town.  the first weeks were really tough, and i still seek balance about many things, but it's coming. 

in the first weeks, i hurt my back moving heavy things and the pain stayed with me for far too long..it disrupted my asana practice significantly, and then when i returned to it, i realised the tension i was holding, the unspoken emotions that i had locked into my muscles.  finally, i pushed back.  i began a raw foods cleanse, to flush the sugar, the dairy, the resentment, the anger, the judgement, the frustration, the bad habits, the old habits, the excuses.  i started feeling my asana practice returning to normal, feeling the lightness of being twinkle back into my body, a welcome and  familiar feeling.  i observed my habits, my weaknesses, and i'm getting honest with myself about the compromises, the solutions (okay, you want to eat the cookies, so let's get the ingredients and start making vegan cookies without the refined sugar). 

and i know now why i'm here.  i'm here to be with my family.  i'm here to focus on my role as an energy worker.  i'm here to reconnect with the spirits of the mountains that birthed and raised me.

and i'm working now~i'm working at a spa and health club, teaching yoga classes and giving reiki treatments and greeting folks at the front desk.  and i've reconnected with a couple people, and i've made new friends~fellow energy workers~who i hope to develop mutually-inspiring relationships with.  and i've got a kick-ass bicycle.  mom's friend gave me her bike that's been in her garage since i was getting arrested for underage drinking.  the thing's probably older than i am, and it's in great condition.  i have to get the gears fixed, and i should find myself a witchy-poo basket for it. how apropos, eh?

and hopi, the infamous little neice you all must think sometimes is your own neice you've heard about her so much, likes to do yoga with me, and mom and anne and others in the family are asking for lessons.  and i'm sending lots of distance reiki (want some?) and although i am the family freak, they are more curious and more open, and anne and mom are really being quite understanding and supportive.  and the gap gets smaller to bridge, as anne reads and learns and implements more natural choices into her life, and mom asks questions and tries healthier choices.

and there are some symbolic new beginnings, like when i showed up with mad dreadlocks zinging out all over my head, and, because i had told my sister in an email about everyone getting lice at the panama rainbow gathering, as a motherly-precautionary measure she took one more look (although hanna and i were certain we got all the little buggers), and lo!  a fresh batch...and after a lifetime of sisterly envy of my hair, she finally got to fulfill her (somewhat perverse) fantasy, and lopped off all of my hair.  for the first time since i'm ten years old, i don't have long hair anymore.  gone.  now i have little curls and ringlets that dangle about as low as my chin at the longest, and zing out from the various places on my head, depending on how close each dreadlock had napped to my head.  it's a bit of maintenance, this hair business, but i'm getting used to it.  just have to get it wet, really, to get the bedhead under control, and the curls make up for the rest.  and another symbolic mention...my latest body oil...i was of course using coconut oil when i arrived because i was coming from the tropics, and arriving in the cold of a new hampshire march, coconut oil didn't match up to the dry heat of indoor heating.  and so, i chose walnut oil.  and then i learned that walnuts are about new beginnings. 

so here i am.  enjoying the maple sugar that flows from the trees all around me, the blueberries and apples that grow in abundance in this beautiful land; planting a fantastic garden for my mother and me, for my mother who is enjoying her first spring of retirement, and enjoying watching her new herb and flower garden take form; making great friends with ebony, the black siamese cat of my mom's who scares (and injures) everybody (including mom), but for some reason she and i are great friends, sleep cuddled together, practice reiki together, etc.; and watching the forest come alive...the bear that comes in the yard, the ducks that are nesting by our small brook, the magickal trail in the forest just down the road, the glorious mountains that give this area its name...how wonderful it will be to walk these trails again.

the new year fluttered in, and i fluttered on.

my journey was blessed from the start to be resplendent with natural beauty, as it began in semuc champy, guatemala. 
..........................
i walked along the well-worn path and came upon an enchanting pool of soft-green water.  the water gently trickled in from the endless lacework of dribbles and burbles and streams rich with bright green vegetation.  i swam to the first spot that caught my eye, and squealed in delight to find the water thermal-spring warm and the small, bright plants strong and firm.  soon, it rained, and in again i jumped, laughing and swimming in this enchanting pool while soft, warm rain blurred my view; its spatters crashed noisily into the faerie pool all around me.

walking along the trail above this first masterpiece of pacha mama, i admired elfin trees amid dark green waters, the colorful spiders dangling patiently in their grand webs amid the trees, and a waterscape of soft-green pools fed by gentle cascades of only eight or ten centimeters in height, fully bursting with green life in all directions.  eventually, i reached the trails' end, and the cautious guide allowed me to cross the fenced area and see the river that had until then evaded my view...the white foaming waters raged with deafening force.  it rumbled down the deep green valley, and plunged...the river plunged 300 meters beneath the surface of the earth.  i sat in awe at the gaping blackness before me, feeling the pull of its force into the black abyss.  the land above the hole dripped and hung with soggy vegetation, suspended precariously by the rockbed carved out from the raging waters.  the streams of water danced and scattered and created intricate designs all about; some trickled around the lush land, joining the roaring river as it plunged beneath the surface, and some curved away, curling and weaving thier individual patterns through and around the vegetation until the land halted briefly, and the waters getnly cascaded down eight or ten centimeters to a soft-green pool.  and below the pool, the waters dispersed again in fanicful rivulets, curving and swaying, joining and parting with one another until another small cascade joined them all again.  a land bridge, it was, and continued in this fashion for perhaps a kilometer or two, until the roaring river reemerged, as a gentle, placid riverbed. it was as if the festival above didn´t exist.

there are a handful of places upon this earth that have captured my heart, my spirit, my imagination, my admiration for the earth mother and her incredible, artistic abilities.  semuc champy joins those special places.

and thus began my journey through the natural wonders of central america.  although the journey through was very rapid-at times shocking me that i was crossing yet another political border, each night i sat along the shores of the sea, a river, or a lake, listening to the lulls, crashes, or rhythms of the waters, gazing at the starry skies, keeping time with the cycle of the moon.  each morning i bathed in pacha mama's artistic glory; her earthly scents, sounds, sights, and sensations...my morning practice, a morning bath, local fruit.

in honduras i spent the nights in anticipation of the rising moon, her warm, orange glow reflecting off the river's surface, her brightness illuminating the sihlouette of great tree behind me...in nicaragua i laughed in delight when i realised the waves were coming from three directions-a phenomenon caused by a hurricaine-created hole in the sea floor offshore...in costa rica i played endlessly in the soft, gentle tide that rose only knee-deep and moved my body about like a water nymph...in panama, i rested lazily in the wooden canoe that drifted slowly down the placid river from coclesito to cocle del norte, the only means of reaching this simple seaside village on the carribbean shores of panama.  i gazed with a familiar longing at the simple homes we passed along the way, yearning for when i can live in this way, sustainably, in union with the rhythms of the earth.

an hour walk along the beach, and i was home with my rainbow family.  creating home-space with kiara, the machete-wielding jungle goddess; speaking spanish with my panamanian brothers, whose patience and persistence-speaking slowly and clearly, repeating words or finding new ones until i understood-helped me realise that finally my spanish is better than my korean; spontaneous, powerful heartsongs with hannah; arroz, yucca, and frijoles for two weeks; persistent skin infections and flesh-eating parasites; rain rain rain rain rain; tarantulas on our tents; storms that washed away our beach and bridges; bountiful days of coconut juice dribbling down my face, coconut meat in my mouth and on my skin, coconut oil on my skin and in our dinner; healing injuries with fire-warmed noni leaves and local clay; witnessing the transformations of brothers and sisters who have just learned the ways of the rainbow family, of the peaceful way of life, and sharing in their joy; re-unions with sarah/guatemala, celia/mexico, caroline/greece, new-unions with hannah, kiara, toby, elsa, swami, and the rest; and so, so much more....

a fond farewell to family,  and back to costa rica and to punta mona, a community dedicated to raising awareness and teaching practical skills to anyone interested in living more in harmony with pacha mama.  and there i was reacquainted with tenasi, a beautiful brother and one of the pillars of stability, vison, and strength of the heaven on mother earth (h.o.m.e.)  community, a rainbow-inspired sustainable community on 300 acres of rolling, lush hillsides, waterfalls, farmland, and simple, community homes in western costa rica, and and home of the art of union manifesto (aum), the primary healing aspect of the community, offering retreats in healthy healing...this a community i stayed with for a week before the journey to panama and had ideas to return...and in those days at punta mona, i realised it was to h.o.m.e. i must return...to help tenasi plant all of the fantastic sprigs he collected from punta mona, to help plant the seeds shared with him by sylvio, and to bring love, healing, and goddess energy to the cave community of h.o.m.e....yes, a cave...a few, actually, large, fantastic caves atop one of the largest waterfalls in central america where tenasi is leading the work and the vision of creating healing space with gardens, kitchen, meditation space, and more.  hannah and toby are with me, and kiara will reunite with us in a month´s time.  please learn more about the place where i will be for the foreseeable future: www.artofunion.com is for tenasi´s work primarily, and if you´re on tribe.net, look at the tribe for h.o.m.e.

so yes...back to costa rica to spend the next months eating fresh fruit, deepening my morning practice and healing practices, creating, learning, growing, and being. 

if you ask the universe for what you truly want to manifest in your life, the universe responds. 

i send my love and blessings to each of you, each and every day.

in love and light,
karin

okay, you should know by now that i am an authority on good chocolate and suuculent desserts...as such, you must trust me that this cake recipe will change your world.  rock your world.  change your life.  you must make this cake.

**i apologise to everyone who doesn't use the same measurement system as the u.s....i don't know how to convert these things, so bear with me...

JENNA'S CHOCOLATE CAKE

Sift together in a medium-sized bowl:

    3 cups unbleached flour

    2 cups turbinado sugar (it's better for you)

    2/3 cup cocoa powder (unsweetened)

    2 teaspoons (small ones) baking soda

    1 teaspoon salt

In a separate, large bowl mix:

    1 cup canola oil

    2 cups cold water

    2 teaspoons vanilla extract (pure)

Add the dry mixture to the wet mixture in the large bowl and mix thoroughly.  Then add:

    4 tablespoons (the big ones) apple cider vinegar

Mix well and pour into greased/oiled baking pan.  Bake at 350 Farenheit for 30-40 mintues, or until it springs back to the touch.

if you must, ice it or sprinkle it with powered sugar, but i love it just like this... 

eat this, and you will be forever grateful that i am in your life...

...i met up with nate, a young guy from maine who was heading west~driving and moving across the country for the first time.  he picked me up in new york, at a farm house where sarah had kindly let me stay for ten days awaiting nate's arrival.  bidding farewell to the cats and chickens and gardens of sarah's, we embarked on our ride westward..we took back roads, stopping at farm stands when we were hungry, sinking our teeth into corn so sweet and fresh it covered my face with sweet corn sugar.  25 cents if you buy it from the farmer.  we rolled through small towns, sampling coffee~nate's big withdrawal from home was tha lack of a decent cup of coffee for several states~and enjoyed the local flavors..

i've done this trip a few times before, but not in many years, and never this much fun.  the changing of the landscape was measured by the terrain in which i peed~from new york farmlands to midwest prairies to rolling hills, and then onto the sage and other desert plants you squat over with care..the tall grasses of the ohio-region were my top pick.

in colorado my ride changed from nate to dave, but the pace was similar, except that dave takes loads of photos, so progress was slower, and elevation was higher, so camping got colder.  we stopped in many mountain and desert towns and along open stretches of road between boulder and burning man, and i met some great people.  we picked up yael at the reno airport and rode on to burning man~a festival in nevada.  not my festival, so i won't waste time talking about it.

we said good bye to yael in reno, and rosa, josh, and i carried on to san francisco..many funny tales in our days in the bay area, from jacuzzi-side spliffs at jc's to the nebulous womb of brian's lair..from rosa's misfortune when she backed over a new motorcycle to the polystyrine crow on josh's shoulder and days on hippie hill acting as catalyst for young americans looking to change things up..these friends from around the world, meeting here in the land of my origin..deepening our relations, solidifying our friendships...i'll be heading to josh's stomping ground for farming season.

onwards to earthdance, which is my kind of festival.  it happens simultaneously in 150 locations around the world.  the reason is the same:  world peace.  michael franti, zap mama, kirtan chanting, a trance dome, organic, delicious food, amazing, loving people and amazing, heart-warming connections, and a ride to boulder with a dynamic pair of sisters~aylah and alona, who paint any rainbow they come upon.  one rainbow we painted was in ely, nevada, a great little town on the lonesome highway through nevada, highway 50.  we visited my new friend jackson, a kindred spirit born and raised in ely, who sings the same heartsong as me.  we all had a night of karaoke, margaritas, laughter, and great conversation~aylah, alona, billy, jackson's dad, the forest service, and a smattering of other ely locals....

now i'm in boulder, visiting, experiencing, reorganising the way i think about this place i once called home.  my home base here is jenna's.  jenna and mike, farrah is three, ryder is 2 months, and kush the dog..in their house at 8200 feet, overlooking the valley, surrounded by aspens fluttering in the autumn wind.  they are family to me, i've known it since jenna and i met four years ago.  she is my sister.  i'm visiting ashley for a couple of days, and last night's laughter reminded me of this great friend who began as my roommate...i will also spend time with judy, of course, who i admire so much in this world of colorful, interesting people, and leland, the kindest heart around..and others~if i can reach them!!  looking for phone numbers, trying to make connections, trying to visit before i move on...which is just a few weeks away, and may get hastened if this cold weather keeps up!  we had ice at jenna's the other night, and woke to a dusting of snow yesterday...

mexico, here i come.

i've learned alot in this time in the u.s., in this journey home, and much of it i won't recognise until i've had time to sit back and reflect...i came here with intentions, things i wanted to learn, wanted to untangle, wanted to understand.  this visit has provided me that, with amazing memories, unmatchable connections, unexpected experiences, laughter, tears, abundance, hardships, love, frustrations, and chocolate chip cookies wherever i go.

what more is there?

um, yeah, so, all the merchants in india are going on strike to protest taxes..fair enough, but um, it'll happen any day now and it means all shops and (small?) businesses will be closed for seven days.  so, if you suddenly don't hear for me or any of your other friends in india for a while, that's why.

ciao ciao~

k~

hari om, hari om!!!

first, sorry a million times sorry for not writing more often, particularly to the people who are writing to me and getting no replies...i've been incommunicado for about a month now, first in an ashram for a couple weeks, then in a small hot springs village in the himalaya without milk or rolling papers, much less internet access.

phoolchatti ashram was my home for a couple weeks, at the confluence of the holy ganga and a tributary, the hem river.  beautfiul location, good time for yoga and meditation, and enjoyed the bahjan (chanting) circle by the fire every night before dinner.

left there and travelled north to uttalkashi, also in the state of uttaranchal.  the plan was to go to gangotri and badrinath in the higher himalaya, although everyone was telling me it was impossible as the road is closed for another few weeks.  i went anyway.  indeed, gangotri and badrinath are unreachable at this time, but the small village of gangnani (thank you to noam for that suggestion!) was reachable and equipped wtih hot sulphur springs...!

the mountainsides are terraced steeply with the local villagers farming..potatoes, carrots, and onions, from what i could tell.  we were seeking shelter under a roof in one village during a rain storm, and a villager offered for us to sit under the shelter of his proch.  soon, it was gettin g colder, and we all moved inside the one room he shared with his wife and three young children.  they invited us to stay for dinner and sleep the night, and when the hail started, we accepted.  the night passed with a warm fire and delicous dinner of dahl, sabji, chapati, and chawal, and copious amounts of chai and charez.  his wife hand-makes the charez, which made finding more to buy a more simple matter. 

another day we hitched a ride with a school feild trip to the end of the road (as close to gangotri a we could get), but the buses dropped us off when they were entering a military base, as foreigners are not allowed on the base.  someone vaguely mentioned there might be a restaurant we could go to, but no one really offered much in the way of suggestion.  we hoped to catch a ride back to gangnani with the buses, and the prospect of walking the 20 or so km was not all that enticing.  so, we walked up a riverbed and found a small cave, and made a small fire to keep us warm for a few hours.  time passed with gathering firewood and keeping warm, moments earmarked with more charez consumption.  eventually, we returned to the road and began walking, preparing to hitch with whoever passed.  soon, the school group came along and picke us up.  although our drivers were in a very different mental state than in the morning and looking for our reactions to their shitty driving more than at the road (something i didn't look at because, well, if i'm ginna die by sliding off a raod into the ganga, why know about it?)  anyway, somehow we arrived back and enjoyed yet another late evening soak in the hot springs.

we got quite friendly with the guy in the kitchen at our guest house, and soon he was walking by dropping off half a tora at a go of nice charez, insisting we make a chillum.  after a couplke of times, he started telling us we didn't make the chillums strong enough, "put all!  put all!"  all being about four chillums for us..at one point he was in our room smoking with us and told us that he and the baba or the village were smoking partners and smoked, "one tora, one day."  fuuuck. 

and so, we bade farewell to gangnani and after an adventurous journey down the mountain (climbing over a rock fall with our backpacks, almost leaving without the dog, etc), we embarked on a two day journey to manali.  yesterday was local bus hell, spending first 7 hours on one bus then 11 on the other.  yeah, so a long couple of days, but now in more beautiful, amazing mountains and quite happy.

that's my story.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

after a short flight from bkk to ccu, enough for two glasses of wine and a chat with my seat-neighbor, we arrived on sudder street in kolkata.  she had pre-arraged a room with her father, who met us at the airport, and he promptly deposited me into a rickshaw and instructed the driver to take me my desired guest house. 

the rickshaw seeemed to me like riding a horse, and that's something i don't like to do.  it's too high off the ground, and it's lazy~making another do the work of walking for two.  at one point i got out of the rickshaw and was walking with the driver (my bag was still on board).  i was trying to convince him to get in and let me drive, but he just smiled at me in amusement.  as you would, i suppose.

my first two nights i stayed at the capital guest house.  nothing special, really, just a simple room.  i now have moved to paragon guest house, which is a busy and lively place.  i'm sharing a room with four others, and there's a large rooftop patio outside the room where i hope i can do yoga.  the paragon is quite well-known here, it's a fun and friendly palce, both residents and staff.  and, there is a hot water tap near the bathrooms on the other rooftop...that makes me very happy....

most foreigners in kolkata are here to volunteer at one of seven homes started by mother theresa for the dying and destitute.  some stay a week or a few, some for months.  many return, or never leave.

yesterday i met nazima,  a bangladeshi-born girl adopted by swedish parents.  she came to kolkata last year to volunteer, her second trip to india, and intended to stay three weeks.  she stayed three months, then returned home to earn more money to come back.  people from home learned of what she was doing and gave her money to provide things for the people in the homes.  nazima has just arrived three days ago, and is giving herself a few days to adjust (jet lag) and rest.  on monday i will join her in the homes.  she has decided to work mornings at a home for disabled boys and the afternoons at a home for street children.  yesterday we bought some books and games for them from the money given to her by the people in sweden.  i also want to go to the home for the dying, so she will bring me there as well.  there is another home for mentally disabled women, and others.

life on sudder street is bustling and colorful.  many people live on the streets around here.  in the morning, the streets and sidewalks are wet from the morning washings.  there are pumps on the street, and people fill buckets for washing clothes and bodies. there are three-sided stalls for men to urinate along the streets, although i've yet to determine where the women go.  given the cultural norms, i would expect it's off the busy street somewhere.

people are very friendly.  many people~shopkeeps, motel workers, other volunteers, and street people resognize nazima from last year and greet her warmly.  people smile and say hello, especially the rickshaw drivers (and men in general) and some are quite humorous. 

pollution here is very bad right now.  the normal rate is 200 something-somethings, and it is now between 340 & 400 something-somethings around the city.  not sure why that is, but it's really dirty.  makes seoul air look like colorado.

the water of kolkata is said to be from an underground source, although still not safe for drnking.  i suspect this is due to old piping, as was the case in dominican republic when we were there some years ago.

there are small cafes with nice indian food for 20-50 rupees, about $0.50-$1.00 usd, or you can eat on the street, which is quite nice.  yesterday nazima and i had palak paneer (spinach and potato curry with rice, one of my favorites)  and pakora (deep friend potato thingys) for 12 rupees (about $0.25 usd).  fork not included, which is quite fun.  this man had a little bench where we sat and rested our plates on plastic barrels against the external wall of a building. 

we went to the new market last night, and each bought a salvar chamise, a contemporary indian dress for women.  it is a long shirt, below the knees, and loose pants underneath, with a scarf.  it is considered impolite here for women to expose their shoulders or knees, so salvar chamise is a nice, easy option.  these two were bargains, at 150 rupees each (about $3 usd).

also in the market, we met a nice man in the spice lane.  i was homesick for my own past kitchens as i perused the jars and bags of fresh spices.  this man, muhammad samid, invited us for tea.  so we sat in his stall and had a bit of chai and a really deadly cigarette.  i was dizzy when i stood up twenty minutes later.  this man was quite knowledgeable.  he challenged us to ask him the name of any currency or the exchange rate with the rupee.  of course, we could only do this for a few countries, but he got them all right.  he told us his shop was family-owned and operated, and introduced us to his brother-in-law and son, whose seats we stole upon arrival.  he said he is certain that extending hospitality and kindness to others is the key to happy, loving lives for us all. 

today we had breakfast with some men from a nigerian football (real football, not american) team.  nazima met them last year when she was here.  the girl knows everybody.

and i must buy a pen today, and exchange my book.  not the time to be reading about the gold rush of the american west.  i will stay here 7-10 days, i think, and move on to orissa.  rosa suggested a town in orissa she thinks i will quite like.  in my mind are ideas for the south, ashrams, vipassana retreats, and trekking.  also in my mind is the tsunami disaster, and when and where to help.  i know this relief effort will take many months at least, and know too that it is some time after-the-fact that volunteers are really needed, when it is no longer fresh in people's minds.  i am confident that when it is time for me to go to the relief effort, here or in indo with keith (he's introduced in the blog below), i will know.  just how it works out in my life.

okay, then, here's some light reading for you..and there is another blog i posted just before this that is a bit more serious and important than these simple musings.  please read it with consideration.

oh...yesterday i walked into an office and asked, "is this hotel reception?"  inside the office were two men seated purposefully behind their neighboring desks.  their hands were folded on the desks while stacks of papers and materials loomed overhead.  one responded confidently, "reception is upstairs.  we sell chocolate."  i nodded and said, "that is very good information."  naturally, i wasn't joking.

peace and love~

karin 

hello hello..

*sigh*...where to start?  ok, from thailand, i suppose....

an interesting time to be in thailand, with everyone affected in some way far or near by the tsunami.  we of course changed plans when we heard of the threat of cholera in the region, and went to koh tao in the gulf of thailand instead.  i talked at some length with emma and her roommates, who are the girls we were to meet in koh lanta, and the girls whose story i mentioned in the last blog. 

emma recounts they were standing on the boat, at the pier in puhket.  the boat (typically) was almost an hour late in departing.   they were going to koh phi phi.  their bags were stowed beneath, and all were waiting departure when a local man came running to the boat with a look of terror on his face, yelling, "get out!  get out!  run!!  run!!"  he was pointing behind them, to the sea.  they turned to look, and saw a mud-black wave ten meters high coming toward them.  they ran.  they ran to the village, where people were running in every direction and shouting.  people shouted, "go mountain!!  go mountain!!"  they ran, and stopped a man in a car who took them to a buddhist hermitage on the mountain.  there the monks and nuns provided food and water to the endless stream of people rushing in.  two waves followed, they know, but they did not see this from the hermitage.  later, at the airport, people were providing food and water to awaiting passengers.  some passengers were there with nothing but their swimsuits.  all had washed away~passports, clothes, bags, everything.  the airlines and government allowed people to board with no identification, and flew them to their home countries if desired.  the evacuation was swift and precise.  very impressive for a place we think has no plan in place.  hats off to the thais.

and the stories are endless.  everyone has one.  another girl andy knows was in her chair on the beach when her brother saw the wave coming from their third-story hotel room.  he screamed and yelled for her to run.  she did, to the room, and they watched while the water consumed everything below.  the water rose to the tops of the lower roofs, to just below the balcony on which they stood.  the others on the beach were not so lucky.

a wonderul woman of about 60-65 who i met in bangkok went out drinking on christmas night, and missed her 8:30 boat from puhket to koh phi phi.  she says all on the baot died.  she now prays to the heinekin god.

in bangkok, there are fliers in english pleading for blood donations, as they have no compatible blood for many of the injured foreigners.  along koh san road, the hub for tourists, there are daily updates of photos and written descriptions of the missing.  pages and pages taped along a temporary fence.  there are donation boxes everywhere in the city, makeshift drop-off sites for water and other supplies.  people walking around in bandages.  and this is only in thailand.

i know it seems abstract, something happening somewhere else and is hard to truly comprehend, and that is why i'm sharing these accounts.  my friend keith decided he cannot sit by and watch on the news while these people try and restore their lives.  it's not just money they need, they need hands-on help.  keith is flying to indonesia soon to join relief efforts there.  i will also help, either here (i'm in india now) or there with keith.  this isn't something that will be solved in a few weeks or even a couple of months.  the rebuilding of these communities will take a very long time. 

please consider coming to help.  come for a few weeks, come for a few months, come now, come in two months or five.  you choose based on what is possible for you.  keith is flying from london to indo for $110 usd, likely a rate through the non-profit, and we can find out if it's also possible to get you something very cheap.  cost of living is under $5 usd a day, probably less.  everyone and every skill is needed.  there is so much lost, so much missing, so much to do.

please contact me with any questions you have, etc.  keith is setting up a website donor bank of ppl who want to help.  i can connect you directly with him if it becomes easier.

okay, putting a bee in your bonnet there.  if you are uncertain about helping, please at least take some time to seriously consider it.  you don't need to decide today.  and, pass this and my email address along to anyone who know who wants to help.

love and peace~

karin

hey everyone,

arrived in bangkok yesterday to learn of the tsunamis hitting south of here.  we were going to koh lanta for new year's eve, but there's not much left right now, so i don't know what we'll do instead.

a few people we were meeting in koh lanta are already there, two live there and have a business, and were all there yesterday.  they said they were boarding a boat to koh lanta (i think from krabi) and someone saw the wave coming and yelled, "run!!"  everyone turned and ran, and all in that group were safe, although all possessions were lost. 

it's a truly terrrible situation for the people who have lost loved ones, and also for those who have lost thier homes and livlihoods, so please send good vibes thier way... 

stay in touch~

karin

hellooo...

As I'm preparing for the next chapter in the tale of The Adventures of Karin, I recognize that I never really told you much about my travels last autumn..so, I am now.  Below are two tales that have stayed as sweet memories in my mind~ones that always make me smile.  I hope you enjoy them!!

love,

k~