Shiva is the God of the times, a god more personal than the surge of the tide or the lofty forests at home. Here was a god who howled and loved like tomorrow didn’t exist, who had his heart broken a hundred times when Sati burst into flames. A God who danced at funerals got stoned and forgave even the most hideous self-serving sinful lifetime for one act of perfect devotion. He felt a lot closer to my heart than Hosanna on high
If you want to meet women in India then ask the guy at your guest house to help you put a sari on or do it yourself and then go out into the market.
Indian women will cross the street to tell you that your pleats are a mess and swiftly retie the sari for you. In the process you can make a little conversation.
High winds will unsettle your average air sign, I want to stand out on the highway astride a broomstick and fly away somewhere, just go wherever the wind is going to blow me. What weighs me down is attachment to the belief that this physical world is as physically real as it seems in this dream we call life. In fact of course it is not as real as we want to believe and it’s this belief that keeps our minds and souls attached to this physical plane where there is evidence enough of the temporary nature of nature. It’s what makes us cry “not fair” and “why me?” in the depths of the dark night of the soul.