and rooted myself
Attaining a state of being
of which seems unmatched elsewhere
I’m in Pushkar
The longer I stay
The deeper I go
To a place where I am not conscious of what’s outside
Even beyond the walls
around the corner
beyond doorways
My fuel is chai, street food, stimulation, friendships and love
Sitting on a plastic stool at a chai shop in the street
Watching the world go by
Sipping chai for hours
Hours? What is time here?
My room
My home
Includes high arches and coved shelves
Fully unpacked
Flowers and breezes
Rays of sun shining through ornate vents
This amazing space I live in is on the roof of my guesthouse. The roof a chillout space with its center an enormous Neem tree
Living and growing
Extending its healing branches
Providing shade
A resting spot for flocks of green parrots and an occasional monkey
Strong limbs supporting a lazy sun bleached hammock
The travelers here are like family…
Individual wanderings by day
But all come together at night…
Sharing chillums and friendship and stories and silence.
In the day in the sunshine we do our laundry by hand in buckets until there is the damp fluttering of sarongs on the line above.
The Holi festival fell during my stay here. This is a celebration similar to the vernal equinox, the coming of Spring and warm weather. However, here enthusiasm is evident with bright colored powder and paint sprayed though the air. The dark side of the festivity is the licentious groping and fondling of any women outdoors…and just the right lure for any curious female traveler.
Like me
With 3 Australians, two of which are male for our bodyguard companionship, I ventured into the mayhem. Arriving to the main square in Pushkar we were ecstatic to find a trance party with massive speakers, 
pink and purple everywhere and hundreds of bold and roaming hands. Assuming a funky kung fu type dance, I was able to stay and boogie…
amidst the cloud of color and people from all over the world dancing together…all with the same purple skin color
Solidarity
(except for the damned groping)
3 days afterwards I am free of all traces of the dark pink that coated my body.
Except my hair. I have vibrant fuscia above my forehead where a streak of blonde had been.
I’ve been having a difficult time getting motivated to write what I’ve been up to. My experiences are those not easily explained with a description of architecture, landscapes, people and itineraries. The opening I am undergoing is going deep and to attempt to put it in writing won’t capture the
acceptance, confidence, humility, family, gatherings,
sparks, magic, lust, love,
pushing my limits,
turning the tables,
seizing opportunities
melting
Yes, melting
I have met the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on
Spoken with
Shared beauty with
…
He’s an Israeli named Silver and he has dread locks down his back, dark skin and green silvery eyes. If that’s not amazing enough he is traveling in
He left this morning…going north.
I am going there as well
But on a different time/experience frame
If we are parallel in reuniting
Well…
It gives me butterflies
When I arrived to Pushkar I visited a man who a friend I met in Bodhgaya advised me to see. A magical timing…I knocked on his door and he sat inside fully packed and waiting...
I sat with him for an hour and we spoke about possibilities and religion. Ultimately I brought up the depressing Indian past life reading I received in
I don’t know what to believe but I can identify light
and his words were shining.
As I departed we engaged in a figurative exchange
I asked him what I should do to protect myself from the mean dogs outside of his guesthouse.
He handed me a small cube shaped stone and told me to hold it in my hand.
If the dogs approach I am to be strong and feign a throw
Hold the stone
photos of Pushkar
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