IT would seem I am destined to travel and inhabit small
rooms. I am so good at it. I find myself back in boston renting a
190 square foot studio which, interestingly, is very much like my place in
Mysore- minus the rat and smelly sink.
I have traded those for the sounds of the highway. When people ask how I
am doing, I hear myself say “I’d rather be in India”. A friend recently pointed out that I didn’t have to work
there. Good point.
Somehow I am so very skilled at creating my own routines,
and don’t really need the structure of a job. I am also very skilled at negotiating space and minimalist
lifestyle, which made the task of transforming this room into an
apt/office/yoga room kind of fun.
The key, I can tell you, is the lack of furniture.
Im having a hard time stepping out of the subtle plane. I find myself spacing out, almost on
purpose, as if it’s a way of life to be half-here. Oh, but I’m more here than ever before. I am altered, certainly, and I have the
hang ups, still. The change may be
this: I know there’s a whole
nother thing going on all the time, right here. All I have to do is tune in to the field of it. That rocks. I can almost feel it in my body without even trying so
hard. It’s like a tinkling,
sparkling that works its way up into my chest. On the runway in Chennai, I closed my eyes to say good-bye
to India and that was when I first felt it. I knew it was cellular, the change. And that its not going anywhere, and
that I am carrying something of India with me, and this is special.
When
I got back to the city I realized I feel more at home over there than I do
here. I welcome this. Except for that feeling that I am a
piece in one of those wooden kid’s toys with the cut outs in the shapes of
circle, square, and triangle. You
take the wooden cylinders cut into the same shape and insert in the hole. If you try the wrong shape, or the
wrong hole, you could sit there all day shoving and feel quite frustrated. Hmm, that’s me coming home this time. Circle in the square.
