I am remembering:
Remembering what it felt like living amongst the notorious Himalayan mountains.
Everything felt like fire.
From the incense to the gongs.
Everything was sun.
Everything was rising.
I felt within me all of this.
I remember sitting on the roof tops drinking in the shadow of the glorious mountains as Foti made music on his hand crafted didjeridoo.
The full moon covering the sky in a brightness that made our skin silver.
The fire roared and then settled into a constant slow crackle.
We told stories of our travels: Both the inner and outer sort.
India was hard for me.
A clash of all things that make my heart squirm.
Yet it was a birth for me too.
“Snake and moon both die to the old, shed their shadow to be reborn.”
In these mountains I became a new woman.
I discovered much of my life’s soul work there.
(Although I did not know it yet.)
Much of what I knew up until this point was about to be shed, questioned, forsaken.
I would launch on a new quest that both excited me and scared me.
I am remembering this time in such a hallowed way.
It was a time of overcoming all that had overcome me.
The sweet taste of this place lingers in my mouth.
I want it again.
I long for the movement that happened there.
Small movements that gave way to the BIG cracking open of my soul.