Sunday, July 25th: 6 a.m. flight to New York. Leaving the warm, sunny, non-humid Portland summer for nine days in one hundred degree, sticky, muggy New York weather. I feel terribly sad for many reasons, and a bit lost, and a bit excited. I've never felt so alone and so self-sufficient, and it's all happening at the same time. My whole orientation towards love and devotion has to shift in order for anything to make sense.
Reading:
Yoga Mala by Sri K Pattabhi Jois
In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower by Proust
Listening to:
Govindas & Radha
The Veils: "Vicious Traditions"
Thinking about:
India
Flight
Disillusionment
Pain before freedom
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