DIARY, INTERLUDE

I don't care if they all call me insane, if they lower their eyelids scathingly, scoff and ostracize me. If I sacrifice my soul to preserve my flesh and bones, what will I have left? If I offer up fulfillment on the altar of sacrifice, and slaughter my passions, machete chiseling blood, then my soul will wither and die, and if my body is a temple, then it will rot and crumble, and what will remain?



You think humanity should worry themselves with prosperity, upper societies, elevating egos, bloating bank funds, yet, these things are oil to the water of your soul, they can never touch its depths. Why should I care for them, sacrifice happiness for them? Soaked in greed, souls will spoil and curdle, to be thrown out. Society preaches it is better to be jaded, to keep loose coins clenched in our fists to dote on frivolous desires, than to feed a hungry beggar, than to provide a bit of comfort to a lost soul. Can’t you see, blindness of the soul has crippled and wounded the earth.



If I listen to you, and don't go somewhere because humanity suffers there, if I dress myself in a mask of ignorant naivety, then tell me how can I possess compassion? If I am afraid to die, as you are afraid, how can I live? I must stir the whirlpools of passion, be invigorated with life, fill my cup and forsake monotony.



For if I become these things that I hate, materialistic and superficial and greedy, in misery, than I am nothing but a corpse to bury, bury me standing. Instead let me offer of myself what little I have, to be a blessing to others, and let us be creatures of luminosity, united in love.

Photographs by Robert Moses Joyce

DIARY, TALVI (WINTER)

The day the dog died, it snowed a snow that suffered atrociously from vertigo, or acrophobia I suppose, a snow that could not be softly coaxed or charmed or even hypnotized into the dizzying teacup whirl of descent from its knitted womb in the wintry heavens. It came instead, in wavering, antsy wisps, aghast, as I drove into it, the baby’s breath sunset wolfed down in the west, and turning the knob of the radio to zero, to hear the hush-hush of the wipers consoling the snow, the cold rattle of lungs, I drove remembering the explosion I felt in Florida, the fire and its clammy palm put over me, and on the third day I rose with the boom of a space-shuttle breaching the earth’s atmosphere, and wondering, if it’s true, in life, that what goes up, must come down.

Photo by my dear friend Nishe.

ASIA ODYSSEY

Forgive me for interrupting the expected, but I've been so busy getting things ready for my odyssey through south-southeast Asia, in spring through the birth of summer (two or three months of traveling). I know I have lovely readers worldwide, so for those who live or have lived or traveled in India, Nepal, Thailand, Laos, or Vietnam (or surrounding areas), could you please recommend me any must-sees or tips? I'd especially love to see some traditional performing arts, music, dance. (I wish I'd seen more arts when I was in Africa and Europe!)

I can’t wait to be on the road again and to be among the beautiful lands, cultures, and peoples of Asia! I'm so excited, I could burst into tears. A dream come true.