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I couldn’t have been more frustrated. More people in India have mobile phones than running water– and yet, here we were stopped in front of Sandesh the Prince — another palace cum hotel, not a one of us with an address or telephone number for Sandhya’s. Did I mention that this was a group of people who, in general, didn’t much care for groups of people? Figuratively and literally, we’d been down this road before. A week prior, we had ended up at Sandesh, our driver having misheard our request…

My first full day in India fell on a new moon. One of my favorite things about following a lunar cycle is the tiny bit of joy I get turning my iphone’s little green “alarm” switch from it’s perpetual “on” to it’s quiet white off. There is a visceral unraveling of inverted anticipation. Prone to waking up a few moments before my alarm, this very rarely happens on a moonday. My body just *knows* what the deal is. My loving partner Michael is generally pretty glad that we ashtangi’s take…

Is it telling that I slept on the car ride from Bangalore to Mysore? The last two times, I was wide-eyed, heck, WILD-eyed, sitting on the edge of my seat. Not unlike my dear pooch Sebastian with his head out the window, I couldn’t help but marvel. Everything was so foreign! I had never seen anything like, well, anything I was seeing. It was all so new. It was all so different. How had some of it become a bit… pass the salt? I’ve brought a plethora of books to…

[quote style=”1″]be intent on action, not on the fruits of action. avoid attachment to the fruits. — (Bhagavad-Gita 2:47)[/quote] The walls shook, the windows shattered. Each and every family member was sliced by the implosive force of the atomic bomb. In the back of the Yamaki home was a garden full of exquisite trees. Not cloud piercing orchards full of fruit-bearing blossoms, but a collection of diminutive  trees and gardens of cool water-rubbed stone. Some gave a sense of whimsy, the kind of tree and knoll atop which a fairy…

Seamus Heany passed away.  Sparked into a flush of memory by a friend’s lament towards the end of summer, I was coated in the thick stain of Heaney’s lingering words: A extra juicy reading of the poem can be found here, at good ol’ NPR. Blackberry Picking – Seamus Heaney [quote style=”1″]Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like…

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together. This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we…