Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas!
Alex and I made it to the sandy part of the Great Thar Desert, our final farthest stretching destination, in time to watch the sunset on Christmas Day with a couple of camels and play chase-each-other-in-circles with the sweet village boy who brought us out. And sing great hallelujah hallelujah in the open jeep beneath the full starry sky on the ride back to Jaiselmer.

Oh yeah, so we made it to Jaiselmer. Like any good adventure it was kinky, I mean, you know. Like with kinks. We spent two or three days more than was planned in Agra, many hours more than was planned at the Agra train station, and two or three days more than was planned in Jodhpur. The last leg was fairly a fairly epic Christmas Eve escape trick from Jodhpur but we made our bus and even had time to slow down in our rickshaw on the way there to pick up the omelettes that the omelette man had waiting for us.

• The birds in Agra - I guess they are messenger birds, or something, but there are flocks of birds that fly beautiful circles over Taj Ganj which is the part of Agra we were staying in. They are perfectly syncronized in their finest turnings like one body, like, you know, a flock of birds... I loved watching them from the rooftops and rooftop restaurants. There are guys who stand on the roofs too and whistle to them and swing a rope with a flag on it to talk to them, and sometimes the flocks land on their roofs for a while. They are beautiful when they land, they flake off sort of like a steep sandy hill crumbling down while still circling. I like it when people talk with animals. Our camel guide had a whole language of sounds...
• The Taj Mahal, I was surprised to find, is pretty awesome. It really occupies some space, like, it's really there. Was definitely worth spending an afternoon at
• Train friends! We shared a berth with a really sweet family on the way to Agra and I played word games and tic-tac-toe with the 10-year old boy (who was extremely hospitable, and was the leader in outgoing sociability) and 7-year old girl. And then when they were all asleep Grandpa (Dadi) shared his seat with me and asked me to teach him to meditate and we had a really nice connection. We exchanged numbers and would have been able to hang out with them more in Jaiselmer if we had made it here earlier, but I'm pretty sure they've left by now. Between Agra and Jodhpur the train was almost empty except for us and a boisterous band of young men (also on their way to Jaiselmer) who I spent a few hours making animal noises and being boisterous with. They thought Jaiselmer was boring, I think because there were no prostitutes, and left, but they still call me every day making funny noises. Not really to me over the phone, just to the world with the phone there. The phone is an excuse to exercise their native tongue.
• Oh, it's dinner time.
• Tomorrow we start our journey home, training all the way to Delhi, where we have 24 hours, and flying to London where we have a night, then to Minneapolis where we have 8 hours, and then to home where the heart is.

Wishing you solstice smiles and Jesus light

xoxo

Noa

Sparks

Ryan said this doesn't feel like a dissolution, it feels like an explosion. Of goodness.
Some sparks:

• Noa finished his Independent Study Project paper before leaving Bodh Gaya! (four hours, to be exact)
  
• Alex and Noa are headed to Agra to have tea with Mr. Mahal and then on through Rajasthan.
• Olivia is on her way hoooome!
• Aine will be setting up camp in Varanasi

yee, haw.

Have some avocado!

The Dharma is like an Avocado!
Some parts so ripe you can't believe it,
But it's good.
And other places hard and green
WIthout much flavor,
Pleasing those who like their eggs well-cooked.

And the skin is thin,
The great big round seed
In the middle,
Is your own Original Nature--
Pure and smooth,
Almost nobody ever splits it open
Or ever tries to see
If it will grow.

Hard and slippery,
It looks like
You should plant it--but then
It shoots out thru the
fingers--
gets away.

--Gary Snyder
shared with the blogger
c/o Paolo

And they hit the tracks again

Flying out of Dharamsala by Jeep now. I love this place.
Flashing, swirling pieces of home.

Homesick in Dharamsala

First Sunday of
Advent of longing and trying not to
Give in
To boredom and discouragement

Calendar weeks of waiting
Impatient
We make kora
Adding force to spinning prayer wheels
Stop

Before crossing
The line of crinkled eyes
All singing toward the hill
Where His Holiness is

Living in exile

I have no idea what this means

Voices hearty and hopeful
Chanting hands throw flour into the air and

Everyone in this city
Wants to go home

Sounds of Bodh Gaya

Funny how you can see a place once you leave it, and hear it...

-shrill blasts of bus horns
-bicycle bells
-clammering of tractors crashing down the street and their engines
-dogs howling all at once during the night
-cows
-hammers and saws
-loud, high-pitched, techno Hindi music at all hours
-Muslim call to prayer at sunrise and sunset, amplified
-goats, like disturbed children screaming or throwing up
-deep, droning recorded/live chanting at Mahabodhi, emnating from gates or nearby CD sellers, "Buddham, Saranam, Gachaami..."
-bell, 10 min. before class
-see previous list of phrases: shouted at you
-phlegm-hacking, coughing, and spitting of monks and pilgrims at Vihar
-mysterious creaks and movements in the night always possibly attributable to either:
a)hungry ghosts which are known to frequent the charnel grounds near the river across the street from the Vihar, or
b)Burmese pilgrims who keep odd hours, can be found up at any time
-chanting and instrumentation of full moon celebration "Hare, Hare, Hare, Krishna, Hare..."
-drums in the street for funeral processions
-microphone-amplified Hindi voice in the street for public announcements

-Written from Bir, the quietest place I've ever been

Added by Noa:

-"Hello! Washing?" from Balya Devi, the beautiful old washer woman with crinkles and light in her face.
-the sawmill next to the Vihar
-occasional wisps of otherworldly harmonium duets from the rooms of students who aren't supposed to make music in the Vihar
-someone who practices the synthesizer in a nearby village either has an amp of epic proportions or hooks their keyboard up to the village PA system

hello

You probably already know this, but while I am here, we are all safe and sound and not near the recent terrorism in Mumbai.

Angel wings,
Noa

Rajgir

I wrote this to Carol, and thought you might like to hear too.

yesterday i walked up a mountain, and then climbed off the path onto the high peak, whose wildness hadn't even been touched by all the human thoughts and words that were offered to it. rocky crags just the right size for sitting on. the air tasted clean and good. it was quiet, for the first time, except for birds. I mean no crazy bollywood music ... and drumming and honking horns blaring. quiet and big green valley. the peak was naked with prayer flags, faded, offered throughout the years. it was the mountain where the buddha gave the Heart Sutra, which we chanted on the other outlook about an hour later when the rest of my group came (most of them had gone on a chairlift to a different peak and temple first; Aine and I skipped that and hiked up to this one).

Languages of mountain and waves
More on languages later.

a blessing. Blessings are special when they are just for you. After though, things only grow when they are shared, right? So this is okay. For you too:

open expansive air and easy rock you can rest on up here
right inside

Snapshots of a New Obsession, Bodh Gaya: 3 Lists

I have a new obsession: list-making. It is enabled by the perfect travel-sized notebook Ellen Bodin gave me as a parting gift, which has become my "Book of Lists," vol. 1. For all of you who lose your "to dos" on little scraps of paper, I'm telling you, this will change your life. Anyway, on my lists everyday is this repeated item, "blog." I'm constantly convinced that somehow tomorrow or this coming weekend will give me a few hours where I can finally sit down at this blog to write a comprehensive reflection of what I've been up to for the past two months. Well, I'm working on it, but as I don't have a few hours (maybe during Independent Study), I wanted to share a few of my lists.

Top Indian Phrases Used Popularly with Us
(Note: in this context, the object the speaker thinks you want, (i.e. rickshaw) or something they want (biscuit) is used like your name in a direct address with no comma

Hello rickshaw

Yes please

Please come

No problem

Why not

Hello Madam

Which country?

Hello biscuit?

Hello Obama!

Favorite Restaurants in Town
(and why they make the list)

1) Om Cafe-the chocolate balls! Tibetan crafts
2) Mohammed's-the salads are safe to eat!
3) Thai-coconut lemongrass soup, spring rolls
4) Gautam's-nicest tent restaurant right across the street from the Vihar; let us set up a TV during the election; all the staff has become our friends, and the little boy that works in the kitchen is an amazing pancake chef

Foods I've Dreamed About/Daydreamed About the Most from Home

-All pizza, good and bad
-Chocolate ice cream, and Ben and Jerry's
-Salads, fresh, with dark greens, blue cheese, nuts; homemade dressing
-Summer fruits, freshly picked berries
-Apple crisp, the smell of it and the taste and crumbly texture
-Halloween candy-all kinds-someone's Mom mailed M&Ms and Skittles that showed up at our Halloween party and you can't imagine these treats to be such delicacies as they here seem
-Fresh apple cider, hot and cold
-Those cinnamony donuts they make at Clyde's cider mill, as enjoyed last fall with Britt and Kate
-Earth House veggie concoctions!
-Paolo's pancakes
-Pasta and lasagna made by Mom and Grandma
-Homemade bread
-Eggplant parm made by Grandma or Ellen
-Cold milk, safe to drink
-BROWN RICE

body rhythms

Like a chick tapping at, tapping through that eggshell when we know it's time
We'll hammer in the morning
We'll hammer in the evening
All over this land
We'll hammer out danger
Hammer out a warning
We'll hammer out love between the brothers and the sisters, all
over this land.

Today

My mom commented that my poetry seemed a bit delirious. I forgot to mention, I wrote those when I was in bed with a 103 degree fever. The doctor here called it an "infection in the gut," Robert (our program director) called it probably bacterial dysentery. But that's done with.

I'm going to the Dharamsala area for my independent study period, in less than two weeks. I think I'll be looking into the conversation regarding nonviolence as a political and/or spiritual-political method in the struggle for Tibetan autonomy/independence, among the Tibetan community-in-exile in Mcleod Ganj. What are the different voices in dialogue, how do they relate to non-violence (what are the ways in which it is essential, or wise, or frustrating but necessary, or useless)? What are the respective priorities and goals of these voices? How do they relate to and see each other?

So, the polls are open. Good morning.
I'm sending love to the USA express post straight through the ground. So much. And if reading foreign newspapers is any indication, there's a lot coming from every angle.

(Go ahead--push your luck. Find out how much love the world can hold.)

Let's let our prayers for good merge with those of all the doctors who would prescribe a different medicine than us, too, okay?

3 Short Items

To Precede a Much Longer Entry, Long in the Works

1. I don't know if anyone has tried to call us, but the Vihar has new phone numbers:

011-91-997-399-4286 or 011-91-631-320-2037

2. Would you like anything from India that I can bring you? I wanted to put it out there--don't hestiate to ask.

3. Can I ask something of all of you friends and family out there? Could you send me mail? And pictures of yourselves with your mail? I think I speak for all the WesKids when I say that getting mail here is like waking up on Christmas morning, or rather, waking up from the delusion of samsara to unsurpassable, true, complete enlightenment. Or something more wonderful than is imaginable. Our friend Claire sent the four of us a package with fall leaves and the Wesleyan Argus and it made our collective day. Speaking for myself, nothing is more comforting than seeing your handwriting, your return addresses, knowing I'm receiving something that has passed from your hands to mine. Many things are wonderful here, but few are comfortable. My request is for comfort sent through snail mail! Mail sent anytime before December 7 should reach us. Thank you!

I got this letter

Dear kid,

Was it so long ago that we used to play? You prancing in my meadows and battling my ogres, and I a glass bauble-world that would shake to stir the winds of change if ever you grew bored--

Through carelessness or trust I let you see me to my edge.

Let you glimpse your reflection on those deepest walls
the concave secrets of my root

____sky____and perimeter.

But it did not deepen our intimacy
Instead of understanding the depth of my caress,

The first thing you saw was your own mask, magnified in the curve of my accidental looking glass.

Entranced, you stood fixed
Gaping at my womb, and yet seeing only your shadow outstretched

First you worshipped that great shining man-image, offering to him whichever of your brothers and sisters were close at hand until

One day you saw that man to be yourself; and you rejoiced in your hugeness.

Still you stand, still you stare, dreaming that you are him on the other side of the looking glass; that you have outgrown me; that I sit as a globe on your mantel.

Quit this silly thinking, child!
You will never fall back through my sex.

Your actual body is wasting away by the pond!

Come play.

We also can make love in the meadows, and fighting ogres.

Love,
Your original true face

palimpsest

Mark me, scar me, burn me as you will
When I turn back inside out
The throbbing inner walls of my holiest of holies
Will be covered in fresh poetry
and stinking of life.

stream

Like finding a stream, in the pitch dark.
Don't listen just to the word, but to which direction it comes from.
"God"

blood-cousin

Pneumatic heart bodies
crackling lights

All your latest corpses
Are made of my corpses

Just try to wash your hands

----

(I was thinking, if washing soul is like scrubbing a tile to make it a mirror, then washing hands is like scrubbing a mirror to clean it of your face)

for the bugs

From dusk until dawn
thousands of grasshopper bugs
converged by deepest consensus of migratory instinct
to worship in the cold light of that electric sun
above the sink near my bedroom

In that sterile glow, some revelers launch themselves aimlessly
and with great force
raging in silence with their tiny power

while others dive headlong at the machine
again and again
Maybe trying to meet god, if I could aim my body just right this time
But only as iron filings are drawn to total and mindless attention
again and again
when compelled by the greater charisma of an equally mindless magnetic rock

Anyway, down the hall, another god. Across the street
yet more. In this town, billions of moments swarm around each indifferent idol

In the morning, spent
they carpet the floor, walls
and ceiling above the sink near my bedroom
all dead.

quotes

"The warrior knows that intuition is God's alphabet and he continues listening to the wind and talking to the stars" (Paulo Coelho)

"A teacher should bow close to the ground like a fruit tree" (Gautam, our Hindi teacher)

"We wear out the shoe of samsara by walking on it through meditation" (Chogyam Trungpa)

"For penetrating to the depths of our true nature... nothing can surpass the practice of Zen in the midst of activity... the power or wisdom obtained by practicing zen in the world of action is like a rose that rises from the fire. The rose that rises from the midst of flames becomes all the more beautiful and fragrant the nearer the fire rages." (Hakuin)

the bottom of the ocean

What is powerful and alive, warrior?

A pain wraps me around her finger.
___Splash into the liquid ground beneath us
___fall backwards
___sweeping gadgets papers money off a cluttered office desk
___into the ocean
___tip the desk and office in after

An enemy appears: tension, release, embrace

Threads like bubbles in a hose
try to pull me toward the surface
but their stickiness is gone
my stickiness is gone
they slide through me, and I sink on like a rock

The colors are clearer here, at the bottom of the ocean
Now that I'm blind
I have to feel them with my own two hands

Crossing the Ganges

Crossing the Ganges on the train out of Varanasi, sunrise. Windy open windows train. One of the most glorious moments:

-------

Sky shining
mist made of light

Ganga shining
masks thrown to the sea

A rowboat glides silent
through borderless intimate

Silhouettes bathe
at the shores of God

Hey there.

Hi. So I made it to India.

I have all sorts of notes for you from the last two months but it doesn't feel alive to write the earlier ones, I tried. Here's some poetry instead.

To Varanasi and Back

We're sorry it's been nearly a month since any of us have posted. We're being kept very busy here at the vihar. The past month or so has been so amazing and full in so many ways...it feels funny to try to blog it. But here are some of the things we've been up to.

We spent the first three weeks studying Theravada Buddhism and Vipassana meditation with U Hla Myint and two Burmese nuns. They were wonderful. U Hla Myint is one of the nicest, sweetest people...he was always cracking himself up...and the nuns were amazing. Meditating for 2+ hours a day has also been really amazing. Around the second week or so, the four of us ordained as monks/nuns for nine days. We were given robes to wear, shaved our heads, and upheld an extra five precepts. It actually turned out to be a rather uncomfortable experience for me. We were supposed to get our food before the rest of the community, and to eat separately; people called me "bhante" instead of Alex; and we weren't allowed to do any work, so people would clean up after us. It definitely felt like a hierarchy and made us all pretty uncomfortable...but a worthwhile experience none the less.

It's also been great to get to know Bodh Gaya better. We've been making lots of friends and trying not to stay too "sheltered" at the monastary, although some days we're just so busy that it can be hard. But we've recently started eating dinner outside of the vihar, which has been really nice. It's been exciting to see the different festivals and celebrations and to be making lots of friends.

Around the second weekend we had a meditation retreat, and the following weekend was our long weekend (no class on Friday or meditation all weekend). We spent our long weekend in Varanasi, or Benares, which is one of the oldest cities in the world. Aside from just exploring the city, we took a boat down the Ganges River, which was really beautiful, although a bit shocking, since many people are cremated along this part of the river. There were dead bodies and ashes along the shores. I also decided to buy a sitar - SUCH a beautiful instrument, I had no idea. We happened upon a concert of classical Indian music, and I got a lesson with the sitar player, which was quite exciting for me...

Now we're back at the vihar and we've just begun our study of Mahayana Buddhism and Zen meditation with our new Sensei, Ekai Korematsu, here on the right. We sit at the vihar in the mornings and take a rickshaw over to a Japanese temple for the evening meditation. Zen is totally different than Vipassana...it's really cool to get to practice these different techniques. Starting this week we're taking turns taking Sensei out to dinner in small groups. This weekend, we'll have another short Zen retreat.

We're also finally organizing our independent study projects. I'll be going to the Dharamsala Region, which is where the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan government live in exile, to study compassion as a healing force in Tibetan Buddhism. I'm gonna sit a retreat practicing Tibetan meditation, and I'm hoping to get to talk to rinpoches and other Tibetan practitioners.

We have so much more to tell you about, so many great stories, but now for evening meditation...

Bodh Gaya

We've finally made it to Bodh Gaya.

We left from Delhi (which was an adventure of its own) on Tuesday, and spent our 17-hour train ride to the Eastern side of the country looking out the window, singing songs on guitar (and learning them in Swahili), eating rice and dahl, talking, sleeping - and dressed in our beautiful new Indian clothes. We made it to Bodh Gaya, which is in the state of Bihar, around 10 in the morning.

It's been quite an adjustment to be here, in ways that I can't explain very well over a blog. The hot/humid weather, the number of people, the land, the housing, the poverty unlike anything I've ever seen before...One image that stays with me is of this kid, who looked about 6 or 7, who held my hand all the way out of the train station, begging and pointing to his stomache. I wanted to help him, but a teacher on our program asked me not to, because kids often get in fights over money at the train station since there are so many of them. And even buying things for kids is difficult...I bought a kid a dictionary the other day, but then learned that kids will frequently sell the dictionaries back to the store for money, which they often don't even get to keep (but are forced to give to street leaders in order to make their weekly "quota." Anyway, I could clearly go on and on about this, but its enough to say that being here is quite a transition, and I'm learning a ton.

I got a wonderful welcome shortly after arriving here. My friend Angus, from Wesleyan, made some friends in Bodh Gaya when he participated in the program last year, and he told them about Noa and me before we arrived. So Angus' friend Rohit was here to welcome me. We went out on his motorcycle, and he took me to his village, Sujata, named after the woman who offered milk-rice to the Buddha before he attained enlightenment. He show me Sujata's house (now a stupa), the hills where the Buddha wandered for 6 years, and took me to his own house and introduced me to his family. I felt really welcomed.

I haven't even gotten to explaining how amazing our program itself has been - the people on the program, the meditation teachers, everything - but I already need to head back over the the vihar for tea and evening practice. In short, everything is amazing. I'll elaborate more later. For now I leave you with a picture of the Mahabodhi Temple, which is located right in the spot where the Buddha acheived enlightenment 2500 years ago, and is about a five minute walk where we live. It's beautiful and radiant. We've gone a few times to meditate under the Bodhi Tree and sit where the Buddha sat. It feels alive. But really, so does our Vihar, and the rest of India. My heart is opening and opening everyday, one little crack at a time.

Wandering Forth (Manifesto)

My last/first entry was evidence of a messy parting from home. A word of advice: Never mess with scheduled international flights (unless you are a very frequent flyer with miles). I thought I could change it and that that would make my goodbyes go smoother; make me finally ready to leave. Wrong, wrong, and well, yes, due to the consequences of aforementioned incorrect assumptions.

The way it turned out, after running around a maze (unlike a labyrinth, it has dead ends and bad decisions and discursive circuits) of maddening airline phone recordings and strained conversations with airport employees, I ended up dragging my beloved parents and my sweetheart, Paolo, along for the ride back and forth to the airport twice, in order for me to catch my originally scheduled flight. (Still apologizing, guys). By the time we arrived, we were all in tears.

To thicken the plot and heighten the level of tension, frustration, and drama in the car, I threw up, and into a leaking bag at that (despite Paolo’s quick-witted efforts to capture and contain it effectively; still thankful, sweetie). If puking can be romanticized, I would call it “purgation” to use the term of St. Theresa’s Threefold Mystical Path, often the name given to the first stage of walking a labyrinth, the way we understand the entering, releasing, going in.

It was a horrible day for everyone involved, (and not involved! As a result, I didn’t get to say goodbye in person to my little sister Kiera--still sorry about that, too; LYLAS!), yet when the time of parting was upon us, we all hugged in a circle, and through our tears, we all started laughing. In spite of my nervous stomach, I felt a strange sense of calm come over me, once I knew it was impossible to leave at any other time. (Impossible=$2000. See aforementioned advice about not changing international flights. :) ) The world, and my loved ones, were saying, “No, go, you are meant to take this journey.” (And in the case of my loved ones, perhaps, “P.S. We can’t handle your crazy mazes anymore! Good riddance!” Just kidding.)

Tonight, writing from an internet café in London with a new friend from the program the night before we fly to India, I’m no longer scared, because the truth of the wisdom of Noa’s title here has been shown to me.

Everything is falling into place around me at an alarming rate. It’s all I can do to stand back at bit, amazed and grateful to the world and all of you supportive angels here in it. Like the day I walked labyrinths with Noa and Alex (and Olivia, in spirit :)) in Sibley, we are singing a birthing song and it goes like this: “We are opening up in sweet surrender to the luminous love light of the one.” As Rainer Maria Rilke puts it, “There is only one journey: going inside yourself.” We are all walking this labyrinth to the center of ourselves. We are all meant to take this journey.

In preparing for this pilgrimage (preparation being, as I learned from the program’s wonderful director today, one of the first steps in Joseph Campbell’s described archetypal journey of the ‘Hero of 1,000 Faces’, perhaps like purgation), the writing and teaching of the woman who gave the labyrinth back to our time, Rev. Dr. Lauren Artress became incredibly important to me. (Still thankful, also to have learned from her in person this past summer. It’s such a challenge to be fully appreciative in the present moment. Now I can’t believe I had that privilege and didn’t appreciate every second of it, you know what I mean?)

Anyway, in her a-maze-ing book (shoutout to Dad, Paolo, and Mr. Cannamela, the Kings of Corny Puns), she writes about the difference between pilgrimage and tourism. As she depicts it in the book, and as I wrote about in my Buddhist Philosophy paper, (I don’t have the book with me on this trip, regrettably, but as I recall), Rev. Dr. Artress attends a conference and hears a biologist, Rupert Sheldrake, say that the number one thing he would do to begin to effect change in the world would be to ‘change tourists into pilgrims.’ She writes about what it takes to make this change, saying that pilgrims come humbly, with vulnerability, knowing they “may not be welcome,” and she designates that, “Tourists observe. Pilgrims participate,” (63). (Walking a Sacred Path: Rediscovering the Labyrinth as a Spiritual Tool. New York: Riverhead Books, 1995.)

We are prepared to take this journey, to participate in Buddhism, to participate in Indian culture, to take a road to a new place, to find ourselves at home again, to carry home in the center of ourselves. There is only one journey. We are wandering forth.

London

Hello!

I was feeling too humbly-grumbly to write a little while ago, because I got up early hoping to call British Airways about my luggage and go back to sleep, but half an hour on hold foiled my plans. The happy ending is that being up early gave me the chance to serve our lovely host Paul a warm breakfast on his way out the door. Which set me smiling again. And then, listening to The Lion King (circle of life) while stretching and looking out over London from our 17th story picture window made my body smile bigger.

So, we made it to London. The flights were smooth and easy, a lot of sleeping. Alex and I accidentally exited through customs in Brussels instead of staying in the terminal so we had a little adventure making it back in for our connection. But we made it. Our bags were lost (so lost) but I was kind of expecting that and everything important is still with me. I actually feel quite clean, considering the fact that I have been wearing these clothes since Friday morning. It's like the miracle of Channukah! (don't worry though, they found our bags in Zimbabwe somewhere yesterday. Alex's is already here, short only a wheel, and mine should come soon.

One of the most amazing things about England are the names. Leaving Heathrow, we took the Piccadilly line, service to Cockfosters, and transferred to the Jubilee line to Swiss Cottage. The neighborhood next to us is Chalk Farm, and there's a building across the street called Godolphin House. Anyway.

After lunch at THE Swiss Cottage on Saturday, Alex and I discovered a magical fountain/fun machine/wet water experience in a park and splashed around next to some toddlers for a minute. Claire's advice for travelling was, if an opportunity presents itself, do it—solid advice, which has probably nudged me in the right direction more than once in the last week.

Before we could walk a block from the magic fountain of Spraychildton, we got grabbed for our first football game of the semester... they were two players short. It was a small field (way more fun), caged in, small goals. Good stuff. So we had a blast playing football with some dudes for an hour or two, before continuing on to the Thundera flat.

When we got to Dorney (the apartment building, or "pillar" where we've been staying) we met the kind individuals who are putting us up for four days. Paul is really fun, and one of the most genuine people ever. He somehow manages to be absolutely mild-mannered and EXTREME at the same time. I don't mean like James Bond or a pro BMXer, I mean like, you know that sort of funny where something not too crazy will happen, and someone (like maybe me) will make a really extreme face and throw their arms in the air and fall over? Well Paul has something of that playfulness but then plus British, so he doesn't need to fall over, he'll just raise his eyebrows and proclaim "It is on...!" .... I can see how the English might have good theater. re.

That wasn't a theoretical example, by the way, it's actually what Paul says. Every other sentence. Sometimes mixed up with "Is it on?" or "Not on!" as the need arises. A good, good man. He also works with young people and is a reluctant preacher. Well mainly I like the sound of reluctant preacher.

Leslie, his wife (who is four months pregnant) is incredibly sweet, and always makes me feel like she's interested and wants to be friends. Fred and 'G' were the two others I think who actually pay rent... they're nice and friendly and cool too.

So we were welcomed in the laid back way that comes from having people come through all the time... talked about U.S. politics, watched ridiculous YouTube videos about U.S. politics, had a lovely dinner prepared by Fred, and proceeded to play a four-hour, six team game of Risk. Ridonkulous.

About seven or eight couchsurfers slept over that night. No, it's not a big apartment. Yes, it's love. But really, that little world tucked into the 17th floor of Dorney makes me smile for humanity. It wasn't epic, just really nice, and chill. There were a lot of different languages being spoken, which was fun, and definitely some interesting characters. William, from Paris, who is some sort of accounting auditor who meets with CEOs and wears a suit by day... who has been couchsurfing for the last two months with only four nights in a hotel. He's saving up for freedom, to be able to travel and roam for the rest of his life. Mattias from Austria wanted to be WOOFing in New Zealand but due to a work permit glitch had to sleep in the New Zealand airport for 3 days before being deported... so now he's in the UK, which was his second choice. Mattias says we break every American stereotype, and he really likes Jon's ignorant southerner impression. Cough.

Lunch in the semi-open market in Camden Town, which is really awesome. Philosophy, Buddhism, humanity, capitalism, and life discussions at not-too-loud-pubs and one extremely loud nightclub with new friends, Jon and Neha (and Olivia's with us at this point too, as of Sunday). MarioKart with Paul, Fred & William at home. Lentils and Rice. Lots of walking around. The Tate. The British Museum. Highlight: They have a Maori statue there, one of the ones from Easter Island. Or it has them. Alex said it was wierd to see in a museum. The British Museum seemed to me like an ironic twinkle of a moment in the lifespan of this one. I spent about half an hour with it.

Soon, I'll meet the rest of the folks on our program! Maybe like many layers of fresh and fun new chemistry, and when they peel away in the heat and cold, some solid and juicy old-friend fruit on the inside. We'll see, when life does the peeling. Imma lovin' the outsides so far and don't need no hurry.

I really like London, I'm glad I'm here. I'm excited for what's coming.

Much love and play!
noa

Aug 30. The Sky.

Sunrise from 30,000 feet is incredible. It started as a bright red glow that wrapped more than halfway around the horizon (had we been aimed toward the sun, I would have been able to see it out of the windows on both sides). The red glow grew into a thick band of gold and orange and the light kept pouring in. With a flat horizon and sunrise as far as the eye can see, it's the magnitude of this event that gets me. It's amazing to think that this happens every morning, everywhere. And the sun is always rising so really it's just this incomprehensibly huge tide of light flooding across the planet, unstoppable, at hundreds of miles an hour.

We're tidepool creatures. When the tide is high, we are suffused. Active, free, and nutritious too—we drink the vitamins with our skin. At low tide, we can see the stars. When the water first pours into our pools each cycle, and when it trickles out at last, it's kind of magical...

As the tide continues to rise, its light catches on the rippling expanse of wet cloud between me and the atlantic ocean. The bible talks about the waters below and the waters above... I don't think I ever really got that—the water's above part, I mean—until now.

Finally, the queen herself emerges. Slowly, heralded by a shining cloud above. Naked and dripping. Glory.

Late Fees and Alerts!

Noa, Alex, and Olivia,

This is the crazy quarter of our Wesleyan group writing to say that I am not going to make it to London tomorrow as planned. I got too sad sending my brother off to college today to leave home myself tomorrow, and I need the extra time to get ready. I hope you have fun and I'll see you on Wednesday!

Love,

Áine

To do in London

Post ideas in the comments section!

So far we have:

• Leave London (Paris!)
  
• Leave London (Stonehenge!)
• Museums
  
• The club Fabric was recommended by an intoxicated Londoner who studies at Cal
  

Exclamation One

Great balls of Buddha! A traveblogue!

If you're here, you've heard that Olivia, Alex, Áine and I are going on a bearhunt an adventure. Maybe pilgrimage is a better word (more on that later). Setting out for home again, really. Like walking a labyrinth. As Leora said, a little bit like a ladybug coming to the edge of a leaf. Gonna catch a big one.

Okay, so we're spending a semester in India. Here's a rough overview, if you're into details:

We'll be in London for about a week first, then to Delhi for a short time, then to Bodh Gaya, where we'll be living for nine weeks in the guest house of a monastery, sitting still a lot, and moving around too. Making friends. The eight ball says we'll probably do clarity and crisis. If you asked our transcripts, they'd tell you we're studying Buddhist culture (Áine), Buddhist philosophy (Áine, Noa, Alex), and Hindi (Noa & Alex). They'd be right. Olivia what classes are you taking? After nine weeks in Bodh Gaya, we'll have three weeks to do an independent study project. I don't think any of us know what we'll be doing then, or where. Then back to Bodh Gaya to finish up the program. A bit more time in India for Áine, Alex and I, and on again to the Western hemisphere.

Unless you're at Wesleyan, you probably only know one or two of us at this point. We thought it might be fun to pool whatever updates we send out, so that's what this is for. Well then.

Into the caverns of tomorrow, with just our flashlights and our love, we must plunge, we must plunge, we must plunge.