Fantasy and Nightmare

I’m in my room now. I must have gotten up around 3:30am. I lied in bed for about an hour thinking about you and talking to you. I told you about a nightmare I had. I had your full attention. This is my fantasy. I began with the most detailed aspects of the dream first, I jotted something down and you read it and gave a critique while I regaled you. You nodded and I continued to tell you about my dream: it was terrifying. I was alone and encumbered (as per usual) with a dozen things. I saw you walking around my new apartment building so I stopped to say, “Hello”  but you were too engaged and focused on something/someone else. I grew despondent and a bit jealous and bitter so I left and went to my apartment. When I was there, I realized that I had forgotten something and I needed to leave immediately to retrieve it before my next engagement. I left my apartment, with all my things strapped to my body, and headed for the store. On my way out, someone stopped me and asked me for help, so I stopped momentarily before I realized there was nothing I could do to remedy the situation so I decided to keep moving.

At the store, I looked around for a cart and tried to remove some of my belongings. There, at the entrance, stood a man, handsome and tall and eternally transfixed on my being. He gave me an eerily piercing gaze and I shuddered. I tried to leave quickly but he approached me and began jeering me in the most unpleasant manner. I could not leave somehow, or didn’t want to appear frightened, so I stayed in the store. He continued speaking but changed his tone to more of a supplication of sorts.

He told me that I was the most captivating creature he’d ever seen and that I ‘belonged’ to him. He said that I should accompany him to his home and stay with him. His tone and directness terrified me somehow. Then, I saw you in the store; you were wearing plain clothes: a t-shirt and bermudas or sweatpants so I ran to you, seeking your protection but again you were preoccupied and unaware of me. It was as if I could do nothing to get your attention. That was my nightmare.

I left the store alone in hopes to get away from the man but he pursued me and became more forceful and aggressive with me. At that moment, flustered and hopeless, I dropped my belongings and closed distance with my attacker. I fought him until he was on the ground and berated him with insults. I got a second wind and showered him with more blows until he begged me to stop. I couldn’t stop. I wanted him to breathe his last… I wanted to see the life exit his body. I was determined to see him dead. I can’t remember the rest of the dream, only that I met you again and I begged you to make love to me. You didn't pay attention to me otherwise.

Serie Anonimo

Anonymous Series

La Primera/The First

One of the final things you said seemed unenlightened from my perspective. Though I could bring myself to understand or accept this situation as a reality for others, it never crossed my mind that, perchance, such circumstances would ever fall upon me or mine. That is, if you would allow yourself to be mine. You broached the topic carefully and I understood it immediately for it was of sensitive and somewhat scandalous nature.

La Segunda/The Second

Today I felt particularly drawn to you. I wanted to tell you about something that happened over the weekend but it wasn't exactly appropriate and we had company. I can't tell you how much I love talking to you alone in your office. I really like it when I hear you playing some music or practicing alone in there between classes. That's why I peek in and sit with you, even if I don't have anything of interest to talk about. Sometimes, when you get really quiet, it feels cozy and safe, even if we're sitting far apart. I'm glad I met you and that we're becoming friends because I feel like I can speak freely with you unlike others. I feel like we've been friends for ages, possibly lifetimes, and that you understand my subtle moods quickly as well as their cause. I don't have to reveal much to you; intuitively, you perceive and understand everything perfectly such that at times I feel you're a mind reader! I feel that you sense my eagerness when I walk in the door or the hesitation by the sound of my dragging feet or defensiveness when I hide out in the room alone for a while listening to music or watching puppy videos. Sometimes, we don't have to say anything at all but remain silent, comfortably in each other’s presence. Why wouldn't you feel the same around me if I feel that way about you? Isn't that how Mother Nature designed attraction and coded this into our biology?

La Tercera/The Third

Oh, when she came into your office I wanted to rush her out. I know she has a bit of a crush on you and, though I understand her, I frequently feel irritated when she simply barges in or when she interrupts or distracts you from our conversations. I feel that way and I think you do as well; in fact, I’m sure you can sense my annoyance and jealously of her. You love her so much and she loves you but I’m starved, absolutely starved, for your attention. Pay attention to me! Why don’t you ever look at me when I gaze lovingly at you? Is it that you’re afraid to make contact with me? I assure you that I desperately desire every bit of your affections and attentions, but frequently I feel your trepidation and fear.

Is it that you’re ashamed of me? I’m not ashamed of you. I want you—every part of you but I also know your position. You’re in a position of authority and power in so many ways and your life is very public to your students. Why wouldn’t you feel a bit ashamed of me? I represent every unethical possibility and disastrous outcome and scandal. I promise I’d do my best to keep your public life safe from prying eyes and use utmost discretion. Couldn’t it work if we sat down and carefully planned ahead?

Behind The Mask

Yesterday I was frustrated and on the precipice of a heart-wrenching and conflicting realization. I desperately wanted to burst open and pour out all my thoughts, feelings and anxieties but I resisted. I resisted even in the presence of someone with no personal connection to my past or present circumstances or any personal bias. I resisted because I was afraid that someone would finally see me for who I really am rather than the mask I flash before them. Someone could unearth the interred remains of an identity I desperately tried to suppress and stifle ages long ago. For what more terrifying monsters lie in wait for us than the visage of our most repulsive and impulsive selves? Am I subhuman? A monster? Selfish? Greedy? Lusty? Unabashed? Impetuous? Immoral? Deceptive?

Later, I began an uncomfortable conversation with myself in hopes of alleviating some of the internal strife only to unravel further the tangled, mangled mess and catch fleeting glimpses of a new identity with complex and apparently contradictory beliefs and values. Who am I? Who have I become? Why do I continue to resist knowing full well the repercussions of isolation?

Stir Crazy

So I won't pretend that I'm elated about this winter break. I was supposed to go to India but decided the money could go to better use: a decent violin bow for one & a halo sport. I really, really, really want them and I have very, very, very strong, convincing rational arguments in favor of both. They're my Christmas presents to myself. That's my argument.
The week was a blur. I got a pedicure finally and that was the most relaxing thing I did. I meant to take naps and get a massage but didn't get around to it. What's worse is that I don't know what I did besides study, practice and run errands. I can't remember right now, really.
I haven't practiced much but primarily because I wanted to give my left hand a couple days rest. It feels much better now and no cramping so far. I should be playing my instrument more but I get an hour in at most before I'm distracted by someone or something. Tomorrow I'm going to pick up a bow at Jay's with Ramon and Chandaneswar.
I took my Chemistry exam yesterday and I think I passed the class. I better have passed. I don't give a damn about the grade at this point because I feel like I stressed myself out about that course during the semester. I need to take it easy & learn to chill. I don't think I know how to chill. I've been going stir crazy if I have to spend more than two hours at home alone. I find things to do. The other day I carefully brushed and vacuumed my rug because I had a spare hour between practicing and lunch.
Bike ride! Yeah, I went on the trail... my butt is still sore. That's it.
Reading! I've been reading more devotional literature.

Work Out

Today I felt really sick in the morning. I felt nauseous and queasy and just gross. I thought I was going to throw up but I didn't. After a quick lunch, we went shopping for a few items and headed to school. There was a percussionist featured in today's recital and he was amazing. After class, I dropped off my husband at work and picked up my son from school. We were supposed to go out shopping for new school shoes but I felt really lethargic, weak and I had a headache so I decided to take a nap. On top of that, I was stressed out because I haven't finished my weekly Chemistry assignments. I've been procrastinating a lot lately and it's catching up with me quickly. I don't know what to do first and sometimes I feel so horrible about it that I just can't think. I don't know why I'm reacting that way to stress, I'm normally quite capable and clear-headed, even fatigued or under pressure. Today I must have needed a nap because when I woke up, I started up in a fury and completed sections to the review study questions then I finished the terminology paper. Honestly I can't say that it has completely absorbed into my brain but I think I know enough of the terms that I can skate by. I should really study but I'm also overwhelmed with violin technique, repertoire, jazz conceptions, and standards that I can't focus too much on one. My instructor advised me to just spend a few minutes on each piece so I'm not reading but not more than ten minutes a day otherwise I run the risk of getting side-tracked by one composition and not giving enough attention to everything. I need to break my study and practice sessions into short fifteen minute bursts.

Jazz Head

This Party Is On
So my latest dream takes place at a party and it begins with my my son and I showing up to the venue of an arts and crafts themed children's party. The host set up crafting stations for every craft imaginable. For example, one table was fully equipped with felt puppet making supplies like googly-eyes, hot glue guns, felt, etc. while another was a paper crafting table. The host even hired chaperones for each table-- most of them retired teachers and volunteers. My son was enamored with all the tables and decided to make a rouched black pencil skirt. After machine stitching the skirt panels, he hand-basted some loose gathers at the center front and back to get an idea of what the skirt would look like. I really loved the skirt, it looked great, especially for a nine year old's first try at sewing. The stitches were straight and even, the tension on his thread looked perfect, but the basting was a little slanted. The only thing he worried about was the size of the skirt because he hadn't taken my exact hip measurements before starting. "I think it looks fine, babe, but I can try on the skirt if you want." I said as I ducked into a nearby bathroom.
Rouched Mess
What I hadn't taken into account was that the material was stretchy and he hadn't used elasticized thread on the gathers or stretched the material as he stitched the vertical basting stitch so the hem was too high at the center front and back. When I tried on the skirt, my crotch and butt were completely exposed while the rest of the garment rested snuggly on my thighs. I have to disclose that I wasn't wearing any under garments, so I couldn't even model the skirt for him because there was a room full of nine and ten year olds that surely would laugh at my humiliation. It was like third grade all over again. I tugged hopelessly at the front of the skirt until the basting thread popped and the skirt front fell near my knees. Krishna Chandra knocked and peeped from behind the door and giggled at the silly sight. "It's alright, I can fix that later." he reassured me. He only saw the front of the skirt and I explained to him that I couldn't possibly come out because the back was more embarrassing; the basted gathers bunched up to the point of least resistance somewhere along my lower back. He got the picture and just had a fit. Besides the mishap with the basting stitch, the skirt was well-made. I assured him that we could finish the project at home where we had more materials and measuring tape. He laughed and I looked for my lover to show him Krishna Chandra's outfit.

Social Butterly

As it turns out, I knew plenty of people at the party, and by 'people' I mean intelligent adults with whom I could converse with for more than three minutes at length. Apparently, I was single because everyone at this party either kept asking me if I was seeing anyone yet or they would flirt and ask me out. I was seeing someone, and by 'seeing' I mean I was having casual sex with someone I knew but we weren't an official couple. My dream self is not very complicated but she confuses me. I really enjoyed the attention at the party but as the party went on, I started to feel guilty about lying to my friends about my relationship status. I wanted them to know the truth but I didn't know if my lover wanted to be my boyfriend yet. I looked for him everywhere as he assured me that he would be at the event, which, as I already related was more like an Arts and Crafts fair than a kid's birthday party. I started to feel bored and frustrated without my partner and so I left search for him. I wondered if he had fallen asleep or if he was sick, or if something terrible had happened to him.
Mountain Cabin
Around that time, someone mentioned to me that a huge storm was headed toward my lover's house and several attendees got emergency weather alerts from the National Weather Service in close succession on their smart phones. Thunderstorm warning. Flash floods. Hail. Heavy Rain. Flood warning. The jarring sounds of emergency alarms resonated in the corridors, which amplified the cacophony and my trepidation. I jumped into my car and drove to my lover's part of town and then hiked the rest of the way up to his cabin. He lived in a log cabin with a beautiful scenic mountain near a lake or river. As I hiked up to his place, I noticed the emerging thunderstorm clouds nearing the mountain and remembered that terrifying sound of resounding alarms so I ran up the rest of the way. I saw my lover's vehicle nearby and an unknown car as well. I thought that he must've gotten tied up with unexpected guests and was hosting them. Being cut off from cell towers and internet, he must not have received my texts of any weather alerts. It all made sense; I just had to warn them that the storm was on its way to this part of town and get them out of here before the flood water washed away the mountain side. Images of landslides and a collapsing mountain side wiping my lover's cabin from the face of the Earth rushed through my mind. As I approached his window side, I caught a glimpse of him in bed with a young blonde woman. As it turns out, my secret lover is none other than my husband, Chandaneswar. I should relate that is a recurring theme in my dream. It is unclear whether Chandaneswar and I are divorced, separated or if we were ever married in the dream. I just know that I'm an available single mother, a flirt, and I'm sleeping with an asshole. I don't know what it means, and it doesn't matter because we're at the scariest, darkest, most sinister, disturbing part of the dream. I hiked up the mountain trail past my lover's cabin and looked down at the view.
As I stood on the mountain side, a deep sense of calm detachment washed over me. I realized that his cabin was a perfect bachelor pad. I began to contemplate my life and wonder if it I wanted to make a scene or confront them. I grew apathetic and indifferent and concluded that it really didn't matter. I was using him as much as he was using me; perhaps I only wanted him for the purposes of filling a void in an uncomfortable social scenario. After all, I wasn't accustomed to handling social events alone. Eventually I would have to accept this new identity and social dynamic. As the storm descended upon that mountain, I decided to let my lover and his lady friend brave the storm and its wrathful destruction on their own. I didn't have to warn them, after all. Maybe they would perish in the flood water and resulting landslide. Who knows? Who can say for sure? Who knows the future?
Creative Destruction
I ran back to my car, got in and drove back to the party. As I drove, I remained eerily calm and determined that I would write my own future. I would go back to that party and get some phone numbers of people who wanted to be with me, who had no problem asking me out in public, and who didn't keep their cards to themselves. When I got back people were looking for me and asked me where I went and why I took off. I told them that I went to pick up a friend but got scared when I saw the approaching storm so I turned back. They all assured me it was wise that I had come back to the party quickly, I have a young son to care for after all. Krishna Chandra was still hanging out at the sewing station so I sat at an empty bench, grabbed some scrap paper and started jotting down lyrics, chord progressions, and a simple melody line. In my melancholic trance, it quickly turned into a jazz chart and song about murdering my lover and his mistress. I showed it to a couple of jazz guys and musicians at the party and asked them if they thought it was any good. The consensus was that it was inexplicably brilliant. "Have you ever written jazz before?" someone asked. "No, but I guess I should." I replied.

Unanswered Queries

This morning I had a few errands to run before  I could go biking but I finally made it out of the house and headed to Lindsley Park. I had a weird dream about something or other but the most interesting thing so far are the confetti egg remnants around my perch.

There's confetti, flour and crushed eggshells everywhere! A small part of me is a bit grossed out by the eggshells but, mostly, I'm amused. I didn't know that anyone still played with confetti eggs or, even more fascinating, that people still go through the trouble of making them. It's notoriously tedious and time consuming.
I remember mom used to prepare weeks in advance. She would start collecting, cleaning and coloring eggs as early as February, or January, if she anticipated an egg shortage. To this day, I don't know who keeps track of egg production and consumption like she did (except for maybe commodities brokers who invest in eggs and whose livelihoods' depend on it) or how one goes about this task. WTF, mom?
I still don't know how she managed to cut such a uniform hole without shattering the eggs, or how she found the time to wash, color and fill them with colored paper confetti and flour! How she loved seeing us play with them! She really loved Easter festivities and I don't know if there was another occasion that she enjoyed as much.
These past few weeks have been stressful. Our trip to India was postponed, Purandar Acharya is throwing himself into this work, I'm biking to fill the extra time, Chandaneswar is focusing on his health and diet and Krishna Chandra seems perfectly content without his electronic devices. (He lost privileges a couple weeks back) He's almost too happy and content with out them. I mean, how will I punish him if he misbehaves? I could take his bike privileges but truly it would hurt me as much as him. I love riding together. It's the most fun we have whether we're alone or together. I really enjoy it and it gives us a great excuse to go outside at a moment's notice.
Yesterday, Chandaneswar, Purandar Acharya and I were watching a Bengali film named Kaler Rakhal but only the first hour and a half was available on YouTube. I'm so upset because there are a couple of Baul songs that I love but they're on the second half of the film. I've been searching everywhere for it with no luck. Where can it be??
Well, we're probably going to India this summer but I'm upset that we won't be able to travel with Lokojit prabhu. He's the best travel guide ever and knows all the best spots and people. At least we still have each other. I feel like we're desperately clinging to each other now more than ever before. I feel lost and alone adrift an ocean of anxiety but my raft mates keep my company and sanity. I don't know what I would be with out them. I don't know where I would be without them. I don't who I would be without them. Sometimes I think to myself, "Renounce this lifestyle and give yourself completely to Gauranga!"
What shall become of us, Thakur?

The Violin Story

This story takes place during my fourth grade year at H. S. Thompson Learning Center. I'm excited that I get to tell you this story because I've only shared this story with one person.... and I don't think it counts because that person was my therapist. So, this is the first time I've ever shared this story and its profound significance with anyone. Wow.
Alright, let me set the scene because this story takes place in an old, smelly portable behind our school. The floors squeaked and creaked and the air conditioning never worked and you had sweaty bodies smelling up the poor place and it always seemed bewilderingly fragile like a really strong gust of wind could bring it all crashing down. Well, you should know that this particular portable was no ordinary place, despite the health and hazardous code violations; it transported us to a magical realm.
I should also introduce you to Ms. Waites, who is the protagonist of this tale; though it's my story, she's the real heroine. Ms. Waites was my violin teacher, Strings director, a talented violinist, an inspirational teacher and all around well-rounded, colorful human being full of love and light.
I met Ms. Waites in Art class with Ms. Packard; she was going around signing up students for strings classes. As you may know, I sprung from the womb with my life's missions etched into my soul so I knew from the moment I saw Ms. Waites that this woman would change my life. I leaped at the opportunity to sign up and asked her a dozen questions on the spot. She went for it.
Okay, here's where things travel into a gray area in my character. When I asked my mother if I could play an instrument, she didn't want to be bothered either because I was generally a very demanding child and asked too damn many questions (nagged the hell out of her) or she didn't understand that the course and material was free. Instead of bothering myself with trying to convince my mother to sign the form, I decided to take an expedited route. Also, I knew that I probably lacked the innate persuasive abilities as a young child so I didn't even try. Who understands the reasoning and logic of a child? Who cares?
After assessing the risk involved, I decided that no life force on the face of this planet was capable of stealing this opportunity from me so I went ahead and forged my mom's signature, filled in all the necessary paper work and returned the forms to my new favorite teacher, Ms. Waites. How in the world Ms. Waites accepted it at face value is beyond me but I imagine she looked the other way due to my zeal. Maybe she was desperate for students? Who cares?
This is the best part of the story..
The day comes to get our instrument assignments and, of course, I draw the short straw of the lot. Everyone else had taken Strings before so they knew which instruments were in disrepair and they called dibs on the good ones. I was too slow, naive, and inexperienced to understand the ways of humans so I took the instrument handed to me with wide eyes and a smile. The other kids took it upon themselves to inform me of my violin's condition. I mean, they made damn sure that I knew it was a pile of junk. I was upset and Ms. Waites could tell somehow. Maybe it was my fanciful display of a temper tantrum that tipped her off... I don't know. Who cares?
Ms. Waites instinctively knew, as all great instructors do, what to tell me in order to inspire me. She appealed to my sense of work ethic, pride, and ego with just a phrase. Intuitively she said, "Melissa, if you can make this instrument sing, you can make anything sing." and with that I was pacified and determined in my mission. I told myself that day, "If anyone can make this instrument sing, it will be me." and that's been my motto since childhood. I rely strongly on my own skill and ability, not the instruments, and from that day forward that expression has been like a mantra that I whisper to myself daily.
Its important for us to remember that our tools will only take us so far in life. We must rely on our talents, skills and technical ability to carry us through the task at hand.
 :)

My Deepest Darkest Secret

My new passport arrived in the mail this week. I'm really excited because the next step is to get my visas transferred to the new book. I ordered the larger passport because I intend to travel abroad as much as possible. I haven't had enough time to practice this week or do much studying because I was so exhausted from our road trip that I had a hard time catching up with my normal routine. I only went to Taekwondo a couple times this week but I feel like my body is getting back to 100%. Slowly but surely.
Tomorrow is Śrī Nityānanda Trayodaśi and I couldn't be happier. I feel like I haven't been to the temple in ages and, at the same time, like I need a break from everything. I need to withdraw and take time for myself. I don't know if that's strange but sometimes it's just better for me to relax and recover. I feel as if I'm mentally preparing for something incredibly life-changing and transformative. I don't know if its something in the air, my intuition, or what. Somehow, I feel like this trip to India is going to be ground shattering, even though I've been before and nothing particularly exciting happened.
I wanted to talk to you about my dream... the one I had when I was in India. About eight years ago, I was in Belpukur village with my in-laws and I had a weird dream. I was back in high-school except it was not a high-school anymore. The campus was also a college and a lot of my friends from school were studying or teaching there. I went there to pursue a degree and met with a few class-clowns from freshman year. I thought they were irritating in fact; their antics were no longer amusing but distracting and disruptive. I chucked a couple times but the novelty quickly wore off. I don't know what the hell this means so don't ask me. After class, another professor came in, a guru! He was someone I was close to and highly respected; he was also extremely dear to me so I felt bad that he had to deal with us, that he had to instruct us. It was strange, a saffron-clad Gaudiya monastic teaching a mathematics course? At any rate, I woke up with a feeling of urgency. I had to go back to school, take my spirituality more seriously and help others by giving back. I wanted to teach again. I wanted to play my violin again. I wanted to open an ashram, temple, and university in Belpukur. It was ingrained in my mind and for eight years it has slowly eaten away at my conscience. I feel guilty that I haven't taken steps toward my dream. I can't sleep at night because I'm trying to hash out plans to make this project happen. What do I do? Where do I start? Who do I ask for help? How will it manifest? So, I've broken this idea into smaller phases and goals to make them more realistic. I decided to pursue a degree in Music Education, as well as take some business or administrative courses. Over the years, it has nagged at me and, feeling the project was too far-fetched, I kept it hidden-- a secret. My most intimate hidden contribution to society and my goal of life.
When I first started school we had a project in one of our classes-- setting out a long-term goal, short term goals, and life long dreams. Of course, it didn't take long for my dream to come pouring out and when it did, I realized why I was so miserable. I have been locking my deepest, most daring desires away because I was afraid others would laugh at it. I don't care anymore. In fact, I've found that it helps me to discuss it with people and pick other people's brains. There are people in this world who have experience beyond our own and if we don't express our interests, there is no way they'll ever know who we really are. They will never have an idea of our inner most inclinations and that person may be a hidden gem, a treasure trove of knowledge waiting to give its bounty.
So I'm letting you know in hopes that you're also a vidya-ratna, a gem of knowledge and wisdom, and will assist me or guide me in actualizing my dream. Thank you.
About Sri Bilva-pakkha, Belpukhuriya, Belpukur

Winter Adventure

Lonely Plains

There is nothing but lonesome empty plains as far as the eyes can see as we enter the Texas landscape. Gone are the regal red rock mountains and rugged terrain of Arizona and New Mexico. Why, the very sight of the gentle slopes and fields signal my imminent arrival back home. I am relaxed and poised as I arrive in my home state. It isn’t as if I was unwelcome elsewhere, but something about Texas welcomes me, soothes me, and lulls me into a restful state.

Last night I had a strange dream that broke me from my sleep. When I awoke, I realized that I had the same dream before, except this time I couldn’t recall the exact details. While I wanted to disclose the entire dream, I could only recall a few things and those caused me shame so I didn’t tell my husband. At last, I told him that I was startled awake but that I couldn’t remember why.  Interestingly enough, he told me that he had a strange dream that was also identical to a previous dream, almost a year old.

My dream went something like this: we were traveling en masse throughout India on pilgrimage; this isn’t unusual as we have plans to travel to India soon. Around that time, a young handsome man seduced me and to atone for my sinful thoughts I resolved to shave my head and give up any semblance aisvarya or opulence. This detail is also striking because for years, I contemplated monasticism and a few years ago I grew obsessed with shaving my head much to Chandaneswar’s protest. A few days ago, Chandaneswar mentioned that we were going to visit Thirupati Balaji and I could shave my head there if I still wanted to do it. Anyhow…

In the dream,  I removed my precious gems and metals and dressed myself only in simple cloth. Thereafter, I decorated myself with tilak, sacred clay markings upon my upper body and asked my husband’s blessings to perform penance. He indicated that he would not give me his blessings because he felt that it was unnecessary for me to atone for a mere mental lapse in chastity. After lecturing me on the nature of Kali Yuga, the age of quarrel and hypocrisy, he advised me to forgive myself and move forward with my spirituality with greater enthusiasm but not to remove myself from society or take to asceticism or renunciation.

At this point, I argued that if I remained in society and continued to associate freely with materialistic society, it was possible or very likely that the quality and sincerity of my spiritual endeavors would slowly deteriorate over time.

I added that if one man had so easily tempted me after only a passing encounter, it was highly probable that I would be weaker in more trying circumstances. To that, he countered that everyone in Kali Yuga commits sins by mind and we should neglect them. After some discussion, we both decided to take to renunciation and travel together.  Strange dream, no?

What Shall I Do?

The other day I looked into your eyes and wondered if they had any end. Where do you come from, dear one, and how were you created? From which materials did the Creator fashion you that rendered you immensely and intensely sweet and tender?

How can I understand your mind? Have you anything else in your heart besides inherent saintliness and compassion for fallen souls such as me? My Liege, bestow your warm embrace and poised grace upon me!