I have returned from India. It is a big deal, coming back.
I never want to leave India, although I have a lovely family, great life and all that, I hate leaving.
Since returning I have found myself dreaming of a house and land. Trying to project a life there.
I lay in the hammock in the garden just now and disliked how I was not happy with what I have and ached with the longing to change things, me included.
I have ben thinking about what it is that I like there.
The intensity of shopping and finding, bargaining and designing is one whole part.
Beyond that it is the beauty. Not everything is beautiful at all, but the gestures, the saris, the utensils, the flowers. Buffalos in the morning, the fields in the evening.
It feels as though I am trashing my daily life, feeling sad and low is such a waste of the day. I like to be accepting of this world. Not craving another.
The trip was a sucess in other ways, too. I have more friends there, I feel more comfortable each time I go. I have found lovely things for christmas. Designed beautiful clothes for winter.
As usual, when I am there, I think the idea of a shop is great. In my head I can really see it working well. Once I return the idea stales and sours with the cost of property, life and time.
Toomorrow I go to Birmingham for the NA Convention. 3 days of teaching yoga. My head is no where near where it should be for this experience. Luckily there is the train journey to fill the gaps, and then next week I am teaching yoga teachers how to teach addiction recovery. I will have more to say and am grateful for the prior experience.
Funny how writing makes you feel better.