From February 19, 2016

Days have been slow and they have been beautiful. I left Hawaii and walked into a new life. B met me at the airport with a red rose in his hand and brought me to our home for the month, a wooden shack near the pacific north western ocean. The ground was covered in pillows and rose petals, candle flames gave life to the inanimate. We hung fabrics from the ceiling, covered the wooden walls with photographs of Yogananda and Anandamayi Ma and created three crystal grids on the plank above our mattress. We spent mornings doing sadhana in the meditation room of the main house and at night B read the Gita to me out loud, each breath visible in front of his lips as we pressed tightly into each other's grooves, basking in body heat under three layers of blankets.

January we packed our things and moved a little further south into a big house surrounded by towering pines, where we can hear eagles screaming at high noon and the train whistling into the night. I cleared out a portion of the sun room and began painting on wooden planks, listening to Joni Mitchell and Nancy Sinatra as the sun warmed my skin and heart. We are here now, awaiting word from a girl on a mountain. And when the call comes, we will pack our bags once more and nestle into another fleeting home, on new land, with new scents, new sounds, new energy. I wont settle for anything less or more than a life like this one.
Vera M. Wilde

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