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“It seems that as man becomes more and more intelligent, his crimes also become more and more intelligent. His criminal mind is far ahead of his effort to become enlightened.” Osho, The New Dawn, Chapter 32

     with Naropa and Bhuti at the Atomic Dome

I stood in front of the Atomic Dome at Hiroshima and the tears came from nowhere. I noticed Bhuti, my Japanese friend next to me, was also crying. It was the strong contrast to the wonderful meditation event we’d had the previous day and our lively dinner afterwards with the participants. Standing at Ground Zero seeing for myself the enormous destructive power humanity is capable of unleashing on itself was to say the very least — a deeply moving experience.

The Atomic Dome is one of the few buildings to remain standing more or less intact in the wake of the biggest weapon of mass destruction ever used by one country against another. Motionless, I stood in front of the memorial plaque and read the account of what happened in 1945: How, as both Japanese and American politicians split hairs over how to word Japan’s surrender terms, America went ahead and decided to drop two atomic weapons on the cities of Nagasaki and Hiroshima. It was a decision that effectively erased a quarter of a million human lives in a single moment and one that will forever remain a black spot on the history of mankind.

“America’s whole approach is: everything should be made better They are obsessed with the idea of bettering things. You have to have more speed, better machines, better technology, better railroads, better roads — better everything! And you can see what happened in Hiroshima and Nagasaki: America really did it better than anybody else has ever done it.” Osho, Theologica Mystica, Volume 2

Even among the scientists who helped create the bomb there was opposition, voices of dissent, and caution in the ranks. Japan had already been defeated. It just hadn’t formally surrendered. In the months leading up to the Hiroshima, politicians on both sides of the war fretted over petty details of surrender terms, while at the same time a strong momentum builbing to use the weapon: either as a means to exact vengeance and punish the Japanese for the emotional pain inflicted by the war; or simply to try out Oppenheimer’s new toy, a creation he himself dubbed his “Little Boy”. Whatever the motives, choices were made and the rest — including the innocent people used as a test group — is history.

“And because the whole American system depends on doing it better, then of course, in the same way you need a better man. It is the same logic. Then he fits with the whole American style of life. But the New Man is not necessarily the better man. He will be livelier, he will be more joyous, he will be more alert – but who knows whether he will be better or not? As far as politicians are concerned he will not be better, because he will not be a better soldier. He will not be ready to be a soldier at all.”
Osho, Theologica Mystica, Volume 2

An atomic bomb is no simple thing to make. It takes a certain intelligence to understand its physics, design, and to build it. My point is: Whether you are an uneducated Palestinian mother who blows herself up at an Israeli check-point or a master of atomic physics like Oppenheimer — both individuals are essentially human beings with the same heart beating in their chest. Acting out of desperation or calculation, it is still individuals who make such decisions to achieve certains ends — responsible or irresponsible as they may be. So while I am not in total agreement The National Rifle Association, they do make a valid point: Guns don’t kill people. People kill people. Guns are intrinsically neutral. Just as a bomb is. They don’t go off unless someone pulls the trigger or presses the button. In my opinion, this ability to choose is what defines us as human beings.

“The New Man will have a totally different vision of life. He will not be competitive. He will know that money cannot buy love or joy, that it is not the goal of life. He will live in a more loving way, because to him: Love is richness.”
Osho, Theologica Mystica, Volume 2

What about the issue of responsibility? If we as people have two choices before us, is there a responsibility in choosing one option over another? For example: Is there a valid argument for whole-scale slaughter over less destructive methods of solving disagreements? Or let’s put responsibility aside for a moment. Perhaps there is no such thing as choice at all: that the only options available are conditioned, knee-jerk responses. Recently, I read about two teenagers having an argument after school in Richmond, Virginia. The girl turned away and the other party shot her in the back. She was the 100th person to die from gun-related violence in this small, American city last year. In this particular case, I wonder: Were these people even remotely aware of the choices available to them? We read about it all the time: Someone driving a car gets angry with another driver at a traffic intersection. Emotions flare and out comes a gun. Add another statistic to the eleven thousand people who die each year from gun-related crime in America. As I see it, the ability to choose — and choose responsibly — doesn’t exist as long as we remain asleep, unconscious, unaware; at the mercy of our mind and emotions. Could it be we are forever-destined to settle our disputes like animals? Just like primitive man throwing rocks at one other. Are not atom bombs anything more than sophisticated rocks? Rocks or bombs — are they not the same to the fragile flower of human life?

“The man of the future has to be cosmopolitan. He cannot be an Italian, a German, an Indian, an African. No, he can only be a human being.”
Osho, From Bondage to Freedom, Chapter 22

I am not so naive as to suggest that all humanity needs is Osho Dynamic Meditation. I know the world we live in is a complex place. But are solutions really so complex? What is so complex about love? What is so complex about creativity? What is so complex about vipassana meditation? Are the stages of the Nataraj Dance Meditation really so difficult to grasp? At the risk of over-simplifying, I have to ask another question: Have we as humanity really explored meditation as an option? Have we given it a chance? I will be the first to admit, getting out of bed for Dynamic Meditation is never an easy thing at 6AM. But all joking aside, I do feel each one of us ultimately has a choice: either to be creative with our energies or destructive.

“In spite of the third-rate politicians, America is going to evolve, evolve into the New Man, evolve into a new humanity. I have chosen to be here. I have called you to be here.” Osho, From Bondage to Freedom, Chapter 22

The mayor of Hiroshima has written a beautiful letter in the aftermath of 9/11. It hangs in one of the exhibition halls at Peace Park. It is addressed to President Bush, urging him to exercise restraint in his reactions. While offering sincere condolences to the American people, it invites the President and all the world’s leaders to visit Peace Park, to witness for themselves the horror and senseless tragedy of armed conflict. Hopefully, they will gain some insight into humanity’s seemingly endless cycle of violence, thus better understanding the devastating effects of war on the lives of ordinary human beings everywhere. The eloquent mayor offers no ready answers. He just extends an open palm to the world as if to say, “Let us use intelligence to seek more positive and creative solutions to settle our differences.” I was dismayed to learn how few world leaders have visited Peace Park.

“America is certainly the place where the new man is going to be born.”
Osho, The Last Testament, Volume 2, Chapter 28

Meanwhile, we Americans to sip our cafe lattes and drive our Hummers, while our chopper pilots shoot up schoolyards full of Afghani kids playing marbles. I just read how America is now asking hospitals in Iraq to stop keeping count of civilian casualties from Iraq. Amazing how the lives of innocent civilians are referred to as collateral damage (not Americans, of course) such as when one of our precision-guided bombs missed their mark as happened recently, killing over four hundred women and children hiding in a Baghdad bombshelter. Collateral damage we call it. Such a strange choice of words to describe a human life. I guess it’s an easy word for politicians and military brass when it isn’t their kids in the bunker. Now Donald Rumsfield is floating the idea America should begin development of smaller, less powerful nuclear weapons, ones that can be used on the battlefield, ones that don’t kill so many people at once like the Hiroshima/Nagasaki version. Brilliant idea. So instead of weapons of mass destruction we’ll have weapons of controlled destruction. How tidy and efficient. Sanitized warfare. And these are the people setting the agenda for a whole nation? A nation that is supposed to be leading the world by its example? I find this insulting to humanity.

“This is only the American government. Don’t make it equal to America. The people of America are the most innocent, fresh, young — and are capable of giving birth to the New Man.” Osho, Transmission of the Lamp, Chapter 25

In America, we live under an illusion, spun very cleverly by the status quo, of individual freedom, peace and prosperity while a disturbing policy of military adventurism is pursued behind the facade of making the world a safer place. Well, it seems we certainly aren’t making it any safer for the average Iraqi citizen. Why are we looking in someone else’s backyard for weapons of mass destruction when the reality is America is the world’s primary manufacturer of destructive weapons? Mass or otherwise — we make them,
we sell them, we use them at our whim. It’s our business. BIG business. Osho’s observation after living four years in the United States was incisive: “Violence is the religion of America”. My point is: In the current world climate has there ever been a better time to learn the art of celebration? Has there ever been a better time to meditate and to pull the plug on all the bullshit and wake up? “I know. The question is from Milarepa. I can understand your anger. Every sannyasin would like to say ‘To hell with America’! But just say, ‘To hell with the American government!’

“America is far bigger, far more important – and I still hope that the new man will be born in America. These governments come and go; the people remain. The people are the very soul. A country is not made of land, it is made of the people. I can understand your anger, but remember: always to be careful to draw fine lines so that only the criminal is hit, not the simple, poor, innocent people.”
Osho, Beyond Psychology, Chapter 33

As big as the United States is, with all its tremendous resources and potential, I guess I expect a little more from the country of my birth. After all, it does happen to be the place Osho indicated the New Man will appear. The unfortunate reality as I see it: meditation has yet to take root in America. I’m not saying that unless you are into Osho you can’t know meditation. But for a man who is universally regarded as one of the world’s greatest mystics and religious thinkers of all time, I find it bordering on conspiratorial his books are not more-readily available in mainstream bookstores across the country. You’ll have no problem finding titles reflecting the latest trends from Buddhism, yoga, Dr. Phil.. Perhaps it takes a Madonna or a Sting to start doing Kundalini; or Oprah reading “Way of the White Cloud” to turn our heads. But let’s face it: In America, it’s easier to be entertained than to meditate. Why? Because meditation is sure to change you. It is sure to shake your tree. Meditation doesn’t screw around. It works. It disturbs. Yes, it creates waves in our safe, comfortable little lives, there’s no way around that. And yes, there is every possibility if we start meditating we might come to see some not-so-pretty things about ourselves along the way; a possibility when we start peeling the layers of the collective onion, we’ll come across a little bit of Saddam or Bush hiding inside all of us. Let’s be honest: For most of us, I think that’s a very scary prospect. But then again, coming back to that word ‘choice’. We have to want to wake up. Meditation takes courage and commitment, to stand up, alone if need be, and say: No more Hiroshimas. No more Nagasakis.

“What happened in America with me is nothing new. It has always been happening. You have to understand one thing, that whenever there is somebody who has a message for you which goes against your traditional ways, your orthodoxy, your conditioning – then your whole priesthood, your politicians, the status quo, all the vested interests are against such a man. For the simple reason: because he is a disturbance. If people listen to him there is going to be a revolution.”
Osho, The Last Testament, Volume 5, Chapter 23

Walking away from Peace Park, I felt a new clarity arising in me. I remembered all the times I heard Osho speak about the vested interests, politicians, priests, and the masses who worship their every word; how lies are continuously fed societies in an effort to manipulate and control them. I don’t think what’s happening now with George Bush is anything new. But for myself, I see my choices more clearly now. I get reminded of these choices every year at the events, seeing people from all different nationalities and backgrounds coming together to meditate, celebrate, dance, sing, to love and rejoice in their life-energy. They are just ordinary people like myself, making positive choice, for themselves and on behalf of humanity; choices that are in the interest of life, creativity, love, joy — not death, misery, and destruction. The responsible choice as I see for myself – and my answer to Hiroshima’s everywhere – is to wake up. Places like Peace Park remind the distance we still need to travel before claiming ourselves civilized. And for God’s sake, let us not forget our sense of humor.

standing outside the Shelter For The Souls

Chakraman

As a theme for this year’s tours, I have chosen a symbolic figure from the caves of ancient India called chakraman. In our present time, chakraman exists as a beautiful painting by my friend and fellow sannyasin, mandala-painter Paul Heussenstaam, also known as Vibodha. You can learn more about him and his work at www.mandalas.com. In his own words: “Chakraman literally glows with the capacity to heal and teach using the ancient chakra energy-medicine.”

In my understanding, this energy-medicine is another name for meditation. Osho has spoken on various occasions about the chakras and their significance to the seeker, explaining how the system of the chakras is like a map, invented by the Buddhas, to help us better understand the stages of the spiritual search – just as the Zen people use The Ten Bulls allegory.

Osho describes the chakras as being metaphoric wheels – not centers – of energy in our psychic body. Speaking on them from many perspectives – I found over two hundred references to the word ‘chakras’ when I ran a search – his essential point is: When all the chakras are open, relaxed, natural – our energy circulating freely in each one – celebration overflows, creating a tremendous potential for healing.

At this year’s events, we will be experimenting with many different meditations to open the various chakras – removing blocks, releasing repressed, locked-up energy – thereby making us available to higher dimensions of consciousness. Chakraman is shamanic, a channel for the mysteries of existence. It is a powerful symbol for the healing power of meditation. I am grateful to Vibodha for his support in this project.

In the months ahead, I look forward to coming together with seekers throughout the world, to share a fresh new vision of meditation and celebration – and the music! In addition to Japan, Europe and America, I am excited to visit some new places like Mexico for the Spirit Festival – and possibly Brazil and Taiwan. So stay tuned and watch the schedule for developments. It’s going to be a great year!

Shenandoah Valley, Virginia

Year of the Monkey

According to the Chinese calendar, this is the year of the monkey. I did a little bit of research and came up with: Monkey years hold bright prospects of a fascinating future, rich in the unexpected. They are years of transformation.

One thing I am noticing about the New Year so far: It’s moving fast! This month is a busy time for me: scheduling, arranging the many details of the tours. It is also a time for letting go – being grateful for the amazing year that was and welcoming the year that will be. Always at this stage, the tours look like a big puzzle – all the pieces scattered out before me, impossible to see the overall picture, how in the world it is ever going to fit together. But, as those of you know who have ever done a puzzle, peaking at the picture on the box-cover spoils the fun. The real joy is in watching, as piece by piece, the unknowable unfolds and the picture takes shape. I know all too well, it won’t be long before I’ll be shaking my head marveling how everything came together so, as it does every time. Amazing – this will be the tenth year for the tours!

Monkeys are bright, playful creatures: intelligent, creative, humorous. I thought it a fun way to start the New Year by sharing some ‘unreleased’ photos from my last trip to Japan. One of my dear friends lives there, Vimal. He’s the guy who used to write the jokes for Osho and sometimes ask the discourse questions when Maneesha was having a migraine. He is one of those rare people I can always have a belly-laugh with. Don’t ask me why. Maybe it will be clearer when you see the pictures. Just a couple of monkey’s having a ball at your local karaoke bar.

My mom turned 77 this month. And Jim, my youngest brother many of you know from the tours last year, also had his birthday. So my family and friends gave them a wonderful celebration.

The year of the monkey is already shaping up to be a fun one – with many more laughs and surprises ahead. So what are we waiting for? Let’s enjoy!

Christmas Brunch – Mom and Pravasi at the River’d Inn, Virginia	Birthday Party – brothers Paul (r) and Jim (l)

guitar solo – Hotel California	legendary riffs	oops … bum note

Mukti, Vimal, and Noa-chan

USA Tour

Here are few photos from the annual New York event at the wonderful Abode of the Message … and one taken at my beloved Shenandoah River in Virginia after a full year of touring. I pause briefly to look back at what has been a remarkable and joyous year so far.

Priya – Osho Padma Center, NYC	Chintan (bass) – Kai (guitar & keyboards)
Celebration! New York Event	Love & Gratitude

Japan Autumn Tour

These photos are from my visits to the south main island of Kyushu.
It has beautiful nature. And volcanos!
Other stops along my way included the city of Hiroshima.
Here I had an opportunity to visit the Peace Park.
It is something I recommend to everyone — especially the world’s leaders.
More words about my experiences are posted here http://www.oneskymusic.com/reflections-from-the-peace-park-in-hiroshima/.

Into the Light – Europe & USA Tours

 
Giving myself to the sky
I let my spirit fly
Like a bird on the wing
I dance on the wind

High with the clouds above
I disappear in love
With a song in my heart
I’m letting go

Into the light
Like a moth to a flame
Closer and closer
Ever so bright

The Festival – Varazze, Italy	The Festival – Varazze, Italy
The Festival – Varazze, Italy	The Festival – Varazze, Italy
The Festival – Varazze, Italy	Stockholm, Sweden
soundcheck – Amsterdam	Celebration – Amsterdam
RISK Summer Festival	Brothers
Swagato – Sedona	Who’s watching the road?
Portland Event	Nataraj Dance Meditation – Cleveland
Cleveland Event – with Atmo	Gitam and Shunyo – beloved cooks
Sedona Party	Prem Isa – drums / Europe

Japan – Spring Tour

Karaoke singing with Vimal	… pandemonium

One of the biggest faux pas I ever committed in Japan happened in Osaka after an event. It was evening and I was sitting around a table with some Japanese friends waiting to have dinner. I was feeling tired and a little spaced-out from the day’s activities when drinks arrived. I had been in Italy only a few days before and without thinking picked up my glass and said, “Cin-cin!”

The red faces and shocked looks all around indicated something had gone terribly wrong. Then someone leaned close to my ear and whispered ‘cin-cin’ means ‘prick’ in Japanese.

“Skål!” I quickly said.

Oops, wrong country again.

“Uh … Kampai!” I shouted.

Everyone laughed nervously and drained their glasses in one gulp. Very politely, of course.

In Japan, as with other modern cultures, celebration is simply ‘skål!’. You clink your glass of beer together with friends and hope for a better day tomorrow. A friend of mine who teaches English in Japan was sharing how beautiful and full of life the young children are who come to his school. Yet he observed how quickly the society seems to crush them, squeezing out all their joy of life.

I have heard Osho say most people in the world die around the age thirty. Maybe not physically, but spiritually. They just give up. And the rest of their life is a long, boring march to the grave. One can find many beautiful temples in Japan – perhaps once upon a time they provided shelter and inspiration to real meditators. But nowadays they are simply museums to a dead past. Within their aesthetic gates, you’ll find no music, no dancing, no singing. Only the silence of a graveyard. A kind of silence, yes. But there is no celebration in it. Things look beautiful on the outside but are very seriousness on the inside. Is this not the nature of the world we live in?

I have always puzzled why Osho made celebration the last stage of Dynamic Meditation. Why it doesn’t just end in silence like Kundalini or Nadabrahma. Is it because Osho realized not only is mankind incapable of silence, but has forgotten the language of celebration too? This koan unraveled during my most-recent tour in Japan.

One particular morning, I was participating in Dynamic Meditation with a group of enthusiastic Japanese. The fourth stage (silence) had gone very deep. Then, as the first notes of music heralding the fifth and final stage pierced the stillness, the roomful of meditators began to pulse with joy and dance. In that moment, I suddenly remembered how it was to be a child again: innocent, a clean slate — tabula rasa; how I came into this world before the society, the priests, my parents, my teachers all got hold of me. And in a flash, I had insight into the deeper meaning of kampai.

One can think of kampai like the last stage of Dynamic Meditation. As one progresses through the different stages, one reaches the fifth and final stage — kampai — via silence(stage four). In the silent stage we remember who we are again and from out of this silence, we become the small child we once were — dancing and singing in the sun and rain, our life worth living: full of magic, laughter and joy bubbling spontaneously from deep sources within. Once we know who we are, real celebration — the real kampai — begins.

Kampai is our birthright. Kampai is our empty cup — empty, yet full; overflowing with love and the wine of life. Sound Zen? Let’s just say, Kampai!

6:30am, Colorado time. I roll out of bed and peek through the blinds. It’s been snowing all night. Everything outside looks like a winter wonderland. The sky is totally clear. Looks like it’s going to be what the locals call a bluebird powder day. In this neck of the woods that translates as the world’s best skiing conditions and certainly an experience not to be missed.

Aspen Mountain

I put on some Quaker oats, grope my way to the bathroom, and tentatively begin the morning’s first meditation, one that will require all the awareness I can muster up at this early hour. It is a meditation, done with open eyes, steady hand, and begins by me navigating a very sharp device known as a men’s razor across my face. It effectively removes a new layer of roughness from my face that has mysteriously appeared there overnight. The sleepy-eyed reflection looking back at me in the mirror is saying: “You must be crazy. Are you really doing this? Don’t you realize it is minus 18 degrees outside?” I feel my warm, cozy bed pulling me back like a magnet. Well, it could be worse I tell myself. It could be an hour earlier with me on a bicycle pedaling to Dynamic Meditation. Looked at from any angle this morning, it’s early. Too early! The mind is the mind is the mind …Freshly shaved and in my thermals, I tuck into a bowl of steaming-hot oats. Looking outside my window, I watch the first rays of sun just catching the top of Aspen Mountain. The snow cats have been up there most of the night grooming the slopes, leaving them with a silky-smooth finish called “corduroy”. If I’m lucky, another few inches of snow will have fallen since the grooming. My intuition is telling me this is going to be a very special day.

I kiss my girlfriend goodbye and she mumbles something like, “You must be nuts!” then quickly disappears under the warm covers with our family of stuffed bears. Opening the door to our apartment, I am greeted by the coldest blast of air I have ever felt in my life. Good morning, Mother Nature. Humbled, I find myself in an unusual position: in absolute agreement with my girlfriend. Imust be crazy.

I walk to the base of the mountain, only four short blocks from my house. The air is so cold I can feel the hairs freezing in my nose. The ski lift opens in ten minutes, so I decide to sharpen-up my nervous system with a double espresso in my favorite cafe. Glancing through the local paper, I read where ski-related deaths are up this year, on-track to set a record in Colorado. They happen mostly from people hitting trees, or disappearing in deep snow and avalanches. The Rocky Mountains can be a dangerous and unforgiving place to the unaware. “Can’t be too careful this morning,” I think to myself as I finish-off my coffee.

I board the gondola and prepare for the ride up. Aspen, my home since two years, sits at 7910 feet elevation. When I reach the summit in twenty-minutes, I will be standing over 12,000 feet, literally on top of the world. These mountains are BIG.

This morning, the views on the way up are nothing short of spectacular. The sky is incredibly clear. Perhaps the reflection of light off the snow makes it so blue. To the south, I have an awesome view of Independence Pass which is closed about eight months of the year due to snow and landslides. Two years ago while on tour, we drove over it with the band. While taking a break to stretch our legs, Simant, our keyboard player, had his picture taken by a local photographer. The following day, it made the front page of the Aspen Times with the caption: ‘Mountain Meditation with Swami Anand Simant, Japanese musician living in India’. Later, when I went to the newspaper office to get some copies, they were surprised how many people had been calling in to order the photo. Simant, it seemed, had become something of a local legend. Overnight! I still like to think of him as Osho’s Ambassador to Aspen.

The gondola has arrived at the top and people are putting on their skis. We are few this chilly morning. I think most opted for the cozier, and aruably perhaps saner, option and stayed in bed. My little packs of chemical hand-warmers have kicked in, but they are barely competing with the sub-zero temperatures. My bindings click and lock me onto the long pieces of hi-tech planking which will soon be carrying me down the mountain at speeds up to 35 miles per hour. Note: racing skiers in the recent Salt Lake Olympics traveled at speeds up to 90 miles per hour. Personally, I prefer to enjoy this kind of speed watching it on TV. In ski jargon, I am known as a “cruiser”.

I check my boot buckles for tightness. Every little step along the way this morning needs absolute attention. In this sport, a moment’s unawareness can literally mean the difference between life and death. I pause to look at the range of jagged peaks to the west of me. They are covered in a pure white blanket of snow, shadowing what is known as the Conundrum Valley, a wilderness area famous for its natural hot springs at 11,000 feet. In this moment, the beauty of the valley and its surrounding peaks is truly spectacular, a real conundrum, simply too beautiful to comprehend with the mind.

I take a deep breath of the cold, thin air. I feel a big ‘yes’ welling up in me. Another deep breath and I’m letting it all in – all the beauty, all the nature, all the splendor. The words to a song suddenly come to mind: “There is so much magnificence …”.

I am ready now, so with a few kick-outs and a pole push I’m on my way. There is absolutely nobody on the trail. I laugh to myself at its name: ‘Bellissimo’. A unique combination of weather conditions in these high mountains produces a kind of snow extremely soft and light called “champagne powder”. Just as I was hoping for there are a few fresh inches on top of the groomed slopes this morning. The rhythm of my turns starts to create a natural intoxication in me. I’m making “first tracks”, a skier’s dream.

Ecstasy. I glide down the rolling slopes, the sharp edges of my skies cutting perfect arcs in the new snow. There is silence all around me. The landscape looks spectacular with the morning sunlight on the trees. My face is numb and eyes watery from the wind-chill factor. I round a corner and a breath-taking view opens up before my eyes: the entire Sawatch Range to the east, peak after peak over 14,000 feet; and the vast Western Slope to the north. They don’t call this the High Country for nothing. Breathing, opening, letting it all in, so much magnificence. Those words again.

4:00pm. Apres ski. I find myself once again in my favorite cafe, warming-up my weary bones with a cup of hot chocolate. I like to think it is the long day of skiing causing every one of my muscles to ache and not my forty-nine years of age. Whatever. It’s the kind of tiredness that feels really good. My mind wanders back to those magical moments earlier in the day: on top of the world, breathing, opening, letting go, nature filling me up, all that magnificence … I take another sip and close my eyes. It’s all still there, those first tracks, the sound of my edges carving graceful turns, the sunshine, the endlessly clear views, the azure blue sky, and pristine silence all around me. You know? It’s not that I’m all that tired. I’m think I’m just drunk on life.

Waves are coming in, waves are coming in . . .