I wrote this in my notebook on January 5th, while in Swamimali, TN, India:
6am: I woke up an hour ago to a short burst of rain. Shortly thereafter, there was a cacaphony of sounds around me as the city woke up: recorded chants, cars, birds singing, and the suns first glow.
I went to an open grand hallway with large checkered marble floor. Outside on the portico, I did a little yoga – stiff and slow organic motions as I listened to the vortex of sound. It’s like a giant ever swirling pool of celebratory energy. There’s an unseen gravitational force around which everything revolves. It has no name or label. It is all religions, all people, all practices; and it is unrelenting. I want to turn if off, even for a moment. There is nature and beauty here, but everywhere mixed in with human endeavor.
There’s a bird in the trees, singing it’s insistent call, louder and louder as though it’s trying to be heard over the din.