chicken leg

October 2, 2012

The first day of the month saw rain, chilly temps at night and the annual migration of tourists climbing to the top.  What have they seen so far?  Hazy holy mountains. 

All the rooms have been painted and now, finally, ceramic tiles are going down in the dining room.  There are other projects, the new garden, the old garden, it is October.  I wanted nothing more than to be here at this time, my favorite month of the year.  Really?  A childhood of stunning color shifts, crisp clean air, who doesn’t love fresh apple cider and cider donuts from Franklin Cider Mill?  Good memories I know I won’t see here.  Datura seeds drying in the sun.  A hundred of these smelly things will kill you. 

A group of six Danes take rooms 1-3.  Unfortunate for all they arrived when men started placing the dining rooms tiles.  This morning, though, they happily sip organic coffee and chat under the banana tree in the upper garden the price of cheese and latex underwear. 

The Tibetan black and white ankle bracelet I wore for three years disappeared this morning, a tan line is all that remains.  Wow, my ankles look so naked.  I found two large pumpkins and two huge cucumbers.  Good food and at times they are welcome, but I keep Dutch chocolate close.  Suraksha and I split a white chocolate kit kat yesterday that hurt many teeth terribly.  Sixty five percent sugar, kid, not like the Ecuadorean stuff, right?  “75% pure cocoa” she happily proclaims. 

In three weeks a significant holiday begins, one I am told, I should be here for, and then it’ll be off to India.  I’m really undecided about where to go.  Bodhgaya, Varanasi, Rajasthan, Goa, I could do all of these places if I flew in and out of each and I’m not crazy about that at all.  But there’s a blue city I want to see now, and I’d like to say hello to Francis Xavier one more time. I could pass on Varanasi as for Bodhgaya I am not sure why I hesitate.  Because I reached a conclusion that only enlightenment could bring? 

The Buddha lived another forty years after he found enlightenment.  Did he ever wonder if death was the only thing to look forward now that he had seen how death and life and suffering in between  all work together?

10:00am  In an effort to understand the impact of the datura seed I consumed four just now.  I will monitor and hopefully record the effects here.  It’s possible nothing will happen for a while, maybe three or four hours after they are digested. 

11:40am.  Ah nothing I know of is different, my perspective and general look at everything around me remains pre-.  It is interesting to see Maya cleaning two of the daturas, now on a tin plate drying in the partly sunny sun.  She says she doesn’t do anything with these seeds and has never tried one.  That’s probably good.  I do sense from typing now a certain improvement in clarity from my head or from my eyes I am not sure, or both.  I could also just be wishing to feel a change.  Laxman says don’t bite me after I told him I had consumed only four.

 If you look like a chicken leg I am going to bite you.

1:00pm.  I took six more, I think they are not as effective not because they have to dry out.  Roasting them was suggested, for now we’ll play it safe and take them a few at a time.  Also three Dutch orange chocolate pastilles.  All the guests have left, I took a nice hot shower in room five and when it is possible I will do so again because that was very nice.  I am aiming to straighten the sheets and roll the blankets now, though I don’t wish to keep didi sitting on her hands, an unlikelihood I think, there’s a lot to do. 

I should sweep.  I should listen to Phil Collins for one song and then I’ll go sweep. 

4:00pm.  A brief nap, a little bit of chocolate, all the rooms are clean, no effect from the ten seeds.  It must be early, still, to dry them two months more makes them more effective?   We’re not talking tobacco here, folks.  In any case, a late afternoon that smells like fall, burning leaves, Bob Ufer calls the plays on Canham’s carpet, we dance, we shake the goosebumps, we eat another donut.  A call for lunch.  The tile men should almost be finished with the dining room.  Now, the kitchen. 

A Chinese couple check into room five.  Their guide will need to find a place to sleep elsewhere tonight.  Rooms seven and eight are occupied by the painters and furniture.  The room darkens, thick fog slides in, thunder rumbles.  No sunset tonite.  I’m only a little disappointed with the seeds today.  Oh wait, wow, the fog thickens green, the rain picks up, Irish music seems to have a place right now until lightening cracks closer and closer and sizzling electricity sears my pant leg and it’s time for dinner.  What a light show.