Beginnings of Endless Synchronicities
Virginia, 2009

 
I drive through winding Virginian country roads
“Yogaville,” appears on a green sign
No way, my breath catches
That was the one place I wanted to see
Before leaving Virginia
I enter it into my GPS
Turns out I’m 3 miles away
Clearly I am meant to spend time there

Walk into the Yogaville bookshop
Blue-eyed Susan lays out options
Meditation, yoga, the temple
A wrinkled meditation teacher
with crooked teeth walks in
Looks at me
“I’d like to give you this,” she says
“It’s ash from India, put it on your forehead and meditate for at least 45 minutes.
It will open up worlds for you.”

The temple is a pink lotus flower
Opening
To a blue sky
I am alone there
passing empty water fountains
with ice covering small patches
where water still remained undrained
sunlight bouncing off the ice

Take the twisty stairway up
into the silent temple
a stalk
of moving light bubbles
holds up the center
of the inner lotus
I sit on the carpet under
A circle
“Truth is One = paths are many” it says
 
I sit in silence in the temple
I breathe
I sit
Tears run down my face
I’ve really done it
I’ve left my loves
I’ve left my dogs and cats
I’ve left my home
I’ve left my family
But somehow
They all still feel around me
Except all I need
Is within me

She dips her fingers
Into the ash of India
And smears it
Onto my forehead
Before
I sink
Into a silent
Hour
Of
meditation.

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