Bird Song

March 3. 2014: somewhere in Canada heading south toward Atlanta

I'm stepping through the door
And I'm floating in the most peculiar way
And the stars look very different today

For here

am I sitting in a tin can

Far above the world

Planet Earth is blue

And there’s nothing I can do

I’m feeling very still

--David Bowie, "Space Oddity" 

What is all  this—winter browns and grays, 60 degree temperature drop, the orderliness, the quiet, the snow?

Where are the cooling, not freezing(!) breezes, coconut vendors, tropical fruit, bright colors, disorganization, raucousness, yogis, friends, irritants, and general messiness of India?

Where is my teacher? My classmates?

Where am I?

Body is here, but apparently spirit was in my suitcase lost in Bangalore or London, and unlike my bag, is still missing.  Floating somewhere.

Where is the ground?

Long before dawn, high above the crocus and snowdrops, a cardinal is singing a speculative song.

Ground Control to Major Tom.

True yogis want to go further, to realize yourself—that becomes sadhana.  
--- Sharath, Conference notes March 2, 2014  

Metta