Seeing photos of my saris (which are now journeying with a friend in South India) brings memories of scents–incense and dust, burning ghee, dung and jasmine blossoms, and the feel of hot stones underneath my bare feet. There it is (evidently newly pressed) among the nagas–serpents, tendrils of myth and memory arising desires from our deepest [un]consciousness. Perhaps I will dream of such tonight.
I am not drawn to the desert. I prefer the lush fullness of a wetter climate, but the very otherness of the desert from my usual environment fills me with awe and appreciation for the immense variety of existence. I went to the desert on this trip because that is where my teacher was teaching, and the teachings were more important to me than any preference for visiting a particular outer landscape. One of the great benefits of combining intensive meditation with travel is that it can demonstrate at the most profound level that the infinitude of the inner landscape is the same no matter where we are and no matter what are the features of any outer landscapes we visit.
