Yesterday there was something in the air. Rasta-man has it in for me. I somehow find him at every table I sit at and he continues to tell me why I am a slave to "The Man" and "The System." I always have someone like this at my metaphorical table. Someone who challenges me, pokes, and expects a rise. And usually I give them that reaction, albeit quietly. I don't scream but I am physically and emotionally annoyed and agitated.
As with every day, there was a balance. Another guy here and I went on a little hike after dinner to the lake and the "Sound of the Music" hill. I don't think my lungs could hold the amount of fresh air I breathed in. Every turn was something more glorious, especially in the buttery dim of the setting sun.
"I wish I had a camera," my friend said, as we surveyed the open hills around us, an apple orchard to our right.
"No, you dont," I said. Seeing these views through a lens would be a betrayal. But I agreed to go back again, at the same time of the day, with a camera so I can share these vistas with all of you.
The nature grounded me. Out of my head and emotional state, I returned to HI much more present and equipped. Rasta-man had gone to bed early. We had a free night, so with no lectures or satsangs to attend I played a slow game of cards with a couple of good people and laughed a lot as we made corny yoga-people jokes (my team was team Triphala since there were three of us).
The night ended later than usual at 10:30 and I read and shivered in my bed until I finally drifted off, promising myself that tomorrow I would wake up and look at everyone with fresh eyes.
For next time, I will try to give you some pictures.