top of page

It is not important that others have done it, only, that you are doing it.

While riding through the rice paddy fields of Bali in Gusti's sidecar to watch the white-herons, experiencing my first dog bite from a frightened street dog, my heart jumping at the sight of a Javanese Kingfisher on a hike alone, seeing a man masturbating in front of his shop thinking no one saw, finding a dead snake with a full belly in a river channel, falling over laughing after meditation because my leg fell asleep, singing by candlelight with a stranger during a black-out, meeting a frog on my doorstep at midnight, taking tea with a gardner who popped in most days and navigating how little we knew of each other's languages, watching a man wash his rooster in a bucket, getting transcendental during a Kecak chant, riding my bike through warm rain, hunting for used ikat fabrics in the back alleys, holding an orangutan, and hearing music reverberating through the jungle each night, I said this was my experience. In the same territories others have tread, this was mine.  


Commenting has been turned off.
bottom of page