march 17th, 2013
dearest,
i write to you from a magical place. a land full of history and the wisdom which accompanies it. stories of past lives and adventures emanate from the thousand year old redwoods and i find myself a part of it all. even my own past lives have dissipated into the abyss as my cigarette smoke does now among the wicker & vine canopy. tourists and bikers wind with the road periodically and the sun lights up the spider's web. perhaps i am in love with the world again or perhaps i always was, and just needed a reminder. or this delicious bloody mary.
but no, that's not it.
i wandered into the fernwood last night around ten. the locals were already drunk and i, of course with a charm so overdone yet always refreshing reacquainted with semi-old faces and new ones too. conversations of old sprang up after the lights were out and only the stars lit the way. the river is only right around the bend, ever flowing with grace and necessity.
today i ponder, yes, or wander, no, i go with purpose into what i will be and what again will be what was. my new friends serve me bloody marys and a dog watches me from a car window. how adorable. i should have lunch soon. i must journey to the spirit garden and remember the time i landed in their wooden nests, and taken in by a mother named rachel, on my hitch-hiking adventure, so long ago, yet so near as i journey back into this remarkable place.
oh what to say when one does not know yet i probably doubt myself more that i should. i could tell you my adventures in frisco - these past few months - but who wants to hear about that? not i, i say, not i. for it is the end of something and the beginning of another. something only to have an end and a beginning and that's how it all goes.
i move on to esalen today, to sit above the crashing waves in a sulfur bath rich with minerals and money, along with health and inspiration. terence mckenna was here one time, naked, i just missed him and his alien enlightenment.
you are at sxsw, a place i meant to go. but my dear i must tell you, that i'd rather be here. by myself and with other beings, all telling stories of how it should be. yes, i think i'd rather be here away from it all. just me, and nature's finest beauty. i hope the rustic magic of this place never dies. i hope humanity's goodwill never dies. and i hope you, my dear friend, will always beat your heart to the calling drum. for there is no such greater beauty, and vulnerability to hardship, as forging a road less traveled.
all my love,
raya darling