Ешь, молись, люби

Chapter 96

           Butnothingwasreallyworkingtonight-notthefiremen,notthepirates,notthatpervyoldBillClintonstandbyscenethatusuallydoesthetrick,noteventheVictoriangentlemencrowdingaroundmeintheirdrawingroomwiththeirtaskforceofnubileyoungmaids.Intheend,theonlythingthatwouldsatisfywaswhenIreluctantlyadmittedintomymindtheideaofmygoodfriendfromBrazilclimbingintothisbedwithme…onme…

           ThenIslept.Iwoketoaquietblueskyandanevenquieterbedroom.Stillfeelingunsettledandunbalanced,Itookalongstretchofmymorningandchantedtheentire182SanskritversesoftheGurugita-thegreat,purifyingfundamentalhymnofmyAshraminIndia.ThenImeditatedforanhourofbone-tinglingstillnessuntilIfinallyfeltitagain-thatspecific,constant,clear-sky,unrelated-to-anything,never-shifting,namelessandchangelessperfectionofmyownhappiness.Thathappinesswhichisbetter,truly,thananythingIhaveeverexperiencedanywhereelseonthisearth,andthatincludessalty,butterykissesandevensaltierandmorebutterypotatoes.

           IwassogladIhadmadethedecisiontostayalone.

           

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