YELLLOW TAIL HOLIDAY

As happens quite often, it is Jannat Singh's birthday today! And some of us find ourselves staying at a quaint little place called Yellow Tail.

Happy birthday, son, so blessed to be in a room in the same row as you.

x x x x x x x

A row of rooms arranged next to each other. Each room a different life; some gone by - if they were to be arranged in chronological order - and some yet to come. Nature is repetitive, whether its cycles take hours, days, years or lifetimes. Nature is not arranged in chronological sequence of events defined by dates, or lifetimes. Neither is a row of rooms.

Dreams. A view into some other room. Where it's actually happening. But no one ever dies in one's own dream. The dream ends abruptly just before that. Does anyone ever really die in nature? 

Or is it just time for consciousness to shift from one room to the next. Or are we in all of them all the time.

Pleasing thought, that the ones gone by are not really gone, just hanging out in another dimension, where one is still young and they're parents, where one is still young and they're loves, where one is still young and they're mountains that need climbing, where one is getting older, and they're children growing up into fine young men and women, where one is taking the last bow, and they're applauding the journey. Pleasing thought, that it was not all just a wisp of smoke that dissolved in the air, that it is all still there, that somewhere, that enchanting moment is now.

Also oddly fulfilling, the thought that the bullies haven't got away without retribution, that somewhere it's all being replayed over and over from every perspective till the time it must all dissolve in the only universal solvent of love, known variously as god or karma or nature or fate or a thousand other names.

One room's children climbing all over one and being wrestled down or thrown playfully off are the young adults of another room, already carrying an invigorating load of challenges on shoulders that are broad, ready to take on whatever comes next.  Another room's elders are also the young wide-eyed parents watching the daily miracle of their young ones growing.

It's all here, rooms full of cares, and rooms fully free of cares. It's all here, the good and the bad, the victories and the losses, the love and the pain, the hope and the despair.

A row of rooms arranged side by side, and doors opening and closing at will. 

And ever so often a passing breeze of a fresh air of hope. Ever so often a gently caressing sunshine of love. Ever so often the heady fragrance of adventure.  Windows and doors opening and closing at seemingly random will.

And dreams providing a peep into what's going on elsewhere.

A row of rooms next to each other.

Much to rejoice about. Much to reflect upon. Much to be grateful for.