Kundalini Splendor

I still get a sense of the spark of the Divine in every eye - human or otherwise, in every plant and stone.
(from a friend)

As I continued my walk through my neighborhood, I passed still more interesting folk and shops. Diversity? I had had a virtual U.N. tour, encountering the representatives and expressions of the cultures of Hungary, Russia, Egypt, U. S., Vietnam, Japan, Ireland, Israel, Korea and China, all within two or three blocks of home. And--as Lazlo had commented earlier, we all seem to get along together well, for indeed San Francisco is a city of tolerance for not only diverse ethnic cultures but various lifestyles. I often reflect that no matter how "far out" you may imagine yourself to be, in this city it will not be noticed for there are always others much much stranger than you. As one person noted, San Francisco attracts all those who didn't fit in back home. In San Francisco I live happily as a lesbian/poet/mystic and no one seems to mind. Were I to go "back home," I simply could not explain myself in any of these categories--indeed, where would I begin? (Not, of course, even to mention kundalini, an experience which--if revealed--would likely make me, at least for some, a candidate for lock up.)

I passed the storefront of the Russian tailor, where the owner looks like a twin of Vladimir Putin (I get my slacks shortened here, and he does excellent work.) Next came the "Hat Shop" which offers hats for men suited for all occasions, including top hats should one be needed. I paused once more to gaze at the antiques on display at "Troika," the Russian shop on the corner of the block where I live. Many of the articles looked like treasures brought out during the revolution--vases and bowls and other elegant objects of art. I walked by the Korean barbecue restaurant. My final stop was at another antique store, this one next to my own entrance. This shop (with the slogan "Gary on Geary") is filled with a great store of goods, from Buddhas to bunnies, as if they had somehow been assembled for a giant rummage sale. Something about the sign suggests an English connection ("Antique Shoppe"). Many of these items have been in the window for years and indeed, only seldom have I seen anyone enter. I think the elderly owner is more interested in having a place to "hang out" than in making a great profit. And, as I took my final shot, an Asian couple with a small child also paused to admire the rabbit in the window, and they gave me permission to photograph their utterly delighted (and delightful) little boy.

Then I reentered what is in effect my "sanctuary," a place well away from the noise and bustle of the street, where I can listen to my Tibetan chants and kirtan and discover new poets and interesting and spiritual internet sites and commune through e-mail with my many friends on topics of mutual interest.

Yes, at times one must descend from the sublime into the mundane, gaze about in wonder and reconnect with the "real" world, as some call it. The one and the many, the source and its myriad manifestations, the light and its rays--all revealed here together as we wander through our amazing world.