Kundalini Splendor

NOTE: PLEASE FOLLOW THE PICTURES FROM THE BOTTOM UP. I POSTED THEM IN THE WRONG ORDER. THE LAST PICTURE IS THE FIRST ONE I TOOK ON MY WALK, AND THE OTHERS FOLLOWED.

True, much of the time I live more or less "with my head in the clouds." I am fascinated by the exotic, the mysterious--the Kundalini in all her inscrutable aspects, the poetry of the transcendent. I live in a very quiet apartment in San Francisco and indeed sometimes feel I am a bit of a hermit. But I fully enjoy both the privacy and the silence of my surroundings. (But of course, the city is replete with exciting things to do when one wishes to sally forth and friends here are of a special breed.)

Most often on my walks, I photograph flowers and trees, to me a direct connection with the higher realms. But today, I did something different. I decided to focus on my "actual" physical surroundings, the stores and people I pass on the busy street outside when I go out to do my neighborhood errands. The above images are the results of that effort. What I realized as I began to look around more carefully was that I live in a remarkably diverse neighborhood. (Of course, all cities are characterized by diversity. For me, this variety is still a bit of a novelty, certainly a contrast to the places in the Midwest where I spent most of my earlier life.) Mostly, my neighborhood contains Asian and Russian residents, with a few other groups sprinkled in.

The first picture (at the bottom of the group) is of an interesting gentleman I observed at an outdoor vegetable stand as I passed by. First, I tried to photograph him unnoticed, but finally I asked his permission and he readily agreed. As it turned out, we talked a bit and I discovered Lazlo had a very interesting past. Born in Hungary, he suffered in his early years from the oppression of the Soviet occupation. He tried to escape several times--once almost drowning in the Danube. For this failed attempt, he was sentenced to three years in prison. He finally got out of the country "during the chaos" of the revolt of the sixties. Now eighty, he has lived here in San Francisco for thirty years and loves the diversity of the city.

I then stopped at the Russian owned drug store to buy a "fast pass." (For seniors the cost is ten dollars, and the pass enables you to ride anywhere in the city). As I left I noticed a rack of Chinese newspapers for sale, and outside, in the display window, were metal Egyptian gods and goddesses. I wondered where they came from and how they got there.

Next door (no picture) was the Irish Bakery, with soda bread an scones for sale, and next to that the Irish pub, where you could get your Guiness or smoke on the back patio (the Irish love their smokes.) And after that, the Jewish bakery, with pictures of "pinup girls" on magazines displayed in the window.

Then I spied a woman at another produce stand, and snapped her photo as she examined the offerings. (I love the elderly one encounters on the streets, and I feel that each one contains a fascinating narrative within.)

Next was a Japanese sushi cafe, and various Chinese restaurants.

Then I passed the "Purple Skunk Boardshop," where the skateboarders and young folk hang out. Such a shop, catering to the younger generation, is almost an anomaly in our neighborhood.

Then I stopped at La Vie, a marvelous Vietnamese restaurant not far from where I live. As I waited for my take out order to arrive, I snapped a picture of this lovely stringed instrument hanging on the wall. I asked the waitress if she knew what it was, but she did not. There was only one seated customer in the restaurant and again I asked permission and again he agreed. I wondered where he was from (he did not appear to have any particular accent) and didn't want to ask directly, so instead I asked if he was a native San Franciscan (a rare breed, indeed). He smiled and said no, he was from New Jersey.

All of the above encounters occurred within two or three blocks as I made my way home. I saved the rest to post tomorrow.