Day 315: Listen up!

If the theory that spirits of the dearly departed latch onto us humans from time to time to leech off of our misgivings in  order to cover their "karma" quota and freeload during our good days, holds true, then WHO THE FUCK IS RIDING MY TRAIN?

Look, you! You had your shot and looks like you blew it. You died without making amends. So if you think copping out on rebirth by exploiting my life choices like an ungrateful parasite is going to get you UNIVERSAL POINTS, THINK AGAIN!

Because as I see it, you've no choice but to get your sorry ass DOWN here, to human life, and clean your crusty ass YOURSELF. And THIS time, be more thorough, eh?

This train is no longer serving freeloading passengers. It's going to the yard to be spruced and when I'm done healing I'd like to live the remainder of MY life as MY life -- NOT your unfinished bidness.

Yours  Compassionately (but NOT unconditionally),

TK

Day 21: Letter to You

Dear You,

Yes, this letter is addressed to YOU and not me. I want to take this moment to tell you that you are special and magical. There is something beautiful that radiates through you, whether you believe it or see it in yourself or not. I see it.

And when you are in a dark corner and cannot will yourself to get out, remember that you are brilliant and capable of anything and everything you set your mind to.

I know the 'easier said than done' reply. I am not saying I have it all figured out. I'm discovering life too, a day at a time. So even if I cannot tell you how to get out of the dark corner or assure you that everything will be peachy forever, I can say this: you are not alone. There is power in knowing that everyone is struggling with something big or small. And that even if we feel alone or lonely, we are in it together.

I hope this strengthens and comforts you. Know that you are worth the fight, the pain, the struggle and the investment. You are worth every ray of sunshine.

And I love you, as you are, today and forever.

May you be happy.

Tulsi

Day 20: Taste

The smell of buckwheat flour crackling over butter. The cheese that melted as I pressed the fork and knife down to cut a piece. How the white cheese oozed out of small holes in the buckwheat crepe. The velvety touch of aubergine in the ratatoiulle, and dance of herbs on my tongue. The sweetness of caramelized onions. The fields where everything grew, ripe and fresh. The cows that produced the dairy that made the incredible cheese. The love and compassion of creating a wholesome meal for strangers. The smiles of the chefs as my mother watched them cook our meal. The attentiveness of the ladies who waited on us, with a smile, at the end of a long day on their feet. The intimacy between my lips and the cutlery. The tasteful art and the artful tastes. Gentle music caressing me in the background. The creaminess of everything. The food coma. The generosity and care of those who served us. Their large hearts. Dessert on the house. Sweetness to ride home with. The experience shared.

Bliss. Gratitude. Nourishment. Fulfilment. Happiness.