Independent & Ad-free.

“From its idealistic, unlikely inception in 1974 to its current incarnation as a nonprofit magazine with more than 70,000 subscribers, The Sun has attempted to marry the personal and political; to honor the genuine and the spiritual; to see what kind of roommates beauty and truth can be; and to show that powerful teaching can be found in the lives of ordinary people.” - About The Sun

Just wanted to share a few of my favorite titles read in the last few months…..

Funny that for all the miles walked and distances flown, I have rarely wandered as far from this blog as my recent extended absence. While I could confess to a tiny and guilty sigh of related relief, it is also the truth that the day I left for Hawaii, I woke up to that dreaded little unhappy Mac face on an equally depressed gray screen, in response to which an Apple support representative quickly sent me a laptop coffin in which my keyboard took a forced vacation while I was on my own.

Alas, absence makes the fingers, too, grow fonder. And while my typing and thoughts may be out of sync in their partner dance, they are still happy to be fumbling through this clumsy writing exercise and re-beginning where they didn’t realize they would forget leaving off. (Oh see! I can still write confusing sentences. It comes back fast!)

My computer desktop, quite disturbingly, reflects the exact background photo, mess of unsorted files, and old priorities that plagued my mental desktop exactly four months ago: the date my blessed little brother (almost accidentally) backed up my MacBook. Yes. I’m touching his feet with immense gratitude for his fortunate foresight, but at the same time, feeling quite a case of dementia setting in as I find myself haunted by the echoing questions of what happened in the last four months that no longer exists only because I do not remember if, when or where I wrote it into existence. Even more disturbing, perhaps, is the disconcerting realization that my computer and mental state are apparently, and so intimately, intertwined that I could actually catch a case of hard drive-crash Alzheimer’s from an (seemingly) inanimate object. But who am I to suddenly stop personifying and genderfying the objects with “whom” I’m constantly interacting? It’s for this exact reason that, in response to my refusal of my boyfriend’s excellent advice, my greenhouse is currently suffering from massive bean overpopulation. (Putting my body between his and the beans, I pleaded quite an irrational case, not being able to sacrifice even a few of the young seedlings for the good of the sunlight-hungry whole, because, in my world of tiny human beans, they had each already worked so hard to sprout and prove themselves worthy a run for the climbing poles and who are we to choose which bean lives to end prematurely?!) You see. And now you might understand why my vegetarianism is less choice than (personification of all things) curse. (Confusing sentences, made up words, AND rambling paragraphs of non-sense! Like riding a bike.)

So what now? Well as much as I would like, in my hard-drive-crash-Alzheimer’s fog, to conveniently pretend that the folder on my desktop titled, “Writing WIP” was squarely attended to with each half-started story diligently concluded to my utmost satisfaction, the truth is that that is not the truth. So instead maybe I’ll wipe the untouched dust off that file and get back into the stories of detoxing, the Dolpa, the more recent trips to India and Hawaii, or maybe I’ll just rant on a little about our worm hotel compost, my revolving door relationship with Holidays, my upcoming adventure in learning to ski, or my new favorite book. Either way. I’m back. Big, small and really small, I’ve got more stories to share.

And by the way, that new favorite book is:

The Omnivore’s Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals

Eric, the editor of TravelBlogs.com recently posed the following prompt to a group of travel bloggers. If you’re interested, you can find the other answers in his article on, “Dealing with Loneliness on the Road.”

Here was my answer:

How do you deal with loneliness on the road?

I remember wondering about this question myself; once. And then I noticed the guy sitting next to me on the plane was reading, “The Alchemist” and I said, “Hey! That’s my favorite book!” and he said, “Yea? It inspired me to make this solo adventure to Latin America, which I’m now kind of nervous about….”

And that’s the thing about “loneliness” on the road; it dissipates as fast as you can write, “me too!” in the fog of your breath on the window plexiglas. The community of solo travellers is strong and sticky; we are like beads of mercury, ever rolling faster, and with a curiously strong drive for cohesion, towards each other. Being an introvert and independent, I actually have to concentrate on keeping my eyes low and my pace quick to find my (treasured) time alone.

In seven years of travelling, the only time I remember wishing for a little more community was in Thailand, where as a “single” it’s easy to get lost in the boat loads of honeymooners and bratpacks of recent college graduates. But if you avoid the strongholds of Club Med, you’ll quickly find the other solo traveller(s) looking for you. And this might sound strangely like dating advice, but it’s true: just follow your whim and interests; joining a language school, dropping in on a dance class or volunteering with an NGO are all INSTANT “ins” into already established communities of both locals and travellers. All you have to do is drop by the closest internet cafe and look for the board with all the activity fliers and jot down the location and time. While you’re there, ask the internet cafe if they are hiring, because a quick local job (bartending, teaching english, etc.) is another instant door to close community. And if you haven’t joined, www.CouchSurfing.com yet, you should register and build up your profile, as I’ve found some of my BEST friends in the world via this global network established JUST for the purpose of fostering intimate community and authentic connections between locals and international travellers.

And finally, “loneliness” and being “alone” are not the same; don’t come home without figuring out the difference!

I specifically remember the days my mother cleaned house because for dinner, there was always a slightly mysterious thing boiling in a pot, that we (the kids) renamed, “left-over stew.” Well, as I blow the dust off of, and pack up my bag for a month of travelling through the states of West Bengal, Punjab and Rajasthan, there are just a few old and odd things that have been growing pale in their tupperwear that I just want to get out and toss into the stew before moving on. Yum.

First of all, I want to say thank you to the NGO overseasvotefoundation.org for streamlining and simplifying the process of registering to (absentee) vote from abroad. So to those of you, out there, like me, here’s the bookmark:

Second, if your foot twitches like mine for India, then there’s an excellent series of movies (all banned in India) available locally to you that cover (via impressive cinematography) some of the most controversial issues (Partition, Widows & Lesbianism) in this country:

Third, if your leg further kicks like mine for India, then here’s a list of a few books I turned the last page and sighed in awe, new understanding, and/or relief over:

*****

East, West by Salman Rushdie

My introduction to Rushdie. This man is a story-chess champion and his near-schizophrenic ability to BE his characters showcases a depth of mind that scares me.

*****

Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts

An (overly?) dramatic page-turner based on the story of an Australian man running wild in the underworld of Bombay. Interesting enough to be worth the read.

*****

A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry

Maybe my favorite piece of fiction, ever. I’ve defined, “divine chaos” but this book, for me, defines, “tragic beauty.” If you thought there wasn’t such a thing, or just want to be introduced to the myriad non-fictions for millions in India, this is your book.

*****

In Spite of the Gods — The Strange Rise of Modern India by Edward Luce

History, politics, interviews and modern social movements. I’m only on chapter 2.

*****

Fourth and finally, I’ve added a few rolls (Page 5) to my Visions of India album, so if it’s hard for you to imagine the fact that 1 in 6 people in the world live in India, these visuals might help:

The Visions of India Album
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*sol bows her “namaste” and gratitude to World Nomads Travel Insurance, ThinkHost and Merc for their ever-supporting roles in the realization of her dream.

Amazon Reader Reviews: Sugar Blues – William Duffy
Wikipedia: Sugar Blues – William Duffy

It’s outdated, and makes some sweeping assumptions that I sometimes grimaced at, but if you like world history, international politics, and credible corporate conspiracy theories of the “disease establishment” — then this book might also inspire you to do a little experiential experimentation of your own.

Now that I’ve turned the last page (and officially started a sugar fast), I’ll soon be back with another Senegal story that’s been churning in the back of my head for three nights now.

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*sol bows her “namaste” and gratitude to World Nomads Travel Insurance, ThinkHost and Merc for their ever-supporting roles in the realization of her dream.

I’ll be back with another (final?) chapter on my bush taxi trip in Senegal soon, but if you’re eager to move forward with another story of African adventure, the following have each filled my free time and provided feast (but certainly not peace) for mind:

From Publishers Weekly
Colorful writing and a deep intelligence highlight these essays’ graceful exploration of postcolonial Africa. A Polish journalist who has written about the continent for more than three decades, Kapuscinski provides glimpses into African life far beyond what has been covered in headlines or in most previous books on the subject.

*****

From Publishers Weekly
Starred Review. The late Ivory Coast author and political activist Kourouma (Waiting for the Wild Beasts to Vote) writes with a brutal and obscene frankness reminiscent of Celine in this powerfully tragic novel about a West African child soldier who learns early that “Allah is not obliged to be fair about all the things he does here on earth.” Unsure if he’s 10 or 12 years old, “rude as a goat’s beard” Birahima, a third-grade dropout, recalls how his once-beautiful mother became an amputee who “moved on her arse like a caterpillar” and that he suspected her of being a soul-devouring sorceress. After her death, the boy is entrusted to a roguish shaman and sent to live with an aunt in Liberia. En route, they fall into the clutches of a warlord, and Birahima joins their forces as a boy soldier, witnessing and participating in all manner of savagery.

*****

Book Description (From Amazon)
In 1947-48 the workers on the Dakar-Niger railway came out on strike. Sembene Ousmane, in this vivid, timeless novel, evinces all the color, passion, and tragedy of those formative years in the history of West Africa.

*****

The story of Shiva Naipaul’s remarkable journey through Africa.

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*sol bows her “namaste” and gratitude to World Nomads Travel Insurance, ThinkHost and Merc for their ever-supporting roles in the realization of her dream.

Song of the Open Road
by Walt Whitman
(1819-1892)

1
Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.

The earth, that is sufficient,
I do not want the constellations any nearer,
I know they are very well where they are,
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go,
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,
I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)

2
You road I enter upon and look around, I believe you are not all
that is here,
I believe that much unseen is also here.

Here the profound lesson of reception, nor preference nor denial,
The black with his woolly head, the felon, the diseas’d, the
illiterate person, are not denied;
The birth, the hasting after the physician, the beggar’s tramp, the
drunkard’s stagger, the laughing party of mechanics,
The escaped youth, the rich person’s carriage, the fop, the eloping couple,
The early market-man, the hearse, the moving of furniture into the
town, the return back from the town,
They pass, I also pass, any thing passes, none can be interdicted,
None but are accepted, none but shall be dear to me.

3
You air that serves me with breath to speak!
You objects that call from diffusion my meanings and give them shape!
You light that wraps me and all things in delicate equable showers!
You paths worn in the irregular hollows by the roadsides!
I believe you are latent with unseen existences, you are so dear to me.

You flagg’d walks of the cities! you strong curbs at the edges!
You ferries! you planks and posts of wharves! you timber-lined
side! you distant ships!
You rows of houses! you window-pierc’d facades! you roofs!
You porches and entrances! you copings and iron guards!
You windows whose transparent shells might expose so much!
You doors and ascending steps! you arches!
You gray stones of interminable pavements! you trodden crossings!
From all that has touch’d you I believe you have imparted to
yourselves, and now would impart the same secretly to me,
From the living and the dead you have peopled your impassive surfaces,
and the spirits thereof would be evident and amicable with me.

4
The earth expanding right hand and left hand,
The picture alive, every part in its best light,
The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where it is
not wanted,
The cheerful voice of the public road, the gay fresh sentiment of the road.

O highway I travel, do you say to me Do not leave me?
Do you say Venture not–if you leave me you are lost?
Do you say I am already prepared, I am well-beaten and undenied,
adhere to me?

O public road, I say back I am not afraid to leave you, yet I love you,
You express me better than I can express myself,
You shall be more to me than my poem.

I think heroic deeds were all conceiv’d in the open air, and all
free poems also,
I think I could stop here myself and do miracles,
I think whatever I shall meet on the road I shall like, and whoever
beholds me shall like me,
I think whoever I see must be happy.

5
From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines,
Going where I list, my own master total and absolute,
Listening to others, considering well what they say,
Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,
Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that
would hold me.

I inhale great draughts of space,
The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are mine.

I am larger, better than I thought,
I did not know I held so much goodness.

All seems beautiful to me,
can repeat over to men and women You have done such good to me
I would do the same to you,
I will recruit for myself and you as I go,
I will scatter myself among men and women as I go,
I will toss a new gladness and roughness among them,
Whoever denies me it shall not trouble me,
Whoever accepts me he or she shall be blessed and shall bless me.

6
Now if a thousand perfect men were to appear it would not amaze me,
Now if a thousand beautiful forms of women appear’d it would not
astonish me.

Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons,
It is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth.

Here a great personal deed has room,
(Such a deed seizes upon the hearts of the whole race of men,
Its effusion of strength and will overwhelms law and mocks all
authority and all argument against it.)

Here is the test of wisdom,
Wisdom is not finally tested in schools,
Wisdom cannot be pass’d from one having it to another not having it,
Wisdom is of the soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof,
Applies to all stages and objects and qualities and is content,
Is the certainty of the reality and immortality of things, and the
excellence of things;
Something there is in the float of the sight of things that provokes
it out of the soul.

Now I re-examine philosophies and religions,
They may prove well in lecture-rooms, yet not prove at all under the
spacious clouds and along the landscape and flowing currents.

Here is realization,
Here is a man tallied–he realizes here what he has in him,
The past, the future, majesty, love–if they are vacant of you, you
are vacant of them.

Only the kernel of every object nourishes;
Where is he who tears off the husks for you and me?
Where is he that undoes stratagems and envelopes for you and me?

Here is adhesiveness, it is not previously fashion’d, it is apropos;
Do you know what it is as you pass to be loved by strangers?
Do you know the talk of those turning eye-balls?

7
Here is the efflux of the soul,
The efflux of the soul comes from within through embower’d gates,
ever provoking questions,
These yearnings why are they? these thoughts in the darkness why are they?
Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me the sunlight
expands my blood?
Why when they leave me do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank?
Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious
thoughts descend upon me?
(I think they hang there winter and summer on those trees and always
drop fruit as I pass;)
What is it I interchange so suddenly with strangers?
What with some driver as I ride on the seat by his side?
What with some fisherman drawing his seine by the shore as I walk by
and pause?
What gives me to be free to a woman’s and man’s good-will? what
gives them to be free to mine?

8
The efflux of the soul is happiness, here is happiness,
I think it pervades the open air, waiting at all times,
Now it flows unto us, we are rightly charged.

Here rises the fluid and attaching character,
The fluid and attaching character is the freshness and sweetness of
man and woman,
(The herbs of the morning sprout no fresher and sweeter every day
out of the roots of themsel
ves, than it sprouts fresh and sweet
continually out of itself.)

Toward the fluid and attaching character exudes the sweat of the
love of young and old,
From it falls distill’d the charm that mocks beauty and attainments,
Toward it heaves the shuddering longing ache of contact.

9
Allons! whoever you are come travel with me!
Traveling with me you find what never tires.

The earth never tires,
The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first, Nature is rude
and incomprehensible at first,
Be not discouraged, keep on, there are divine things well envelop’d,
I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.

Allons! we must not stop here,
However sweet these laid-up stores, however convenient this dwelling
we cannot remain here,
However shelter’d this port and however calm these waters we must
not anchor here,
However welcome the hospitality that surrounds us we are permitted
to receive it but a little while.

10
Allons! the inducements shall be greater,
We will sail pathless and wild seas,
We will go where winds blow, waves dash, and the Yankee clipper
speeds by under full sail.

Allons! with power, liberty, the earth, the elements,
Health, defiance, gayety, self-esteem, curiosity;
Allons! from all formules!
From your formules, O bat-eyed and materialistic priests.

The stale cadaver blocks up the passage–the burial waits no longer.

Allons! yet take warning!
He traveling with me needs the best blood, thews, endurance,
None may come to the trial till he or she bring courage and health,
Come not here if you have already spent the best of yourself,
Only those may come who come in sweet and determin’d bodies,
No diseas’d person, no rum-drinker or venereal taint is permitted here.

(I and mine do not convince by arguments, similes, rhymes,
We convince by our presence.)

11
Listen! I will be honest with you,
I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer rough new prizes,
These are the days that must happen to you:
You shall not heap up what is call’d riches,
You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn or achieve,
You but arrive at the city to which you were destin’d, you hardly
settle yourself to satisfaction before you are call’d by an
irresistible call to depart,
You shall be treated to the ironical smiles and mockings of those
who remain behind you,
What beckonings of love you receive you shall only answer with
passionate kisses of parting,
You shall not allow the hold of those who spread their reach’d hands
toward you.

12
Allons! after the great Companions, and to belong to them!
They too are on the road–they are the swift and majestic men–they
are the greatest women,
Enjoyers of calms of seas and storms of seas,
Sailors of many a ship, walkers of many a mile of land,
Habitues of many distant countries, habitues of far-distant dwellings,
Trusters of men and women, observers of cities, solitary toilers,
Pausers and contemplators of tufts, blossoms, shells of the shore,
Dancers at wedding-dances, kissers of brides, tender helpers of
children, bearers of children,
Soldiers of revolts, standers by gaping graves, lowerers-down of coffins,
Journeyers over consecutive seasons, over the years, the curious
years each emerging from that which preceded it,
Journeyers as with companions, namely their own diverse phases,
Forth-steppers from the latent unrealized baby-days,
Journeyers gayly with their own youth, journeyers with their bearded
and well-grain’d manhood,
Journeyers with their womanhood, ample, unsurpass’d, content,
Journeyers with their own sublime old age of manhood or womanhood,
Old age, calm, expanded, broad with the haughty breadth of the universe,
Old age, flowing free with the delicious near-by freedom of death.

13
Allons! to that which is endless as it was beginningless,
To undergo much, tramps of days, rests of nights,
To merge all in the travel they tend to, and the days and nights
they tend to,
Again to merge them in the start of superior journeys,
To see nothing anywhere but what you may reach it and pass it,
To conceive no time, however distant, but what you may reach it and pass it,
To look up or down no road but it stretches and waits for you,
however long but it stretches and waits for you,
To see no being, not God’s or any, but you also go thither,
To see no possession but you may possess it, enjoying all without
labor or purchase, abstracting the feast yet not abstracting one
particle of it,
To take the best of the farmer’s farm and the rich man’s elegant
villa, and the chaste blessings of the well-married couple, and
the fruits of orchards and flowers of gardens,
To take to your use out of the compact cities as you pass through,
To carry buildings and streets with you afterward wherever you go,
To gather the minds of men out of their brains as you encounter
them, to gather the love out of their hearts,
To take your lovers on the road with you, for all that you leave
them behind you,
To know the universe itself as a road, as many roads, as roads for
traveling souls.

All parts away for the progress of souls,
All religion, all solid things, arts, governments–all that was or is
apparent upon this globe or any globe, falls into niches and corners
before the procession of souls along the grand roads of the universe.

Of the progress of the souls of men and women along the grand roads of
the universe, all other progress is the needed emblem and sustenance.

Forever alive, forever forward,
Stately, solemn, sad, withdrawn, baffled, mad, turbulent, feeble,
dissatisfied,
Desperate, proud, fond, sick, accepted by men, rejected by men,
They go! they go! I know that they go, but I know not where they go,
But I know that they go toward the best–toward something great.

Whoever you are, come forth! or man or woman come forth!
You must not stay sleeping and dallying there in the house, though
you built it, or though it has been built for you.

Out of the dark confinement! out from behind the screen!
It is useless to protest, I know all and expose it.

Behold through you as bad as the rest,
Through the laughter, dancing, dining, supping, of people,
Inside of dresses and ornaments, inside of those wash’d and trimm’d faces,
Behold a secret silent loathing and despair.

No husband, no wife, no friend, trusted to hear the confession,
Another self, a duplicate of every one, skulking and hiding it goes,
Formless and wordless through the streets of the cities, polite and
bland in the parlors,
In the cars of railroads, in steamboats, in the public assembly,
Home to the houses of men and women, at the table, in the bedroom,
everywhere,
Smartly attired, countenance smiling, form upright, death under the
breast-bones, hell under the skull-bones,
Under the broadcloth and gloves, under the ribbons and artificial flowers,
Keeping fair with the customs, speaking not a syllable of itself,
Speaking of any thing else but never of itself.

14
Allons! through struggles and wars!
The goal that was named cannot be countermanded.

Have the past struggles succeeded?
What has succeeded? yourself? your nation? Nature?
Now understand me well–it is provided in the essence of things that
from any fruition of success, no matter what, shall come forth
something to make a greater struggle necessary.

My call is the call of battle, I nourish active rebellion,
He going with me must go well arm’d,
He going with
me goes often with spare diet, poverty, angry enemies,
desertions.

15
Allons! the road is before us!
It is safe–I have tried it–my own feet have tried it well–be not
detain’d!
Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the
shelf unopen’d!
Let the tools remain in the workshop! let the money remain unearn’d!
Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher!
Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer plead in the
court, and the judge expound the law.

Camerado, I give you my hand!
I give you my love more precious than money,
I give you myself before preaching or law;
Will you give me yourselp. will you come travel with me?
Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?

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*sol bows her “namaste” and gratitude to World Nomads Travel Insurance, ThinkHost and Merc for their ever-supporting roles in the realization of her dream.

I thought I’d just share, also, what I’ve been reading…

The Religions of Man – by Houson Smith
(With particular attention to the chapter on Islam)

“Smith writes humbly, forswearing judgment on the validity of world religions. His introduction asks, “How does it all sound from above? Like bedlam, or do the strains blend in strange, ethereal harmony? … We cannot know. All we can do is try to listen carefully and with full attention to each voice in turn as it addresses the divine. Such listening defines the purpose of this book.”

So Long a Letter – by Mariama Ba

“Mariama Ba, a longtime women’s activist, set out to write a book that exposed the double standard between men and women in Africa. The result, So Long a Letter, eventually won the first Noma Award for Publishing in Africa. The book itself takes the form of a long letter written by a widow, Ramatoulaye, to her friend, over the mandatory forty-day mourning period following the death of a husband.”

Ambiguous Adventure – by Cheikh Hamidou Kane

“Sambo Diallo is unable to identify with the soulless material civilization he finds in France, where he is sent to learn the secrets of the white man’s power.”

God’s Bits of Wood – by Sembene Ousmane

“In 1947-48 the workers on the Dakar-Niger railway staged a strike. In this vivid, timeless novel, Sembene Ousmane envinces the color, passion, and tragedy of those formative years in the history of West Africa.”

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*sol bows her “namaste” and gratitude to World Nomads Travel Insurance, ThinkHost and Merc for their ever-supporting roles in the realization of her dream.

A free audiobook download has thrown me back at the feet and humbled mercy of my favorite author, philosopher and dreamer…

Ralph Waldo Emerson pokes a finger directly into my heart with this address to all poets and pilgrims:

“O poet! A new nobility is conferred in groves and pastures, and not in castles, or by the sword-blade, any longer. The conditions are hard, but equal. Thou shalt leave the world, and know the muse only. Thou shalt not know any longer the times, customs, graces, politics, or opinions of men, but shalt take all from the muse. For the time of towns is tolled from the world by funeral chimes, but in nature the universal hours are counted by succeeding tribes of animals and plants, and by growth of joy on joy. God wills also that thou abdicate a duplex and manifold life, and that thou be content that others speak for thee. Others shall be thy gentlemen, and shall represent all courtesy and worldly life for thee; others shall do the great and resounding actions also. Thou shalt lie close hid with nature, and canst not be afforded to the Capitol or the Exchange. The world is full of renunciations and apprenticeships, and this is thine; thou must pass for a fool, and a churl for a long season. This is the screen and sheath in which Pan has protected his well-beloved flower, and thou shalt be known only to thine own, and they shall console thee with tenderest love. And thou shalt not be able to rehearse the names of thy friends in thy verse, for an old shame before the holy ideal. And this is the reward: that the ideal shall be real to thee, and the impressions of the actual world shall fall like summer rain, copious, but not troublesome, to thy invulnerable essence. Thou shalt have the whole land for thy park and manor, the sea for thy bath and navigation, without tax and without envy; the woods and the rivers thou shalt own; and thou shalt possess that wherein others are only tenants and boarders. Thou true land-lord! Sea-lord! Air-lord! Wherever snow falls, or water flows, or birds fly, wherever day and night meet in twilight, wherever the blue heaven is hung by clouds, or sown with stars, wherever are forms with transparent boundaries, wherever are outlets into celestial space, wherever is danger, and awe, and love, there is Beauty, plenteous as rain, shed for thee, and though thou shouldst walk the world over, thou shalt not be able to find a condition inopportune or ignoble.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

*****

And speaking of pilgrimages, look who arrived in my mailbox to adventure with me for a day!



Flat Stanley!

For those of you not familiar with the afore-flattened, he’s the formerly un-flattened Stanley who got squished between the covers of a story tale and, being quite the optimist, recognized that there were certain advantages to being flat; one that 7-year olds across the nation could fit him into an envelope by which he could be sent to adventure with family and friends living far away (returning just in time for show and tell). Here’s a short flash slideshow of Flat Stanley’s and Sol’s shared Saturday.

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*sol bows her “namaste” and gratitude to World Nomads Travel Insurance, ThinkHost and MercuryFrog for their ever-supporting roles in the realization of her dream.