November 19, 2002After celebrating Diwali (a.k.a. Divali) in a relatively conventional manner with my relatively conventional L.A.-area Indian friends, I capped off the festivities by attending a performance of the Théâtre Zingaro, an unconventional extravaganza presented in a mammoth tent pitched on the grounds of the Orange County Performing Arts Center. Théâtre Zingaro, whose creator and presiding genius is a French horseman, unites intelligent, blue-eyed Andalusian horses and the humans that train and ride them with human performers of kalarippayattu, the acrobatic martial art taught in the South Indian state of Kerala. Unique.

From L.A. to Albuquerque, where I taught a seminar on management of disease conditions at the Ayurvedic Institute to participants whose number included several therapists, including MDs and NDs, suggesting that Ayurveda is finally perfusing its way toward the mainstream. While in Albuquerque I toured the new office of Banyan Botanicals, an enterprise originated, owned, and operated by partners Scott Coté and Kevin Casey. Banyan continues to be my favorite purveyor of Ayurvedic products, and I am confident that, in its new premises, Banyan will like its namesake tree continue to spread beneficently outward, providing welcome shade to all who are in need.

Back to TX from NM in time for Tulasi Vivaha, a holiday that celebrates the ritual nuptials of the Blessed Vishnu with Ocimum sanctum, the Indian herb known in English as "holy basil." Tulasi is offered to Vishnu in each of His temples, for it is the plant that is dearest to His heart. The "wedding" is carried out with an éclat that would befit any Indian matrimonial rite, over a period of four days (most serious Indian weddings last at least a week). Tulasi Vivaha begins on the Ekadashi, the eleventh tithi (lunar day) of the Shukla Paksha (bright fortnight) of the lunar month of Karttika, and culminates on Karttika Purnima (full moon). This Purnima is known as Devadivali, "the Divali of the Deities," so called because it is said to be the day on which all the gods in heaven celebrate the Festival of Lights. Humanity waves its lamps first, on the New Moon, followed by divinity two weeks later. Happy Devadivali to all the shining ones!

November 4, 2002Joy and grief, and a rainstorm, were on hand to greet me when I reached Albuquerque: joy in the person of the brand-new son of a woman who I've known since she was an infant herself; grief in the form of a phone call from Texas announcing the sudden death at age 44 of John Atkins, my Army Ranger chaplain cousin. Both events reminded me that I am getting up in years; the latter reminded me yet again of how brief and tenuous human life really is.

It was thus with something of a heavy heart, lightened only moderately by the World Series, that I continued on to Southern California, and the Southwest Yoga Conference, on my way to which I drove out to visit the observatory on Mount Palomar, and to climb a bit on the trails in its nearby park. I reached Palm Springs, the conference venue, just in time to fly back to Texas to serve as a pallbearer for John's funeral, in the same church where he had but eight weeks earlier conducted his own mother's funeral. Synchronicity would have it that a national gathering of chaplains was happening nearby, and several dozen of them showed up in uniform at the church to pay tribute to a well-loved comrade. So many tributes were paid that I had to rush back to the airport before the actual interment, only to be delayed overnight there after a bird hit the plane that was to return me to Palm Springs. After another flight cancellation the next morning, in Phoenix, I finally did make it back to SWYC, in time to complete my lectures, and accept a "lifetime achievement award" from NAMA, the National Ayurvedic Medical Association. Touched though I was by the award, and the sentiments behind it, it could not but remind me yet further of how far along I have gotten in the span of this particular lifetime (don't "lifetime achievement awards" generally come toward the end of one's life?), and how wise it is to remember, day by day, that whatever my achievements, I could like John, and like so many others, drop dead at any moment. Om Namah Sivaya!

I made it back to Orange County in time for Diwali (more properly, "Dipavali," the "Row of Lamps"), India's Festival of Lights that marks the end of yet another year, and the beginning, on the day following, of one year more. Happy Diwali, and may this next year be better in every way than the one we are leaving behind us!

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