Saturday, September 27th 2008: A journal entry.

A journal entry:

We began the morning early. But my heart was my awakening energy. It spoke with the "Soul of the World" to wake me, after my alarm went off, of course, and drove my energy to move me out of bed. I did morning things and splashed away at last night's thalis, Indian cuisine, with my small plastic green bucket. I can already sense my quads getting stronger!

Just the walk to the Mother House was greatly anticipated after viewing all the movement of life on the street, the previous day for the first time.

It appeared as if the entire city fell asleep where they were, as their eyes took the last visuals of the day and put their owning soul to sleep; or maybe I'm giving this thought too much thought. Maybe it is just a reality, people are homeless, they have no bed, ya that sound better. But there are just so many, to what extent do these people perpetuate this poverty? In Guatemala, another extremely impoverished nation, there are very few beggars or "street sleepers." Most of the "S.S.'s" are past out from the previous night's liquid transcendence, a different problem. The rest of the poor still find a way to sell something to give life, to their dignity. So I ask you this, oh great layered country of India, where is your mercy?

Men littered the sidewalks with their sleeping bodies. No room for the excess waste or feces which find their final resting place in the "garbage graveyard," the streets, of beautiful Kolkata.

Lonely Planet describes this city as a "Festival of Life," and that is what it is. But who knew that festivals could be so impartial to mercy or pollution?

I saw a man, who like me, was doing his morning defecation in the sidewalk bathroom "stall," this made my stomach turn. I saw a rat the size of a flattened American football being eaten from the inside out by a very diligent yet struggling raven or crow, I never really understood the difference. This made my eyes wince, just as they do when I cut onions. Taxis began their morning sponge like movement. "De-sizing" to fit between people, other taxis, and rickshaws, honking as the approached me which they as an appropriate opportunity. I push off taxis, using my ever so useful hands, so as not to get hit, but in doing so get grimmy, reminding me of the city so very saturated in smog. A few more steps and I feel some ooze between my toes, yes, we all know what it is. I don't say anything just reminding myself "it" can all be cleaned. I drag my foot along trying to "rinse" my foot off, but what am I really rinsing with? The last image I see before any type of consolation: A dog who had obviously been mauled at the neck. She evidently was missing a vital portion of his neck, with which would allow her to only live a few more hours. Haunched over, hanging head, she felt the flys beginning to eat through to the other side. Assisting in maybe the shortening of those few miserable hours. Jeez Calcutta, where is your mercy? Definetly a festival of life, in all senses of the word "life."

The eyes of my soul wince just as they do when I cut onions. I was peeling my first small but of India, which to me, is much like an onion, layered, deceiving; one is never sure where the middle or end is. I winced just as I do when I cut through the streets of Kolkata.

But what appealed and allowed my soul consolation and hope was the sight of the Mother House, which we walked so adamantly to for 6 am mass.

The door was locked, I guess they really did mean 6 am sharp.

As I turned to look at Traci the Heavens opened up and the waves from above began to flood down. It rains fervently in Calcutta. Seattle looks much like a sissy amateur compared to the festival of life. Well at least I could get the ooze fully out from in between my toes, maybe not from under my toe nails, but at least from between my little toes.

Traci and I hard forgot our ponchos. We agreed on returning to the only place there is to sit in the city, other than the sidewalk or "graveyard." St. James Catholic church. The reason we were returning and knew of its existence is because, on two other accounts, yesterday, we found shelter from Kolkata's ferocity, there.

We ran across the "death-way" and made dry in an empty church, fit for a congregation upwards of 300 people. I say and could think nothing of any substance, but was deffinelty not meditating.

7:00 am finally came and the chai and bananas were served to all the volunteer at the Mother House. The energy was youthfully peaceful with participants from just about every country I will some day visit. Conversation was limited by language barriers, but my Spanish+French+Smiles aided much. The biggest assistant, to I think everyone, was the honesty and compassion which everyone's souls spoke from. This was easily inspired by eachothers' neighbors eyes, beautiful.

The dispersal time came and I walked anxiously with two Koreans, a Fin (?), and a Japanese man, to the bus stop which would take us to our destination: Khalighat, the original home for the destitute and dying.

"Khalighat" was our stop. As I walked in, I guess it is what I expecting. Destitute and dying, all souls of the world, continuing to exist in beds which contained their life for the moment. I was there soul wide open hands at the ready, ready to give and be received in any way.

But...I found myself washing dishes and clothes. Fine, because I finally had a purpose. I met wonderful people from more countries I would like to visit. Two older Spanish men, who, both name Jose (Hello Omen) reminded me that smiling is important and that showing all your pearly whites when doing so, helps others remember. Laughing and singing was also greatly encouraged.

As my hand moved to more washing, I met another individual who was diverse. A dual citizen of the US and Senegal, Senegal only because he is on the Senegalese national open water swimming team (he was raised in Senegal) but went to University in the US. He was a certified EMT who also believed in smiling and compassion. He began a non-profit aiding with child development of street children in Cairo, Egypt, which is where he now lives. He has traveled all around the world and is only 24. He reminds me that ambition is great.

The day continue with short conversation and satisfying tasks. On in particular which gave me much consolation. Helping a man drink water. His life is deffinelty limited, and I wish him the best in what the "Soul of the World" has to provide for him. Paulo Coelho once wrote: "We hae to try to get ride of the notion of time. And when you have an intense contact of love with nature or another human being, like a spark, then you understand that there is no time and that everything is eternal." I felt this today. I saw two men being carried out on stretchers, this pinched my soul, but a deep breathe and began with the water. This is what is written for all the individuals, I guess.

As I held this man's head and looked into his eyes, I attempted to energize his soul with mine, I attempted to give his soul life with what extra I had in mine. What I saw was fear. He simply was nervous, but I told myself to not look too long, I realized I was scared too. I was abruptly interrupted by a bit more aggressive Indian volunteer who cleaned his face and hands and said, "Move brother, I clean now." I did as I was told, said my "Namaste" and a non-verbal prayer of good grace. I would like to see him tomorrow.

The day ended there and I was back on the festivals streets of life. I took the metro home, not exactly sure what I was doing, but did. I swam through people and realized how valuable deoderant is in small confined areas like metro trains. Maybe I will reconsider applying deoderant in the morning.

I exited close to home, some how didn't get lost, and am now on the roof of my hotel enjoying the rain and smog and honks and smoke (from my european neighbor) and valuable sights. I have been here for too long, maybe 4 hours? I will now move my feet and my soul in search of the next adventure the festive onion has to offer.

-=Namaste=-