A note on my three blogs

A note on my blogs

(1) vio; in love with india - this one is the main blog about my Indian adventures, which started in 2005. I don't write much on this blog these days because I prefer to write privately in the confidential blog. But check out the categories and the index to figure out your way. I have kept some older posts not about India but which I still find interesting or relevant in Old words. Also check out my new, fun category Only in India in which I post photos of funny, unique, Indian situations...

(2) sounds of india - this is my blog of sounds, because India wouldn't be as incredible if it was not so vibrant and just so full of incredible sounds!

(3) vio; confidential - this an extension of my main blog in which I post entries I do not want to reveal to the entire webspace for privacy or sensitivity reasons. You must receive an invitation from me and then accept the invitation to be able to read it. You may email me if you are interested in receiving an invitation.


Friday, 24 October 2008

Avec Micha

Last Sunday I took the road again; I left my father's house to go to Fursac, a small village near Limoges, in central France. (The train journey seemed so quick and smooth after a year of Indian travelling!) I hardly know 'my own' country besides the north and the south, my father being from northern France and my mother from Corsica. I always lived in the north, going to Corsica or southern France for summer or whatever other occasions, up until I was 17. In between the two extremes I have hardly visited any place; I can only think of somewhere in the Alps when I was 8 and 13, the Massif Central when I was 9, Auvergne when I was 16, and near Bretagne at 19. Apart from that whenever I have had time, since my early teens I can only remember having spent it abroad.

So apart from spending a week with Micha, it's kind of interesting to visit a new place in France. Even though it's a tiny place, surrounded by woods and trees and nothing much to do apart from going for walks with the dog and food shopping.

It is so lovely to see Micha again. I hardly recognised him because when I left Auroville last January to go to Khajuraho he had become so skinny and weak from a long episode of 'consciousness shift' that had drawn out all his energy. Most of my time in Auroville he had hardly been out of his room, had almost stopped eating, had been sleeping most of the time. When I left Auroville I had seriously wondered if it was the end of Micha, I had been worried about him.

And at the train station, on Sunday, Micha was a lot more robust, hiding behind a coat and a hat and a new beard too. I hardly recognised him. I am surprised by his health and vitality now, for a 75-year-old man. He is truly amazing; and he dances like a silly boy with his dog; and he sings and whistle all the time, and he plays his guitar. He truly is an immortal little child in an old man's body.

And so we meditate and practise our Yoga everyday, and he tells me countless stories of his amazing life like he knows so well how to - he is an amazing story teller - sometimes for hours and I forget the time. and we go for walks with the dog in his square 28 year-old car; there is river and lake and many trees and fields and a cold but sunny weather that makes the greenery shine with energy and love. After a year in india iI had forgotten about the beauty of automn and its falling multicoloured leaves, too. We go for wallnut picking in the woods, looking through the dead leaves for the most beautiful ones. We laugh a lot; I tell some stories too though I'd sometimes rather shut up and listen to his all the time. We share music, and I practise my violin, and eyes closed he listens in awe to the CD of my violin teacher. I help him with bits and bobs that annoy him on his computer and we try out making useless videos on his camera. I look after him, cooking buckwheat pancakes which he eats making funny sounds showing me that he loves them, oh and I cut his hair - and trimmed his beard even; that was a lot of fun, as I had never cut hair so short before - a little experimental, certainly not at all regular, but it worked somehow, making him look like a little boy with well-kept hair once more. We watch funny movies and comment on the news on TV. He tells me more stories, of Auroville and Mère and Sri Aurobindo, and the many women he had in his life, and of his children. I really am amazed at how vivid his memories are, of stories that happened in his childhood 60-70 years ago, his school-years, or in the 70s when he was a hippie travelling to India through Crete and Turkey and Afghanistan in his truck, oh and his drug trips. And a couple stories about German soldiers during World War II when he was a small boy, too. It reminds me of the movie 'Green Fried Tomatoes at the Whisle Stop Cafe' where the old woman recounts her life story - the film - to a middle-age woman as their friendship deepens. It is wonderful to be here.

And I can't help but think of the time ahead too - but should i? - trying to get organised for the days to come. Early next week I will go to Paris, stay at my cousin and meet other family members probably. And hopefully even meet two friends I have not seen for 10 and 20 years respectively. Then onto germany to visit my sister and her family. I spoke to B finally; there possibly will be a good gig where we can meet somewhere in Europe. Plans slowly taking shape as the days come, falling into place in their own accord - and I won't have the choice - as always it will work as it will.

Yesterday was a difficult day, things falling on to me again, being discouraged and slightly disturbed - though I can see the issue is thinner as it used to be. the present as always is the only way. Still it's nice that Micha is with me, like a second father, perhaps he was one in a former life? I love him dearly, like a father most surely.

The energy is good here; his house a little like an ashram with the greenery and the quietness around helping me with Yoga and meditation practice. I am glad I have my Yoga mat with me, and I am surprised at how little I need to eat as if the energy alone was feeding me.

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