In a small bamboo grove on an organic farm. One of the more beautiful places I’ve been in India. Beautiful not only in observable beauty, but also in intriguing beauty. The solar-power arrays, the apparatus to siphon off methane from cow manure that also produces grade-A compost. The organic cops, the hands-off/nature-on approach to farming, the emphasis on cultivating spirituality along with cops. I like it.

For all its shortcomings, and it has a number of them, Friends World is giving me a very unique education. The school is a perfect match for me: lots of individual attention, lectures by experts and visionaries, visits to the field, learning in the real world--not only the classroom world. And freedom to pursue what one is interested in. Freedom to design ones course.

I’m in India--quiet India. The wind plays this bamboo grove like a musical instrument. Just as the ocean--hundreds of kilometers and one mountain range away--beats music from the sand. Wave and sand music. Wind and grass music. A long distance duet. Beak and seed music. Wing and leg music. Rustling grass! I hear Her pass! A poem:

In India--quiet India.

The wind blows music from bamboo groves
just as the ocean beats music from sand.

Wave and sand music, wind and grass music--a long-distance duet.

Beak and seed music.
Wing and flower music.

Rustling grass-
I hear Her pass!

So many sounds, but such pervasive silence! Silence of the mind. Silence of the soul. Laughter from the next hill. Mosquito bites, dirty hands, sleeping legs, (one indulgent cigarette…) India is beautiful.