I met my husband 29 June 2017. Halfway through our first date, breakfast at a French cafe’ on east 44th street in midtown Manhattan, he leaned across the table while I blushed crossing and uncrossing my legs (both of us dressed to the New York City nines, suits and frocks at 7am) and he stated, quite plainly in a husky, cigar-smoking Spanish accent that I drank like a green smoothie…
Tonight, I had the unbelievable and utterly indescribable honor of being within 15 feet of her holiness, Yogmata Keiko Aikawa. And I returned to a place I know better than anything. Better than heartbreak, better than any daily in or out.
She led a meditation at the United Nations as part of international yoga day. She blessed us. And now I understand why people travel to India to seek a guru, or a holy touch.
Her sheer presence was like nothing I have ever experienced. I can’t even go on. Watch:
As a gypsy, minus my parents being 80 miles away – I don’t really have chunks of family somewhere. If I didn’t have a global cult of love-tribe who check in on me from time to time, it’s possible I might be classified a recluse.
Not that I’m misanthropic. Clearly not, or I wouldn’t fall in love every day, and I certainly wouldn’t live in midtown Manhattan. I love many humans, it’s just that since my divorce – I’m usually alone (minus the babies).
Anyways, last night I saw a favorite person who greeted me with, “How’s your boyfriend?”
FollowMeToNYC is a creative processing ground which expresses individual ideas that often change with the tides. Naturally, these ideas do not reflect those of any of my employers, or anyone else you might see me wandering down the street with one day.