FLOATING BED

I sleep on a floating bed. It hangs from the ceiling in my new home's meditation room where Sanni, LA's notorious tribal clothing designer invited me to live. She will leave Wednesday for her homeland, Germany where she and her husband own acres of land, tepees, and wild horses. I will work with LA Yoga Magazine while caring for the home, welcoming worldly travelers who will rent rooms in this city haven for out-of-the-box thinkers and creative types alike.

Where am I you ask? LA. Yes LA. But not really because it's Venice beach, here again... 6 years later. Life is peculiar. Ask and you shall receive is a timeless virtue however, the delivery occurs in bizarre, ass backwards and tricky disguises. I begged for community. I begged for involvement with my interests. I think endlessly about teaching and inspiring and shaking the world.

Like a wave crashes, today for a moment I glimpsed at the perfectness, however bitter-sweet, my life has become. I was just gazing out the car window and I felt good. I felt good about it all. To let go of control and embrace fear burns at first yet is simply blissful in retrospect. Day to night, day to day, each tasting of it's own flavor, letting go of controlling the route life desires to take me on is difficult.

Traveling, moving, writing, reading, moving, moving, moving, driving, speaking, laughing, wine, inspiring, being inspired, city, town, village, beach, gypsies, folks, new life, old life, new challenge and old habits. I give in. Take me where you will. ;)