Instead, I take a taxi on my own from Barcelona's Poble Sec, after sharing some potent healing days with my new women folk/guardian angels from Spain and South America, dancing with energy, hugging trees, eating with simplicity and love.
At the airport, I check in through to Osaka. I board another plane, this time taking me eastward, even further east then where I originally set off from less than two months ago.
East: the beginning place, where the sun rises. This is a start, not an end, I remind myself...
Today, after a seemingly endless journey, I walk the city streets of Osaka, in awe of the change of scenery before me, Japanese aesthetics, the sweetness in the people, a whole world translated in a another culture, another lens. I, too, feel different here.
I marvel at the mystery of living. I recall the image of the flower of life, but one that pulsates and transforms, a kaleidoscope of infinite patterns and possibility, whose mathematics is incalculable yet infallible. Every inhale, has an exhale. Every contraction has a corresponding expansion. And at every given moment, we are pulsating, this beautiful creative mess of a living thing, opening and closing, closing and opening, guided by some unseen force to go further beyond the beyond and at the same time delve deeper and deeper within.