I'm standing in line (yes "in", not "on"--New York hasn't completely taken over yet) at the local post office. It is the first 80 degree day since last year and it is hot. Being there is a real trial in how badly you really want to mail something. To go there is to face all adversity in the name of something you believe in. Today, I believe I need to go to India--and dammit, I will stand in this godforsaken line as long as it takes with no food, water, nor ipod until I reach the window to mail this letter. Luckily, I picked a book off the coffee table at the last second before embarking upon this perilous journey.
I decided to read Eat, Pray, Love again. I read it shortly before leaving for India last year, and sitting there on the library shelf, I simply couldn't resist the cover.
Burying myself in this small bit of redemption, I read the following lines:
"Then I listened to the Guru speak in person for the first time, and her words gave me chill bumps over my whole body, even across the skin of my face. And when I heard she had an Ashram in India, I knew I must take myself there as quickly as possible." (p. 25.)
Just as the period falls on the end of the last sentence, the "next customer" sign lights up, the bell rings, I walk to the bullet-proof window, pass the letter in my hand through the slot provided and declare, "I'd like to mail this to India!"
