To borrow an expression from my religious friends–
This tune “ministered to me” this morning.
Without needing to know why.
And it was a sweet surprise.
I’d never heard this song before.
It was the first one to play when I unplugged from the news and asked Alexa to stream me some Krishna Das.
I asked her to play it again and again.
It opens with a freaky kind of sound, throat singers, I suppose.
An intuitive once told me that I had been one. Famous.
I suppose I was a guy then too.
I was attached to Krishna Das once.
For a few moments when I was assisting Robert Thurman at Kripalu.
Neither of them noticed that this petite silver-haired woman with a head set in her hands was wired to their long embrace and conversation.
Finally, I tucked the receiver under Bob’s elbow and slipped away to the floor while these two socked feet giants communed.