Here I am in the centre of the universe. Where? It’s located in a village in India, in a sunny, cosy corner room on the east and south side of my house, a very small room, packed with all sorts of paraphernalia. Photos, song files, pens and pencils, my desk, a sitar, a piano keyboard, a trunk and a large ancient wicker chair stuffed with pillows and furry blanket —all part of my universe. A website was born from my universe; the universe is extending rapidly!
I love to write. It helps me think, review, gaze at life yesterday, today and tomorrow. I pen my thoughts… but only in black ink. I would never think of using a blue ball pen; it would be like eating a wet ball of synthetic bread… simply sacrilegious. Creativity would be squashed.
I plan to write mostly about me, my experiences, my thoughts, etc. Boring? Once, someone told me I had written “I” seventy-two times in a letter. Being terribly embarrassed I immediately started counting all the “I’s” in the letter. It was devastating to discover he was right. It was insulting. My immaturity arose to great heights and he never received a letter from me again.
So why DO I write and continue to write about my “I” experiences? Its because I’ve had so many great ones! It is impossible to keep quiet! Give me a chance, and I’ll tell you all about it. I extend my universe, but no one needs to enter into it. Whether or not you believe my experiences is up to you. I’m not one who tends to lie, although I may not always have the greatest correct-est memory, but now, who is perfect?
What happened to me, can happen to you (mostly). No need to come to India. If I tell you a story about a tornado that blew our house away, you’d believe it. If I told you a story about a cobra, you’d believe it. If I said I nearly died in an operation, you’d believe it. But if I said I’d entered another dimension, not of this world, would you believe me?
That’s why I write. Tune in for the next (perhaps) believable episode.