Rebirth

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I wake up refreshed, renewed, ready to roll. It seems as if there was a spontaneous shift of energy, the removal of all things dark and sluggish, for I am eager and now resilient to forge forward on this journey. It is as if I was placed in a holding cell for the last few days, a bubble with no exit, and now I am finally free! I am grateful, sensing that many afar have been working fervently to mend me up, sew my wounds, tie my shoes. Well. No. No shoes(laces) for me.

Gratitude to all who have sent me healing. I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart and return amplified love, health, and happiness. (You all know who you are.)

Wow. Even I, one who can believe in existence of fairies, aliens, angels, and many other exotic notions of reality, am shocked that I am together in one piece and able to walk, so I do, celebrating health with a fresh coconut at my beloved fruit shake/sandwich stand. L’Chaim!

And naturally after the delicious nectar is swallowed I cross the path of the two girls from Holland, who too are back in action and intending on leaving Luang Prabang. I follow them to the south bus station with little inkling whether I will take a 10 hour night bus to Vientiene, the capital city, or a midday 8 hour(ish) ride to Vieng Vang to visit an organic farm. For some reason I am called to go to the capital first, perhaps a visa for Vietnam is in my future and I therefore need to hit up the embassy? I purchase my ticket for the evening and hug my little sisters, wishing them a joyous voyage filled with fun.

Back in town I return to my room to pack, standing naked for quite some time debating whether I should shower or not and which of my three pairs of pants I should wear. Get it together Eve, seriously. A rinse seems needed, cleansing myself again of all unwelcome energies subsequent to my deciding to trim my hair. A small pruning of my tresses, nothing dramatic I assure. It was no Britney moment but one of sheer necessity for I have been looking mildly ratty. The mess in the bathroom is pretty gnarly and I do my best to tidy the cave I have been dwelling in for what has felt like eons. I am dramatic I know…I am simply not happiest lying in bed when there is an entire world to explore.

Sanitary, shaven, and cropped I go back to the river for mediation and with so much gratitude I thank all again for bringing me back to health and well-being. I remain at the bank for a while, OMing again, blissfully admiring the mountains, the sun, the water. I am so blessed to be on this path. What a honor to be.

Through my final walk around town I enter a small gallery called Project Space featuring an exhibit entitled “The Genie Behind the Scissors,” a series of brightly colored embroidered fabrics by Tcheu Siong. Assisted by visions of her Hmong shaman husband, she cuts and weaves intricate layers of cloths; ancestral wisdom and healing come through the dreams of her husband and then are translated into art. It is remarkable to see the parallels and resemblance of such work to other creations by indigenous groups in Panama (the Kuna Yala) and in the sacred valley of Peru. We are one.

There is also a modern exhibit in the same space that doesn’t really tickle my fancy….I’ll share anyway:

Lunch again at Arthouse Café on the river where the Jesus loving American manager is enjoying a large mug of traditional Lao coffee, a syrupy and dark bowl of kick-your-ass coffee served with condensed sweet milk. Her staff scrambles to move all the tables and chairs from the river bank section for the coconut cutter has arrived to fetch the fruit. He is blind no less, father to one of the youth’s working for the café, and scrambles up the 200 foot tree barefoot and with no harness. Holy shit. I am in awe. He puts any of my pole dancing compatriots to shame. BLIND.

Well, thank you immensely Luang Prabang. You are on the list of my top ten most beautiful and romantic locations I have yet to visit, a completely eclectic mix of gracious Laos, French colonialism, Buddhism, two gorgeous rivers, raw mountains. I understand my view as a tourist is one quite blind and I thus send love to all who do not live as plentifully as we all deserve. I take the hotel flip-flops, for I necessitate proper foot coverings, and in exchange leave my completed copy of Autobiography of a Yogi. I think it is a fair swap for all. To Vientiane!

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