…the next few days were spent building little doodads to improve my situation, one of which was a bamboo platform for the looha. The design involved tying several pieces of bamboo, each lying side by side, to two main pieces running perpendicular to the rest. Although I successfully completed the first of the two foot rests, I’d felt that I’d wasted a lot of string aimlessly wrapping each piece erratically around the cross beam and a back over the top and under and blah, blah, blah. I wanted an efficient technique for tying. Later that day, while I was practicing Meditation, I was suddenly blessed with a vision. I had an overhead view of myself tying the bamboo together in a much more efficient manner. Remembering what I’d seen, I tried it out and, yes, it worked perfectly!
After about a week at my new place I was really feeling good. Those wonderful, ‘hug my body’ sensations kept coming and coming throughout Yoga and the rest of the day. A warm glow emanating from my Heart outwards. After meals I was beginning once again, to feel really smooth as I had experienced In The Beginning, after eating spinach in the kitchen on St. Denis Street. This was something that had quietly left me as my strength diminished and weakness set in.
I’d done two twenty-four hour fasts since moving to my new place, both of which had much to offer. Although getting going early in the morning was tough on both occasions, once I set myself in motion the energy I experienced was phenomenal. I worked the entire day on both occasions, either foraging for food or blazing a new trail, the latter being a thrill I would never have imagined. I couldn’t believe the excitement of creating a path. Charting my own course through the mish mash of trees, bushes, and vines. Absolutely dynamic. Finding freshly fallen passionfruit on the trail the next morning was icing on the cake.
Throughout my first two weeks living on the mountainside it rained on and off, I would say, all day and everyday. The gentle showers at Sunrise were a special delight. The yellow gold rays lit up the rain as it fell upon the grass clearing in front of my home. This was it. This was beautiful.
However, as it pounded down on the tarps with tremendous force on some occasions it was downright terrifying. I imagined the outcome should one or more of the ropes or grommets give way. I’d be soaked in the middle of the night desperately trying to repair the situation. And with very little Sun light during the day throughout this period, how would anything possibly dry?
Although I was at least about fifteen meters away from a practically dry stream, my fears again had the best of me as I envisioned a flash flood from higher up in the mountain turning my campsite into a river. Considering the isolated nature of the showers, there was really no way of knowing how much or how long it had been raining at any given location.
But all fears were in vain, and I suffered neither of the catastrophes I had imagined.
One night however, while writing in my journal during yet another heavy rain shower, I felt the seat of my pants becoming wet. I turned around to see that the pathway that led to the outhouse, which was situated on slightly higher ground had become a canal of sorts and was now channeling the rainwater right into my home. With lightning speed I began digging small run off ditches along the pathway. This quickly solved the problem. There’s no such thing as laziness when something has to be done, is there?