The air was so thick you could imagine slicing through it as if it was a block of cheese. I’m not unaccustomed to humidity; I’m from South Carolina, but New Orleans is another animal entirely.
As I meandered down the side streets of the city I was struck by the balance of Old World grime and New World vibrancy. It’s a city with a culture all its own that somehow emerged in the Deep South. I’ve been here on numerous occasions and each time I’m lured back by the spirit of a people that no matter what, will always call New Orleans home.
We all strive for happiness, peace, and love no matter how misdirected our journeys can be. That’s why I came to the practice of yoga and meditation and that’s why everyday I try to find sanctuary in the present moment. And in those moments where peace cannot be found, I try and face whatever is there. It’s helpful in life to find those that are doing it right, those that find joy in this life they’ve been given. This I found in Amed.
The road that led outside of Ubud to the famous rice fields that majestically blanket the countryside was difficult to find. We meandered in and out of alleys before finally finding our way in the right direction. The single lane road was carved with spiritual messages which likely centered around Balinese Hinduism.
There’s a vibrational energy that surrounds life here in Ubud. It’s a culpable beating of the heart that is this spiritual Mecca and putting words to this reality is the plight of a writer. We arrived in Bali after nearly 35 hours of flying and not unexpectedly were greeted by a down pouring of rain, typical of this part of the year.