Amongst the Rice Paddies

On our last night in Indonesia, about 5 weeks after our arrival, I dreamed deeply.  I dreamed of rice.  It was puffy, white.  It fell slowly – like large flakes of dry snow during winter. Ever so softly the rice tumbled out of the sky, reaching gently for a surface on which to settle.  The green grass.  The tall trees.  The offerings scattered throughout the land.  My skin.  As it melted and absorbed into my flesh, I felt the gentleness of true peace and pure beauty.  For this is the effect that Indonesia had upon me.

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