I’m in the middle of my yoga practice at the stern of the houseboat in Kasmir and all of a sudden have an overwhelming sense of panic: Shitballs! I forgot my little bag of stuff in Dharmasala!  Ungracefully and frenetically I come out of my downward dog and race to my bedroom to tear apart my room looking for the bag, hoping I’m wrong, but knowing  I’m not.  I already know that I left it in the corner of Mar’s room ,“safely” stowed away. How the hell do you miss packing a whole bag? I can see leaving a toothbrush or some laundry on the line, but a whole bag? Come on Sarah! Wakey wakey! For someone trying to be awake and aware, I’m not doing a good job so far. The night I left, there was a crazy storm that turned the power off for hours so I had to leave in the dark with my headlamp, and missed the other bag completely. In it are some Osho books, a Buddhist meditation manual I’d got at the ahsram, a white silk scarf P. had given me that he’d been given from the Dalai Lama, beautiful boddhi tree malas I bought for gifts, and a beautiful copper Buddah wall hanging. How could I ever replace these things? When would I be back here? You can’t just pick up a scarf from the Dalai Lama anywhere! To say I was feeling scattered would be like saying that Hitler was not a very nice dude. My mind is still replaying the last moments with P. and the knowing that we’ll only have one more day together in Delhi before I have to leave. I’m ridiculously anxious about what I’ll do back in Canada, and know that I don’t want to go back to Toronto. Everything seems so uncertain. I’m scared. Too many thoughts, worrying, and not enough paying attention to the present moment make Sarah a scattered girl. Where the hell was my mind when I was packing? Oh yeah…thinking about the past and worrying about the future. When will I realize that everything we have is only out on loan? 

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