Let’s be honest, putting something together like Free Press Summer Fest is a huge undertaking.  Things aren’t made any easier if people jack you of your most prized possessions in the process.  Yes, this self proclaimed yogi has prized possessions and attachments.  Many people connected with me at that time to give support and lend some help.  Cactus Music even helped getting in the twitter game to bring them back to me.  I’m still not over it.  One year ago I lost my most precious musings.  3 full notebooks spanning over 8-10 years of my life… things I have written down from my teachers mouth, and priceless images of my travels in India.  Completely irreplaceable memories and some of my best lifelong writings.  There are no copies.  People told me there was a deeper meaning and that all that work was still inside me.  I responded to that in an earlier blog here: Dealing with Loss.  So Summer Fest in Houston Texas is now attached with these feelings for me.   We will be performing the festival again this year and I’ll have to dedicate a portion to my books. I am still hoping and praying that whom ever stole my precious books has been living with them, reading them and somehow reads this blog and decides that the best thing to do is bring them back to me.  If you have any information about where they may be, call a brotha…

Get Summer Fest tickets if you dare here:   Summer Fest Tickets

For now I’ll turn you to a poem I wrote while in India this last time around.  It’s more like a love letter to my books I suppose.  Sorry it’s a bit dim, that’s what blogs are about sometimes I suppose… a cry out…

My Darlings

I miss you my darlings.

Your words stay in my heart but your faces don’t show themselves long enough for me to make any sense of it all…  Will I ever remember those thousands of precious words?  Those beautiful words and their limitless meanings and potential.  I hold them so dear.  Are they within me?  Or are they in limbo lost in the dancing space?

I hear some songs ringing clearly reminding me of those precious experiences and awakenings.  Some tunes never come to mind they were never meant to be I suppose… Locked in a vault of the stolen prison of my mind on paper.  My hand transcends the message and the words lived and breathed the manifestation of my body.  Those soft pages held the fragrance of my soul.

The Books as a whole represent the legacy of my life.  Where are you my darlings??? I will forever be in search for you…

two of my precious babies, and the rare mercury sri chakra murti I found in India

starting over...

We'll be in the wooded area again this year trying to give some free yoga lessons and what not, maybe you could bring my books back to me...