This is #7 in my “note to self” newsletters I send out
For most of the time I was in India I wore black flip flops. Which, considering I had to take my shoes off before entering any establishment, it was basically like traveling with black luggage and the likely-hood of someone taking off with my chappals
was about the same chance Lindsay Lohan had of getting another DUI.So, when I was a week away from leaving India and still in possession of my two black flip flops, I was feeling lucky. Blessed even. They had been left, late night, in front of outdoor parties and busy restaurants and on the side lines of a hundred strong crowd at the local hippie jam and all with a few hundred other flip flops and fancy sandals.Every time I arrived back to find them where I left them, I breathed a sigh of relief (and surprise) and after some time I started to feel like these flip flops and I were soul (sole ;))mates, as if we were destined to travel together.That is, until a few days before my departure.I was having lunch with a friend at a fancy outdoor restaurant. I returned to my trusty companions, who I’d left at the front door with only 2 or 3 other pairs of shoes to hang with, to find only my left flip flop still waiting for me. The right one was missing and in its place was a size 7 silver/gray flip flop positioned perfectly next to the left one.I did a little search of the area but I knew, the right flip flop was gone. Taken. And why only one? Questions weren’t going to do any good so, I embraced the new flip flop, hoped the old one was on more adventures in remote lands while the left one and I, and our new friend, were headed to Australia.
And sometimes, this is how it goes. You walk around the world intact and symmetrical, feeling like you got your shit all worked out and then your flip flop gets taken and replaced by another. And you just think “Well, at least it wasn’t pink” and sometimes, this is how the collisions happen in life.
But this kind of embracing the quirky, or the unexpected is exactly what I call Doing it Indian Style. “Indian style does not relate to ‘doggie style’ or ‘gangnam style’ or even ‘dolphin style’ (which has nothing to do with fornicating with dolphins). And, it certainly has nothing to do with the Urban dictionary definition of the same moniker.”
I’m almost a month out of India now and have been in Australia spending time with good friends, doing the rounds with family (and loving it) but mostly I was here to officiate a wedding in Byron Bay. The wedding was a uniquely special and intimate affair as it was only the couple (who had eloped from the U.S), myself and a photographer. It was all that was needed for this kind of commitment and, once again, a reminder to me how simple love is.Ashly and Ted created a day which they completely owned. It wasn’t staged, it was hilariously honest and very touching and tender. I enjoyed every minute of it and a big congratulations to the couple! Here’s to a beautiful romance.
Saying goodbye to India was not difficult. I was ready to come to Australia and see my family and participate in a new kind of adventure. In this post
, I reflect back on what ways I transformed, if I did at all and what I learnt.“After visiting countless temples, and chanting Hare Krishna, and eating with strangers, and holding strangers and getting hugged by a guru, and finding new friends and connecting with old friends and finding a deeper relationship with my family, I feel like I literally blessed the shit out of my life.”
And, lastly – I’ve added new merchandise to the store
.Introducing our custom vintage leather cuffs, now available in limited stock.While I was browsing the markets I came across vintage trims from old sari’s. There are so many vendors trying to make a living, finding anything of value they can sell. I also developed great relationships with some leather manufacturers and so I bought whatever stock was available in the trim and had Taj and his brother Kaiser rummage up some off cuts of their chocolate brown distressed leather and a cuff was born.There is limited supply because that was all that was left in the trim!
Life. It bloody reeks of possibilities doesn’t it?