Haramara Retreat: Days-In-the-Life-Of
April 8th 2009 It is dark outside. Maybe 10 o’clock, maybe 11. Who knows? For all I could guess it might be 3AM or how ‘bout 9PM. There are no clocks around me, only a lace of mosquito netting cascading over the large bed like a whale’s mouth around a school of fish. Everything manmade is mute. There’s not a sound except nature—roaring nature. I hear the ocean pummeling the shore; waves peeling
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