The Gobi Dessert is returning my senses back to me over and over again,I did not even know to miss them…
On Hearing: the wind loops & passes caressing the gher, my face and body.
: the soft staccato whistle of small flocks of birds approach and leave between the silent air.
: rolling laughter of the grandmothers arriving at the gher camp 3 in the morning.
On Smell: a plant dill-like weed clean acrid pinched between fingers.
: I wake in the dark smelling apples. In the morning there it is unbitten on the orange floral painted table. How is this? I pass a sunflower on the camp path and smell the green stem, rich oil of the seeds and pollen dust. I am keen animal knowledge reviving.
: waiting and waiting for the heat of yellow sun now a bleeding pulsing vivid line cracking the horizon. I stand with the Bariate women arms opening to the rising day. This frank greeting is humbling. I realize I have never waited to meet the day with such gratitude for the heat of yellow sun. In the chill of air my hands cold a passing thought, why is it taking so long. What if it did not get any higher in the sky today!! Sudden fear, sudden relief it is come, the sun it is rising, gratitude!
: the people of the Gobi dress as royalty….brocade, robes, boots for riding proud horses.
On Taste: watermelon, desert melon.
On Touch:the winds caress is loving kindness in action. Rocks…agate? Cool against temple, forehead, cheek at 7 in the morning,…yellow agate radiating heat in my pocket at 4 in the afternoon.
“May the lives of our saints be long, may the lives of our friends be full. May the suffering of beings be pacified in the world, and may we take pleasure in openness and wonder.” From Topaz, by poet and mystic Danza Rabja.