Farm Living

I'm at my cousin's house 15 minutes south of San Jose for the RVB
screening.

She lives on a few acres in a very agricultural part of the county.
They grow wine grapes, and apricots, and have a patch of bamboo.

I've been coming here for almost 20 years. The thing that struck me
last night was the complete and total darkness that enveloped me when I
went to bed.

I could've been in a cave somewhere in a navy sleep experiment and it
wouldn't have been any darker.

And then this morning I was struck by how quiet it is out here. A small
plane just flew over and its quiet buzz was the only sound. Now that
it's gone, there is nothing.

This is a great palate cleanser. A recalibration. Like visiting a
monastary and taking the vow of silence or working a week for habitat
for humanity.

(I'm a little mad at myself for claiming such easy absolution -- I mean
I just spent one night at a relatives house. There was no serious
spiritual work done, no homes built. But maybe I judge myself to
harshly. When I came in last night I had a two hour conversation with
my cousin, my confessor, my high priestess of the farm.)

I missed Gus and Kath last night, they pooped out early. We'll see how
tonight goes.

--
Kent Nichols
Kinzai Ninjas