Long Ramble Part 2. Bombay, India. 1992.

“Goa…..what a place!

The setting, incredible. Moonlight and scorching sunshine. Chai shops and chillums. The magic of permitted madness, though I prefer the term, eccentricity.

The hut I built, my old ladies bike.

The incredible naturally set techno extravaganza parties. My growing appreciation of this Western phenomenon. I feel lke it has something to do with with the whole world, the vibration of the whole planet. An electronic vibe that stirs every minute cell in my body into dance. The many compliments and comments on ‘my dance’ style that make me feel that I am on the right track.

I am a dancer and proud to be one.

The importance of the earth. The sun. The moon and their seasons, equinoxes.

Intrigue in Nordic saga fashion.

Accidental closeness to the ‘big’ characters in this business. Feel a deep attraction to their world, but feel they would not be interested in me….

The thinking behind ‘Why?’

South America and a calling….so many friends are going that way…mysterious in its lure. 1994. Peru. The sun festival, held every 100 years. Feel goosebumps when I think about it.

The change in direction and a positive feeling that this is right.

“Coming very nice.”

Doonies and false gurus. Flute playing and diablo. T-shirt painting and an endless confirmation of my talents.

Wrestling with my paranoia and winning. “I am not showing off! I am enjoying being, enjoy it with me…it is o.k. to be good at stuff!”

‘Lucy’s’ restaurant. A secret hideaway of solid souls with a good view… allowed to enjoy their company.

Gorgeous young men with dreadlocks and tattoos, India-twisted British alternatives. That cynicism and sarcasm so familiar. And so sexy. Longing for a ‘zip-less fuck’, a no strings affair…

Magical meetings with another friend who I originally met with the Kalash.

Constant haunting crows.

Crow = magic.

They are very prevalent here. A friend here wears their feathers in his hair.

Pan and Celtic influences whirl around.

Storytellers.

The Joker.

The Fool.

The Jester.

The symbols of the Star and the question-mark.

Joy in living mischief.

The threads are getting pulled together, but the picture is not quite clear.

‘Ting!’

(“There has passed another of Kat’s magikal moments….” qu. Bill)

My dance science clothing. Hand-painted celebrations of dance energy. Ritual clothing for the prayer of the LSD dance.

Freedom of the mind can be dangerous, but now I feel like I have seen the edge. Makes it easier to avoid falling. The lessons keep on coming and open to learning I hope I will never fall flat on my face.

I am earning my wings.

Childhood dreams of flying are coming true on the dance floor…I can remember the feeling from back then…and felt that same energy in dance…growing power inside…

Wheeeee…I’m off….

and that’s about 1/8 of it all…

In Goa each year I learn more and more about myself. Is the power in the place? Is it the people around me? The drugs? The time to play with space, energy and time itself?

Probably all of these things combined.

And I love it!!

Shit I am glad I have scrawled something down.

‘Good Night!'”

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