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Old post from the Anthropik network

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"I noticed, when she delivered the plate of fruit, that my Balian hostess was also balancing a tray containing many little green bowls-small, boatshaped platters, each of them woven neatly from a freshly cut section of palm frond. The platters were two or three inches long, and within each was a small mound of white rice. After handing me my breakfast, the woman and the tray disappeared from view behind the other buildings, and when she came by some minutes later to pick up my empty plate, the tray was empty as well. * On the second morning, when I saw the array of tiny rice platters, I asked my hostess what they were for. Patiently, she explained to me that they were offerings for the household spirits. When I inquired about the Balinese term that she used for "spirit," she repeated the explanation in Indonesian, saying that these were gifts for the spirits of the family compound, and I saw that I had understood her correctly. She handed me a bowl of sliced papaya and
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Secret Lives of Meter Readers If you are looking for a long walk every day with not bad pay, maybe meter reading is the ticket. Generally, you get to spend a lot of peaceful time by yourself, plenty of serene reflecting space, unhindered by a bickering work crew. Simply dedicating yourself to reading meters all day can actually lead to a very ascetic lifestyle. When a vault into the earth is uncovered, great mysteries lie inside. Neighborhood kids dash over and want to spy. Newts and frogs, snakes, snails and polliwogs are all revealed from these tiny underground arenas. If the meter reader does not watch carefully, he may uncover a hornet's nest. Thus, most workers carry a medicine pouch within their toolkits. Meter reading routes are hard roads at first; but endurance soon builds up, as the man (or woman) becomes self-reliant. As he walks along, he strengthens his full character, all the way down to his stem cells. Striding along, his breathing becomes natural and he fin
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My friend

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You come for me often; and sometimes you are welcomed. Sometimes I embrace you like a dear old friend. Sometimes we go for walks together through a forested park. Holding hands like lovers on the verge of a life together. Sometimes we just stay in, and share the night together. There are other times, old friend, when you are not welcome on my doorstep. Sometimes, you need to just leave well enough alone and go your own way. Go back to the dark cave from which you came and wallow in your own misery. Those are the brighter days for me. Those are the days the clouds clear to blue skies; the sun somehow seems warmer on my skin and the days that the mountains seem so much stronger and wise thrusting themselves from the earth. The days I shout to you; I am not alone dear loneliness. I am not alone! The days you are away, I become stronger and more alive. Though, I do miss you, and will welcome your embrace again soon. But I also realize that too much time together w
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