toot, toot, calangute


By the time we got to Calangute we were having fun. Elizabeth shared her own butterfly Scott story with me. She was praying for him Thursday in her garden grotto and a golden yellow butterfly came in just at the very moment she mentioned Scott’s name. As she was recounting this story to me, we were leaning against some metal railing, staring down at the butter-toast colored sand. Would anyone reading this blog be at all surprised by now if I told you yet another butterfly–this one a hand-sized swallowtail of black wing with orange streaks on it–appeared out of nowhere across the wide expanse of this beach and deliberately swooped up between us and onward straight up into the sky? We sensed Scott everywhere…the alchemist playing with Nature and summoning the beauty to express his love and creative energy.

The day was flying by. When I returned to the hotel I had a second clay pot to deal with. I had originally planned to scatter the remaining ashes at sunset with the invited guests I expected to attend. I changed my mind. Instead, I took the crockery to the beach below the seawall. I dispersed it into the Mandovi river and also buried some in the sand and then smashed the unfired terracotta against the rock wall where it joined lots of organic debris from the Ganeshe Chathurti festival that ended yesterday. I sat down on a rock, river water swirling up over my bare feet as the tide was coming in. I spoke to Scott from my heart and he answered me profoundly. I recalled that Ganga had visited yesterday and asked if she could perform a simple Hindu blessing on Scott’s remains. He is a part of India now for real and India was always a part of him.

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