A Reminder that the Heart's chambers can hold many loves.

Union Square: Rising from the belly of the subway station, my heart leapt, and then ached as my ears took in the sounds I associate with Bali. 

Boom-diddy-boom-diddy-booom on the leather top, rhythm clattering from the Kartals, and the familiar exhale of the accordion. A Kirtan. 

Muscle memory took over; my body swayed and my mouth released the chants that I heard so many times on the beaches of Bali. "Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna...." 



The leader of the group stood and stared, a  slow smile creeping out. 
"Where did you learn to hold your fingers as such? How do you know these songs so well?" 
"Bali taught me," I replied. 
"Ahhhh, so this is why you can linger and not rush like a New Yorker." 

And so opened a long conversation about the constant rush to get nowhere, ending with encouragement to savor life. This small moment seemed to be a collaborative gift from Bali and New York, my yin and yang. A gesture as if to say: you may love us both. A reminder that the places and people who have shaped us never leave our heart.

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