the finale

The last day of my yoga retereat, I left the ashram around 3. I was taken back to the invisible bus station. As I wrote in the last 2 articles, I was a bit nervous about going back to the small town. My fear was betrayed. It turned out to be a Jewish neighborhood...well traditional one, you know. The street was filled with the Jewish in a black suit, hat and beard and sideburns. It was almost 90 degree outside, by the way. I was stunned and it was absolutely unpredictable. Even in a pizza place, the Jewish was working. I felt as if I were watching a movie or something. I am sure I was very outstanding there, waiting for the bus at invisible bus station. I was wondering if the bus ever found me. Then, here it was. The big bus appeared in a distance and I was jumping, waving my hands, shouting in my mind like, "let me get out of here." Surprisingly, all the way to Monticello, all the small towns passing by were the Jewish towns. I caught a scene where the Jewish kids were playing in a forest park with all the daddies with the black attire, all the mommies with a hair cap and classic one-piece dress. It was like the scene in a myth in ancient times. I wondered what is America? People emigrated from another continent, but what happened was that they were building up their own country all over again? "Where are we?" the bus driver said. "Yeah, right." The bus driver's cite woke me up from my feeling wonder. Then, everybody in the bus said to the driver with the name of the bus station. All right, his question had nothing to do with my thought. He was really asking exactly which bus station we were...what kind of bus driver by the way? Anyway, it was an interesting experience all the way. "Shflkl ajsd dkfdjf." ladies, the western people in the ashram who are dedicated an Indian god like Siva, the traditional Jewish in the forest, ponds like Monet’s water lilies painting, Macdonald, Burger King...nothing was merging together. All were separate from each other, and then we call this America. When the bus entered into the chaos again, I kept my experience in the hill in the ashram locked in my mind. I , in a way, found myself missing the city, to the point where all the ethnic cultures are slightly closer to each other. That, we call New York City.