tasman

Just north of Motueka in the Abel Tasman Park, I am chillin. Like Bob Dylan. The rain that poured on the tent all night has finally stopped, so we head out to kayak tomorrow.

The christchurch earthquake has cut pretty deep. It's the only thing on TV and the reporting is pretty emotional.

Cafes are keeping me going. The food is predictably good and the coffee even better. Sleep has been elusive. Something keeps me up between strange dreams. I'm stressed in paradise. Proof positive that it's me and not my environment.

I visited a beautiful cathedral yesterday. Inside, among the stained glass representative art, all of it representing things noone much understands anymore, I am washed over with calm. I am vibrating with the low hum of content. God damn it! The place I avoid and love is the church. I am never so calm as when it is quiet inside one, or when a convert is working on my soul.

Also yesterday a bus full for Mormons let a throng loose on the city of Nelson. I was walking to the car repair shop and missed them. Damn Damn!!!! I have always wanted to be converted by Mormons. If they only knew how much I wanted them.

So, back to here. Now. There is an Ohio boy talking in his confident American tone about things. Mmmmmm, my fellow Americans, how proud you are, even when you don't mean to be. It's ok. We are what we are. No use denying. Embrace the confidence, love it, kiss it, pet it. Then it can take a nap and stop forcing our hand.

Kisses to you my love. Kisses on your proud mouth and confident cheeks.