I’m sitting In a Phnom Penh café not embracing the heat, writing this in the delicious cool of planet pillaging air conditioning. I’m thinking of my new beginnings in this city. Beginnings that bring me to the god of beginnings Ganesha, the man with the elephants head, who is both the god of scholars, writers and of beginnings. My friend Penny was in India beginning a new moment when she had a vision but what is a vision that is rooted in the body? She felt great big ears embracing her from behind, she felt embraced, held, safe and to this day a look of unlined contentment envelops her when she speaks of it.
The days here are trickling down my body and soaking my clothes. Sometimes the winds come like giant entities squalling and fighting in and with the air just before the rain. The rain comes suddenly, in an instant soaking hair limp, mudding feet and my skin tingles with joy from the sudden change in temperature. We stand, the locals and I under shelter, there is no moving about while the elements quarrel, we stand under dense tangles of electrical wires that sway dangerously in the gale force stormette.
I told my friends here that I would be back when the rains came and the day I arrived the pressure dropped rain blanketed the city under a rainbow. The pot holes fill with brown water. The monsoon storms caress and embrace the land, make the hard rice grow and make the air fill with steam as the sun claims the road pools.