Lost and found...

Ginny told me that there is a room in heaven waiting for you with all the cool shit you lost during your life. I think there are two rooms for me. Some things are lost and some things evaporate, gone with the wind. Francis Woodman Cleaves my wonderful Buddhist teacher who wasn’t told me the Sanskrit word Nirvana mean’t fwhhhht, with the wind. I spent four hours last night way into the early morning writing a post that has to be written while I'm on the road this winter. Another great night on the road with new people and Rosie the musician/flower girl/storyteller from Bocas showing up and the ink in the blagh pen was rum. It was a long post and there were notes and tears and it was pretty potent stuff. The blogger automatically saves a post every minute so you don't lose everything if the power goes out {it does in fits and spurts daily it seems} or the Internet goes down {constantly}. It seems the only draft not saved was the last one and it hurts. I opened my soul about the purpose of this trip and waxed poetically into the night and early morn. Then the Internet went down and as it went down the post went up to my lost shit rooms. I was a little pissed but then I realized like giving my stuff away before I left, like losing my glasses and hearing aid to a thief in Bocas, it's just stuff. I'll never get those words back and the post was truly the highpoint of anything I throw up here but maybe it was just an exercise, an editing opportunity and when I finally get the post done it will be even better. Or it won't but like stolen shit, when it's gone it's gone and we have to learn to let go. All that happens after the loss is just more messing with your life and losing time on the road by feeling angry, hurt, bad, pissed off. Time away from where you is.
So that's the lost and now the found. It never balances out in life as one seems bigger than the other but this time the found outweighs the lost. While walking down the killer hill to town an ATV went by with a dude and a chica on it and the chica waved and I thought they were stopping to let me hop on so I hoofed it toward them but with a wave off they went like they were screwing with me. The holy shit light bulb went off, it was Rosie the musician/flower girl/storyteller from Bocas. This shit happens all the time on the road whether you know the person or recognize the face, many peeps show up again on the road. Rosie is on her way to Nicaragua to visit her brother and then back here to MZ for the NYE madness. We spent some time listening to some musica and then had dinner catching up on the post Bocas time. She is staying with a friend and she is not singing yet as her throat is still bothering her since Bocas. She still did her thing promoting herself, promoting live music, why places should pay musicians and meeting peeps who may want her to play when she comes back.
Later while waiting for a taxi, watching the night build at Chico’s the center of the Montezuma universe I met Mike and Mimi as I was doing a shot of Cafe Patron. Shared the extra half shot they give me now {bad news, more friendly bartenders} with Mike and he bought the next round. They live halfway up killer hill and have been coming here for years from Oregon. Their house is in one of the most incredible MZ spots with a panoramic view of the ocean high up with no neighbors and just primo. They told me if the red gate is open come on by.
So let me see, I lost an incredible post, found Rosie again and a couple of new peeps in MZ. I guess it’s all OK cause after all it’s just the game of lost and found. Just sayin, TmYo...