live.

narayan is pike place market's resident hare krishna.
he wears traditional ochre paint smeared on his forehead, and expensive, frameless glasses: a seamless blend of ancient eastern ritual and corporate-american affluence.
after twenty minutes of conversation, some tips on travel in india and a quick sanskrit lesson, he fanagled me into an $11 copy of the bhagavad-gita.
which should have only cost me $10.
he didn't have quite enough change.
the e-mail address, copy of the tract "beyond birth and death" and the temple flower he threw in made up for it.

reza is an effulgent middle-aged iranian who speaks english a little too fast for one whose native tongue is farsi.
the day we met we ate gelato together and became steadfast friends.
i pop in to caravan antiques every now and then to receive a delightfully suffocating hug and a very un-american kiss on the cheek.
we talk about his daughters at school in africa and france. i examine his newest crop of imported persian rugs.
today he accompanied me to the flying apron bakery and bought me something made with apricots and a very good cup of tea.

julie is the woman employed by campus housing maintenance to wake me up very early in the morning to change the lightbulbs above my vanity.
they don't burn out much, so i don't see her often.
but it's a pleasure when i do.
i sit up in bed, bleary eyed and unattractive, and try to make conversation.
tuesday morning she came in. i don't remember much except my initial, hazy idea that someone was playing a practical joke.
i do remember though what she said as she was leaving.
she said that i am a missionary wherever i go.

like she is. like reza. like narayan.