July 19, 2024, Victoria, BC- The distraught woman was yelling, at everyone and at no one, as I walked toward Bold Butchery and Grill in search of a falafel dinner. She was adamant that “he” had no business telling her to clean her room. The “room” was a small dome, that actually looked quite tidy. I saw no male around there, so who knows whether the “boss” was present, or was an unwanted memory of a past overlord. There are about twenty-five people living in tents along and adjacent to Quadra Street, down a bit from Turtle Hostel, where I am spending the night. There are about twenty-five of us in the hostel. Only four walls and the ability to pay for lodging really separate the two groups.

Joseph Campbell, in “Myths of Light”, describes the primal cakra of kundalini yoga as muladhara, the “root lotus”, the most basic urge to hold onto something which represents one’s identity. We see this in everyone, from a politician holding onto an office to a soldier fighting to the death, to someone living on the street and guarding personal space, along with the few possessions that are there within that zone. I tend to exercise reasonable precaution and care of my possessions, so that I have what I need, day to day. Obsession with them left, quite a few years back, as the realization set in that there was nothing that couldn’t be replaced-except my life. It has also been thirty-two years since I was homeless, and even then, my little family and I were not living in a tent, but in a motel-and that was only for a month or so. I wish smoother sailing for the folks in this little community, who do seem to take care of one another. There is even a “mayor”, who lives in an RV that is parked across the street from the ornate Conservatory of Music. He was making the rounds this evening, seeing who needs what basics, which he will try to find, when he goes to the Farmers Market tomorrow.

I will meet a Baha’i friend across town tomorrow morning, spending a bit of time along the waterfront, and praying for another friend, who is laid up a bit. That has been the nature of this journey-to connect with members of my Faith community who have felt a bit isolated, of late. So far, it has worked out, and if there are no Baha’is to visit, I have been able to connect with other old friends who I haven’t met in person.

I left the incomparable Bayside Motel, on Bellingham’s commercial strip, after getting Sportage its overdue maintenance check. All is well, and the lead mechanic remarked that the vehicle is in tiptop shape. Lord knows I pay attention to it. Bayside is a reasonably-priced establishment, that keeps up with the chains, when it comes to things like breakfast and a guest laundry room, as well as the sheer comfort of the sleeping room itself.

I got to the ferry terminal at Tsawassen, a bit early, and so had to drive around a bit, then return to the gate. The computer system resets on the hour, so a 1 p.m. check-in does not mean 12:55. Once in queue, there was plenty to do, in passing two hours-between lunch, writing to my resurfaced friend and organizing what I could of still-damp laundry, drying in the car. (Long story short, the dryers at Bayside were taken up by one family, and check-out happened before the clothes could be finished. At least they’re clean!)

The ferry ride was smooth, I napped for a while and it was easy to find Turtle Hostel. As indicated above, this is a somewhat artsy area. It also has several Mediterranean restaurants, which is good for my palate. Bold Butchery and Grill has several varieties of hummus to go with its excellent falafel. I chose the turmeric version. After dinner, it was easy to connect on a Zoom devotional, then segue into a section of Myths of Light that talks about the seven bodily cakras.

Smooth sailing depends on self-knowledge, so I am definitely interested in continuing to learn what Joseph Campbell had to say about the upper cakras.