Paying by the keystroke to use internet cafes in Kyoto, Japan, will challenge my usual verbose style of journaling. Let me get to the point and save some yen, then...

How many times have people said to me, *I used to be vegetarian, but it was too difficult while traveling*. What are they talking about?! Take a small step outside the box and wow, traveling as a raw vegan is possibly the most simple, rewarding way to travel at all! I mean, food grows everywhere (there are even dates in Las Vegas, guys). It is important to remember that everything that is cooked starts out raw, if you know what I mean. With the exception of maybe chewing gum (what is this stuff, anyway). Well, I am elated to find that peaches, peaches and peaches are full on in season right now, available for a price (and as with everything, what a price it is!) at any corner market, roadside stand and probably in the feilds, if you know where to look. I found an actual *Organic Restaurant* (which is really progressive in Japan) while wandering Kyoto yesterday. And what could be more delightful than attempting conversation with the cook, a sweet girl who says that I *have a pure body and glowing aura*, and her boyfriend, the chef, who as a d.j., was really interested in my input that house is huge in Detroit. Even better, everywhere I go, I am infecting the enthusiasm of my hosts with the raw vibe: at the Solar Cafe, the chef woke up early to make special strawberry/banana smoothies with fresh cut asian pear, here at the Organic Cafe, the chef is excited to make us a special raw meal (with inquiries about shoyu, miso, vinegar and seaweed) and all are hungry for more answers to their questions on raw, raw, raw. Neat. I have no investment in other people:s diets - its just neat to see the individual interest across the world sparking a huge flame.

But easiest of all is the past three days where I:ve decided to fast. Water and tea (and a few cacao beans I brought with me) are easy to come by and have left me in the exact appropriate state to navigate Kyoto, the city of temples, during Obon, the Japanese *return of the souls*. Similar to Mexico]s Day of the Dead, or the United States neo-pagan Halloween, this is a time when ancestors are called upon and ghosts are said to wander freely while the veil between planes is thin. Temples are alive with the living in mindful rememberance, rituals are public and communal calling upon the deceased, artisians sell their best pottery, stitching and artistic wares for use on altars at the temple or at home, dancers offer protection through performances, and monks are present as guides throughout the process. I myself, paid token to a shaved-head monk who wrote a word he did not understand (Audrey) on a piece of wood I did understand. A gentleman then showed me to the altar of water where I added the enscribed wood to a towering stack and dipped the sacred koyo maki branch in the water to bleed away the caligraphy. I lit incence and added it to the smoky altar, I rang the bell which is said to resonate to to the deptths of hell, I lit a candle and added it to the horrible light altar, which reminded me that for all my contemplation and emotion on death, I am still part of the living. Let us celebrate.

Fasting left me sensitive to all these engergies and my Lover and I, before the main altar I could not read, but understood entirely, shapeshifted in a kiss and stood as beings in both worlds. Recognizing these blessed bodies for the fleeting blink of an eye they are, and making love to the part which is immortal.

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