Watching Life's Play as I Sit and Sip . . .

Sitting and sipping coffee and gazing 'round at faces "just out of focus" (for one, as I no longer wear corrective lenses), and likewise considering faces afar, I wonder when and where I might have seen Her, Devi Durga, Shakti manifest, Uma Himavati, Parvati or Laksmi or some other form of Feminine Divine incarnate.

One woman nigh certainly danced a dance I watched more than once wherein this dancer (Dancer?) was clearly animated by Devi, whether Parvati (my first guess) or some other close form, avatar or emanation of TriDevi, Durga, Laksmi or Saraswati.  Shakti-Parvati is more well known for dance, and likewise my first meeting with her (Her? the dancer, that is) coincided with the introductory stages of my tantric practices manifesting unconsciously in my personal behavior--unconsciously insofar as having an historically based understanding of the practices rather obtrusively manifesting in my life.  If you are curious, look up pics of the sort of stuff sadhus do . . . or look up the Pine Forest myth (mine hasn't and shant fall off, btw), ehem!!
This well adored divine dancer disappeared from the scene before I had the confidence and wherewithall to approach her, though we later became fairly close friends for a time in a not so faraway foreign land.

Perhaps some of the attraction to this particular locus (loka, the Sanskrit root for the English word), i.e., Coal Creek coffeehouse in downtown Laramie, is the prominence of the place in terms of earlier acts of the lila ("divine play/playfulness").  And indeed, the people who appear here at this venue and on this particular stage are generally obliging insofar as a willingness or a penchant to play on cue, roles seeming fitted to a taut aesthetic, complete with clues as to the purport of the play being played (if only I were a better reader . . .), to what the cycle or metaphoric message might be, i.e., in terms of myth, stories and songs might come to mind.  Though I ought to note, some myths more than others are writ in more than imaginings or musings and as more than a particular culture's malfeasance, neurosis, malady or wish-fulfillment wantings, and convey more precisely a universal aesthetic.  I suppose there is a show wherever I go, though, and Mahamaya is ever playful--though seems sometimes plays of maya can be rather . . . twisted.

Reading the lila, between and oft as not in the lines recited (however consciously) by actors and conversants, almost (if not) scripted conversations and transcendental communications manifested in even mundane exchanges.  Else imagine a flash-mob synchrony manifest unconsciously (to whatever degree) by bystanders and passersbye, seen as a dance or (super-) naturally choreographed scene as I watch and sometimes interact whilst sipping my cup of coffee, and less often these days, a beer or a glass of wine whilst contemplating and sometimes responding to actors and actresses acting.  Lila, oh lila.