Slowly I have started smelling like fire. There is nothing more to feel one with the divine than this. Ash is all over my head, my clothes, my legs are bereft of a sole. Pouring Ice water every morning on head now seems a ritual. And fire a family. Is it because of these squirrels that i have started listening to. Or that bird in the morning quietness who comes sits by my bed in the darkness of the dawn. Something will change. It is asking something and saying something i cannot hear. Hear hear. Close your eyes.