I was in New York to do some teambuilding training for the Guggenheim Museum. I arrived the night before, to settle in and get some rest.  As my usual place was full, I had a travel agent get a hotel for me.

I arrived in the dark. The cab pulled to the curb and I looked out.  The first thing I saw was a porn shop. Then another. Tucked up and out of the way was a dingy little sign, "Hotel". My hotel. My stomach sank, and I started reviewing my options. It's late, the room's confirmed, I'm tired, there's little chance I can find another. What the hey, I say, it can't be all that bad. The cab driver gives me an encouraging tip, "It's an okay neighborhood, just don't go out late at night."

I unload my bags and walk in. The manager is friendly and upbeat. I get my key and walk the two flights up to my room.

I am hypersensitive, all eyes and ears. Is this place ok, is it safe? It's old, dirty and a bit funky, but doesn't seem dangerous. I unlock the door and step into my room. It's tiny, all I smell is stale smoke. The carpet's full of burn marks. Yeow, I wonder if they rent this room by the hour.

I check the sheets, they look clean. I sit down, tired and unsure. The air is so dead I can hardly breathe, so I go back down the two flights to the clerk and ask for another room, possibly a non-smoking room? He gives me another key.  I walk in, guarded. The air is stale, but free of smoke. There's a window, I can always get some fresh air. And the sheets look clean. What the hey, I say, and unpack.

Later, after I've slipped off my shoes (I'm still not ready to go barefoot), I open my little window to bring in some cool night air. It looks out into a dark, dusty air vent full of trash. It is stultifying, there's not a drop of oxygen out there. Groaning, I shut it and lay down. I don't trust the air, I don't trust the carpet, I don't want to touch the bathroom tiles or the sink or the shower. I feel like a petri dish surrounded by germs, all waiting to jump aboard and start growing.

I'm also chuckling. What a predicament! I've stayed in a lot worse in my travels. After getting ready for bed, I crawl gingerly between the sheets.

I'm still tense, and I realize I've been holding my energy in, wrapping my aura tightly around me. I know I'll never get any rest this way. I start chanting and blessing the joint, inviting Guadeloupe and all the siddhas and saints to join me in my room. I start to relax, and remember that these sheets that cover me are made from the flowers of cotton plants, growing in the warmth of the earth under a bright southern sky. I imagine the shakti of the sun as it courses thru the threads of this cloth. The image comes to life, and I feel myself in a cocoon of light. The wooden frame of the bed grows branches and leaves, and I fall asleep in a forest of God's creations.

I awake refreshed, as if in a temple. I go off to work and we have a great day. I return later that night, to peep show row, to crawl into my hermitage, my little manger of light. The siddhas, saints and devas are there waiting for me.