Discl: Read 'When life offers you a choice' before reading this. We were approaching dawn in the wee hours before the touchdown into Singapore. As always, I had no luck falling asleep on the four something hour flight. I’m not a huge fan of the window seat and I was assigned one and that too next to a drunk gentleman. I huddled up against the window the whole time, but for this once I was glad I was assigned the window. Outside, the sky was lit up in subtle hues of crimson and gilt. I had been deeply troubled after reading the news centered around Oslo and looking out at this bucolic imagery, my mind eased itself at the creases. I was reminded again of the beauty pervasive in the world at strife. The hues from the solar epicenter vibrated across the horizon. It made me forget Oslo, Hari Kambhoji, the drunken man. There is a perennial energy resonating throughout the ether, we feel her at times, we see her at other times, and we breathe her all the time. And, I happened to see and feel the energy too in the next leg of my journey from Singapore to LA via Tokyo. On this long 17.30 hour flight, it is rare to enjoy a middle seat and when I was assigned one automatically, I went to the Singapore airlines desk to ask for an aisle seat to gladly realize that I was assigned a middle seat in the emergency exit row, apparently one which you have to pay extra for and I got it free of cost! I was seated comfortably in the middle seat next to a 6 4’ tall man with shoulder length hair tied into a simple ponytail. Before long we had started an amicable conversation revolving around ‘Plato and Platypus walked into a bar’, the other book I meant to read on this long transit to LA. He thought I was a philosopher. I clarified my credentials and in turn discovered I was sitting next to a professional surfer, a deep-sea diver and a shamanic healer (talk about seeing energy!). I first became interested in shamanism after high school and had largely read about shamanic practices in Mexico and that was exactly were he was heading to, on a tour of South America for the next 4 months. He was a traveller, both in the physical and spiritual sense of the term. His travels to Mexico, Peru and Ecuador would lead him to Shamanic rituals. We talked about rituals atop Mammoth hill, Viracocha and the Quechuan language. He loved India having widely travelled to the north. The other 6 3’ guy in the aisle seat next to me now got interested in the conversation. He was an undergrad returning from Bangalore after 8 weeks of an intensive MBA program. What a funny revelation we had mid-air! I travel transcontinental to live the so called stereotypical American dream in sunny California and he took refuge in autos, canteen food, and the bustling motley crue in Bangalore’s Electronic city. All our paths were interwoven in the languid surreal space and time, seventeen hours felt like but one moment in the vast infinite sigh of cosmic consciousness.