Arrived at the train station of Haridwar, one of India’s holiest cities, near the end of Kumbh Mela, when holy men from all over come to be purified by bathing in the most sacred Ganga (Ganges) River. By coincidence it was also Holi, the uproarious ‘festival of colors’ in which people throw colored dyes at each other. We drive up river through Rishikesh to our lodging at The Glass House on the Ganges. I went to the river to meditate, then tossed into the robust current a commemorative pebble for deceased friend and colleague John Kanaley. Then in a quiet eddy where wavelets lapped musically, I scattered some ashes of my Father, and meditated some more.