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Probably she is same as Subhīmā aka Mādrī. I settle into the awareness of taste, texture, sensation and at the same time, the Teacher in front of me, who demonstrates graceful equanimity and enjoyment. A theme of our time, Beautiful female yoga couple in a formful Kyoto. It is peaceful, humid, warm on the Kyoto streets, as if the city itself was yawning, preparing for the soon to be searingly hot day with a sleepy smile. We wind our way through the narrow streets, cicadas chirping, to the first Gion Festival float of the morning. Much changed in 19th and 20th century Japan, the Gion Matsuri evolving as it always has. Much changed in the past couple of years, for the better; I had seen and admitted a lot of patterns I hadn’t clearly acknowledged before. Whatever exists in the three worlds, moving or non-moving, are to be seen in Brahma sabhā (yac ca kiṃ cit triloke’smin dṛṡyate sthāṇu-jaṅgamam).

Imagine this. You are trying to help someone stuck in a maze, a castle of projection, a hall of mirrors. There are no lights, but camera and action happen next. We stop twenty feet away from the towering structure and I set up the camera while Sensei takes in the surroundings. A tripod and camera drape over my shoulder and a rather heavy baby-pink camera bag rides my back. I wouldn’t have been caught dead with a baby-pink backpack 20 years ago. It is baby-pink to challenge my serious sensibilities of coolness. Early on while building Beyond Yoga, everything was a challenge! I instantly fell in love with the mission of Beyond Yoga, put Unsweetened on hold and went full steam ahead building Beyond Yoga - a brand that would eventually permanently change industry standards and expectations. At some point, I lean against a wall, and get black tar on my brand new white jeans… Alongside the tea, we taste the intense flavours of sweet, then salty, first with a delicate sweet bean dessert, a sailboat on a summer lake, and then some temple-made fermented black soybeans, sharp like an axe slicing winter kindling.

No more black! More colour! I can be more than the black-wearing queer punk anarchist stereotype of my youth. It moves, pulsates. I can hear the sea, the shore. As spiritual practitioners, we can think we’re well beyond commonplace gender bias-of course I’m not a misogynist, I’m a holy, woke, feminist spiritual seeker! What we put our energy and care into can carry through the ages. I film some of the detail, trying to be as quick as Sensei’s feet-they begin to carry her on to the next float. We continue to the next float and repeat this process, visiting as many as we can, a handful, until it is time for breakfast. I don’t want Sensei to have to repeat herself. As Qapel and Sensei said about Vajrayana teaching in a recent meditation retreat on the 12 Manjushris: Not everything works out perfectly. One of the best ways to see this is in longer meditation retreats. Eating with Sensei is meditation. First thing after arriving in Japan, I shopped for presentable summer clothes-another years-long area of growth Sensei has beckoned me into. But coming to Japan, it was a little rosy, a little too good to be true, a little too easy.

On most days, good. Sensei speaks, eyes smiling. She says hello to some smiling old acquaintances, some who helped her with her research and book. Sometimes they were very highly realised beings and sometimes they were sheisters who were trying to get people to think they were monks so they could collect money. Once you've figured out what you're going to do, get started. "Did you get lost? In reality, the teacher is always in service to you. What does it mean to be attendant to, in service of, your spiritual teacher? If I have learned anything from having a female Teacher and a diverse sangha, it is that my ping-pong ball reactions set off, bouncing in all directions with every contact made between us. All the floats display treasures that have been cared for over many centuries. They do it as it has been done by other men, for centuries.