The Geography of Bliss

my flesh and blood. It’s true. My wife and I adopted a baby
girl from Kazakhstan. I am speechless.
When it comes time for me to ask questions, I have only
two. When will I be happy Where will I be happy
“It’s best if you stay in your own country, but you don’t
need to worry too much about things. Don’t be envious of
what other people have.” Sound advice.
Now she/he has a question for me. “Do you believe in
God”
Oh, no. I’m not sure how to answer. Lying to a jao seems
like bad karma, and besides I don’t know what I believe. At
that moment, for some reason, Luba of Moldova pops into
my mind, and I blurt out “feevty-feevty.” The jao seems
satisfied with this response, and everyone in the room
breathes a sigh of relief.
“You must believe in Ganesh,” she/he says. “You have
one, right A brown one.”
“Yes, I do. How did you—”
“It is in the sitting, not standing position, yes”
“Yes, but . . .”
She/he tells me I am neglecting my Ganesh. I need to
give him flowers and bless him regularly. Then all of my
problems will disappear. I promise to do so. Then the jao
convulses again, and she/he becomes a she again. The
session is over.
We step outside into the heat, and Scott and I buy a
couple of beers from a small grocery store. We plop down
on two small plastic chairs and review what just transpired.