FIELD NOTES
On the third night of my camel trek from Jaisalmer, India, figures from the desert materialized in our camp: an old man swaddled in shawls and a boy clutching a plastic oil canister. Greetings made, they sat by our fire.
From his shawls, the man pulled out two flutes and began to play—a fluid, warbling melody over a low drone. The boy drummed his empty canister, producing booms and gulps like a tabla. Sparks crackled. The sky boiled with stars. In the intense silence between songs, you could hear the infinity of the universe. Although wrapped in a blanket, I had goose bumps.
What I was experiencing was awe—and according to a recent book, it was more profound than
