A boat ride on the Ganga. It was slow. The water was low. The sun beat down. The river was filled with remnants of the Mela. At first glance it wasn’t pretty. But then I noticed the vessel we were in. Old and worn, yet continuing to carry. The men rowing smiled and sang and one gave me his bracelet off his wrist. The river-sacred flowing water that has been washing millions, gifted this book that was floating by and our captain said was a bible in Hindi. I was reminded that if you are open, sacred treasures can always be found.