Ivory Coast

I have been glued to the press reports from the West African nation of the Ivory Coast,
or Cote d'Viore; it seems the bad old days of African strongmen, belligerent of world opinion
and democratic freedoms, using the gun to project their power and secure their graft, has
returned to this once shining pearl of West Africa. Reports of mass abductions, of the military
firing indiscriminately on unarmed protesters, of an entrenched leader, still claiming to represent the people, but increasingly representing only the dying vestiges of strongman rule. Streams of refugees, unbelievably, fleeing to Liberia, which only a few years back was embroiled in its own terrible civil war. World opinion and condemnation has been strong; however, an example needs to be made of Laurent Gbagbo and his military; a multinational force, under the guises of the UN, but with strong western (read: French and American) backing needs to be given the mandate to disarm Gbangbo and his loyal militia, prepare war crimes trials against them in The Hague, and protect and implement the rule of the winner of this month's elections, Mr. Alassane Quattara.
An example needs to be made for both the recent past, and the near future; these acts of aggression towards human rights and democratic principals of freedom will not be tolerated in West Africa, or elsewhere. The jewel of West Africa can soon ride up and shine again. Once again, a stark reminder; how much easier it is to destroy than to build, in the most fragile of regions.

Izumi Shikibu

"Although the wind blows fiercely here,
the moonlight also shines
through the roof planks
of this ruined house."

"Watching the moon,
at dawn,
solitary,
midsky,
i knew myself completely,
no part left out."

A Master's Words on the Nature of Mind.

“These trains of thoughts and states of mind are constantly changing, like the shapes of clouds in the wind, but we attach great importance to them. An old man watching children at play knows very well that their games are of little consequence. He feels neither elated nor upset at what happens in their game, while the children take it all very seriously. We are just exactly them.”

“Maintain a state of simplicity. If you encounter happiness, success, prosperity, or other favorable conditions, consider them as dreams or illusions, and do not get attached to them. If you are stricken by illness, calamity, deprivation, or other physical or mental trials, do not let yourself get discouraged, but rekindle your compassion and generate the wish that through your suffering all beings' sufferings may be exhausted. Whatever circumstances arise, do not plunge into either elation or misery, but stay free and comfortable, in unshakable serenity.”

“However deluded your thoughts may be, they are but products of your own intellect.

If you set your thoughts free, where nothing arises, remains, or ends,

they will vanish into emptiness.”

Dilgo Khyentse Rimpoche

Everest Journal. Thame

Thame Village, December 1st.

A flock of white birds, sun catching their feathers and lighting them on fire, against the dark granite spires and pale cloudless sky, streaking past my view.
The old stone walls, ancient corrals, allow only abstract shapes of light to pass with the sounds of the flowing stream hidden from view.
Life comes quickly and brilliantly, complete silence framed by rocks, earth, sky;
the laughter of a band of brightly colored school children running down a mountain trail from an unknown village above, countless stories, dreams, sorrows, happiness, reflected in the crystal air;
a flutter of worn prayer flags in the bitter wind;
the sun warms my face as I sit, admiring the simple, beautiful, rugged perseverance of this high land.
It is now December; another fascinating month has passed all too quickly; all is fleeting.




"To become one with whatever one does is a true realization of The Way."
-Peter Mattheisson

Everest Journal Outtakes

Khumjung, Nepal. Thanksgiving Day.

The dirty Tibetan trader, sack filled with market wares slung over his shoulder,
red braid weaved into beautiful long black hair, makes his way up the ancient
stone pathway. Both his origin and his destination are unknown to me as i stand in
the frigid early morning air, observing the high peaks surrounding this narrow valley
illuminated in the low morning sun. The brilliant whites of the towering snowfields;
the jagged, angular manifestations of this earth's crust, thrusting to the heavens, surround
my simple presence.
Last evening, watching the same sun make its way into the high horizons, it was flaming oranges that rang the day into night.
The Tibetan smiles a wide, white smile; and i return my own, no words, he is gone.

basho

Days and months are the travelers of eternity.
So are the years that pass by.
I myself have been tempted for a long time by the cloud moving wind-
filled with a strong desire to wander...I walked through mists and clouds,
breathing the thin air of high altitudes and stepping on slippery ice snow,
till at last through a gateway of clouds,
as it seemed,
to the very paths of the sun and the moon,
I reached the summit, completely out of breath and nearly frozen to death.
Presently the sun went down and the moon rose glistening in the sky.
-Basho, The Narrow Road to the Deep North

borges

Boast of Quietness

by Jorge Luis Borges

Writings of light assault the darkness, more prodigious than meteors.

The tall unknowable city takes over the countryside.

Sure of my life and death, I observe the ambitious and would like to

understand them.

Their day is greedy as a lariat in the air.

Their night is a rest from the rage within steel, quick to attack.

They speak of humanity.

My humanity is in feeling we are all voices of that same poverty.

They speak of homeland.

My homeland is the rhythm of a guitar, a few portraits, an old sword,

the willow grove's visible prayer as evening falls.

Time is living me.

More silent than my shadow, I pass through the loftily covetous multitude.

They are indispensable, singular, worthy of tomorrow.

My name is someone and anyone.

I walk slowly, like one who comes from so far away he doesn't expect to arrive

Lumbini. Pilgrimage

Walking the dusty paths, the same strides taken by pilgrims from all Buddhist faiths, the countriesas diverse as the skin tones, as scattered as the tongues, as varied as the hues of the clothes that drape; Cambodians and Thais in bright orange temple robes; Sri Lankans and Vietnamese in the deep browns of the monsoon season earth; Tibetans in maroon and crimson.

Millenia ago, on these same dusty paths, the same ancient rice paddies dotting the fading horizon, the same crickets greeting the flaming orange horizon, the same primal screams of roving bands of jackals under the starry sky, walked the Buddha himself, a simple man, a simple message.

The chanting of the Korean monks reverberated off the cavernous confines of the unfinished, concrete gray temple; the sound waves collided with my silent mind and stirred my soul.

I smiled deeply and bowed to the moment. What an astonishing adventure this has been, all these years.

“The Tibetans liken the mind to a great clear sky, a cloudless sky. All the phenomena of the mind and body are happenings in this clear sky. They are not the sky itself. The sky is clear and unaffected by what is happening. The clouds come and go, the winds come and go, the rain and sunlight all come and go, but the sky remains clear. Make the mind like a big clear sky and let everything arise and vanish on its own.”

-Joseph Goldstein

words.

"Many people pass through life driven by greed, fear, aggression, or endless grasping after
security, affection, power, sex wealth, pleasure and fame. This endless cycle of seeking is what Buddhism calls Samsara. Its rare that we take the time to understand this life that we are given to work with. We're born, we grow older, and eventually we die; we enjoy, we suffer, we wake, we sleep-how quickly it all slips away. Awareness of the suffering involved in this process of life-of being born, growing old, and dying, led the Buddha to question deeply how it comes about and how we can find freedom. That was the Buddha's question. That was where he began his practice. To understand ourselves and our lives is the point of meditation; to understand and to be free."
-Jack Kornfield

Helambu Notes

10.22 Kutumsang

The fog came quickly to the small stone town, as i sat watching the green hills bathed in the late day light; as i sat, watching my breath, my mind, the fog a fitting metaphor for the defilements that come to visit consciousness. How this journey came to this time in space, to this small teahouse nestled on a high Himalayan ridge, huddled in the kitchen around the hearth, the cold mountain air creeping in through the roughly hewn wooden door;
the young Sherpa boy, clad in an old blue blazer several sizes too large, blows at the waning fire through a large wooden straw, as his mother prepares a simple meal over open flame.
In 2 days of walking, the modern world feels centuries away.


10.23 Magangoth

The early morning air at 14,500ft numbs my hands; the proof seen in the layer of frost covering the rough wood planks that constitutes a bench in this remote land; the sun will warm, but it is still far away, illuminating only the golden brown peaks lining the horizon with the pale blue sky.
The young girl fetches freezing water for tea; juniper offerings waft in the silent air.


10.24 Phedi

"all thoughts in their infinite variety are utterly without substance. this is the mind of a Buddha."
-Dilgo Khyentse Rimpoche

I sit on a flat stone, overlooking the awesome green valley below, the suns rays illuminated across, slowly receding; thundering waterfalls reverberate their energies in my humble ears, the peaks of jagged stone cathedrals bath in the orange glow of dusk.
The landscape here is hallucinatory;
my mind, clear, yet overcome by the beauty of this place, in this time.
I am profoundly at peace.



10.26. Gokainsund

We crossed the high pass in the midday sun, prayer chortons festooned with prayer flags sending their messages to the gods from this holy place, asking for protection from the evil spirits that lurk in these dangerous high places. We sat in the sun at the base of a simple stone wall and watched the afternoon fog creep through the break in the massive, crumbling stone hills; over 15,000ft; my third high crossing in these mountains, and the one that instilled the most tranquility as i sat, watching the crows and hawks, flags and peaks.
A rest day now at 14,000ft; impromptu english lesson with the morning sun warming my chilled back; talking of life and its myriad struggles with the old, bent lodge owner; hiking amidst high alpine boulder fields, ringed by complete solitude, complete peace, many miles from any vestige of the 21st, let alone 20th or 19th centuries. Beautiful, fleeting moments true serenity.

"to become one with whatever one does is a true realization of The Way."
-Peter Mattheissen

Boudhanath.

the days pass with such simple ease in this place.
up with the sun, the offerings, temple bells, laughter of neighbors pounding chilies with mortar and pestle for the day's meals;
life beings early here.
simple reflections;
being blessed with the luxury of time, to walk slowly down the narrow, crumbling pathways,
bowing and extending a simple "namaste" ("I honor the spirit that is within you) to those passing on their own way;
time is treasured in its abundance.
I try to work with the wandering, planning mind;
focus here, on this precious moment;
inspired by the great Tibetan teachers who have walked these same narrow pathways,
I work to control the mind; to see what is true.
Unknown chatter wafts from an open window above the green courtyard;
distant laughter;
then it is gone.


"The great inspiration of the Buddha's teachings is that we must each take ultimate responsibility for the quality of our lives. When we understand that our lives are the unfolding of karmic law, that we are the heirs to our own deeds, then there grows in us a deepening sense of responsibility for how we live, the choices we make, and the actions we undertake."
-Joseph Goldstein

Thoughts. Words.

The old Tibetan ladies, in a seated row in the early morning sun rising over the great stupa,
display the tubs of kernels in front of their colored brocades.
The kernels are an offering to the flocks of pigeons who also call this area home;
life here is precious and revered for all beings, and this is manifested moment by moment,
glance by glance, step by step.
The scents of burning juniper, wafting from ornate carved silver boxes,
fills the air.




"When the eyes and the ears are open, the leaves on the trees teach like pages from the scriptures."
-Kabir

"In order to understand our lives it is essential top understand the nature of the mind. Everything that we are, everything that we do, has its origins in the mind. What we are is the manifestation of the mind. Rarely, though, do we take the time to create a space of silence to see how this mind of ours is working."
-Jack Kornfield

"Think of what your experience is from a moment to moment perspective: a sound, a sight, a thought, a sensation, and emotion, a smell, a taste. Moment to moment, these experiences arise and vanish, are being born and dying; the very nature of this process is constant, immediate, and continuous change. There is no possibility of holding on, although sometimes we try very hard to do so."

"We believe happiness lies in the experience of pleasurable feelings, ignoring their fleeting, unfulfilling nature. This ignorance feeds the craving in the mind for more and more pleasant feeling. And although our desire for pleasant feeling is continually being gratified, we are never fully satisfied, precisely because of the fleetingness and insubstantiability of these feelings...Its like trying to quench your thirst by drinking ocean water. The more you drink, the thirstier you become."

-Joseph Goldstein

Nepal.

10.7.10 Kathmandu...."Back in The Valley"

As the sleek metallic jet, anachronistic to the simplicity beneath and around, banked eastward into the rising sun, the jagged white teeth of the mighty Himalaya, the "abode of the snows" fell into full, marvelous view; white flanks shimmering in the thin mountain air; feeding sedimented rivers of brown into the foothills and beyond onto the great, baked plains of India, like crooked fingers extended from the roof of the world; the checkered heartland of the country, verdant shades of green, the full spectrum cut squarely into the flat plains and terraced in oblong beauty into the foothills surrounding the ancient valley. The green meant harvest, of plenty; of survival in an often harsh and unforgiving land; this sight made my heart warm and brought a smile to my jet-lagged lips; sustenance for the people, sustenance for my heart as well. Crossing over the hills, mountains in any other land, into the ancient valley, as the plane lost altitude, details became finer, weaving into reality with memories rushing back to the present; broken, low buildings cast over dusty, potholed streets; hilltop shrines covered in prayer flags sending blessings to the corners of the universe; chaos; brilliance; disrepair; beauty; the subtle exoticism that comes so effortlessly with this land, even after so many visits and so many other travels. The first time I crossed this path, 6 years ago, marked the beginning of a long journey, of a changed course in life, of questions that needed to be answered, of a restless mind and soul; I smile as the plane prepares for landing, as the ancient cars and motorbikes plying the dusty, narrow roads come into view, weaving, screaming, in their typical Nepali madness, and like that, I am back, I have arrived, I am home.


10.8.10 Boudhanath. Kathmandu.

Outside the early morning window,
the crows cry mercilessly.
The sun begins its distant rise over the jagged white peaks,
a small bell tolls rhythmically from some unknown shrine room;
framing the day in this far away land;
the entirely of the passing show brings a smile,
as the sun slowly warms my face.

"Some day you will die. Lying on your sick bed about to breath your last breath,
you will be assailed by every kind of pain.
Your mind will be filled with fears and anxieties. And you will not know what to do or where to go.
Only then you will realize that you have not practiced well.
Impermanence does not hesitate. Death will not wait.
You will not be able to extend your life by even a second.
How many thousands of more times will you have to pass through the gates of birth and death.
If these words are challenging, even insulting, let them be an encouragement for your change.
Practice heroically. Do not accumulate unnecessary possessions.
Don’t give up. Still your mind. End wrong perceptions.
Concentrate and do not run after objects of your senses.
Be determined to not let your days and months pass by wastefully.
- Zen Master Guishan

"When desire arises, it is a force that pulls us out of the moment into our imagination. An antidote is to reflect on impermanence, even on death. How much will fulfilling this desire mean at the end of your life? Recognize that no matter how many times we get what we want, it always passes. It's endless." -Joseph Goldstein

thai writings.

Tonsai, Thailand 9.18.10

Is freedom really possible in this life? True freedom, freedom from suffering, freedom from attachments, freedom to choose our own paths, to truly live presently, to truly offer compassion and non-attached love to those around? Sometimes these qualities seem to present themselves, they grow close to my heart, they appear as a good friend in the evening when i sit on the floor of my darkened hut and watch the breath; they appear in the morning as a drink a cup of coffee, feeling the ocean breeze on my skin, as the caffeine permeates my cells. I sit here now, legs up on the rough wood railing, my range hammock flapping in the breeze, green superimposed on the brilliantly textured white limestone cathedrals that frame this special place. It has been a week since I arrived. A week of freedom, a week of encounters, moments, smiles, a week of living in simplicity, but also in a bit of a bubble; but this is ok, it is an acknowledged bubble, a bubble of choice, a bubble of necessity, as my third month living out of my pack draws to a close, I needed a place to unpack, to settle in, to know those around, to not be a ghost passing through; there is much satisfaction in occasional sedentary rooting; with the satisfaction that this, too, will end. While it lasts, while I am here, it is brilliant, soothing, balm for the soul, great food for the stomach, rock for the hands, and mindfulness for the body. Is freedom possible? In certain times, in certain places, I think so. Life continues its unfolding, in the most open and honest way possible, unique....


"For you to be here now, trillions of drifting atoms had somehow to assemble in an intricate and curiously obliging manner to create you. It's an arrangement so specialized and particular that it has never been tried before and will only exist this once. For the next many years, these tiny particles will uncomplainingly engage in all the billions of deft, cooperative efforts necessary to keep you intact and let you experience the supremely agreeable but generally under appreciated state known as existence. Why atoms take this trouble is a bit of a puzzle. Being you is not a gratifying experience at the atomic level. For all their devoted attention, your atoms don't actually care about you-indeed, dont even know you are there. They dont even know they are there. They are mindless particles, after all, and not even themselves alive. Yet somehow, for the period of your existence, they will answer to a simple, rigid impulse: to keep you you."
-Bill Bryson, on the impermanent flow of the atomic universe

"The whole art of living a meditative life is to keep a beginner's mind, to keep a mind where, with each experience, at each time we sit down, we are willing to discover what is actually going to happen this hour, not what happened yesterday, or what will happen tomorrow. It is a wonderful way to live."
-Jack Kornfield, on the Beginner's Mind



Tonsai, Thailand 9.26.10

The days slip by in a peculiar normalcy in this sheltered reality; I fully accept that these days will soon pass and try to stay focused throughout the day, into the night as I sit in my darkened bungalow, observing my breath, observing the sounds that come and go, the thoughts that parade themselves, as I lay in bed, on my back, hands crossed, observation continuing until sleep takes the mind. I make time for connections, make time to climb with others, to share, to laugh, to observe, but also take care to not get lost in the endless chatter, take care to take the time to work on my own mind, to truly use the time and the space that I have been gifted with to building something lasting within. The sunsets over the Andaman Sea, cliff faces reflecting the orange and pink glows, the simple breakfasts eaten with legs dangling over the incoming tides; hiking through overgrown jungle paths and scaling cliffs overlooking a true tropical paradise; sitting, feeling the smallest breeze on my heated face and naked torso, feeling at solitary ease after so many months of motion; working through a small pot of coffee with devoted attention, my book, my journal, eyes open, savoring all. And soon, this too, will change, as does everything.


"Many people pass through life driven by fear, greed, aggression, or endless grasping after security, affection, power, sex, wealth, pleasure, and fame. This endless cycle of seeking is what Buddhism calls Samsara. Its rare that we take the time to understand this life that we are given to work with. We're born, we grow older, and eventually we die; we enjoy, we suffer, we wake, we sleep-how quickly it all slips away. Awareness of the suffering involved in this process of life-of being born, growing old, and dying, led the Buddha to question deeply how it comes about and how we can find freedom. That was the Buddha's question. That was where he began his practice. To understand ourselves and our lives is the point of meditation; to understand and to be free."
-Jack Kornfield



9.27.10 Tonsai, Thailand


People come, people go; on their own journeys, their own paths, their own
joys and sorrows , tales and experience, light and shadows, waking consciousness and dreamy sleep;
and i wish them well.
The sun rises, casts its spell and shadows, and sets, illuminating the earth and life, and then vanishing from view, dragging with it the ever changing tones of the day;
I bow to its presence, I bask in its glow.
Experiences arise and pass away;
enjoyed while they last, nevertheless they will always become just a memory, a faint light, a story told in passing, leaving behind only shadows;
I smile in their remembrance, and cast my mind back to the present.
The days come and go,
sometimes fast, sometimes slow;
with the ten thousand joys and ten thousand sorrows of life, the never ending parade of thought, experience, tales, memories, sensations, light, darkness;
trying to grow with each, remembering that even this growth, this knowledge strived for, will also pass.
wondering, have i lived well? wisely? have i loved well? i sit, and bow to it all.



10.3.10 Krabi Hospital, General Ward, Evening


The young girl, in her second act of generosity and kindness, brought over a fresh hospital sheet and tucked it around my bare legs, offering a warm smile as she returned back to her sleeping, wounded father across the aisle of mismatched hospital beds. An hour or so, before, she had brought over a blue box of milk, had startled me a bit from my dazed drifting, lying on the hard bed, exposed wooden plank, broken drawers on the side, pondering my peculiar situation. A beautiful offering to a stranger, in a strange place. Sitting here, the old fans whirring in the humid, tropical air, the ancient machines running with familiar beeps and groans, the families, mostly extended, always with children, as they seem to bring the most smiles from the mainly older patients in the ward; and myself, lying topless in a white hospital sarong, trying to center my breathing and mind amidst this starkly humbling turn of events, noticing with some trepidation the fleeting nature, the uncertainty of things. Far off the tourist trail, they cannot get too many Westerners here, as nobody on the staff speaks English, and all the others here can do is smile and nod; confronted with he harshness and beauty and fragility of life faced by the poor and working class in a distant land; these generous souls gathered around, showing the true currency of these lands, the currency of family, of bonds, of love; the currency that truly matters in times of sickness and death. I pray for myself, and for those around me.

Sri Lanka > Malaysia. Transitions.

Colombo, Sri Lanka 9.6.10


Back at the Colombo House, same big white room, same big windows, leafy green garden, hot and humid equatorial air, same emptiness, despite assurances that they are always "fully booked," as about one month ago when I arrived in a sleep deprived daze, stumbled out of the airport in the early morning haze, took an empty train and a tuk tuk, and collapsed on the same bed, and slept away my African weariness. The curtain lifted as I moved into the country the next day, moved up into the beautiful mountains, started to experience the beauty all around. Now, there is no weariness. Only happiness at having the opportunity to spend a month of my life in such a precious land. Warmth of all kinds; the chilis burning my lips as I dig into a delicious lunchtime vegetarian curry dish; the blazing sun scorching the sands buffeting the deep blue seas; the warmth of the people, the constant accompaniment. Pains and hardships as well-the road is hard in this small land; the buses and trains are packed and humid; the drivers madmen. But the hardships are far overshadowed, and I leave with a big space in my heart for this Indian Ocean island. I leave steadied, emboldened, and comfortable for what lies ahead...



Colombo to Malaysia 9.7.10

An early morning wakeup, darkness outside the big colonial windows, crickets sounding their eternal cries, the fan stirring the barely cooled predawn air; I gather my bags, two of them, large but mobile, all of my "possessions" in this world right now, and walk down the winding steps to the tuk tuk waiting in the darkness. We had agreed on 5am, but here he is, 445am and growing impatient, backed carefully into the driveway in a manner that must have taken a bit of time. The tiny engine fires, and like that, I am gone. Buzzing through the darkened Colombo streets, grand colonial buildings like white ghosts superimposed on the developing world facade of South Asia; gnarled steel Tata buses already plying their routes; the Muezzin calling the faithful, still standing on the street corners, to prayer. I sit behind the grey haired driver, watching him ply his trade with a gentle elegance, the barely audible horn fending off the lurking steel monster of the road. We move out of city limits, out of Sri Lanka, into another adventure, another unfolding mystery.



Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia 9.7.10

The rushing, crushing, modern, developed world; its busyness, its tightly ordered manic energy, functioning traffic lights, clean streets, neon signs advertising anything and everything to an all-too-willing hyper consumer culture; I am back in the "Developed World" it seems, ultra modern Asia of the 21st century and the Western world's borders are a blur of Hypermarkets, glitzy shopping malls, and Mercedes Benzes at every corner. It unsettles me, after months in very different places; months spent without the self-encapsulated bubbles of consumerism where the eyes of strangers glow only in LCD screens, not in inviting smiles. Too easy for me; too fast; too hushed for the soul. I miss the edge of soldiers at checkpoints, of buses screaming their horns for no reason, of broken pavement that threatens to eat your legs whole with a misstep, of strangers eyes, the warmth and smiles seem to multiply when the wealth is divided, this seems to be the rule of the road...soon, I will be back, Nepal beckons.....

"To practice and understand that Dharma is a rare and precious thing. Few people in the world are presented with this opportunity. Most people are circling around, driven by ignorance and desire, unaware of the possibility of getting rid of this wheel of samsara, the wheel of greed and hatred." -J. Goldstein

lanka......

9.2.10 Mirissa, Sri Lanka

This day marks two months since leaving home, two months since i stepped wearily, with some apprehension, into the terminal at JFK airport, mentally disentangling from the busyness of life in the West, disentangling from the familiar, stepping into the well known mystery of exploration, the wonderful mystery of life unfolding. Two months. Three continents. Five countries. New experience unfolding every day; waking up with the sun on my face, the waves rolling into shore in the distance; waking to the crickets of the early morning African bush; waking to the mellow rain of the mountains; and waking to the muzzin's call to prayer in the ancient Swahili settlements of the African coast. So many more mornings yet to come, to open my eyes more to the beauty of this world. I smile in anticipation of the future.

9.3.10 Mirissa

We can so easily distract ourselves into oblivion in this life; time spent without external stimulation, televisions, radios, cafe talking, phone talking, work, commuting; this is somehow seen as "wasted" time. How often do we simply sit and watch our own minds, the endless parade of thoughts marching through...travel, retreat, allow for a break, not just from the physical routines of our lives, but from the mental routines that come to define us. Stopping. Radically changing. Having the time in the day to reflect. Balm for the soul.
The fisherman in front of me on this early morning, sitting, drinking my coffee, just me, the plastic table and plastic chair, a simple fence and the sand, does not cast his small wooden boat into the rolling waves coming ashore, for he would surely be swamped; he casts just beyond their reach, in the calm, deep blue sea.

"Practice heroically. Do not accumulate unnecessary possessions. Don't give up. Still your mind. End wrong perceptions. Concentrate and do not run after objects of the senses. Be determined to not let your days and months pass by wastefully." -Zen Master Guishan

south coast, sri lanka

"When sunlight falls on a crystal, lights of all colors of the rainbow appear; yet they have no substance that you can grasp. Likewise, all thoughts in their infinite variety are utterly without substance. This is the mind of the Buddha."
-Dilgo Khyntse Rimpoche


8.24.10 Galle Fort, Sri Lanka
The simple tea shop, really just a side room of a modest home, old yellow paint chipped away from the front facade, on a small, quiet lane, tucked inside the ancient Fort of Galle. The small display case in the doorway contained a few loaves of bread, uncut, and the inside, two small plastic tables, a few mismatched chairs, a small Buddha shrine in the corner, a candle lit in honor of the ancient sage, I smile when my eyes meet the delicate flame; the man, clad only in a worn blue sarong, his brown skin subdued by the early morning shadows, his hands working quickly, yet delicately-the strainer, the kettle, the tea leaves, the bowl of white sugar that stands out so, its old metal spoon to adorn; there is such focus in his movement, such grace; a meditation in life, in movement, Buddha in a cup of tea

“O foolish and afflicted mind,
You want, you crave, for everything.”
-Shantideva, A Guide to the Bodhistava’s Way of Life

“Sixty Six times these eyes have beheld the
Changing scenes of autumn.
I have said enough about moonlight;
Ask me no more.
Only listen to the voice of pines and cedars,
When no wind stirs.”
-unnamed Zen nun


8.27.10 Mirissa, Sri Lanka

The southern coast of Sri Lanka...spectacular...emerald blue seas inter dispersed with turquoise, crashing against golden brown sands, brightly painted fishing boats heaving with the waves, the sarong-clad fisherman casting out on ancient rods, their balance perfect against the powerful seas. Simple towns, a few buildings and an old Buddhist shrine, street vendors and sari clad women; bread shops, dishes always covered in cellophane, newspaper used for napkins and take away bags, a kindness, not particular, always felt. Whitewashed stupas and orange clad monks, I walked behind one today who shielded his shaved head from the harsh tropical heat with a beautiful yellow umbrella, the colors brought out the brilliance in eachother as he strode mindfully down the broken path. This place feels just about perfect, just about right; yet tomorrow, the road once again beckons, my time in this land winding down with so much left to see...i suppose always the case-everything must, as nature, change...I sit, study the words of Shantideva, the 11th Century Indian sage, wise thought has not changed with the millennia, only outward appearances...

“Since this is so, the wise man does not crave, for from such craving fear and anguish come.
And fix this firmly in your understanding: all that may be wished for by nature fades to nothing.
For people have gained a wealth of riches, enjoying reputation, sweet renoun.
But who can say where they have gone to now, with all the baggage of their gold and fame?”
-Shantideva, A Guide to the Bodhistava’s Way of Life

Sri Lanka Journal...

8.22.10 Kandy, Sri Lanka
"Ruminations on the Africa/Asia Divide"
The difference between Africa and Asia is that in Africa, if you walk into a tea shop and they are finished with their batch of tea, they will tell you, "Sorry, the tea is finished." Then you leave, and look elsewhere for tea. In Asia, if the batch of tea is finished, they will eagerly make you another pot of tea, and make sure that you do not leave the shop until finished, and have hopefully bought 5 more items. As I wait on the train platform from Kandy to Colombo, surrounded by grunting steel beasts filled to capacity with cargo, both human and industrial, I think of the rail service that I encountered in Kenya, one of the "leading lights" of Africa. The government of Kenya has not added one inch of steel to the tracks since independence 50 years ago; the lines are slowly breaking down, the system turning into the living museum that I encountered. In Sri Lanka, and Asia major, where there is equal measures of poverty and destitution, as well as the same huge disparities in wealth, the tracks are in constant use, the engines well maintained after decades of use, and the cargo that feeds an advancing nation runs on the arteries of steel crisscrossing the land, upgraded, advanced, and improved upon over the years. In both lands, extreme need is not hard to find; however, the symptoms of poverty can be seen in drastically different lights; lights of progress and advancement, and shadows of decay and neglect.

8.22.10 Sri Lanka
In the space of one hour in the quieted, still shuttered Sunday morning city streets of Kandy, I was subject to two acts of spontaneous kindness so common to this land. A stranger, to whom i spoke only a few words and shared a brief smile, took it upon himself to pay for my breakfast in the small restaurant that we shared, asking nothing in return. Upon entering a computer shop afterward, I fell into the warm embrace of an elderly teacher, his small typing studio, windowless and dank, at the back of the store, his old typewriter displayed with pride. We had a chat about life, education, and after introducing me to his student, invited me to his home for a dinner when I return back to the town. THe night before, the three wheeler driver taking me home from town gave the same offer after 5 minutes of talk about life in America; he requested that I come to his home and share a meal with his family; what are the chances, i thought, of this occurring in New York with a cab driver? Simple kindness, asking nothing in return; I felt unworthy of such warm attention, warm embrace.

sri lanka journals....

8.16.10 Arungam Bay, Sri Lanka

A long, hard, sweaty, crowded day on the roads of Sri Lanka...twisting mountain roads, mist capped hills of verdant green, tea terraces sculpted into the landscapes; giant whitewashed Buddha statues adorning hilltops, visible for many miles...dropping into the eastern plains, the heavily militarized past still very much a part of the present; soldiers everywhere, their sandbagged bunkers monuments to a violent past; as I saw them, and looked around the packed bus, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, all souls together in this time and place, all I could think was that all thee people want is peace...war is such a fundamental burden on the souls and psyches of the populace....there was a wild elephant grazing in the freshly burnt fields between the road and the sea; I saw the creature as a blessing in this sacred land...

8.17.10 Arungam Bay, Sri Lanka

The black crows are screaming in the trees behind and above, the sea crashing into shore rhythmically, blue to white, sucked back out, in front; and the breeze coming from all around, caressing my reddened skin, the sun and the surf both taking their toll. Looking down the long, cresent shaped bay, the mist creates the illusion the sea is melting into the shore. I sit and contemplate my mind, the doubt and aversion, the longing and grasping, the empty nature of all these thoughts, cutting through the illusions, resting in awareness, watching the passing parade of thought with all of its theatrics, dancers, singers, lights, and distraction. Thoughts come, then they dissipate, like the sensations of the wind on my skin, the light rays in my eyes, the vibrations of sound in my ears; nothing lasts.

"When we let go of the familiar and go forth with honesty and determination, everything we experience can serve to strengthen our understanding." -jack kornfield

"The whole art of living a meditative life is to keep a beginner's mind, to keep a mind where, with each experiencde, at each time we sit down, we are willing to discover what is actually going to happen this hour, not what happened yesterday or what wil happen tomorrow. It is a wonderful way to live." -joseph goldstein

8.20.10 Kandy, Sri Lanka

If a country is to be measured by the quality of its citizens, Sri Lanka would surely rank near the top of the UN Development Index, instead of near the bottom of the monetary-based realities of our modern world. Sri Lanka is an absolute gem, and its people truly shine. There is such an unbelievable warmth, grace, kindness, that is found throughout the country, teeming capital cities to beach resorts, that is contagious to the soul. One can feel as if they are wandering the Truman Show, on occasion, the kindness can be so surreal, especially to the jaded Western mind. The warmth reminds me of the smiles of Nepal, Burma, and Indonesia, other Asian countries which are materially amongst the poorest in the world, yet spiritually amongst the most endowed. Strangers offering their umbrellas in a downpour; restaurant managers coming over to just sit and smile; taxi drivers giving their relatives’ contact information in the U.S. and inviting one over to their homes after a 3 minute ride in the pouring rain; a guesthouse owner giving up her own room because she accidentally overbooked and would not have you walking around in the rain looking elsewhere; these are all the occurances of a few hours in the second largest city in this beautiful country...such kindness warms the heart, and kindles the spirit....tomorrow, to the mist shrouded mountains for a period of self retreat...

“Wisdom is the clear seeing of the imperminent, conditioned nature of all phenomina, knowing that whatever arises has the nature to cease. When we see the imperminence deeply, we no long cling; and when we no longer cling, we come to the end of suffering.” –Joseph Goldstein

island of Lanka

8.14.10 Kandy, Sri Lanka

"Through practice it is possible to train the heart and mind, to make them steady and luminous and free. It is possible to become balanced in every kind of experience...We start to see that the worst and most difficult things also change, that they too are empty experiences, lights and shadows that we all share and that arise and pass in the clear space of mind."

-Jack Kornfield

Such a pleasant country, quickly endearing to the heart and to the senses; an inate friendliness in strangers, when offered a smile, one many times as large is given in return. Locals simply wanting to talk, nothing more, such simple motives in a comlicated world. The train ride through the hills of Lanka, from the steamy, oceanfront capital of Colombo to the ancient Buddhist capital of Kandy, sitting in the open steel doorway, joints welded many decades ago creaking with the swaying of the tracks, breeze and sun carrying cardomon and spice wafting, mist-enshrouded craggy peaks looming, the small train belching smoke as it struggled up the modest inclines, so many souls, so many tales, in tow...