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...

Dubai

8.12.10 Dubai, United Arab Emirites

A blur of a day...sitting on the rickety wooden benches, backs missing, mosquitos feasting, at the Dar Airport, waiting for the security guards to rise from their naps and roll off their cardboard beds on the floor of the screening room to scan us through the barely-functioning machines; an aborted takeoff ofthe Ethiopian Airlines startles me from fresh sleep, to which I fall quickly back once we become airborn, the unknown problem quickly masked; landing in chilly, damp Addis Ababa, my last stop of this short tour of the continent...drinking macchiatos and gazing at the cityscape of Addis through the large terminal windows, a city under construction, a work in progress of many many years, thrusted in the rememberce of wandering those very streets two short years ago on my first adventure to the continent...flying over the desolate red sands of the Sahara, searching for signs of life, seeing none, to aproaching the oasis of Dubai, scorched earth giving way to the towering skyline and hypercapitalism of this strange land, the airport a microcosm of the same Western decadence that I have not missed, have not even thought of, yet I plunge in headfirst, western magazines, books pouring off racks, electronics and icecream well beyond any abundance seen in quite some time...the feeling of landing of Guam after a year or so in Pohnpei, completely dizzying and disorienting the mellowed mind.

I havent stopped wandering the halls all day in amazement, fully cognizent that this small outpost is just that-a post that will soon be left for another headlong plunge into the developing world, the world that I choose for its very difficulty and unease that Dubai paints such a stark contrast to. I sit in the waiting lounge of the Sri Lankan AIrways flight to Colombo, surrounded by exclusively brown men, I wonder if they are returning home after work in this boomtown, what their stories are, and they smile a familiar smile, the smile of the subcontinent, and I get a wave of nostalgia, and return their glances...tonite to Colombo...

leaving the continent

8.11.10 Julius Nyerere International Airport, Tanzania

What a day, what a trip, what a life...the trouble with traveling, with such a profound plethoria of experience on a daily basis, is parlaying, translating this back into a normal, sedentary life...life on the road, the ability to pick up, pack up, and go, no questions asked, as if this is the most natural act in the world, is profoundly freeing to the soul...the life of a pilgrim is hard, filled with discomfort, fraught with occasional danger, tedium, and struggle, but is a life liberated, nonetheless.

SItting in a local bar across the darkened street from the airport, the only establishment on the street with electricity and not a flickering candle in front for illumination, drinking a warm Safari Beer, watching the locals shoot pool, surrounded by the barely electric buzz of exoticism. Driving the dusty, traffic clogged, street vendor packed roads of Dar Es Salaam, me and my belongings packed into the back of a Tuk Tuk, guarding the contents at every stop from the roving bands of theives that prey upon the weak in this part of the world; watching the scenes of momentary, simplistic brilliance unfold, understanding that this moment is truly unique; the understanding leaves me breathless. The last 6 weeks in Africa leave me breathless. The thought of so much more experience yet to come on this trip, in this life, leaves me breathless.

I sit in the rickety plastic chair, inherited from some unknown place, some undreamed circumstance, writing at thi crooked, wobbly table in the dim humming light of the pool table, waiting for an unknown meal to arrive, Swahili music cruising the periphery, mingling with the tongues of those around in the darkened shadows, and I smile at the grandeur of it all.