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