"Although I hope and expect to live and enjoy autumn again, I cannot sleep this night for the beauty of the moon."
Dogen (1200-1253)
Monday, December 31, 2007
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Missing a Jet Plane For the First Time...
Ok, I hope you don't mind, but I'm reaching back a few months to when we put Joshua on the Qatar flight to the States at the end of August. He was supposed to connect in Dulles, Washington, DC, for a short flight to Philadelphia where my sister, Claudia, was going to pick him up about 11 pm after a terribly long day's journey into night.
So, when I received a call from Claudia that next morning (my time) before the hour that I had estimated Josh would arrive in Philly, I knew immediately that something was wrong. Wrong it was! After nearly 20 hours of continuous travel from Kathmandu via Doha to DC, Josh simply fell asleep waiting for his Philly flight and woke up a few minutes after the gate had closed. Naturally, he was shocked and immediately called Claudia to tell her.
Fortunately, United Airlines (with Claudia's calm help...) was able to rebook Joshua on the first flight the next morning to Philly. So, Josh basically stayed up the whole night, munching on some snacks, slowly sipping a Coke, listening to his iPod while chatting with some Nepali workers at Dulles, so he wouldn't perchance miss his flight.
This is the email I sent to my wayward son that morning when I heard that he was anxious and alone in the Dulles Airport, some 12,000 miles away... A Dad's effort to reassure his son and relate some of his own travel travail from his own life's journey...
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Joshua,
Yesterday was such a hard day for me. After taking you to the airport, I felt such a loss in not having you nearby. Even doing the Old Growth puzzle (I think we bought it years ago in Olympia National Park) w/ Leah couldn't replace my deep feelings for you. Although she was so happy to have my full attention, the thought of you flying far away was with me all day and last night.
I don't think a child can ever understand how a parent feels when their children grow up and leave home. They can be 16, 17 or 18 years old, but there is a sudden and profound loss that parents are not prepared for -- no matter how much we know that it is going to happen. I was also so exhausted, since we didn't sleep well the
night before, either, knowing that you were going.
At 3 pm yesterday, while you were in Doha, Leah & I went to sleep/rest in Ezra's room (since it was the darkest...), then got up at 6 pm again to work on her puzzle. During dinner, your absence was so palpable. We all commented on it, with Ez saying as he got up from the table, "Nothing will be the same again..." I even had a hard time looking up from my food since I knew I wouldn't see you
there... My emotions were just too vulnerable.
Yet, I want you to know, that I feel such pride in you, Joshua. You are such a brave and confident young man. You have stepped out in the world on your own to create a new world for yourself. You have taken decisions that few sons your age could imagine. You have given the gift of friendship to so many, both your peers and younger children. You have made your parents proud of their oldest son -- not to mention your grandparents, aunts & uncles. You have become a great adventurer in the world, a young man of depth & ambtion, a young, idealistic hero to your father.
I know that you must feel unsettled and disappointed waiting alone in Dulles airport for your now morning flight on United. It can't feel easy having missed the earlier flight and having to make sure to get up at the right time in the morning for the next flight. My heart is with you at this time as I, too, count the hours til you
get on your next plane.
But, know, that you are not completely alone, nor the first person to miss a plane flight. It's a bit too easy to do...
I don't know if I ever told you about missing my flight back to Thailand from the States after I'd come to Westport for my first orientation with Save the Children in 1982. It was one of my first 'professional' experiences and I totally mixed up my flights. The plane was scheduled to leave Seattle at 1 am, but I showed up at the airport 24 hours late. When I got there, I wondered why the airport was so quiet. Unfortunately, the flight had left a day earlier. I'd gotten the date/day wrong in my mind, not realizing that I had to show up the day before a 1 am flight -- not on the next evening of the day of the 1 am flight!! Dumb!
Fortunately, I was with my friend from Amherst, Gary Giorgi, who was practicing medicine there, so he could take me home. But you can imagine how embarrassing it was to call SC in the morning having to ask them to rearrange my flights since I'd missed my earlier one... What a way to start a 25 year career with Save the Children... ;-)
But, that wasn't my first major airline missed flight...
When Scott and I were traveling in Africa, we were hired in Nairobi, Kenya to run oil field camps in the Sudan. The company, Kenya Oilfield Services, flew us up to the Sudan in Twin Otter planes (the propeller planes we use to fly up to Jomson in Nepal). We landed in Juba in southern Sudan, where I met Phillipe Cousteau (son of the famous undersea diver). Then, we flew up to Beni Nusa, a Chevron Oil camp in the huge Nile swampland of southern Sudan. While coming in to land, we flew over hundreds of grass huts with these magnificent black Dinka
tribe people wearing almost nothing but huge ivory arm bands and carrying spears.
I was so amazed, I walked down the runway and into the village to see these Africans for myself. I remembered Carl Jung in "Memories, Dreams, Reflections" (the book I was reading when we left the States in 1978) writing how he longed to be out of Europe (he was Swiss), out of the Western culture, in a land that didn't know the world as he had been taught, its history, its art, its religion, its structures. I felt the same looking into the eyes of these Dinka men; we had almost nothing in common that I could perceive...
However, while I was romancing my youthful experience of the larger world, I never heard the small plane take off as Scott was sitting in his seat anxiously scanning the horizon to see where I'd gone. You can imagine how angry the oil company guy was when I wandered back to the camp a half hour later, but with no plane on the
runway. Totally embarrassed and angry with myself, I had to spend the night there, then catch a flight up to Khartoum the next day.
Still, life continued the next day, and the day after that.
Such are the moments we have to live through in life. Since as Nietzche said, 'what doesn't kill us makes us stronger...' We live & grow through our mistakes, our wrong choices and our passing embarrassments.
Of course, I wish I'd told you to tell the person at the United counter to watch out to make sure that you didn't fall asleep while waiting for your connecting flight to Philly. It's so easy to sleep after such a long flight from Kathmandu to DC. I remember at times trying to wake you or Ez or Leah to even get off the jet plane when we'd arrive after such long journeys. After all, it's a long, fully exhausting trip around the world you've just accomplished. You had a right to be sleepy.
So, today, my heart is with you in the corridors of Dulles airport. I know that it won't be a comfortable night waiting for your flight tomorrow via NYC to Philly. You're tired, you're anxious and you're disappointed. I know the feelings.
Just remember, as well, when you read this. It has happened to all of us, every adult you know has had to go through such situations.
Remember, therefore, as well, to be proud of yourself, of what you are doing, of all that you have done in your life, of the mere getting to America on your own. As Grandma Rose always said, "Be kind to yourself!"
Wake up and start another day tomorrow with confidence in your heart.
Know, too, that our thoughts are with you. Know how much your Mom, Ezra, Leah & I love you. Know how proud we are of you. Know that we wish we could stand over you and protect you every moment of the day. Know that we do in our thoughts and prayers.
Rest easily tonight, Joshu. Look out at the world around you and feel proud of yourself for coming to America on your own. In the daytime, Grammy and Claudia will be there to pick you up, even if a bit delayed, at the Philadelphia airport. They will be so happy to see you and drive with you to NMH.
You have time, remember. School doesn't start for another week. Today was always planned as a travel day. Of course, it may have been more comfortable sleeping at Claudia's, but you will survive a night in the airport. Given how often you will be flying across the globe, you may have other nights in airports in the future... ;-)
Rest easy, my son, and know that half way around the world we love you and are sending you our deepest affection, your Dad
So, when I received a call from Claudia that next morning (my time) before the hour that I had estimated Josh would arrive in Philly, I knew immediately that something was wrong. Wrong it was! After nearly 20 hours of continuous travel from Kathmandu via Doha to DC, Josh simply fell asleep waiting for his Philly flight and woke up a few minutes after the gate had closed. Naturally, he was shocked and immediately called Claudia to tell her.
Fortunately, United Airlines (with Claudia's calm help...) was able to rebook Joshua on the first flight the next morning to Philly. So, Josh basically stayed up the whole night, munching on some snacks, slowly sipping a Coke, listening to his iPod while chatting with some Nepali workers at Dulles, so he wouldn't perchance miss his flight.
This is the email I sent to my wayward son that morning when I heard that he was anxious and alone in the Dulles Airport, some 12,000 miles away... A Dad's effort to reassure his son and relate some of his own travel travail from his own life's journey...
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Joshua,
Yesterday was such a hard day for me. After taking you to the airport, I felt such a loss in not having you nearby. Even doing the Old Growth puzzle (I think we bought it years ago in Olympia National Park) w/ Leah couldn't replace my deep feelings for you. Although she was so happy to have my full attention, the thought of you flying far away was with me all day and last night.
I don't think a child can ever understand how a parent feels when their children grow up and leave home. They can be 16, 17 or 18 years old, but there is a sudden and profound loss that parents are not prepared for -- no matter how much we know that it is going to happen. I was also so exhausted, since we didn't sleep well the
night before, either, knowing that you were going.
At 3 pm yesterday, while you were in Doha, Leah & I went to sleep/rest in Ezra's room (since it was the darkest...), then got up at 6 pm again to work on her puzzle. During dinner, your absence was so palpable. We all commented on it, with Ez saying as he got up from the table, "Nothing will be the same again..." I even had a hard time looking up from my food since I knew I wouldn't see you
there... My emotions were just too vulnerable.
Yet, I want you to know, that I feel such pride in you, Joshua. You are such a brave and confident young man. You have stepped out in the world on your own to create a new world for yourself. You have taken decisions that few sons your age could imagine. You have given the gift of friendship to so many, both your peers and younger children. You have made your parents proud of their oldest son -- not to mention your grandparents, aunts & uncles. You have become a great adventurer in the world, a young man of depth & ambtion, a young, idealistic hero to your father.
I know that you must feel unsettled and disappointed waiting alone in Dulles airport for your now morning flight on United. It can't feel easy having missed the earlier flight and having to make sure to get up at the right time in the morning for the next flight. My heart is with you at this time as I, too, count the hours til you
get on your next plane.
But, know, that you are not completely alone, nor the first person to miss a plane flight. It's a bit too easy to do...
I don't know if I ever told you about missing my flight back to Thailand from the States after I'd come to Westport for my first orientation with Save the Children in 1982. It was one of my first 'professional' experiences and I totally mixed up my flights. The plane was scheduled to leave Seattle at 1 am, but I showed up at the airport 24 hours late. When I got there, I wondered why the airport was so quiet. Unfortunately, the flight had left a day earlier. I'd gotten the date/day wrong in my mind, not realizing that I had to show up the day before a 1 am flight -- not on the next evening of the day of the 1 am flight!! Dumb!
Fortunately, I was with my friend from Amherst, Gary Giorgi, who was practicing medicine there, so he could take me home. But you can imagine how embarrassing it was to call SC in the morning having to ask them to rearrange my flights since I'd missed my earlier one... What a way to start a 25 year career with Save the Children... ;-)
But, that wasn't my first major airline missed flight...
When Scott and I were traveling in Africa, we were hired in Nairobi, Kenya to run oil field camps in the Sudan. The company, Kenya Oilfield Services, flew us up to the Sudan in Twin Otter planes (the propeller planes we use to fly up to Jomson in Nepal). We landed in Juba in southern Sudan, where I met Phillipe Cousteau (son of the famous undersea diver). Then, we flew up to Beni Nusa, a Chevron Oil camp in the huge Nile swampland of southern Sudan. While coming in to land, we flew over hundreds of grass huts with these magnificent black Dinka
tribe people wearing almost nothing but huge ivory arm bands and carrying spears.
I was so amazed, I walked down the runway and into the village to see these Africans for myself. I remembered Carl Jung in "Memories, Dreams, Reflections" (the book I was reading when we left the States in 1978) writing how he longed to be out of Europe (he was Swiss), out of the Western culture, in a land that didn't know the world as he had been taught, its history, its art, its religion, its structures. I felt the same looking into the eyes of these Dinka men; we had almost nothing in common that I could perceive...
However, while I was romancing my youthful experience of the larger world, I never heard the small plane take off as Scott was sitting in his seat anxiously scanning the horizon to see where I'd gone. You can imagine how angry the oil company guy was when I wandered back to the camp a half hour later, but with no plane on the
runway. Totally embarrassed and angry with myself, I had to spend the night there, then catch a flight up to Khartoum the next day.
Still, life continued the next day, and the day after that.
Such are the moments we have to live through in life. Since as Nietzche said, 'what doesn't kill us makes us stronger...' We live & grow through our mistakes, our wrong choices and our passing embarrassments.
Of course, I wish I'd told you to tell the person at the United counter to watch out to make sure that you didn't fall asleep while waiting for your connecting flight to Philly. It's so easy to sleep after such a long flight from Kathmandu to DC. I remember at times trying to wake you or Ez or Leah to even get off the jet plane when we'd arrive after such long journeys. After all, it's a long, fully exhausting trip around the world you've just accomplished. You had a right to be sleepy.
So, today, my heart is with you in the corridors of Dulles airport. I know that it won't be a comfortable night waiting for your flight tomorrow via NYC to Philly. You're tired, you're anxious and you're disappointed. I know the feelings.
Just remember, as well, when you read this. It has happened to all of us, every adult you know has had to go through such situations.
Remember, therefore, as well, to be proud of yourself, of what you are doing, of all that you have done in your life, of the mere getting to America on your own. As Grandma Rose always said, "Be kind to yourself!"
Wake up and start another day tomorrow with confidence in your heart.
Know, too, that our thoughts are with you. Know how much your Mom, Ezra, Leah & I love you. Know how proud we are of you. Know that we wish we could stand over you and protect you every moment of the day. Know that we do in our thoughts and prayers.
Rest easily tonight, Joshu. Look out at the world around you and feel proud of yourself for coming to America on your own. In the daytime, Grammy and Claudia will be there to pick you up, even if a bit delayed, at the Philadelphia airport. They will be so happy to see you and drive with you to NMH.
You have time, remember. School doesn't start for another week. Today was always planned as a travel day. Of course, it may have been more comfortable sleeping at Claudia's, but you will survive a night in the airport. Given how often you will be flying across the globe, you may have other nights in airports in the future... ;-)
Rest easy, my son, and know that half way around the world we love you and are sending you our deepest affection, your Dad
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Careers, Wardens, Gestalt & Random Acts of Kindness
Now, as for me & my career... it's been a funny day as funny days go...
I finally got my two month UNDP contract extension letter today (backdated to early November) good until the end of December. So far so good. But the best part was that
I received a raise that was unexpected since my supervisor, as far as I knew, hadn't done my annual appraisal yet -- even though I'd sent him a few gentle reminders the past month.
Still, there was a new salary: significantly more than my first year's Association of Limited Duration (ALD) contract salary! Mira, the wonderful woman who keeps us sane here in our office, brought it to me and I was, to say the least, surprised -- since I really wasn't expecting anything more than I'd been earning last year. "This is odd.", I told her since I didn't think my performance evaluation had been done.
Maybe it was one of those random acts of kindness our friend, Donna-Christine in Santa Barbara is writing a book about. Someone appreciated the isolation and, at times, loneliness of my work here in the National Human Rights Commission last year, with no Commissioners appointed for 15 months, the savage internal staff politics within the Commission, and the complex human rights environment outside.
As one wag said before I joined last year, knowing that I was coming from a first career with Save the Children, "Oh, child rights is like child's play compared to human rights!"
Hmmm... I thought, what exactly did Ben mean?!!? But, I certainly found out. Human rights work is seriously more political than my previous experience in community development work -- especially in a conflict or post-conflict scenario, like Nepal, where the right to life, abductions, disappearances, torture and killing are the tapsestry of our work.
Not to mention the inevitable clashes of the fragile human ego where select individuals prominence and reputations in the public arena and cloistered world of human rights depends, at times, on who participates on what fact-finding mission or has access to the media to raise their profile or is aligned to which political party or faction. Novels could be written about such situations, not to mention a few film-noire dramas set in the dark, cynical and tempermental world of human rights and wrongs...
"Rick, Rick, you must save me...", as Peter Lorre pleaded with Humphrey Bogart in the near-perfect screenplay of "Casablanca" as the Gestapo or Vichy authorities were about to arrest him for the murder of two Nazi officials in North Africa.
But, personally, I cannot complain to the g-ds or higher authorities. I feel fortunate to be engaged in this work, especially on behalf of the more disadvantaged communities in Nepal, those whose rights have been consistently violated by all forms of government and leadership. I can't claim that the Commission can achieve alot. We have our voice and our investigative powers, but results are rarer without a government that is willing to meet its verbal and written commitments.
Nor, did most of us come into this business for the $$, even as I've seen my salary grow beyond my earlier anticipation. But, it's an odd world, with values and incomes and public respect not always aligned. We each simply do our best in the situation we find ourselves. Not racing for money, rather simply ever-searching for meaning. The lifelong quest of a philosophy major with a spiritual bent... in a very spiritually bent world...
Still, middle age is a funny old world, one one quite never expects to inhabit, with our two big & lovely teenage boys off to $40k/year colleges soon enough, and adorable Ms. Leah Prajna Rose only in 1st Grade, I think I'd be wise to carefully lock away a few paychecks for those rainy days... and keep plugging away amid the day-to-day mirages and hopes of human rights & wrongs...
Yet, on some days the rain comes in torrents...
Later today I received a call from the UN Security folks about my living location and the fact that I'm not near any other UN staff. Duh? Who else wud be foolish enough to commute 1/2 way across the densely polluted and congested Kathmandu Valley five days/week??!! Especially given how fearsome the crush of motorcyles, bicycles, busses, taxis, cars and ubiquitous SUVs have become in the heart of the city.
Because I'm so far out (thank-you!), Shreesti said that I may have to become my own warden for Budhanilkantha. "Ok," I said, "whatever..."
Then, she sent me an email congratulating me on becoming a warden. When I read my warden appointment letter, it noted that I will receive one day of leave compensation for every two months given these extra responsibilities. Basically, another week/year! For what exactly? Being on a radio call at 7:30 am on Mondays, attending a monthly meeting and talking to myself about my security.
Sounds, like so much in the UN system, well, ahem, reasonable... ;-)
And with those highlights of this week, I'm going to find Dr. Ed, my Vermont psychiatrist/artist/searcher friend for a drink at the Maya Pub in Thamel. Shaks is working late b/c she has a South Asia fashion show in Delhi on Dec. 5th whichI'll try to fly down w/ Leah & Ez for the w/end. Not to mention, she seems a bit frazzled by expanding Xmas orders from Germany.
Then, we'll head home to find our lovely daughter and I'll spend all day Saturday puttering around the back garden pondering my future life choices, with reassurance, I hope, that my career options won't dissolve anytime soon...
I guess I do enjoy the gestalt... ;-)
I finally got my two month UNDP contract extension letter today (backdated to early November) good until the end of December. So far so good. But the best part was that
I received a raise that was unexpected since my supervisor, as far as I knew, hadn't done my annual appraisal yet -- even though I'd sent him a few gentle reminders the past month.
Still, there was a new salary: significantly more than my first year's Association of Limited Duration (ALD) contract salary! Mira, the wonderful woman who keeps us sane here in our office, brought it to me and I was, to say the least, surprised -- since I really wasn't expecting anything more than I'd been earning last year. "This is odd.", I told her since I didn't think my performance evaluation had been done.
Maybe it was one of those random acts of kindness our friend, Donna-Christine in Santa Barbara is writing a book about. Someone appreciated the isolation and, at times, loneliness of my work here in the National Human Rights Commission last year, with no Commissioners appointed for 15 months, the savage internal staff politics within the Commission, and the complex human rights environment outside.
As one wag said before I joined last year, knowing that I was coming from a first career with Save the Children, "Oh, child rights is like child's play compared to human rights!"
Hmmm... I thought, what exactly did Ben mean?!!? But, I certainly found out. Human rights work is seriously more political than my previous experience in community development work -- especially in a conflict or post-conflict scenario, like Nepal, where the right to life, abductions, disappearances, torture and killing are the tapsestry of our work.
Not to mention the inevitable clashes of the fragile human ego where select individuals prominence and reputations in the public arena and cloistered world of human rights depends, at times, on who participates on what fact-finding mission or has access to the media to raise their profile or is aligned to which political party or faction. Novels could be written about such situations, not to mention a few film-noire dramas set in the dark, cynical and tempermental world of human rights and wrongs...
"Rick, Rick, you must save me...", as Peter Lorre pleaded with Humphrey Bogart in the near-perfect screenplay of "Casablanca" as the Gestapo or Vichy authorities were about to arrest him for the murder of two Nazi officials in North Africa.
But, personally, I cannot complain to the g-ds or higher authorities. I feel fortunate to be engaged in this work, especially on behalf of the more disadvantaged communities in Nepal, those whose rights have been consistently violated by all forms of government and leadership. I can't claim that the Commission can achieve alot. We have our voice and our investigative powers, but results are rarer without a government that is willing to meet its verbal and written commitments.
Nor, did most of us come into this business for the $$, even as I've seen my salary grow beyond my earlier anticipation. But, it's an odd world, with values and incomes and public respect not always aligned. We each simply do our best in the situation we find ourselves. Not racing for money, rather simply ever-searching for meaning. The lifelong quest of a philosophy major with a spiritual bent... in a very spiritually bent world...
Still, middle age is a funny old world, one one quite never expects to inhabit, with our two big & lovely teenage boys off to $40k/year colleges soon enough, and adorable Ms. Leah Prajna Rose only in 1st Grade, I think I'd be wise to carefully lock away a few paychecks for those rainy days... and keep plugging away amid the day-to-day mirages and hopes of human rights & wrongs...
Yet, on some days the rain comes in torrents...
Later today I received a call from the UN Security folks about my living location and the fact that I'm not near any other UN staff. Duh? Who else wud be foolish enough to commute 1/2 way across the densely polluted and congested Kathmandu Valley five days/week??!! Especially given how fearsome the crush of motorcyles, bicycles, busses, taxis, cars and ubiquitous SUVs have become in the heart of the city.
Because I'm so far out (thank-you!), Shreesti said that I may have to become my own warden for Budhanilkantha. "Ok," I said, "whatever..."
Then, she sent me an email congratulating me on becoming a warden. When I read my warden appointment letter, it noted that I will receive one day of leave compensation for every two months given these extra responsibilities. Basically, another week/year! For what exactly? Being on a radio call at 7:30 am on Mondays, attending a monthly meeting and talking to myself about my security.
Sounds, like so much in the UN system, well, ahem, reasonable... ;-)
And with those highlights of this week, I'm going to find Dr. Ed, my Vermont psychiatrist/artist/searcher friend for a drink at the Maya Pub in Thamel. Shaks is working late b/c she has a South Asia fashion show in Delhi on Dec. 5th whichI'll try to fly down w/ Leah & Ez for the w/end. Not to mention, she seems a bit frazzled by expanding Xmas orders from Germany.
Then, we'll head home to find our lovely daughter and I'll spend all day Saturday puttering around the back garden pondering my future life choices, with reassurance, I hope, that my career options won't dissolve anytime soon...
I guess I do enjoy the gestalt... ;-)
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Murky Days in Democratic-Chaotic World of Kathmandu
It's rather cloudy, murky even, outside on this Wednesday morning, the day before the Nepali Parliament is scheduled to meet again for their winter session to resolve the political dilemma caused by the postponement (for the second time...) of the scheduled Nov. 22nd Constituent Assembly elections.
Alas, the rhetoric, as often happens in such situations, has heated up w/ the Maoists declaring their preparations for a 40 year war, if necessary, and the Congress party insisting that they won't be coerced, once again, by the Maoists to change the terms of the Comprehensive Peace Accord (signed, ironically, also on Nov. 22nd, one year ago...).
The overt issues revolve around ending the Shah monarchy before a CA election, as well as ensuring a fully proportional election system (to ensure broader representation from disadvantaged groups -- but also, potentially, simply giving more power to the parties to manipulate the candidates).
The hidden agenda for all the major parties continues to be a topic of everyday discussions. Who wants an election. Who is threatened by an election. How much is one party serious about compromise and sharing power. Will the Left (the Maoist & UML) unite to unseat the Nepali Congress party from its hold on the majority of the ministries and power. Do the major parties simply want to transform this unelected Legislature-Parliament into the Constituent Assembly w/o the people ever getting a chance to express their own votes. Will the violence in the terai impede any hope for an election in the near future? If there isn't an election on the horizon, how legitimate is this current unelected government -- whether headed by the Congress or either of the Left parties?
Now, just yesterday, the Prachanda has said that the Maoists won't agree to a CA election date until their PLA is integrated into the Nepal Army -- as you can imagine, not an easy equation.
Such is the state of the State of Nepal these days.
With a perpetual petrol crisis looming again, this week's garbage still on the streets b/c the locals at the dumping site are demanding more from the GON (instigated by the Young Communist League/YCL), the law & order in the terai far beyond the GON's control, professionals picketing the prime minister demanding greater security, the highways blocked by truck syndicates demanding compensation for their vehicles burnt by irate villagers and load-shedding due to become a daily reality as electricity demand goes up in the winter while the national supply has been stagnant for years.
Arrghh, the sun still hasn't even come through the morning fog at 8:15 am -- what's a person to do??!!
At least this week, we are getting a cable internet connection to improve our connectivity with the wider world, installing a Nepali-made iron 'chulo' in our backroom downstairs to burn the wood that we cull from our backyard, repairing the electrical connections in the house to boost our wattage and mr. ayoub is busy redoing the roof of the guestroom for those who still find joy in the 'sights and sounds' of our still fascinating, if struggling, HImalayan kingdom...
In fact, Kathmandu has had a slew of visitors and returnees from the past decades, not the least Caroline Arnold, Mimi Church, Jeff Greenwald, George McBean, Stewart & Di McNabb, Carrie Osborne, James Goodman, Joel Harrare, Helen Gallagher (incoming) and soon our own pilgrim son, Joshua Shumshere -- one or two of whom are actually thinking of moving back from the wider world to this unusual yin-yang, Maoist-Hindu, democratic-chaotic, poetic-pathetic, exotic-endemic, adorable-frustrating, possible-impossible world of Kathmandu ;-)
lots of love from our moment and place in time!
Alas, the rhetoric, as often happens in such situations, has heated up w/ the Maoists declaring their preparations for a 40 year war, if necessary, and the Congress party insisting that they won't be coerced, once again, by the Maoists to change the terms of the Comprehensive Peace Accord (signed, ironically, also on Nov. 22nd, one year ago...).
The overt issues revolve around ending the Shah monarchy before a CA election, as well as ensuring a fully proportional election system (to ensure broader representation from disadvantaged groups -- but also, potentially, simply giving more power to the parties to manipulate the candidates).
The hidden agenda for all the major parties continues to be a topic of everyday discussions. Who wants an election. Who is threatened by an election. How much is one party serious about compromise and sharing power. Will the Left (the Maoist & UML) unite to unseat the Nepali Congress party from its hold on the majority of the ministries and power. Do the major parties simply want to transform this unelected Legislature-Parliament into the Constituent Assembly w/o the people ever getting a chance to express their own votes. Will the violence in the terai impede any hope for an election in the near future? If there isn't an election on the horizon, how legitimate is this current unelected government -- whether headed by the Congress or either of the Left parties?
Now, just yesterday, the Prachanda has said that the Maoists won't agree to a CA election date until their PLA is integrated into the Nepal Army -- as you can imagine, not an easy equation.
Such is the state of the State of Nepal these days.
With a perpetual petrol crisis looming again, this week's garbage still on the streets b/c the locals at the dumping site are demanding more from the GON (instigated by the Young Communist League/YCL), the law & order in the terai far beyond the GON's control, professionals picketing the prime minister demanding greater security, the highways blocked by truck syndicates demanding compensation for their vehicles burnt by irate villagers and load-shedding due to become a daily reality as electricity demand goes up in the winter while the national supply has been stagnant for years.
Arrghh, the sun still hasn't even come through the morning fog at 8:15 am -- what's a person to do??!!
At least this week, we are getting a cable internet connection to improve our connectivity with the wider world, installing a Nepali-made iron 'chulo' in our backroom downstairs to burn the wood that we cull from our backyard, repairing the electrical connections in the house to boost our wattage and mr. ayoub is busy redoing the roof of the guestroom for those who still find joy in the 'sights and sounds' of our still fascinating, if struggling, HImalayan kingdom...
In fact, Kathmandu has had a slew of visitors and returnees from the past decades, not the least Caroline Arnold, Mimi Church, Jeff Greenwald, George McBean, Stewart & Di McNabb, Carrie Osborne, James Goodman, Joel Harrare, Helen Gallagher (incoming) and soon our own pilgrim son, Joshua Shumshere -- one or two of whom are actually thinking of moving back from the wider world to this unusual yin-yang, Maoist-Hindu, democratic-chaotic, poetic-pathetic, exotic-endemic, adorable-frustrating, possible-impossible world of Kathmandu ;-)
lots of love from our moment and place in time!
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Saturday Morning Letter from Leah to Joshua in America
Hi, Joshua,
Leah wants to know if Josh has seen Fudge's bad eye. Fudge is taking seven shots for his bad eye. Today is his last day for taking shots. He was in a fight outside and his eye was all bloody.
Leah also wants to know if it's night in New York for you, Joshua.
Also, how big are you now? Did you get bigger while you were away?
Did you see the leaves in our garden? The guavas are getting ripe! Come, quick, otherwise in winter the guavas will be gone and cold.
But, can't you come afterwards, but you never let me put on the christmas tree. I promise no lights this time, though.
Did you see the flowers, too? Aren't they nice?
If you come here soon, you will see my lantern, my camera and my menu food that I made. If you come here, you will see a lot of things that I made, like cameras and baskets. I think I will make a basket soon. But I don't know about that.
Goodbye, Joshua. I'm tired now.
love, Leah
Leah wants to know if Josh has seen Fudge's bad eye. Fudge is taking seven shots for his bad eye. Today is his last day for taking shots. He was in a fight outside and his eye was all bloody.
Leah also wants to know if it's night in New York for you, Joshua.
Also, how big are you now? Did you get bigger while you were away?
Did you see the leaves in our garden? The guavas are getting ripe! Come, quick, otherwise in winter the guavas will be gone and cold.
But, can't you come afterwards, but you never let me put on the christmas tree. I promise no lights this time, though.
Did you see the flowers, too? Aren't they nice?
If you come here soon, you will see my lantern, my camera and my menu food that I made. If you come here, you will see a lot of things that I made, like cameras and baskets. I think I will make a basket soon. But I don't know about that.
Goodbye, Joshua. I'm tired now.
love, Leah
Saturday, November 10, 2007
The Last Late Night Thoughts from a Two Week Day...
the last hours, again...
a few more will slip by while either resting horizontal or just sitting here in front of the magical keys recalling the ambience and insights of these passing 2+ weeks back in the homeland.
for the third time in these two weeks, i've driven back n' forth to northfield to see my pilgrim son, joshua shumsher. shakun mentioned in an email the other day that she was surprised that i wouldn't be seeing josh again before leaving america as i'd already arranged to spend my last night (tonight) w/ jeff janer & david danzig, two endearing friends from high school who i hadn't seen in years.
retaining & recalling these distant relationships remain a delight for me during my american excursions, as they are often still true, with the conversations picking up where they were left off one frozen margarita or evening a decade or two in the past. each trip 'home' i find myself reconnecting w/ these ancient voices, shards of my past worlds, seeking unity and continuity in the profoundly bicontinental expatriate world i've created for myself & my family.
i enjoy, as well, bringing such good souls into shakun & the kids' lives as totems of my original american universe and the good that is preserved in this vast, overwhelmed, burdened and often traduced landscape.
when i flew in two weeks ago, i watched from the sky the streams of white night headlights and bloodshot tail-lights along route 495 and 95 circling boston. the awesomely bright lights were on at fenway illuminating the world series with more concentrated energy than kathmandu can often muster from new road to durbar marg. there's something clean, wholesome and a bit foreboding in the night sky over an american city. the power and glory of the modern world.
yet, on the ground, once i quickly figure out which side of the road on which to drive (duh?), my internal cultural compass realigns from east to west, from asia to america, from the amorphous, 360 degree hindu-buddhist world to the ordered, logical, sequenced and usually either 'black or white' judgmental judeo-christian culture.
at least, on the surface, i function relatively smoothly, i whisper, encourage myself along...
although, the manifold observations obsessively seek to reunite (or realign) my personal 'recherche du temps perdu' of youth, childhood and the american way. with the present continuous sense of being.
for example, as noted, i just drove two hours at night from northfield mount hermon to newton, a very new england journey from rural wealth & privilege to urban wealth & privilege. from a cloistered boarding school to one of the exclusive suburbs surrounding boston. both emblematic of the glistening, sometimes costly, opportunities that abound in the mega-cities of the states. i'm treated to visions of the impressive academic, artistic & sportive worlds in which joshua has leapt in head first at nmh with the stately elegance of these handsome professional homes in newton.
as i also remind mself: we're not in kathmandu anymore, toto!
still, this early cusp of the 21st century america continues to surprise me. josh and his best friend, mohammed (from aegypt), want to go to their favorite 'fake' thai restaurant in greenfield, the town nearest to nmh, out in the rolling hills along the connecticult river valley. in this small, once decaying industrial town, there are a dozen different restaurants serving the staff and students from the nearby private schools. we have our choice of korean, american, mexican, chinese, thai, pub and/or pizza (of course). no doubt the nepali restaurant will be here soon, too, as gary offered me my choice b/n two nepali restaurants in madison, wi, when i was there last week.
then, explore a bit and the assumptions become illusions become reality become perspectives.
mohammed, who's been at nmh for 2+ years, already, bluntly says how ignorant americans are of the world outside. he's been lonely at times at nmh, esp. going there in 9th grade when he was the only arabic speaker, besides his sister at the school. now, it's only he & the sengelese french teacher/soccer coach who are both muslim and arabic speakers. the international sheen of nmh doesn't glisten so brightly.
from mo's experience, the 70% of american who attend nmh are astonishing naive ('ignorant' is his word) of the worlds outside their immediate purview. 'they don't even know what ramadan is!', he notes with surprise. 'yet, we all know about christmas. why?', he asks rhetorically.
when mo was in his first year and played sports, he wouldn't smile easily at these yanqui strangers, so they took to calling him, somewhat affectionately, he said, 'the terrorist'. although, in their sequested provincial minds, they couldn't appreciate the torment that such an appelation would cause an arab classmate from alexandria, egypt.
gauche? insensitve? condescending? or simply ignorant?
i sense a profound disorientation in the american worldview of the muslim or arabic world post 9/11 and deep into the iraqi quagmire. josh & I saw the movie, 'the kingdom' where jamie foxx and his fbi colleagues take on a terrorist cell in saudia arabia that had murdered one of his colleagues, killing scores, of course, while surviving nearly unscratched. the need for a robust american, cinematic-political revenge, once again, trumping strategy or security or a dose of realism.
similarly, there was a new tv show called, 'the unit', about americans who root out terrorists in the muslim world w/ deadly efficiency, determination and fear in their eyes. i didn't know what to be more aghast about, their showing the cold-blooded killing on prime time american tv by a us soldier of an english-speaking, arab boy when the teenager suddenly broke away to call the nearby arab militia (or radicals, fundamentalists, terrorists...). or, the simple fact that such a brutal episode -- no doubt taken from the daily news in america these days -- was shown seemingly w/o remorse on american tv.
has the level of global brutality affected us that we no longer have the capability to be shocked by our own fears and actions? what sad and lasting impact is this 'war on terror' having on the american psyche and soul? i still hear the intercom in the madison airport annoucning, 'the department of homeland security has determined that level of security precuation is at orange, a heightened state of preparation'. i remember thinking, 'but, c'mon, we're in wisconsin??!!'. how long, like the scars of the vietnam tragedy, will it take this latest gulf war take to depart our nightmares and daytime reflections?
yet, america offers both. the beauty and the beast. the great absorbitive capacity for immigrants yet the astounding lack of interest or curiosity in the vast, cultural riches in the world outside.
i pause my own inner reflections to see josh & mo laugh, smile and totally enjoy each other's company over dinner at our 'fake' thai restaurant. they've known each other only 2 1/2 months, yet they are fast friends. brothers from another planet, they see themselves as the truly international, unique country kids at nmh -- where there's an extensive collection of east asians, korean, chinese, tawainese and hong kongese -- but only a handful from a variety of other countries.
early on, when josh told his ap us history class that he was an american, they all looked at him and laughed immediately, 'you! american? no way!!' they unanimously said. 'you're nepali, brother!'
yet, even though joshua was raised jewish & mohammed muslim, there is no barrier at all to their obvious affection. 'we're just individuals', they remind me. 'everyone doesn't have to have a label', they say. and they're right.
this oasis of peacefulness near the vermont border, this intellectual, athletic and cultural seminary , this cradle of youth, definitely has its limitations, its deeply traditional american roots, its native prejudices and ignorance, its isolation amid its independence, but for joshua and mohammed, it has something else, as well: the opportunity for friendship across barriers.
after all, mo's planning to come to kathmandu and josh to egypt next summer.
cool!
a few more will slip by while either resting horizontal or just sitting here in front of the magical keys recalling the ambience and insights of these passing 2+ weeks back in the homeland.
for the third time in these two weeks, i've driven back n' forth to northfield to see my pilgrim son, joshua shumsher. shakun mentioned in an email the other day that she was surprised that i wouldn't be seeing josh again before leaving america as i'd already arranged to spend my last night (tonight) w/ jeff janer & david danzig, two endearing friends from high school who i hadn't seen in years.
retaining & recalling these distant relationships remain a delight for me during my american excursions, as they are often still true, with the conversations picking up where they were left off one frozen margarita or evening a decade or two in the past. each trip 'home' i find myself reconnecting w/ these ancient voices, shards of my past worlds, seeking unity and continuity in the profoundly bicontinental expatriate world i've created for myself & my family.
i enjoy, as well, bringing such good souls into shakun & the kids' lives as totems of my original american universe and the good that is preserved in this vast, overwhelmed, burdened and often traduced landscape.
when i flew in two weeks ago, i watched from the sky the streams of white night headlights and bloodshot tail-lights along route 495 and 95 circling boston. the awesomely bright lights were on at fenway illuminating the world series with more concentrated energy than kathmandu can often muster from new road to durbar marg. there's something clean, wholesome and a bit foreboding in the night sky over an american city. the power and glory of the modern world.
yet, on the ground, once i quickly figure out which side of the road on which to drive (duh?), my internal cultural compass realigns from east to west, from asia to america, from the amorphous, 360 degree hindu-buddhist world to the ordered, logical, sequenced and usually either 'black or white' judgmental judeo-christian culture.
at least, on the surface, i function relatively smoothly, i whisper, encourage myself along...
although, the manifold observations obsessively seek to reunite (or realign) my personal 'recherche du temps perdu' of youth, childhood and the american way. with the present continuous sense of being.
for example, as noted, i just drove two hours at night from northfield mount hermon to newton, a very new england journey from rural wealth & privilege to urban wealth & privilege. from a cloistered boarding school to one of the exclusive suburbs surrounding boston. both emblematic of the glistening, sometimes costly, opportunities that abound in the mega-cities of the states. i'm treated to visions of the impressive academic, artistic & sportive worlds in which joshua has leapt in head first at nmh with the stately elegance of these handsome professional homes in newton.
as i also remind mself: we're not in kathmandu anymore, toto!
still, this early cusp of the 21st century america continues to surprise me. josh and his best friend, mohammed (from aegypt), want to go to their favorite 'fake' thai restaurant in greenfield, the town nearest to nmh, out in the rolling hills along the connecticult river valley. in this small, once decaying industrial town, there are a dozen different restaurants serving the staff and students from the nearby private schools. we have our choice of korean, american, mexican, chinese, thai, pub and/or pizza (of course). no doubt the nepali restaurant will be here soon, too, as gary offered me my choice b/n two nepali restaurants in madison, wi, when i was there last week.
then, explore a bit and the assumptions become illusions become reality become perspectives.
mohammed, who's been at nmh for 2+ years, already, bluntly says how ignorant americans are of the world outside. he's been lonely at times at nmh, esp. going there in 9th grade when he was the only arabic speaker, besides his sister at the school. now, it's only he & the sengelese french teacher/soccer coach who are both muslim and arabic speakers. the international sheen of nmh doesn't glisten so brightly.
from mo's experience, the 70% of american who attend nmh are astonishing naive ('ignorant' is his word) of the worlds outside their immediate purview. 'they don't even know what ramadan is!', he notes with surprise. 'yet, we all know about christmas. why?', he asks rhetorically.
when mo was in his first year and played sports, he wouldn't smile easily at these yanqui strangers, so they took to calling him, somewhat affectionately, he said, 'the terrorist'. although, in their sequested provincial minds, they couldn't appreciate the torment that such an appelation would cause an arab classmate from alexandria, egypt.
gauche? insensitve? condescending? or simply ignorant?
i sense a profound disorientation in the american worldview of the muslim or arabic world post 9/11 and deep into the iraqi quagmire. josh & I saw the movie, 'the kingdom' where jamie foxx and his fbi colleagues take on a terrorist cell in saudia arabia that had murdered one of his colleagues, killing scores, of course, while surviving nearly unscratched. the need for a robust american, cinematic-political revenge, once again, trumping strategy or security or a dose of realism.
similarly, there was a new tv show called, 'the unit', about americans who root out terrorists in the muslim world w/ deadly efficiency, determination and fear in their eyes. i didn't know what to be more aghast about, their showing the cold-blooded killing on prime time american tv by a us soldier of an english-speaking, arab boy when the teenager suddenly broke away to call the nearby arab militia (or radicals, fundamentalists, terrorists...). or, the simple fact that such a brutal episode -- no doubt taken from the daily news in america these days -- was shown seemingly w/o remorse on american tv.
has the level of global brutality affected us that we no longer have the capability to be shocked by our own fears and actions? what sad and lasting impact is this 'war on terror' having on the american psyche and soul? i still hear the intercom in the madison airport annoucning, 'the department of homeland security has determined that level of security precuation is at orange, a heightened state of preparation'. i remember thinking, 'but, c'mon, we're in wisconsin??!!'. how long, like the scars of the vietnam tragedy, will it take this latest gulf war take to depart our nightmares and daytime reflections?
yet, america offers both. the beauty and the beast. the great absorbitive capacity for immigrants yet the astounding lack of interest or curiosity in the vast, cultural riches in the world outside.
i pause my own inner reflections to see josh & mo laugh, smile and totally enjoy each other's company over dinner at our 'fake' thai restaurant. they've known each other only 2 1/2 months, yet they are fast friends. brothers from another planet, they see themselves as the truly international, unique country kids at nmh -- where there's an extensive collection of east asians, korean, chinese, tawainese and hong kongese -- but only a handful from a variety of other countries.
early on, when josh told his ap us history class that he was an american, they all looked at him and laughed immediately, 'you! american? no way!!' they unanimously said. 'you're nepali, brother!'
yet, even though joshua was raised jewish & mohammed muslim, there is no barrier at all to their obvious affection. 'we're just individuals', they remind me. 'everyone doesn't have to have a label', they say. and they're right.
this oasis of peacefulness near the vermont border, this intellectual, athletic and cultural seminary , this cradle of youth, definitely has its limitations, its deeply traditional american roots, its native prejudices and ignorance, its isolation amid its independence, but for joshua and mohammed, it has something else, as well: the opportunity for friendship across barriers.
after all, mo's planning to come to kathmandu and josh to egypt next summer.
cool!
Monday, November 5, 2007
Bruce On the Road in the Twin Cities
Think, for a moment, of a cold, blistery night in the twin cities. Gary & Keith arriving from a five hour drive from Madison, with a cause and purpose, two tickets in hand to return to the boardwalk of their youth and the e street shuffle.
Rosalita won't you come out tonight. Hand on the wheel. Baby, we were born to run. The feel in the arena was awe-inspiring, to say the least. A paean to the ballads of Springsteen song. A full, magical night with two tender-eyed friends, long in the tooth, bopping in the aisles amid the shadows of their minds back along the darkness on the edge of town where they used to live.
It's all good. Very, quintessantly good.
Gary and I wandered around Minneapolis beforehand looking for dinner after a stroll along the Misssssiipppppiii. We found our way to the 'event' site a few minutes before the scheduled time. Scheduled time, as you may know, was, naturally, not a lot to do w/ the real time for Bruce to appear. There was a period of flirtation w/ the crowd w/ flickering of the lights, the guitars being brought out on stage, folks in black coming out on stage for last minute arrangements, the lights dimming a bit more each time, a whole lot of beer being swirled around us, and the dense crowd starting to moo, 'Brucccceee. Bruuucceee! BBBBrrrrruceeeeee!!!'
Stage dark. Silence. The anticipation. The moment of longing. The ecstatic moment beginning in the darkness as a guitar string moved, the violin began to wail and the drums introducing their ritual rock n' roll beat.
Then, the light on the person, the person turns toward the chanting crowd.
Bruce, standing alone on stage singing, "Radio Nowhere", off his new 'Magic' album, driving down the shiney, black pavement of his imagination, longing and desire. Another dark night of the American soul. Desperately seeking companionship, if not a woman, at least, please g-d, let the radio talk to me, sing to me, a lullabye of late night repressed passion here alone in the front seat of the car when the crowds have gone home.
Bruce live. On stage. The voice still true. Not dancing or twisting spryly anymore, but shuffling with determination and pride on his stage. The Wall of Sound surrounding him. Two powerful keyboards. His iconic drummer center stage. Clarence, right guard, protecting the band's flank with his sweet wailing sax glimmering gold in the darkness. Patty, his red-haired siren, violin to her chin, threading the bow across the Man's heart. Three wailing guitars backing the band.
The sound. The sound. That sound. Off the vinyl, out of the speakers and into the arena. The crowd on its feet, swaying to the rhythmn. Some of us bouncing on the tips of our sneakers for hours. Women above us along the railings stretching their longing arms to evocatively pull the spirit of Bruce, this modern poet troubadour, toward them. Thousands of our peers, we of middle age, middle passage, Middle America, ecstatic in our primal urge, ignorant of time, dancing in the dark!
How it touched the soul. A return of the native son to his American roots, in homage to the son of Asbury Park and the E Street Band, and his own distant youth. What's ten thousand miles for a concert when one's waited for this moment of connection ('Only connect.') in one's own soul for years. After decades of listening records, CDs and even a DVD, in America, in Thailand and on the streets of Kathmandu, the real New Jersey Bruce was stage front & center (as well as on a 50' screen above the stage). A column of fearsome speakers stretched to the black heaven above the stage, like a rock n' roll Jacob's ladder to the aureal seraphim.
The songs rolled on, two hours of continual music. Bruce throwing his guitar to the aides behind the band while picking up a new one for the next song. A mixture of his latest "Magic" songs w/ the hits of his (and our...) past. 'The Rising' sung with his face lit red, illuminating the fires of that infamous day. Then, rock ovations like 'Thunder Road' and 'Born to Run'.
While he commented on the political situation of the country, full of tricks, deceit and manipulation before singing his latest signature song, "Magic" about 'not believing what you see and less than half of what you hear...' The tragedy of 'The Rising' long past and the misuse of patriotism and symbols over the past six years, Bruce's latest cry.
Then, with thousands of adoring fans holding up their cell phones, the glow of the minature monitors lighting up the arena, waving their phones as a tribute to the bard of their longings, lusts and anticipation. The revelry past, the secular passions cooled, yet the intimacy with the rock messiah still fragrant, we slowly left this church of our imaginations on to the cold streets of the American dream.
Ahhh, America, the blessed, blessed with Bruce on stage and blessed while driving back to Madison the next evening by an over-eager, young college student longing to show the world her love... for Jesus and teach them the Way to salvation. America, always full of her unique brand of idealism and misunderstanding.
Divided these days by imperial conquest and self-righteousness. Greed and hucksterism. Self-confident while alone against the world. Misplaced metaphors and oxymorons abound on the landscape. The American of my youth is not too distant from the American to which I return. Christian morals and military might. Utter sincerity and simplicity in a complex and cruel world.
From Bruce on stage in front of 15,000 adoring fans to the Baptist beauty in a gas station convenience store on the highway home. We neet while I'm ordering an A&W rootbeer float as my liquid dinner when she bubbles in with her gaggle of girlfriends on their way back to their bible college in Minneapolis.
When she finds out I'm from Nepal, she says, 'G-d's called me to go to Thailand or Iraq to share my love.' I tell her G-d called me even earlier to Thailand years ago, where the people also 'know' the Buddha. 'But,' she says, 'do they really know Buddha?' 'Well,' I say, 'it all depends on what you mean by 'know' and 'Buddha'. She looks concerned. 'Well,' she responds, 'according to our teachings, if they don't know Jesus in this lifetime then they won't be saved.'
'Yes,' I note, 'although there are many ways to name Jesus in different cultures and languages.' She looks sceptically at me, doubting that I ever found Jesus and gives me a gracious, slightly forced smile. 'Bye for now', she says as she prances away down the aisle of cupcakes and twinkies. While, in my mind, I hope she's smart enough to find the limits of her well-meaning, self-indulgent Minnesota Baptist calling when she finally, as she will, goes overseas.
As we drive on Route 90, we pass the open landscape of northern Wisconin, the dairy farms and cheese factories, past the indoor water parks, the dead deer along the highway, the distant horizon, the truckers, the golden leafs of the birch forest, the empty road, Hibbing on the horizon.
Ahh, America. How I love you. How I long for you. How I still search for you in your wide open spaces, your cloistered Midwestern communities, your intellectual campuses, your autumn forests, your tarnished idealism, your generosity, your stubborn pride, your corporate conglomerates, my lasting friendships and your sacred muse.
After all, for my generation, it's still a musical ride together anywhere, anytime, anyplace. Where the creative genie waits in her bottle, sparkler in hand, slippers on, tutu in place and -- whooosshhh!! -- the sound starts again, the beat goes on, the CD turns and, whether in the front seat of our own cars or a concert hall the sound of our lives, the tracks of our minds, the rhythm of our souls plays on.
Rosalita won't you come out tonight. Hand on the wheel. Baby, we were born to run. The feel in the arena was awe-inspiring, to say the least. A paean to the ballads of Springsteen song. A full, magical night with two tender-eyed friends, long in the tooth, bopping in the aisles amid the shadows of their minds back along the darkness on the edge of town where they used to live.
It's all good. Very, quintessantly good.
Gary and I wandered around Minneapolis beforehand looking for dinner after a stroll along the Misssssiipppppiii. We found our way to the 'event' site a few minutes before the scheduled time. Scheduled time, as you may know, was, naturally, not a lot to do w/ the real time for Bruce to appear. There was a period of flirtation w/ the crowd w/ flickering of the lights, the guitars being brought out on stage, folks in black coming out on stage for last minute arrangements, the lights dimming a bit more each time, a whole lot of beer being swirled around us, and the dense crowd starting to moo, 'Brucccceee. Bruuucceee! BBBBrrrrruceeeeee!!!'
Stage dark. Silence. The anticipation. The moment of longing. The ecstatic moment beginning in the darkness as a guitar string moved, the violin began to wail and the drums introducing their ritual rock n' roll beat.
Then, the light on the person, the person turns toward the chanting crowd.
Bruce, standing alone on stage singing, "Radio Nowhere", off his new 'Magic' album, driving down the shiney, black pavement of his imagination, longing and desire. Another dark night of the American soul. Desperately seeking companionship, if not a woman, at least, please g-d, let the radio talk to me, sing to me, a lullabye of late night repressed passion here alone in the front seat of the car when the crowds have gone home.
Bruce live. On stage. The voice still true. Not dancing or twisting spryly anymore, but shuffling with determination and pride on his stage. The Wall of Sound surrounding him. Two powerful keyboards. His iconic drummer center stage. Clarence, right guard, protecting the band's flank with his sweet wailing sax glimmering gold in the darkness. Patty, his red-haired siren, violin to her chin, threading the bow across the Man's heart. Three wailing guitars backing the band.
The sound. The sound. That sound. Off the vinyl, out of the speakers and into the arena. The crowd on its feet, swaying to the rhythmn. Some of us bouncing on the tips of our sneakers for hours. Women above us along the railings stretching their longing arms to evocatively pull the spirit of Bruce, this modern poet troubadour, toward them. Thousands of our peers, we of middle age, middle passage, Middle America, ecstatic in our primal urge, ignorant of time, dancing in the dark!
How it touched the soul. A return of the native son to his American roots, in homage to the son of Asbury Park and the E Street Band, and his own distant youth. What's ten thousand miles for a concert when one's waited for this moment of connection ('Only connect.') in one's own soul for years. After decades of listening records, CDs and even a DVD, in America, in Thailand and on the streets of Kathmandu, the real New Jersey Bruce was stage front & center (as well as on a 50' screen above the stage). A column of fearsome speakers stretched to the black heaven above the stage, like a rock n' roll Jacob's ladder to the aureal seraphim.
The songs rolled on, two hours of continual music. Bruce throwing his guitar to the aides behind the band while picking up a new one for the next song. A mixture of his latest "Magic" songs w/ the hits of his (and our...) past. 'The Rising' sung with his face lit red, illuminating the fires of that infamous day. Then, rock ovations like 'Thunder Road' and 'Born to Run'.
While he commented on the political situation of the country, full of tricks, deceit and manipulation before singing his latest signature song, "Magic" about 'not believing what you see and less than half of what you hear...' The tragedy of 'The Rising' long past and the misuse of patriotism and symbols over the past six years, Bruce's latest cry.
Then, with thousands of adoring fans holding up their cell phones, the glow of the minature monitors lighting up the arena, waving their phones as a tribute to the bard of their longings, lusts and anticipation. The revelry past, the secular passions cooled, yet the intimacy with the rock messiah still fragrant, we slowly left this church of our imaginations on to the cold streets of the American dream.
Ahhh, America, the blessed, blessed with Bruce on stage and blessed while driving back to Madison the next evening by an over-eager, young college student longing to show the world her love... for Jesus and teach them the Way to salvation. America, always full of her unique brand of idealism and misunderstanding.
Divided these days by imperial conquest and self-righteousness. Greed and hucksterism. Self-confident while alone against the world. Misplaced metaphors and oxymorons abound on the landscape. The American of my youth is not too distant from the American to which I return. Christian morals and military might. Utter sincerity and simplicity in a complex and cruel world.
From Bruce on stage in front of 15,000 adoring fans to the Baptist beauty in a gas station convenience store on the highway home. We neet while I'm ordering an A&W rootbeer float as my liquid dinner when she bubbles in with her gaggle of girlfriends on their way back to their bible college in Minneapolis.
When she finds out I'm from Nepal, she says, 'G-d's called me to go to Thailand or Iraq to share my love.' I tell her G-d called me even earlier to Thailand years ago, where the people also 'know' the Buddha. 'But,' she says, 'do they really know Buddha?' 'Well,' I say, 'it all depends on what you mean by 'know' and 'Buddha'. She looks concerned. 'Well,' she responds, 'according to our teachings, if they don't know Jesus in this lifetime then they won't be saved.'
'Yes,' I note, 'although there are many ways to name Jesus in different cultures and languages.' She looks sceptically at me, doubting that I ever found Jesus and gives me a gracious, slightly forced smile. 'Bye for now', she says as she prances away down the aisle of cupcakes and twinkies. While, in my mind, I hope she's smart enough to find the limits of her well-meaning, self-indulgent Minnesota Baptist calling when she finally, as she will, goes overseas.
As we drive on Route 90, we pass the open landscape of northern Wisconin, the dairy farms and cheese factories, past the indoor water parks, the dead deer along the highway, the distant horizon, the truckers, the golden leafs of the birch forest, the empty road, Hibbing on the horizon.
Ahh, America. How I love you. How I long for you. How I still search for you in your wide open spaces, your cloistered Midwestern communities, your intellectual campuses, your autumn forests, your tarnished idealism, your generosity, your stubborn pride, your corporate conglomerates, my lasting friendships and your sacred muse.
After all, for my generation, it's still a musical ride together anywhere, anytime, anyplace. Where the creative genie waits in her bottle, sparkler in hand, slippers on, tutu in place and -- whooosshhh!! -- the sound starts again, the beat goes on, the CD turns and, whether in the front seat of our own cars or a concert hall the sound of our lives, the tracks of our minds, the rhythm of our souls plays on.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Across the Universe in America
i feel like i'm on a visit usa program jointly arranged by bill graham (the rock producer) and billy graham (the evangelical preacher). from the sweet music of bruce springsteen last night in st. paul to the gaggle of baptist college girls at the a&w in wisconsin longing to 'share their love for jesus' out in the larger
world. 'g-d is calling me to thailand...', she said as i was just ordering a root beer float for the sake of childhood memories and my eternal sweet tooth when the word of g-d moved among us.
in truth, it's been a wonderful time w/ gary up here in his frigid northern climes. from last night with bruce wailing the night away with 20,000 of my white scandanavian siblings ('my people; my people') in st. paul to this morning seeing the amazing new walker museum of modern art w/ a frida kahlo exhibit ('her people her person') to the baptists in the a&w cathedral, it's been a wondrous trip through the beauty, magic, power, innocence, crass commerciality and occasional absurdity of americana.
yet, this spaceless country seems to go on and on, at times, especially out here in the middle north of the nation. while new england, to me, feels enclosed, protected and refined compared to these new vistas for me of the endless dairy farms of wisconsin and minnesota, pushed up here against the cold canadian border.
while a highlight of these american meanderings have been the trees. they are another form of magic, as i hadn't been in new england in the autumn for more than a few years now. the peaceful two hour rides back and forth on route 2 from boston to NMH gave me the opportunity to indulge my visual senses in the rush of natural inspiration that this lingering season offers at this time of year. lusious beauty of a cool, earthy form. the festival of color fills my spirit at such times.
now,a few days later, in wisconsin, much further north, the deciduous trees have a later wintry look with the aspens flickering with golden leaves against the grey skies. a harsher environment here, but with a more open, endless, distant horizon. i'd forgotten that about the midwest. the landscape is relatively flat, without ridges, hills or dark forests, while it appears to go on forever and ever, to eternity, as they say in 'Toy Story', and beyond...
my talk on 'human rights in nepal' at amherst on tuesday was ok, at best, since i think i went on too long w/ too much detail on nepal's political situation. more than a late evening audience had the patience for, methinks. next time, i think it would be stimulating & intersting to pose 2-3 questions on human rights issues, instead, and try to peel away the wrappings on those nuggets rather than swallow four decades of history at one sitting.
still, i enjoyed the stepping out of my professional comfort zone, momentarily, at my alma mater. i met some staff, faculty & the dean of students while there, who all seemed to have those keen minds for which new england prospers.
actually, the lunch session w/ the human rights students was more stimulating, as we had time for discussion & there were three woman there from pakistan (a future politician), a yemenite (a more traditional woman) and an aegyptian (whose mom reconverted to judiasm) who were keenly interested in such issues, both in the public sphere, as well as in their own lives.
i suppose, as usual, i often enjoy congregating w/ the other 'internationals' or 'cross-cultured' given my own life history & trajectory. i see that w/ josh at NMH and for me recently arrived, once again, in this brave, new land. as i joked w/ prof. amrita basu, 'i'd made the reverse commute to south asia'.
yet we can rejoince that some things, apparently, are eternal, forever joyful and truly inspiring, as well. i just saw 'across the universe', the new, wacky beatles movie where most of the script is lyrics from the fab four's songs in a traditional yet unusual story of love lost and found set in the 60s b/n a lad from liverpool and a honey blonde muse in america. great, great fun and totally amazing what serious meaning the actors-singers bring to these magical songs. you'll be amazed! it's a true inspiration! and the only cross-culture is liverpool and new york! ;-)
world. 'g-d is calling me to thailand...', she said as i was just ordering a root beer float for the sake of childhood memories and my eternal sweet tooth when the word of g-d moved among us.
in truth, it's been a wonderful time w/ gary up here in his frigid northern climes. from last night with bruce wailing the night away with 20,000 of my white scandanavian siblings ('my people; my people') in st. paul to this morning seeing the amazing new walker museum of modern art w/ a frida kahlo exhibit ('her people her person') to the baptists in the a&w cathedral, it's been a wondrous trip through the beauty, magic, power, innocence, crass commerciality and occasional absurdity of americana.
yet, this spaceless country seems to go on and on, at times, especially out here in the middle north of the nation. while new england, to me, feels enclosed, protected and refined compared to these new vistas for me of the endless dairy farms of wisconsin and minnesota, pushed up here against the cold canadian border.
while a highlight of these american meanderings have been the trees. they are another form of magic, as i hadn't been in new england in the autumn for more than a few years now. the peaceful two hour rides back and forth on route 2 from boston to NMH gave me the opportunity to indulge my visual senses in the rush of natural inspiration that this lingering season offers at this time of year. lusious beauty of a cool, earthy form. the festival of color fills my spirit at such times.
now,a few days later, in wisconsin, much further north, the deciduous trees have a later wintry look with the aspens flickering with golden leaves against the grey skies. a harsher environment here, but with a more open, endless, distant horizon. i'd forgotten that about the midwest. the landscape is relatively flat, without ridges, hills or dark forests, while it appears to go on forever and ever, to eternity, as they say in 'Toy Story', and beyond...
my talk on 'human rights in nepal' at amherst on tuesday was ok, at best, since i think i went on too long w/ too much detail on nepal's political situation. more than a late evening audience had the patience for, methinks. next time, i think it would be stimulating & intersting to pose 2-3 questions on human rights issues, instead, and try to peel away the wrappings on those nuggets rather than swallow four decades of history at one sitting.
still, i enjoyed the stepping out of my professional comfort zone, momentarily, at my alma mater. i met some staff, faculty & the dean of students while there, who all seemed to have those keen minds for which new england prospers.
actually, the lunch session w/ the human rights students was more stimulating, as we had time for discussion & there were three woman there from pakistan (a future politician), a yemenite (a more traditional woman) and an aegyptian (whose mom reconverted to judiasm) who were keenly interested in such issues, both in the public sphere, as well as in their own lives.
i suppose, as usual, i often enjoy congregating w/ the other 'internationals' or 'cross-cultured' given my own life history & trajectory. i see that w/ josh at NMH and for me recently arrived, once again, in this brave, new land. as i joked w/ prof. amrita basu, 'i'd made the reverse commute to south asia'.
yet we can rejoince that some things, apparently, are eternal, forever joyful and truly inspiring, as well. i just saw 'across the universe', the new, wacky beatles movie where most of the script is lyrics from the fab four's songs in a traditional yet unusual story of love lost and found set in the 60s b/n a lad from liverpool and a honey blonde muse in america. great, great fun and totally amazing what serious meaning the actors-singers bring to these magical songs. you'll be amazed! it's a true inspiration! and the only cross-culture is liverpool and new york! ;-)
Thursday, November 1, 2007
White Pond, Concord, MA
i'm sitting upstairs in jerry & monique's new conord home (totally rebuilit) overlooking white pond. it's a lovely autumn morning and we had an intimate family time yesterday afternoon/evening w/ jerry, once again, preparing exquisite asian home-cooked dinner of scallops, brocolli and a wonderful dessert of steamed/cooked pears and plums.
no doubt, that new england in the fall is absolutely, dream-like gorgeous. in the past week i've driven back and forth from boston to western massachuetts twice (four trips) to meet josh, to come back w/ him to bruce's to take him home again and to return now to jerry's. highway 2 is an easy, relaxing road that runs along northern mass. away from the busier world of the turnpike to the south. the local forests have been resplendent and alive in their range of colors. breath-taking. another form of divinity on earth. such hues of auburn, rust, mahogany, peach, apricot, russet, damask -- what words can describe the opulence of nature's original dying palate? with the radio on, with bruce's new 'magic' album on the cd player, josh next to me twice, it was a joy driving these back routes.
i then took the back roads along the connecticut river from northfield mount hermon to amherst the other day after i finally said 'adieu' to him on tuesday morning at school when i'd come to give him some cables he'd left in the car and some powdered milk for his nepali tea.
clearly joshua's happy in his new world, thriving and growing in so many ways. as sad as it is to leave him here, and i had some serious sepration anxiety for myself on monday night sitting in his dorm room before leaving, i know that this is the best thing for him in so many, many maturing ways. he needed to see one of us and feel that our family wasn't that far away, but, in truth, he's begun to build his own world of friends, challenges and joys over here already. nmh, in these ways, is purrrfect for his body, mind and soul. he's stretching out into the larger world, american and global, that k'du couldn't offer him. he's seeing a larger sky & universe and attracted by it.
i, too, enjoyed the talks i gave at amherst college after leaving josh. the first to a human rights class w/ a young, cerebral professor, adam sitze, with some asian women from pakistan, yemen and egypt who were particularly interested in the subject. i spoke on my own life journey post-amherst then delved into some complexities of human rights work in bhutan, burma & with the taliban in afghanistan over a lunch of pizza. that evening, i spoke on the human rights situation in nepal to a more general audience, 9including a young rana woman from mt. holyoke college (rato bangala graduate) and professor amrita basu, who teaches women's empowerment at amherst. all fun, as the young students who attended were quite stimulating to talk to during & after the formal presentations.
as for me, the same love for this natural and comfortable world. rural mass. is a very settled and peaceful place. although i'm overawed by mega-stores like "bed, bath & beyond" with their array of everything everywhere. it's a bit ovewhelming & frightening for a small town kid from k'du... but, it feels good to be away from the vulgarity of k'du's urban crunch, crowds and degradation. although, as we know, that is always balanced by the beauty, magic and individuality of our own home & garden. such are the contrasts of our lives.
i'm off today to madison to see gary giorgi and then drive up to minneapolis to see bruce in concert. can't wait! then a few days w/ mom and dad and claudia before coming back to boston to see bruce & buff again (which has been quite easy & nice), as well as do another talk at tufts university next friday before departing early saturday. i feel like i'm on a tour america here, but enjoying it all.
no doubt, that new england in the fall is absolutely, dream-like gorgeous. in the past week i've driven back and forth from boston to western massachuetts twice (four trips) to meet josh, to come back w/ him to bruce's to take him home again and to return now to jerry's. highway 2 is an easy, relaxing road that runs along northern mass. away from the busier world of the turnpike to the south. the local forests have been resplendent and alive in their range of colors. breath-taking. another form of divinity on earth. such hues of auburn, rust, mahogany, peach, apricot, russet, damask -- what words can describe the opulence of nature's original dying palate? with the radio on, with bruce's new 'magic' album on the cd player, josh next to me twice, it was a joy driving these back routes.
i then took the back roads along the connecticut river from northfield mount hermon to amherst the other day after i finally said 'adieu' to him on tuesday morning at school when i'd come to give him some cables he'd left in the car and some powdered milk for his nepali tea.
clearly joshua's happy in his new world, thriving and growing in so many ways. as sad as it is to leave him here, and i had some serious sepration anxiety for myself on monday night sitting in his dorm room before leaving, i know that this is the best thing for him in so many, many maturing ways. he needed to see one of us and feel that our family wasn't that far away, but, in truth, he's begun to build his own world of friends, challenges and joys over here already. nmh, in these ways, is purrrfect for his body, mind and soul. he's stretching out into the larger world, american and global, that k'du couldn't offer him. he's seeing a larger sky & universe and attracted by it.
i, too, enjoyed the talks i gave at amherst college after leaving josh. the first to a human rights class w/ a young, cerebral professor, adam sitze, with some asian women from pakistan, yemen and egypt who were particularly interested in the subject. i spoke on my own life journey post-amherst then delved into some complexities of human rights work in bhutan, burma & with the taliban in afghanistan over a lunch of pizza. that evening, i spoke on the human rights situation in nepal to a more general audience, 9including a young rana woman from mt. holyoke college (rato bangala graduate) and professor amrita basu, who teaches women's empowerment at amherst. all fun, as the young students who attended were quite stimulating to talk to during & after the formal presentations.
as for me, the same love for this natural and comfortable world. rural mass. is a very settled and peaceful place. although i'm overawed by mega-stores like "bed, bath & beyond" with their array of everything everywhere. it's a bit ovewhelming & frightening for a small town kid from k'du... but, it feels good to be away from the vulgarity of k'du's urban crunch, crowds and degradation. although, as we know, that is always balanced by the beauty, magic and individuality of our own home & garden. such are the contrasts of our lives.
i'm off today to madison to see gary giorgi and then drive up to minneapolis to see bruce in concert. can't wait! then a few days w/ mom and dad and claudia before coming back to boston to see bruce & buff again (which has been quite easy & nice), as well as do another talk at tufts university next friday before departing early saturday. i feel like i'm on a tour america here, but enjoying it all.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Travels with Joshua in Massachusetts on these Autumn Days
after the long miracle and discomfort of air travel, i've arrived in body, if not fully in spirit, on the native shores of north america. from the sky the world looks so peaceful, calm, soothing.
of course, sitting in steerage for 20+ hours from kathmandu to boston is a slightly different and aching experience. still, the travel is remarkable, astounding even, to slip so easily from one world to another w/in 36 hours, all the way around the globe, from my home outside kathmandu to my son in western massachusetts. magellan should have had it so good...
wondrous visions, as well, of a snow covered mount ranier, lake stahekin, where we vacationed with dave & lisa a decade ago when the boys were small, then the snake river. the soothing, fresh, warm welcome at minneapolis airport before flying into boston at dark, the lights of fenway on thursday night illuminating the skies while ribbons of red and white lights circled the city on rte 95. it's amazing to see such urban density and light after the hours of darkness in the night skies. the miracle of the modern world for those of still captured by the struggling reality of our third world countries. i'm awed in an ancient sense, both fearful and trembling while inspired by the power and majesty of the world around me.
now, a few days after arriving, josh & i are relaxing at bruce's comfortable home in newton. we drove in yesterday afternoon from nmh b/c josh's football/soccer game was cancelled, alas, due to the heavy rain all night & day. really sad, however, as i was excited to see he & his team play after reading so many game reports while in nepal on the school's sports log. knowing how much josh loves the game and his profound determination, i so much wanted to see him and his team-mates on the new england pitch together. after all, his love for this game was one of the reasons he travelled so far to go to school.
still, the day+ on the campus friday w/ josh was a pure delight. i went to all three of his classes (bible, us history and physics) & had private meetings w/ the professors. all his teachers seem quite pleased w/ joshua's performance so far. in fact, most of them commented on how 'seamlessly' josh has made the great transition to nmh and the states.
a few of the professors commented that joshua's performance is really impressive for his first term at nmh, given the profound transition from his world in nepal. they were all complimentary about josh's level of participation in the classes, his academic commitment and, particuarly his religion teacher, on the originality of his thought. great!!
my smith college friend, sheila, who has been at nmh for 20+ years and is head of the music department, also showed me the latest nmh newspaper which had an article by josh about the cross-cultural differences b/n being a nepali & american. very insightful. she said the teachers were talking about the article in the teachers lounge, saying, 'did you see that article by that kid from nepal?'. to which she would say, 'that's joshua leslie -- not just a kid from nepal.'
clearly, josh has made the passage to the states with aplomb. it helps, of course, that he really likes his roomate, dean, who seems a very sweet guy (great basketball player, i'm told), good mathematician and quite grounded. his other closest friends seem quite sincere and sensitive, as well. i met mohammed from alexandria, sergio from brazil, an american/thai kid from bangkok and a few others. i wish i had more time w/ them, as they are the world in which josh has found his niche here. i'm pleased as they all seem smart, eager and thoroughly enjoyable.
overall, i felt comfortable with the nmh world immediately. it's a caring, intimate and active world. one that is commited to the head, heart and hands of the whole person -- not just intelletual or academic achievement. although, after traveling for his soccer to other new england schools, josh says that the facilities at some of the other schools are even more amazing, i find nmh the right balance b/n the world of lincoln school in kathmandu and the colleges ahead of him. in fact, i'm not sure i'd want josh or ez at the best endowed, wealthiest private school in new england. as josh says, nmh is quite an upgrade over lincoln already. best, methinks, to appreciate the value of what he's found, rather than long for something more elite, aloof or distant from the reality in which we must live.
today (sunday) we're going in to cambridge, to see our friends, jerry & monique, then we booked tixs for the musical 'wicked', the story of the wizard of oz's wicked witch before dorthy showed up. it's gotten brilliant reviews and turns the tabel on our understanding of what truly is 'wicked', and why. it's $90/seat, but these are the remarkable opportunities that the west offers to the general public of seeing outstanding stage or musical performances that whirl the mind and uplift the spirit. take a good catholic liturgy in chartres from the 17th C. and then add all of the color, mystique, romance and humanity of the modern mind -- et voila -- there's broadway, the secular ceremony of the unbridled spirit.
last night, after resting a bit at bruce's, josh & i drove out to a framington mall (got lost looking for it...) and saw two new movies, 'dan in real life' and 'kingdom'. both good, but 'dan' was exceptionally fresh, honest and loving (with steve carrell et juliet binoche) while 'kingdom' was one more tale of endless terrorism and revenge-seeking americans hunting the 'bad guys' in saudia arabia. actually we only were supposed to see one movie, but the other started soon after ours finished, and the room was right next door, so since it was already $10 for a movie, we just invited ourselves in for a double feature. ;-)
of course, once again, i'm amazed how quickly we can make this transtiion from one brave new world to another. in our minds, and in distance, it's a long way away, but once the plane disgorges you and you quickly realize you need to drive on the opposite side of the road (duh... it's the opposite side of the world, space traveller...), it's all surprisingly good.
different. eye-opening. lush w/ autumn colors. wonderfully smooth roads. tons of traffic, but moving mostly. big cars. little cars. blue cars. red cars. food stores, furniture stores and shops for everything everywhere. too much junk food. clear skies. dark clouds. stunning architecture. boring architecture. more to do than one could fill a few lifetimes. tons of entertainment. move theaters in malls the size of cities. more malls. small urban parks with 200 year old trees. tons of trees. and trees. lots and lots of people. lots of over-weight people. well-dressed people. casual and perky people. all hues and hair styles. bag people. rich people. lost people. found people. people always on the move. ambition. desire. a new world, sans doubt...
we'll go back tomorrow (monday) to nmh. my brother bruce & his wife buff are out visiting their daughter liz at her college this w/end, so we'll only see them monday morning. then, we may see the basketball hall of fame on monday en route to nmh. tuesday i'm at amherst for lunch w/ some students, then my talk on the evening on human rights (wrongs) in nepal. i've got plenty of notes by now and some interesting leads into the talk (like 'the last time i was speaking here was the w/end that the royal family of nepal were murdered...'). i'm anxious, of course, speaking publicly and at my alma mater (another form of mother-complex, i suppose...), but when i let the nervousness fade away, i'm actually looking forward to speaking on something i've lived and experience at the core of my life the past couple of decades while hearing the curiosity and intelligence of the amherst students' thoughts. something about a school or college seems to fill a open part of my soul.
i'm sure limited time left with my pilgrim son, joshua, will speed past, particularly since i say goodbye to him when he must be back in his overtrun dorm by 7 pm on m onday. for now, as i've tried to say, it's simply so nice to be nearby him again. because, if anyone asks, being a parent is probably the most profound and satisfying joy that one can find in this brief and ever-passing lifetime. someone, somehow, a long time ago, sure figured that out.
as my buddy, rasan rolan kirk, wails on one of his inspired saxophone songs, "g-d must have a master plan". clearly, our love for our children was central to it.
amen.
of course, sitting in steerage for 20+ hours from kathmandu to boston is a slightly different and aching experience. still, the travel is remarkable, astounding even, to slip so easily from one world to another w/in 36 hours, all the way around the globe, from my home outside kathmandu to my son in western massachusetts. magellan should have had it so good...
wondrous visions, as well, of a snow covered mount ranier, lake stahekin, where we vacationed with dave & lisa a decade ago when the boys were small, then the snake river. the soothing, fresh, warm welcome at minneapolis airport before flying into boston at dark, the lights of fenway on thursday night illuminating the skies while ribbons of red and white lights circled the city on rte 95. it's amazing to see such urban density and light after the hours of darkness in the night skies. the miracle of the modern world for those of still captured by the struggling reality of our third world countries. i'm awed in an ancient sense, both fearful and trembling while inspired by the power and majesty of the world around me.
now, a few days after arriving, josh & i are relaxing at bruce's comfortable home in newton. we drove in yesterday afternoon from nmh b/c josh's football/soccer game was cancelled, alas, due to the heavy rain all night & day. really sad, however, as i was excited to see he & his team play after reading so many game reports while in nepal on the school's sports log. knowing how much josh loves the game and his profound determination, i so much wanted to see him and his team-mates on the new england pitch together. after all, his love for this game was one of the reasons he travelled so far to go to school.
still, the day+ on the campus friday w/ josh was a pure delight. i went to all three of his classes (bible, us history and physics) & had private meetings w/ the professors. all his teachers seem quite pleased w/ joshua's performance so far. in fact, most of them commented on how 'seamlessly' josh has made the great transition to nmh and the states.
a few of the professors commented that joshua's performance is really impressive for his first term at nmh, given the profound transition from his world in nepal. they were all complimentary about josh's level of participation in the classes, his academic commitment and, particuarly his religion teacher, on the originality of his thought. great!!
my smith college friend, sheila, who has been at nmh for 20+ years and is head of the music department, also showed me the latest nmh newspaper which had an article by josh about the cross-cultural differences b/n being a nepali & american. very insightful. she said the teachers were talking about the article in the teachers lounge, saying, 'did you see that article by that kid from nepal?'. to which she would say, 'that's joshua leslie -- not just a kid from nepal.'
clearly, josh has made the passage to the states with aplomb. it helps, of course, that he really likes his roomate, dean, who seems a very sweet guy (great basketball player, i'm told), good mathematician and quite grounded. his other closest friends seem quite sincere and sensitive, as well. i met mohammed from alexandria, sergio from brazil, an american/thai kid from bangkok and a few others. i wish i had more time w/ them, as they are the world in which josh has found his niche here. i'm pleased as they all seem smart, eager and thoroughly enjoyable.
overall, i felt comfortable with the nmh world immediately. it's a caring, intimate and active world. one that is commited to the head, heart and hands of the whole person -- not just intelletual or academic achievement. although, after traveling for his soccer to other new england schools, josh says that the facilities at some of the other schools are even more amazing, i find nmh the right balance b/n the world of lincoln school in kathmandu and the colleges ahead of him. in fact, i'm not sure i'd want josh or ez at the best endowed, wealthiest private school in new england. as josh says, nmh is quite an upgrade over lincoln already. best, methinks, to appreciate the value of what he's found, rather than long for something more elite, aloof or distant from the reality in which we must live.
today (sunday) we're going in to cambridge, to see our friends, jerry & monique, then we booked tixs for the musical 'wicked', the story of the wizard of oz's wicked witch before dorthy showed up. it's gotten brilliant reviews and turns the tabel on our understanding of what truly is 'wicked', and why. it's $90/seat, but these are the remarkable opportunities that the west offers to the general public of seeing outstanding stage or musical performances that whirl the mind and uplift the spirit. take a good catholic liturgy in chartres from the 17th C. and then add all of the color, mystique, romance and humanity of the modern mind -- et voila -- there's broadway, the secular ceremony of the unbridled spirit.
last night, after resting a bit at bruce's, josh & i drove out to a framington mall (got lost looking for it...) and saw two new movies, 'dan in real life' and 'kingdom'. both good, but 'dan' was exceptionally fresh, honest and loving (with steve carrell et juliet binoche) while 'kingdom' was one more tale of endless terrorism and revenge-seeking americans hunting the 'bad guys' in saudia arabia. actually we only were supposed to see one movie, but the other started soon after ours finished, and the room was right next door, so since it was already $10 for a movie, we just invited ourselves in for a double feature. ;-)
of course, once again, i'm amazed how quickly we can make this transtiion from one brave new world to another. in our minds, and in distance, it's a long way away, but once the plane disgorges you and you quickly realize you need to drive on the opposite side of the road (duh... it's the opposite side of the world, space traveller...), it's all surprisingly good.
different. eye-opening. lush w/ autumn colors. wonderfully smooth roads. tons of traffic, but moving mostly. big cars. little cars. blue cars. red cars. food stores, furniture stores and shops for everything everywhere. too much junk food. clear skies. dark clouds. stunning architecture. boring architecture. more to do than one could fill a few lifetimes. tons of entertainment. move theaters in malls the size of cities. more malls. small urban parks with 200 year old trees. tons of trees. and trees. lots and lots of people. lots of over-weight people. well-dressed people. casual and perky people. all hues and hair styles. bag people. rich people. lost people. found people. people always on the move. ambition. desire. a new world, sans doubt...
we'll go back tomorrow (monday) to nmh. my brother bruce & his wife buff are out visiting their daughter liz at her college this w/end, so we'll only see them monday morning. then, we may see the basketball hall of fame on monday en route to nmh. tuesday i'm at amherst for lunch w/ some students, then my talk on the evening on human rights (wrongs) in nepal. i've got plenty of notes by now and some interesting leads into the talk (like 'the last time i was speaking here was the w/end that the royal family of nepal were murdered...'). i'm anxious, of course, speaking publicly and at my alma mater (another form of mother-complex, i suppose...), but when i let the nervousness fade away, i'm actually looking forward to speaking on something i've lived and experience at the core of my life the past couple of decades while hearing the curiosity and intelligence of the amherst students' thoughts. something about a school or college seems to fill a open part of my soul.
i'm sure limited time left with my pilgrim son, joshua, will speed past, particularly since i say goodbye to him when he must be back in his overtrun dorm by 7 pm on m onday. for now, as i've tried to say, it's simply so nice to be nearby him again. because, if anyone asks, being a parent is probably the most profound and satisfying joy that one can find in this brief and ever-passing lifetime. someone, somehow, a long time ago, sure figured that out.
as my buddy, rasan rolan kirk, wails on one of his inspired saxophone songs, "g-d must have a master plan". clearly, our love for our children was central to it.
amen.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
A Pre-Desain Prayer
Outside the lights of Kathmandu fill the darkened sky, while colleagues, who have come from Nepal’s five remote regions, seek lessons from the work that fills our lives.
As we drove this morning from Harihar Bhawan, the decaying 19th century Rana palace where the National Human rights Commission has its office, we passed buses of young Maoist supporters heading into Kathmandu to apply pressure on the government for an instant republic and greater proportional representation.
I wonder, as the days slip by, like the latest effort to hold a Constituent Assembly election, a pre-Desain chill creeping from the nearby ridges, are we coming closer to the cusp of a dramatic historical change or another false dawn for the aspirations of the struggling people of this tired land?
Of course, there is reason to celebrate this Desain as the constant conflict that kept the country in suspended animation for a decade has been officially over for the last year. The fear of nighttime attacks in district centers and brutal incidents in the cities has waned. The wasteful self-destruction of the nation’s limited infrastructure appears over. The pressure among schools to send students for military indoctrinations or use their compounds for armed encampments may have ended.
In all of this, there is cause for some hope as the Maoists and Seven Parties keep a fragile hold on the anniversary of their Comprehensive Peace Accord, signed last November.
Yet, equally, there is deep concern given the history of Nepal’s political leadership failing the country while, too often, putting personal gain & prestige above realistic compromises and lacking a sincere sensitivity to the ceaseless suffering of their own people.
We all watch mutely the increasing communal violence, the constant bandhs, the daily murders and abductions, the sharp splintering of radical and reactionary movements, and the international community’s reluctance to speak frankly to leaders who no longer command the respect of their own people.
Fortunately, the past is not necessarily a roadmap to the future. We hope that the current context -- and even the individuals -- may change enough that they, too, may finally be weary of the anxieties and uncertainties that their internecine conflict has inflicted upon the darkened Himalayan landscape.
Painfully, after their numerous peace process violations and obstructions, without elections, we have no choice but to live with the self-proclaimed leaders who rule Nepal’s government and parliament. The once-again postponed or suspended or neglected election is still the only democratic path forward to find new, capable and untarnished leaders for Nepal’s long-suffering people.
Therefore, this week, on the cusp of Desain, when Nepali families gather for tika and blessings, as the peace process hangs in the balance, leaving many worried about the coming months, each of us must find our own personal commitment to a manageable peace amid the painful truths of continuing human rights abuses.
As night settles here out on the edge of the Valley, I wonder what our national leaders, the men in whom we must place our faith, are thinking. Is there a trace of pride in having come so close, at last, to their political ambitions? Or, per chance, is there a sense of humility when they think of the cost paid by so many others’ lives, of villagers who have lived in fear for so long or the women who became youthful widows or the children who have grown up in uniform missing years of school?
At nighttime do these large political men reflect like the rest of us? Do they wonder about the long-term impact of their words and actions over these past ten years? In the quiet of their minds are they able to acknowledge some of their own responsibility for the suffering of others?
Or, are these men of history for whom there is no past -- only an idealized future they can see on the distant horizon. Having achieved rehabilitation among Kathmandu’s enclosed political elite, are they busy seeking even more power for themselves? Can we believe that their latest rounds of discussions, after two lengthy years, offer a sincere promise of further accommodation and responsibility in the months ahead?
Tonight, do they look out their windows and see the same darkness outside that I see? Illuminated by the tentative, flickering lights of the city below -- a vulnerable valley lit, it appears, with thousands of butter lamps at the feet of the eternal Himalaya.
These lights, for me, represent those common souls who will never have a seat around the table. People, who in Faulkner’s famous phrase, ‘endure’. Nepalis who walk each day to work or travel in crowded micros, who struggle to feed their families, send their children to neighborhood schools and dream of a modest success by which to measure their world.
People for whom prayer is still a form of communication.
As we drove this morning from Harihar Bhawan, the decaying 19th century Rana palace where the National Human rights Commission has its office, we passed buses of young Maoist supporters heading into Kathmandu to apply pressure on the government for an instant republic and greater proportional representation.
I wonder, as the days slip by, like the latest effort to hold a Constituent Assembly election, a pre-Desain chill creeping from the nearby ridges, are we coming closer to the cusp of a dramatic historical change or another false dawn for the aspirations of the struggling people of this tired land?
Of course, there is reason to celebrate this Desain as the constant conflict that kept the country in suspended animation for a decade has been officially over for the last year. The fear of nighttime attacks in district centers and brutal incidents in the cities has waned. The wasteful self-destruction of the nation’s limited infrastructure appears over. The pressure among schools to send students for military indoctrinations or use their compounds for armed encampments may have ended.
In all of this, there is cause for some hope as the Maoists and Seven Parties keep a fragile hold on the anniversary of their Comprehensive Peace Accord, signed last November.
Yet, equally, there is deep concern given the history of Nepal’s political leadership failing the country while, too often, putting personal gain & prestige above realistic compromises and lacking a sincere sensitivity to the ceaseless suffering of their own people.
We all watch mutely the increasing communal violence, the constant bandhs, the daily murders and abductions, the sharp splintering of radical and reactionary movements, and the international community’s reluctance to speak frankly to leaders who no longer command the respect of their own people.
Fortunately, the past is not necessarily a roadmap to the future. We hope that the current context -- and even the individuals -- may change enough that they, too, may finally be weary of the anxieties and uncertainties that their internecine conflict has inflicted upon the darkened Himalayan landscape.
Painfully, after their numerous peace process violations and obstructions, without elections, we have no choice but to live with the self-proclaimed leaders who rule Nepal’s government and parliament. The once-again postponed or suspended or neglected election is still the only democratic path forward to find new, capable and untarnished leaders for Nepal’s long-suffering people.
Therefore, this week, on the cusp of Desain, when Nepali families gather for tika and blessings, as the peace process hangs in the balance, leaving many worried about the coming months, each of us must find our own personal commitment to a manageable peace amid the painful truths of continuing human rights abuses.
As night settles here out on the edge of the Valley, I wonder what our national leaders, the men in whom we must place our faith, are thinking. Is there a trace of pride in having come so close, at last, to their political ambitions? Or, per chance, is there a sense of humility when they think of the cost paid by so many others’ lives, of villagers who have lived in fear for so long or the women who became youthful widows or the children who have grown up in uniform missing years of school?
At nighttime do these large political men reflect like the rest of us? Do they wonder about the long-term impact of their words and actions over these past ten years? In the quiet of their minds are they able to acknowledge some of their own responsibility for the suffering of others?
Or, are these men of history for whom there is no past -- only an idealized future they can see on the distant horizon. Having achieved rehabilitation among Kathmandu’s enclosed political elite, are they busy seeking even more power for themselves? Can we believe that their latest rounds of discussions, after two lengthy years, offer a sincere promise of further accommodation and responsibility in the months ahead?
Tonight, do they look out their windows and see the same darkness outside that I see? Illuminated by the tentative, flickering lights of the city below -- a vulnerable valley lit, it appears, with thousands of butter lamps at the feet of the eternal Himalaya.
These lights, for me, represent those common souls who will never have a seat around the table. People, who in Faulkner’s famous phrase, ‘endure’. Nepalis who walk each day to work or travel in crowded micros, who struggle to feed their families, send their children to neighborhood schools and dream of a modest success by which to measure their world.
People for whom prayer is still a form of communication.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Marriage Along the Middle Journey
Marriage, you say... and I hear the echo of these thoughts & struggles in my own life over the decades.. ;-)
Shaks & I are up and down, as always, but we have tended to keep an even keel over the recent years with the occasional (almost expected...) battles of wills or frustration. Then, as always, our two decades of slow, well-earned understanding, accompanied by nature's nocturnal passion, helps to cool the ego fires and sudden emotional eruptions.
Not to menton the constant joy of our three children, Joshua, Ezra & Ms. Leah Prajna rose, who pull us closer together, again and again. We look at them with obvious love & affection and know that, if not for the other, they would not/could not be, either. They are a mighty anchor in an often troubled and insincere world.
Such is basis for our personal nineteen year journey together through many obstacles along the way...
My heart, however, goes out for the constant struggle that many of our dearest friends also are going through. I wish I had more to offer them than tales of Kathmandu and our own dilemmas.
In certain cases, I know how much one half of the couple wants to be successful in their professional world, and yet, how that seems a bit (not fully...) less substantial to their long-term partner.
Such worldly achievement all departs, anyway, as we know, so a lifetime of love and kindness seem greater values than the corporate ladder or illusions of change in others' lives. But, who can say such things to others in the midst of their own quests for achievement, recognition and ambition? We've been there. We know it. It's an intoxicating brew rich with responsibilities and even hopes. But, not worth its currency at the cost of simpler, more essential, more lastingl aspects of life and living.
After all, how many people actually wed their laptops or bosses or villagers or proposals and find real happiness??!! ;-)
All I can say to my friends is to be forgiving and kind to each other. You've invested quite a lot in something very rare, almost insubstantial, like love & marriage. These qualities of life can disappear as quickly or suddenly as they were created.
As we have learned, destruction is much quicker than creation. The creative impulse takes time and energy, care and commitment. Not always easy, but serious and fulfilling. With children, we've created your own little garden (which is all any of us get anyway...) in which to inhabit.
Of course, we need our own worlds, too, we can't depend on our little ones to give us theirs. For that reason, it's important to find a few moments every few days to talk about your shared family, your shared children, as well as your own dreams and desires, Try, if possible, to leap ahead a decade in your thoughts to look back and think what you truly want now.
Find small acts of kindness or affection to offer your lover, your friend, your spouse. We all need to remember that when we start to fight again or push against each other, simply stop, think of something more beautiful, more peaceful, more soothing in our image of ourselves. Only then come back to the conversation in five minutes when the burning unmanageable sensation in your mind or gut is gone.
Peace is not only what states do, it's what we each create each moment of our lives. Each moment we can be conscious enough to understand that we are creating the world around us, all the time. For our selves, our spouses and our children.
So, we start again, again, and yet again.
Each morning, as Vivien Leigh said years ago in a different context,
"Tomorrow is another day..."
Shaks & I are up and down, as always, but we have tended to keep an even keel over the recent years with the occasional (almost expected...) battles of wills or frustration. Then, as always, our two decades of slow, well-earned understanding, accompanied by nature's nocturnal passion, helps to cool the ego fires and sudden emotional eruptions.
Not to menton the constant joy of our three children, Joshua, Ezra & Ms. Leah Prajna rose, who pull us closer together, again and again. We look at them with obvious love & affection and know that, if not for the other, they would not/could not be, either. They are a mighty anchor in an often troubled and insincere world.
Such is basis for our personal nineteen year journey together through many obstacles along the way...
My heart, however, goes out for the constant struggle that many of our dearest friends also are going through. I wish I had more to offer them than tales of Kathmandu and our own dilemmas.
In certain cases, I know how much one half of the couple wants to be successful in their professional world, and yet, how that seems a bit (not fully...) less substantial to their long-term partner.
Such worldly achievement all departs, anyway, as we know, so a lifetime of love and kindness seem greater values than the corporate ladder or illusions of change in others' lives. But, who can say such things to others in the midst of their own quests for achievement, recognition and ambition? We've been there. We know it. It's an intoxicating brew rich with responsibilities and even hopes. But, not worth its currency at the cost of simpler, more essential, more lastingl aspects of life and living.
After all, how many people actually wed their laptops or bosses or villagers or proposals and find real happiness??!! ;-)
All I can say to my friends is to be forgiving and kind to each other. You've invested quite a lot in something very rare, almost insubstantial, like love & marriage. These qualities of life can disappear as quickly or suddenly as they were created.
As we have learned, destruction is much quicker than creation. The creative impulse takes time and energy, care and commitment. Not always easy, but serious and fulfilling. With children, we've created your own little garden (which is all any of us get anyway...) in which to inhabit.
Of course, we need our own worlds, too, we can't depend on our little ones to give us theirs. For that reason, it's important to find a few moments every few days to talk about your shared family, your shared children, as well as your own dreams and desires, Try, if possible, to leap ahead a decade in your thoughts to look back and think what you truly want now.
Find small acts of kindness or affection to offer your lover, your friend, your spouse. We all need to remember that when we start to fight again or push against each other, simply stop, think of something more beautiful, more peaceful, more soothing in our image of ourselves. Only then come back to the conversation in five minutes when the burning unmanageable sensation in your mind or gut is gone.
Peace is not only what states do, it's what we each create each moment of our lives. Each moment we can be conscious enough to understand that we are creating the world around us, all the time. For our selves, our spouses and our children.
So, we start again, again, and yet again.
Each morning, as Vivien Leigh said years ago in a different context,
"Tomorrow is another day..."
Friday, September 28, 2007
The Joy of a Job Well Done! ;-)
Dear Senior human rights advisor Leslie,
National Human Rights Commission, Nepal.
We are pleased to read your draft copy. Really very nice and appreciable.
Thank you.
With best regards and sincerely yours
Jaya Shor Chapagain
Protection Officer
NHRC – Nepal.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Keith Douglas Leslie [mailto:keith.leslie@nhrcnepal.org]
Sent: Friday, September 28, 2007 2:35 PM
To: jaya.chapagain@nhrcnepal.org; Leela Pathak
Cc: 'tek.tamrakar'; 'Chandra Roy'; 'Sharad Neupane'
Subject: Dr. Pathak's Speech for Tomorrow
Dr. Pathak and Jaishworji,
As promised, here is the two page speech for Dr. Pathak for tomorrow’s inauguration of the Indigenous Peoples Program workshop.
If you have any comments, plse let Tekji and I know. Thanks!
Best, Keith
National Human Rights Commission, Nepal.
We are pleased to read your draft copy. Really very nice and appreciable.
Thank you.
With best regards and sincerely yours
Jaya Shor Chapagain
Protection Officer
NHRC – Nepal.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Keith Douglas Leslie [mailto:keith.leslie@nhrcnepal.org]
Sent: Friday, September 28, 2007 2:35 PM
To: jaya.chapagain@nhrcnepal.org; Leela Pathak
Cc: 'tek.tamrakar'; 'Chandra Roy'; 'Sharad Neupane'
Subject: Dr. Pathak's Speech for Tomorrow
Dr. Pathak and Jaishworji,
As promised, here is the two page speech for Dr. Pathak for tomorrow’s inauguration of the Indigenous Peoples Program workshop.
If you have any comments, plse let Tekji and I know. Thanks!
Best, Keith
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Righting Human Wrongs in Nepal
It's 7:35 am and I've seen Ez out the gate at 6:10 am, then Ms. Leah at 7:05 am. Now, I'm watching the Yankees pummel the Devil rays on the internet. So cometh another bright, lush late monsoon morning in the foothills of the Himalaya...
It's a Thursday, the final stretch in a busy week as I'm still flaying away in the world of human wrongs. Yet, I'm pleased to say that in some important ways, my working world became much more stimulating last week when, finally, after a year in my Sr. Advisor job w/o commissioners at the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC), the govt finally appointed five individuals to lead the Commission.
One of them, Gauri Pradhan, founder of Child Workers in Nepal, is an old friend & colleague, who will be a pleasure to work with. Plus a retired chief justice of the Supreme Court, Kedarnath Upadhaya, who is the new Chairperson of the Commission, who also seems quite sincere & impressive. Then there is a Maoist-inclined Christian who may be the equivalent of a Nepali liberation theologian. Another retired Supreme Court judge from the eastern Terai. And, a senior government woman bureaucrat who may help us negotiate our way around the labyrinth that represents the government of Nepal. Quite an interesting collection, particularly as each seems to be eager to start their work!
So, at long last, after a year of muddling around, trying to influence a constitutional body without a head, learning my lessons in the world of human rights (and wrongs...), reciting the 'Paris Principles' on national rights institutes, staring out into the courtyard of Harihar Bhawan, an olde Rana palace here in Kathmandu, often feeling demotivated by the lack of leadership in the Commission, there is finally some real cause for anticipation & satisfaction -- ironically, just when my contract ends and the job may disappear.
Funny old world, isn't it...
For now, my UNDP one year contract has been extended from Sept. 3rd to Nov. 3rd, but nothing is clear after that. The whole Capacity Development NHRC project ends with December, so even a short extension ends then.
Of course, there's the likelihood of a new UNDP project from the new year, but no certainty if they want a Sr. AHuman Rights dvisor again; or, in truth, what I really want for myself...
At the moment, I'm planning on going to the US on Oct. 25th to attend Josh's first Family W/end at NMH, then probably visit Claudia while attending the American Bamboo Society (ABS) meeting outside Philly, followed by an important sidetrip to see M&D in Palm Beach Gardens before coming back to Nepal by mid-November.
If nothing changes or appears on the horizon, I could be back in Kathmandu sans work for the first time since 1983, which would be curious...
In some ways, mentally, emotionally, I'm just free-floating. I'm digging into certain aspects of work, which is stimulating, esp. given the large-scale & ugly forms of human rights abuses going on in Nepal (there was a prominent murder then a rampage in Kapilvastu, near Lumbini, last week with over 20-30 innocents murdered...), not to mention the backlog of human rights cases that remain either unresolved or without serious action by the GON. If one thinks too deeply on such events, it's not good for one's well-being, if you know what I mean. I read a Michael Onjantee (sp?) novel about such abuses in Sri Lanka a few years ago -- not pretty, to say the least, nor elevating of the human condition, that's for sure...
Politically, Nepal seems more & more befuddled or living under a dark star. Nothing really goes forward and the center hardly holds. Of course, our own personal botanical garden remains a delight, but the country around us seems to be dissolving into petty fiefdoms of venality or traffic jams (even sans petrol...) in the capital city.
There's supposed to be a national Constituent Assembly election on Thanksgiving Day, but no one really believes it's going to happen, esp. now that the Communist Party Nepal/Maoist have pulled out of the coalition government.
So many games, too many tricks, a heap of insincerity among the super-sized egos of the politicians, while the western community plays along, hoping for the best, fearing the worst, then heading off for a new assignment in another country while the UN pours in tens of millions of dollars and hundreds of 'monitors' and 'specialists' with experience in Kosovo, Timor and other examples of the UN's recent state-building experiences.
We all have our fingers crossed, but there is an equal amount of uncertainty ahead, sans doubt.
Where's a good thick Dumas novel when one needs one?
It's a Thursday, the final stretch in a busy week as I'm still flaying away in the world of human wrongs. Yet, I'm pleased to say that in some important ways, my working world became much more stimulating last week when, finally, after a year in my Sr. Advisor job w/o commissioners at the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC), the govt finally appointed five individuals to lead the Commission.
One of them, Gauri Pradhan, founder of Child Workers in Nepal, is an old friend & colleague, who will be a pleasure to work with. Plus a retired chief justice of the Supreme Court, Kedarnath Upadhaya, who is the new Chairperson of the Commission, who also seems quite sincere & impressive. Then there is a Maoist-inclined Christian who may be the equivalent of a Nepali liberation theologian. Another retired Supreme Court judge from the eastern Terai. And, a senior government woman bureaucrat who may help us negotiate our way around the labyrinth that represents the government of Nepal. Quite an interesting collection, particularly as each seems to be eager to start their work!
So, at long last, after a year of muddling around, trying to influence a constitutional body without a head, learning my lessons in the world of human rights (and wrongs...), reciting the 'Paris Principles' on national rights institutes, staring out into the courtyard of Harihar Bhawan, an olde Rana palace here in Kathmandu, often feeling demotivated by the lack of leadership in the Commission, there is finally some real cause for anticipation & satisfaction -- ironically, just when my contract ends and the job may disappear.
Funny old world, isn't it...
For now, my UNDP one year contract has been extended from Sept. 3rd to Nov. 3rd, but nothing is clear after that. The whole Capacity Development NHRC project ends with December, so even a short extension ends then.
Of course, there's the likelihood of a new UNDP project from the new year, but no certainty if they want a Sr. AHuman Rights dvisor again; or, in truth, what I really want for myself...
At the moment, I'm planning on going to the US on Oct. 25th to attend Josh's first Family W/end at NMH, then probably visit Claudia while attending the American Bamboo Society (ABS) meeting outside Philly, followed by an important sidetrip to see M&D in Palm Beach Gardens before coming back to Nepal by mid-November.
If nothing changes or appears on the horizon, I could be back in Kathmandu sans work for the first time since 1983, which would be curious...
In some ways, mentally, emotionally, I'm just free-floating. I'm digging into certain aspects of work, which is stimulating, esp. given the large-scale & ugly forms of human rights abuses going on in Nepal (there was a prominent murder then a rampage in Kapilvastu, near Lumbini, last week with over 20-30 innocents murdered...), not to mention the backlog of human rights cases that remain either unresolved or without serious action by the GON. If one thinks too deeply on such events, it's not good for one's well-being, if you know what I mean. I read a Michael Onjantee (sp?) novel about such abuses in Sri Lanka a few years ago -- not pretty, to say the least, nor elevating of the human condition, that's for sure...
Politically, Nepal seems more & more befuddled or living under a dark star. Nothing really goes forward and the center hardly holds. Of course, our own personal botanical garden remains a delight, but the country around us seems to be dissolving into petty fiefdoms of venality or traffic jams (even sans petrol...) in the capital city.
There's supposed to be a national Constituent Assembly election on Thanksgiving Day, but no one really believes it's going to happen, esp. now that the Communist Party Nepal/Maoist have pulled out of the coalition government.
So many games, too many tricks, a heap of insincerity among the super-sized egos of the politicians, while the western community plays along, hoping for the best, fearing the worst, then heading off for a new assignment in another country while the UN pours in tens of millions of dollars and hundreds of 'monitors' and 'specialists' with experience in Kosovo, Timor and other examples of the UN's recent state-building experiences.
We all have our fingers crossed, but there is an equal amount of uncertainty ahead, sans doubt.
Where's a good thick Dumas novel when one needs one?
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
A Note from Joshua, our Massachusetts Pilgrim Son
Hey Mum and Dad,
Sorry i missed the call on Saturday, but we had a school dance and the texting back to Nepal did not really work.
The last few days have been really fun, but tough. It was my first proper weekend here at NMH and i enjoyed it. On Friday, we had this dodgeball game and it was really fun. It was against the freshman and we have so much dorm spirit. It was like going to a soccer game and having all the fans chanting. We ended up demolishing the freshman 4-1 or something like that. The fourth floor embarassed us by losing to them very badly.
The next morning i missed part of soccer practice because I forgot to turn on my alarm clock, so I ended up missing the first half and could only play about another half hour because I had to go to the mall in order to pick up somethings that I needed to buy. The mall was pretty fun, I went with a few of my friends, but ended up shopping alone. It was a nice escape from being around everyone all the time. I bought a computer mouse, dress shoes and a tie on the credit card so if you get any bills that should be it.
Then on Saturday we had a dance and it was so crazy, I mean 600 people in the gym I literally just stared for five minutes feeling so much culture shock and out of place. I mean this was dancing in a very sexual way, and in Lincoln that never happens, so I was a little bit stunned. I decided to hang with the other equally shocked people and I just relaxed and danced and had a really good time.
Sunday it rained so hard and I got really wet coming up from psat practice. However, before convocation, it stopped, so it was on. I had new dress shoes which are pretty nice, a pink/purple tie, my suit and the black overcoat mom made. I looked really good, and it felt nice dressing up.
Then on Monday class resumed and it has been going pretty well. My favorite class is US history because the teacher is absolutely fabulous. He is so much like C-fair at Lincoln, but from the Northeast. He is really funny, and knows how to make the class enjoyable, but serious.
Yesterday was the best soccer practice i had in my life. I was not even tired at all and I just ran and ran and played awesomely. The weather was cold and rainy, so perfect to play football. The JV team is really fun. I made one really good friend through it. He is from Egypt and he is a nice guy. I chill with him a lot too.
Tomorrow is a really nice day as class ends at 9:15 for me. I have a bit of homework to catch up on, so I will do that. I will also probably take a nap to catch up on sleep that I have been deprived of. Tomorrow is also our first game so I am really excited; it should be fun. I can't wait. Anyway, I am going to get to some homework.
Love you guys very much and I miss you a lot, Joshua
Sorry i missed the call on Saturday, but we had a school dance and the texting back to Nepal did not really work.
The last few days have been really fun, but tough. It was my first proper weekend here at NMH and i enjoyed it. On Friday, we had this dodgeball game and it was really fun. It was against the freshman and we have so much dorm spirit. It was like going to a soccer game and having all the fans chanting. We ended up demolishing the freshman 4-1 or something like that. The fourth floor embarassed us by losing to them very badly.
The next morning i missed part of soccer practice because I forgot to turn on my alarm clock, so I ended up missing the first half and could only play about another half hour because I had to go to the mall in order to pick up somethings that I needed to buy. The mall was pretty fun, I went with a few of my friends, but ended up shopping alone. It was a nice escape from being around everyone all the time. I bought a computer mouse, dress shoes and a tie on the credit card so if you get any bills that should be it.
Then on Saturday we had a dance and it was so crazy, I mean 600 people in the gym I literally just stared for five minutes feeling so much culture shock and out of place. I mean this was dancing in a very sexual way, and in Lincoln that never happens, so I was a little bit stunned. I decided to hang with the other equally shocked people and I just relaxed and danced and had a really good time.
Sunday it rained so hard and I got really wet coming up from psat practice. However, before convocation, it stopped, so it was on. I had new dress shoes which are pretty nice, a pink/purple tie, my suit and the black overcoat mom made. I looked really good, and it felt nice dressing up.
Then on Monday class resumed and it has been going pretty well. My favorite class is US history because the teacher is absolutely fabulous. He is so much like C-fair at Lincoln, but from the Northeast. He is really funny, and knows how to make the class enjoyable, but serious.
Yesterday was the best soccer practice i had in my life. I was not even tired at all and I just ran and ran and played awesomely. The weather was cold and rainy, so perfect to play football. The JV team is really fun. I made one really good friend through it. He is from Egypt and he is a nice guy. I chill with him a lot too.
Tomorrow is a really nice day as class ends at 9:15 for me. I have a bit of homework to catch up on, so I will do that. I will also probably take a nap to catch up on sleep that I have been deprived of. Tomorrow is also our first game so I am really excited; it should be fun. I can't wait. Anyway, I am going to get to some homework.
Love you guys very much and I miss you a lot, Joshua
A Flower Gazer I Become...
For a momento of my existence
What shall I leave
(I need not leave anything)
Flowers in the spring,
Cuckoos in the summer
And maple leaves
In the autumn.
-- Ryokan
A hundred flowers are in Spring,
in Autumn is the moon,
In Summer is the cool wind.
the snow is in Winter;
If nothing is on the mind to afflict a man
That is the best season for the man.
-- Wu-men-kuan (The Gateless Gate)
Wu-men Hui-K'ai
Making the shades of trees
My dwelling place,
A flower gazer
I naturally become.
-- Emperor Kazan
Tales of Splendor, Futile Dreams
What shall I leave
(I need not leave anything)
Flowers in the spring,
Cuckoos in the summer
And maple leaves
In the autumn.
-- Ryokan
A hundred flowers are in Spring,
in Autumn is the moon,
In Summer is the cool wind.
the snow is in Winter;
If nothing is on the mind to afflict a man
That is the best season for the man.
-- Wu-men-kuan (The Gateless Gate)
Wu-men Hui-K'ai
Making the shades of trees
My dwelling place,
A flower gazer
I naturally become.
-- Emperor Kazan
Tales of Splendor, Futile Dreams
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Leah's Words of Love
oh, the words of the very young and very wise.... xoxo, k.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
dear josh,
i am sending you a painting that i'm going to make on the computer.
i wish you'd come back.
i'm having a lot of fun.
but i'm not having fun when you're not here.
love from leah
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
dear josh,
i am sending you a painting that i'm going to make on the computer.
i wish you'd come back.
i'm having a lot of fun.
but i'm not having fun when you're not here.
love from leah
Friday, August 31, 2007
Ezra's Explanation of Creation
In the beginning there were only two things: Space, tons of it, and The Spirit.
The Spirit is neither living nor dead, neither loving nor hating, neither human nor animal. It is simply, The Spirit. It comes in many different shapes and sizes; sometimes it doesn’t even come as a person -- but rather in the shape of a thought.
To some he is known as God, some people call him inspiration, while others pray to him through nature; but in this story, The Spirit is all of that and more!
The Spirit is earth, water, fire, and air. The Spirit is your mother and father, your brothers and sisters, your friends and enemies. It is yours (and everyone else’s) past, present, and future.
Yet often The Spirit is misunderstood —- life doesn’t happen because of The Spirit, The Spirit happens because of life!
Thus, life started with only Space and The Spirit.
The Spirit was everywhere and everything, and in the vast nothingness of Space, it called together all the smallest bits of something. From the vast corners of the endless Space came everything that was, and at the moment these met, The Spirit came into being at that moment in the shape of destiny.
In the moments that followed (whether it was a second or many years no one knows for at this age time was an irrelevant quantity), the greatest explosion of destiny ever was set loose by The Spirit.
A mass creation of everything we know followed. Suddenly, stars flew into place; solar systems roared into existence, planets blew into shape, and life slowly began its ascent to complete environments of living multi-cellular organisms.
One of these environments is known to us as our home, we call her, Mother Earth.
The Spirit is neither living nor dead, neither loving nor hating, neither human nor animal. It is simply, The Spirit. It comes in many different shapes and sizes; sometimes it doesn’t even come as a person -- but rather in the shape of a thought.
To some he is known as God, some people call him inspiration, while others pray to him through nature; but in this story, The Spirit is all of that and more!
The Spirit is earth, water, fire, and air. The Spirit is your mother and father, your brothers and sisters, your friends and enemies. It is yours (and everyone else’s) past, present, and future.
Yet often The Spirit is misunderstood —- life doesn’t happen because of The Spirit, The Spirit happens because of life!
Thus, life started with only Space and The Spirit.
The Spirit was everywhere and everything, and in the vast nothingness of Space, it called together all the smallest bits of something. From the vast corners of the endless Space came everything that was, and at the moment these met, The Spirit came into being at that moment in the shape of destiny.
In the moments that followed (whether it was a second or many years no one knows for at this age time was an irrelevant quantity), the greatest explosion of destiny ever was set loose by The Spirit.
A mass creation of everything we know followed. Suddenly, stars flew into place; solar systems roared into existence, planets blew into shape, and life slowly began its ascent to complete environments of living multi-cellular organisms.
One of these environments is known to us as our home, we call her, Mother Earth.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
The Great Separation
this evening, we are watching the 'seven up' series made by granada tv & michael apted. they began filming in the sixties young seven year old english children from a wide range of social and economic classes. they then followed the kids from every seven years into their late forties to observe the changes in them, their societies and their values. i've had it for a couple of years and not seen it. this week, it's a good way to provide some needed perspective on our own lives & children...
our first son, joshua shumshere, left our garden home in budhanilkantha and his familiar world in kathmandu on sunday morning to start 11th grade at a respected, progressive boarding school in massachusetts near the vermont border.
this is a deeply felt time. i call it, 'the great separation'. it's full of pain, reflection and knowing.
as ezra, our second son, said after dinner on sunday, 'life will never be the same'. i couldn't even look up from my food knowing that josh wasn't there again and unable to look at everyone else.
if you had asked me before this year, i would have said that i would never have agreed to let my children go away to boarding school. when the boys were small and shakun would speak of her experience at boarding schools in the kathmandu valley, i would say, 'if you send them to boarding school, i will go there to teach.' i was the 'runaway bunny' parent. there was simply no way i wanted my sons away from us as long as i could avoid it.
but, a combination of joshua's rapid maturity, the continuing political/economic disturbances in kathmandu, limited petrol & electricity (they say eleven hours of power cuts per day come march), the fact that he'd spent his full sixteen years in this sequestered world, his evolving dreams, his soccer ambitions, the departure of many of his friends already to colleges in the states and, possibly, the knowledge that he would need to leave this comfortable valley to face the larger world soon enough, so why not start early, a young american coming home to a country, an identity, a world, he's never really known.
yet, in truth, i don't think any of us are quite prepared for this natural division -- this great separation -- b/n parents & children. particularly in comparison with how easily, as youth, we left our parent's adolescent homes. now, over the past weeks, i have come to know how traumatic it can be for us, parents, who have gradually, naturally, almost unconsciously, built a life around our children and families with all of the daily joys, anxieties and togetherness that we almost take for granted as a birthright, nearly forgetting the lengthy and, at times, troubled, path to finding this docile and domesticated security.
as a friend at work said, quoting a nepali expression, "parents pour all of their love on the heads of their children while the children pour their love on the top of a stone.' in truth, our children are not quite that harsh -- as i can only imagine how josh feels leaving us, as well, with his deep sensitivity, affection & kindness.
after all, exhausted as we were at six thirty in the morning by the emotions of the event, we were so proud of him sunday morning, tall, confident full of hope & anticipation as he began his solitary, epic journey across the oceans toward his own future. how mature. how courageous. how solitary.
yet, we wonder how easily it will be for him to settle in to the brave, new world of new england, america and his expectations for himself...
when my mom & sister claudia say goodbye to him tomorrow on the campus of northfield mount hermon at his new dormitory, how will he feel? will the excitement of new horizons, new challenges & new opportunities fill his sails through the immediate squall of separation? will he feel the loss as deeply as we do? or, will the lure of his beloved soccer pitch, new friends and multiple stimuli excite his sixteen year old mind?
there is so much for him in that cloistered, lush, ambitious hill top world.
yet, for us, the loss is profound. sixteen years together and, as ez says, our lives will never be the same. a major passage has swept over us. a profound stage in our lives as individuals, parents and a family crept up on us while we were still indulging ourselves in simpler, almost unrealized, rapidly passing joys. our boy, to our great pride, seemed to become a young man. our apprehensive child matured into an explorer, an adventurer, a discoverer. from a passenger on his parent's ship, he was quietly building his own craft to set sail on his own, away from us, beyond us, ahead of us, leading us forward to unknown seas.
still, shakun & i are fortunate to have ez & ms. leah in this home with us still, at least temporarily. for that reason, i spent the day in grade one today w/ ms. leah prajna rose and her friends. primary school is soothing that way. reassuring, calming with the implicit joy of children.
yet, that 'great separation' looms somewhere on the horizon, over the rainbow and dark clouds. for not even the beauty and peace of our garden home can replace the raw, rich, penetrating reality of parenting and the easy love of caring for a child, your own child.
alas, there is more profound loss ahead for all of us. knowing that in the deep heart's core does nothing to lessen their impact or pain...
for such metamorphoses are the nature of our existence.
bless you, joshua shumshere, you have given us more than we would ever have imagined when we first met.
you have been a gift to your parents. thank-you.
our first son, joshua shumshere, left our garden home in budhanilkantha and his familiar world in kathmandu on sunday morning to start 11th grade at a respected, progressive boarding school in massachusetts near the vermont border.
this is a deeply felt time. i call it, 'the great separation'. it's full of pain, reflection and knowing.
as ezra, our second son, said after dinner on sunday, 'life will never be the same'. i couldn't even look up from my food knowing that josh wasn't there again and unable to look at everyone else.
if you had asked me before this year, i would have said that i would never have agreed to let my children go away to boarding school. when the boys were small and shakun would speak of her experience at boarding schools in the kathmandu valley, i would say, 'if you send them to boarding school, i will go there to teach.' i was the 'runaway bunny' parent. there was simply no way i wanted my sons away from us as long as i could avoid it.
but, a combination of joshua's rapid maturity, the continuing political/economic disturbances in kathmandu, limited petrol & electricity (they say eleven hours of power cuts per day come march), the fact that he'd spent his full sixteen years in this sequestered world, his evolving dreams, his soccer ambitions, the departure of many of his friends already to colleges in the states and, possibly, the knowledge that he would need to leave this comfortable valley to face the larger world soon enough, so why not start early, a young american coming home to a country, an identity, a world, he's never really known.
yet, in truth, i don't think any of us are quite prepared for this natural division -- this great separation -- b/n parents & children. particularly in comparison with how easily, as youth, we left our parent's adolescent homes. now, over the past weeks, i have come to know how traumatic it can be for us, parents, who have gradually, naturally, almost unconsciously, built a life around our children and families with all of the daily joys, anxieties and togetherness that we almost take for granted as a birthright, nearly forgetting the lengthy and, at times, troubled, path to finding this docile and domesticated security.
as a friend at work said, quoting a nepali expression, "parents pour all of their love on the heads of their children while the children pour their love on the top of a stone.' in truth, our children are not quite that harsh -- as i can only imagine how josh feels leaving us, as well, with his deep sensitivity, affection & kindness.
after all, exhausted as we were at six thirty in the morning by the emotions of the event, we were so proud of him sunday morning, tall, confident full of hope & anticipation as he began his solitary, epic journey across the oceans toward his own future. how mature. how courageous. how solitary.
yet, we wonder how easily it will be for him to settle in to the brave, new world of new england, america and his expectations for himself...
when my mom & sister claudia say goodbye to him tomorrow on the campus of northfield mount hermon at his new dormitory, how will he feel? will the excitement of new horizons, new challenges & new opportunities fill his sails through the immediate squall of separation? will he feel the loss as deeply as we do? or, will the lure of his beloved soccer pitch, new friends and multiple stimuli excite his sixteen year old mind?
there is so much for him in that cloistered, lush, ambitious hill top world.
yet, for us, the loss is profound. sixteen years together and, as ez says, our lives will never be the same. a major passage has swept over us. a profound stage in our lives as individuals, parents and a family crept up on us while we were still indulging ourselves in simpler, almost unrealized, rapidly passing joys. our boy, to our great pride, seemed to become a young man. our apprehensive child matured into an explorer, an adventurer, a discoverer. from a passenger on his parent's ship, he was quietly building his own craft to set sail on his own, away from us, beyond us, ahead of us, leading us forward to unknown seas.
still, shakun & i are fortunate to have ez & ms. leah in this home with us still, at least temporarily. for that reason, i spent the day in grade one today w/ ms. leah prajna rose and her friends. primary school is soothing that way. reassuring, calming with the implicit joy of children.
yet, that 'great separation' looms somewhere on the horizon, over the rainbow and dark clouds. for not even the beauty and peace of our garden home can replace the raw, rich, penetrating reality of parenting and the easy love of caring for a child, your own child.
alas, there is more profound loss ahead for all of us. knowing that in the deep heart's core does nothing to lessen their impact or pain...
for such metamorphoses are the nature of our existence.
bless you, joshua shumshere, you have given us more than we would ever have imagined when we first met.
you have been a gift to your parents. thank-you.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Casablanca Verities: A Cynic's Idealizm
Captain Renault: In 1935, you ran guns to Ethiopia. In 1936, you fought in Spain, on the Loyalist side.
Rick: I got well paid for it on both occasions.
Captain Renault: The winning side would have paid you much better...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ugarte: Too bad about those two German couriers, wasn't it?
Rick: They got a lucky break. Yesterday they were just two German clerks. Today they're the "Honored Dead".
Ugarte: You are a very cynical person, Rick, if you'll forgive me for saying so.
Rick: [shortly] I forgive you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rick: Don't you sometimes wonder if it's worth all this? I mean what you're fighting for.
Victor Laszlo: You might as well question why we breathe. If we stop breathing, we'll die. If we stop fighting our enemies, the world will die.
Rick: Well, what of it? It'll be out of its misery.
Victor Laszlo: You know how you sound, Mr. Blaine? Like a man who's trying to convince himself of something he doesn't believe in his heart.
Rick: I got well paid for it on both occasions.
Captain Renault: The winning side would have paid you much better...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ugarte: Too bad about those two German couriers, wasn't it?
Rick: They got a lucky break. Yesterday they were just two German clerks. Today they're the "Honored Dead".
Ugarte: You are a very cynical person, Rick, if you'll forgive me for saying so.
Rick: [shortly] I forgive you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rick: Don't you sometimes wonder if it's worth all this? I mean what you're fighting for.
Victor Laszlo: You might as well question why we breathe. If we stop breathing, we'll die. If we stop fighting our enemies, the world will die.
Rick: Well, what of it? It'll be out of its misery.
Victor Laszlo: You know how you sound, Mr. Blaine? Like a man who's trying to convince himself of something he doesn't believe in his heart.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Ma Joad on Suffering
'And Ma went on,
"They's a time of change, an' when that comes, dyin' is a piece of all dyin', and bearin' is a piece of all bearin', an' bearin' and dyin' is two pieces of the same thing.
"An' then things ain't lonely any more. An' then a hurt don't hurt so bad, 'cause it ain't a lonely hurt no more, Rosaharn.
"I wisht I could tell you so you'd know, but I can't."
And her voice was so soft, so full of love, that tears crowded into Rose of Sharon's eyes, and flowed over her eyes and blinded her.'
John Steinbeck
"The Grapes of Wrath"
"They's a time of change, an' when that comes, dyin' is a piece of all dyin', and bearin' is a piece of all bearin', an' bearin' and dyin' is two pieces of the same thing.
"An' then things ain't lonely any more. An' then a hurt don't hurt so bad, 'cause it ain't a lonely hurt no more, Rosaharn.
"I wisht I could tell you so you'd know, but I can't."
And her voice was so soft, so full of love, that tears crowded into Rose of Sharon's eyes, and flowed over her eyes and blinded her.'
John Steinbeck
"The Grapes of Wrath"
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Another Cyclical Saturday Up On the roof at Home with Mom Nature
A Saturday afternoon at home w/ Josh downstairs finishing his Eagle Scout stuff, Anita cleaning inside somewhere, Shakun & Leah off to Fatima's for their massages, Ez at Phora to play soccer or basketball and me, the Dad, taking a few hours of relaxation upstairs after cleaning the overgrown ivy and a summer's debris along the rooftop molded gutters.
When Ez came home from Lyle's about 11 am and found me up above the living room, wrestling and tearing the slender, elastic lines of ivy that had overwhelmed the rooftop defenses, he chuckled and said, "you're still on the roof!"
As I had been about 8 pm last night, when the electricity was out for a couple of hours, lying on the cotton pillows on the wooden bench in the open loggia toward the backside of the living room roof.
Ez'd called, "Dad, where are you?" When I answered, he asked, "Do you have 20 or 50 rupees?" "No," I responded, "I'm up here in my boxers; the money's on the desk in front of the computer."
"Ok, I'm going down to Budhanilkantha w/ Lyle to get some momos for dinner. Then, we're going to Lyle's house."
So, a day later, Ez was amused to find his occasionally misplaced Dad still up on the roof, where he'd left him 15 hours earlier...
But, when you have such a plethora of flat roofs with verdant, rugged hillsides all around & the wide open Kathmandu valley below, lights twinkling in the darkness, or billowy day-time clouds on the horizon, well, methinks, that's there's hardly a better place to contemplate the wonder of it all while continuing one's perpetual struggle with the fierce, lush, semi-tropical invasion of monsoon foliage that seeks to swarm the ramparts of our precious homes, drain pipes and existence.
Nature will win, of course, in the Prime Mover's final, epic teleological, ontological & metaphysical cinemagraphic end -- but that's a long way off yet from today's Saturday, and the day to day struggle is often full of joy while Ms. Bountiful Naturette is agreeable enough to temporarily bend her ineluctable florid ambition to our thoughts and desires in creating a bit of horiticultural beauty around us.
After all, without Mother Earth's eagerness to keep spreading her tendrils, leaves, seeds & roots, we'd be a lonely race of lonely people in a very barren world, indeed.
Now, back to the barricades!
But, first, where did I put my pruning scissors?
When Ez came home from Lyle's about 11 am and found me up above the living room, wrestling and tearing the slender, elastic lines of ivy that had overwhelmed the rooftop defenses, he chuckled and said, "you're still on the roof!"
As I had been about 8 pm last night, when the electricity was out for a couple of hours, lying on the cotton pillows on the wooden bench in the open loggia toward the backside of the living room roof.
Ez'd called, "Dad, where are you?" When I answered, he asked, "Do you have 20 or 50 rupees?" "No," I responded, "I'm up here in my boxers; the money's on the desk in front of the computer."
"Ok, I'm going down to Budhanilkantha w/ Lyle to get some momos for dinner. Then, we're going to Lyle's house."
So, a day later, Ez was amused to find his occasionally misplaced Dad still up on the roof, where he'd left him 15 hours earlier...
But, when you have such a plethora of flat roofs with verdant, rugged hillsides all around & the wide open Kathmandu valley below, lights twinkling in the darkness, or billowy day-time clouds on the horizon, well, methinks, that's there's hardly a better place to contemplate the wonder of it all while continuing one's perpetual struggle with the fierce, lush, semi-tropical invasion of monsoon foliage that seeks to swarm the ramparts of our precious homes, drain pipes and existence.
Nature will win, of course, in the Prime Mover's final, epic teleological, ontological & metaphysical cinemagraphic end -- but that's a long way off yet from today's Saturday, and the day to day struggle is often full of joy while Ms. Bountiful Naturette is agreeable enough to temporarily bend her ineluctable florid ambition to our thoughts and desires in creating a bit of horiticultural beauty around us.
After all, without Mother Earth's eagerness to keep spreading her tendrils, leaves, seeds & roots, we'd be a lonely race of lonely people in a very barren world, indeed.
Now, back to the barricades!
But, first, where did I put my pruning scissors?
Friday, August 10, 2007
A Magical Link...
I am now convinced that... a magical link exists between man and bamboo.
Whether he is a gardner, a craftsman, a painter, a poet, a philosopher or all of these things, the sight, touch, shade and rustling of bamboo calms, inspires and enriches him.
Certain civilizations have known it for thousands of years. In our western countries, we are just beginning to discover [this] now...
Yves Crouzet
Founder, La Bambouserie
Whether he is a gardner, a craftsman, a painter, a poet, a philosopher or all of these things, the sight, touch, shade and rustling of bamboo calms, inspires and enriches him.
Certain civilizations have known it for thousands of years. In our western countries, we are just beginning to discover [this] now...
Yves Crouzet
Founder, La Bambouserie
Monday, August 6, 2007
Mysticism 101 w/ Ms. Leah Rose
"Daddy, you know that everything comes from the world for us. I know that. Even everything in the garden, the birds, the rocks and the flowers all come from the world for us.
Even your big bamboo tusa. They all come from the world for us.
You know where it all comes from, Daddy? The sun! I learned that. Everything comes from the sun -- even the moon, the grass and the clouds. They all come from the sun. I know that.
All the things we like come from the world for us. Everything! We don't make anything. No one in the family does. Not Mommy or Josh or Ezra or even you. Not even Lapsi or Gumbi (our dogs) make the world. No one does.
Only the sun makes everything. Even the Earth comes from the sun. I've seen it! Honest."
Leah opens her eyes wide and shakes her head knowingly at me as she sits on my lap in the big, white, overstuffed chair in the living room as I'm trying to finish the last pages of Harry Potter.
"You know it's true. Everything comes from the world for us. Really it does!"
Even your big bamboo tusa. They all come from the world for us.
You know where it all comes from, Daddy? The sun! I learned that. Everything comes from the sun -- even the moon, the grass and the clouds. They all come from the sun. I know that.
All the things we like come from the world for us. Everything! We don't make anything. No one in the family does. Not Mommy or Josh or Ezra or even you. Not even Lapsi or Gumbi (our dogs) make the world. No one does.
Only the sun makes everything. Even the Earth comes from the sun. I've seen it! Honest."
Leah opens her eyes wide and shakes her head knowingly at me as she sits on my lap in the big, white, overstuffed chair in the living room as I'm trying to finish the last pages of Harry Potter.
"You know it's true. Everything comes from the world for us. Really it does!"
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Reflections w/ A Distant Friend on Time Alone
nice to hear from you! amazing how a bit of open space in our lives can do to raise our momentary anxieties while permitting us, at the same time, the opportunity to reflect upon the normal limits and perceptions we allow ourselves... hmmmm....
yes, i know the feeling when the office isn't beckoning, the family isn't nearby and the world seems both more malleable and uncaring. it's amazing how comforting it can be to have a title, office, emails and kids to keep us in line, fulfilled while allowing the heavy weight of time & expectation to dissipate in exhaustion and
achievement. good stuff while it's there!
but, the spaces between the notes, the breaths b/n the action and the moments to reflect amid the chaos can be equally as valuable for our hyper-modern lives. although, questions are not always as comforting as answers... as we know... but with a certain equanimity (that may come from age as much as anything higher form
of intelligence or wisdom), it's good to pause, whether at the kitchen table, digging in the garden mud or standing thoughtfullly on a friendly street corner.
major changes, i guess, provide some of these opportunities.
as you know, i went through a fair share of this reflection & observation of my life & experience when my save the children world in nepal suddenly foreclosed on me last summer. then, i've been able to get more perspective while sitting here in the national human rights commission during the week gazing into the 19th C. rana overgrown courtyard. not to mention, meandering in our flourishing botanical garden on the w/ends or while occasionally writing on this 'bambuddhism in nepal' blog to record my own personal thoughts & meditations.
it's not that i've come up w/ any major theoreitcal 'breakthroughs' or profound insights into the human condition. most of that, as we know, has already been
expressed by our poets. philosophers & theologians over the ages. but, as we equally understand, each of us needs to explore and find these natural & self-evident truths for ourselves as we meander our limited years on the world stage, through work, friendship, marriage and parenting. for each identity/role/mask offers innumberable opportunities to observe, reflect and grow. (unfortunately, of course, we're usually too busy to notice...)
to start, how about a journal where you can write to yourself. it's a document for the ages, for your children &, someday, grandchildren (g-d forbid!!) where you describe to them your feelings, thoughts & experiences as you make your way through the maze of life that lies ahead for them, as well. i did that for a few years and a few books, and always smile when i think of josh or ez or leah reading them some distant day when i may no longer be here...
then, there's literature, harry potter, even! i've gone through all the young wizard's volumes this summer and have loved the fabulous story & ms. rowyling's imagination -- particularly when she began book three and four as her writing & complexity of the characters & story began to move to more fantastic, yet enchanting, realms.
or, is there a book you've been wanting to read, music you wanted to download, a park you wanted to visit or a friend you wanted to see or an afternoon movie you wanted to see or merely an email you wanted to write? these modest touches of our lives can often educe more emotion or attention than the larger tasks we have often set for ourselves. the pointallists and impressionists taught us how much a single stroke of their brushes can do to educe feeling from our deepest, submerged longing.
there are, after all, so many small things and moments that embellish life yet which we often neglect b/c our work & family responsibilities overwhelm us.
these days, i sometimes look back at my 25 years w/ save the children in nepal and wonder what appears in retrospect as MOST important for me. i ask myself how all of those days and nights disappeared & dissolved in the mists of monsoons past, so that i cannot easily perceive the differences, much less the accomplishments. it's a little frightening, no?
so those memories of people or events that do stand out over the years become even more important as i realize that when i stepped out of my norms or routines, particularly to value a specific friend or child or place, i remember those days or moments with most affection, and tender loss...
is there a lesson here?
yes, i know the feeling when the office isn't beckoning, the family isn't nearby and the world seems both more malleable and uncaring. it's amazing how comforting it can be to have a title, office, emails and kids to keep us in line, fulfilled while allowing the heavy weight of time & expectation to dissipate in exhaustion and
achievement. good stuff while it's there!
but, the spaces between the notes, the breaths b/n the action and the moments to reflect amid the chaos can be equally as valuable for our hyper-modern lives. although, questions are not always as comforting as answers... as we know... but with a certain equanimity (that may come from age as much as anything higher form
of intelligence or wisdom), it's good to pause, whether at the kitchen table, digging in the garden mud or standing thoughtfullly on a friendly street corner.
major changes, i guess, provide some of these opportunities.
as you know, i went through a fair share of this reflection & observation of my life & experience when my save the children world in nepal suddenly foreclosed on me last summer. then, i've been able to get more perspective while sitting here in the national human rights commission during the week gazing into the 19th C. rana overgrown courtyard. not to mention, meandering in our flourishing botanical garden on the w/ends or while occasionally writing on this 'bambuddhism in nepal' blog to record my own personal thoughts & meditations.
it's not that i've come up w/ any major theoreitcal 'breakthroughs' or profound insights into the human condition. most of that, as we know, has already been
expressed by our poets. philosophers & theologians over the ages. but, as we equally understand, each of us needs to explore and find these natural & self-evident truths for ourselves as we meander our limited years on the world stage, through work, friendship, marriage and parenting. for each identity/role/mask offers innumberable opportunities to observe, reflect and grow. (unfortunately, of course, we're usually too busy to notice...)
to start, how about a journal where you can write to yourself. it's a document for the ages, for your children &, someday, grandchildren (g-d forbid!!) where you describe to them your feelings, thoughts & experiences as you make your way through the maze of life that lies ahead for them, as well. i did that for a few years and a few books, and always smile when i think of josh or ez or leah reading them some distant day when i may no longer be here...
then, there's literature, harry potter, even! i've gone through all the young wizard's volumes this summer and have loved the fabulous story & ms. rowyling's imagination -- particularly when she began book three and four as her writing & complexity of the characters & story began to move to more fantastic, yet enchanting, realms.
or, is there a book you've been wanting to read, music you wanted to download, a park you wanted to visit or a friend you wanted to see or an afternoon movie you wanted to see or merely an email you wanted to write? these modest touches of our lives can often educe more emotion or attention than the larger tasks we have often set for ourselves. the pointallists and impressionists taught us how much a single stroke of their brushes can do to educe feeling from our deepest, submerged longing.
there are, after all, so many small things and moments that embellish life yet which we often neglect b/c our work & family responsibilities overwhelm us.
these days, i sometimes look back at my 25 years w/ save the children in nepal and wonder what appears in retrospect as MOST important for me. i ask myself how all of those days and nights disappeared & dissolved in the mists of monsoons past, so that i cannot easily perceive the differences, much less the accomplishments. it's a little frightening, no?
so those memories of people or events that do stand out over the years become even more important as i realize that when i stepped out of my norms or routines, particularly to value a specific friend or child or place, i remember those days or moments with most affection, and tender loss...
is there a lesson here?
Monday, July 30, 2007
The Book (of the Immanence) of the Way
The Tao never does anything,
yet through it all things are done.
If powerful men and women
could remain centered in the Tao,
the whole world would be transformed
by iself, in its natural rhythms.
People would be content
with their simple, everyday lives,
in harmony, and free of desire.
When there is no desire,
all things are at peace.
Tao Te Ching
by Lao-tzu
(trans. Stephen Mitchell)
yet through it all things are done.
If powerful men and women
could remain centered in the Tao,
the whole world would be transformed
by iself, in its natural rhythms.
People would be content
with their simple, everyday lives,
in harmony, and free of desire.
When there is no desire,
all things are at peace.
Tao Te Ching
by Lao-tzu
(trans. Stephen Mitchell)
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Fruit Trees on a Monsoon Afternoon
ouch!!
i just cut my thumb wickedly out in the garden, where i've been working for hours. pulled some grass to clear the area around a purplish, mountainous borinda bamboo that a friend of nick dawson's brought us from taplejung district and some sliver of it went through my thumb & out again. ow! it was bleeding a lot before, but it's ok now. hurts, though...
it's about 6:30 pm on a saturday. my first day staying home in our compound in budhanilkantha all day since we came back to kathmandu ten days ago from the states. it's been a lovely day, fresh this morning, then drizzling & rainy all afternoon. quite overcast actually, with billowly clouds on the horizon against the southern hills behind koppan monastery. now that i'm inside, i can watch the clouds ('both sides now') while typing upstairs in out computer/tv room (for those of you who've been here...). as you can imagine, it's very, very lush during july in the himalaya. the monsoon.
there's also a peaceful view north of the forested, 7,000' ridge on shivapuri from where i'm sitting. a cluster of houses a thousand feet above us. my clothes are still damp and the temperature is dropping. yet, listen: the birds are giving their final chirps of the day -- goodbye day -- before darkness settles in...
just an hour ago, our little rivulet had a foot or more of water pouring down with the gutteral, gurgling sound of a mountain creek overflowing. i'm surprised the fish in the ponds are smart enough not to be washed away. while the duck floats contentedly paddling against the current...
like f. scott fitzgerald's famous image of our restless american souls at the end of 'gatsby'.. trying to capture the past that eludes us, always...
well, it's summer and south asian wet is always impressive, so there's tons of stuff growing, multiplying & creeping everywhere... leah doesn't even want to go in the garden because she knows that there are leeches back there. i usually end up sufering one bite a visit, no matter how many hours i'm out & about -- although sometimes i'm lucky & see the little black creature before it enjoys a liquid meal at my expense.
this afternoon i saw a globular hornet's nest hidden on the fence in the climbing roses along the road in the back. unexpected & strange, no doubt, but actually, quite lovely decorated with whirling brown, white and tan colors like europa or io or one of the oddly resplendent distant moons of jupiter. anita says when it gets much larger, the nest will have honey & we can smoke out the hornets. well, they can... i think i'll run for cover (with ms. leah) if someone wants to challenge a wasp's nest, even for homemade honey. no winnie-the-pooh me!
still, there's nothing like nature to keep the mind occupied, rested & observant. the colors and patterns. colors & patterns. no wonder hours slip away when i'm out back meandering, trimming, cleaning, cutting, carrying, standing or just staring.
as dame rebecca west said about the balkans before the second world war, wherever you found water moving, you'd find an old turkish man standing. i think i'm slowly becoming that old turkish man in the mountainous exurbs of kathmandu...
as the wise old penguins in the cartoon 'madagascar' say, 'just smile and wave; smile and wave'...
actually, since coming back, the garden's offered a few treats as we've had the pleasure of eating home grown corn on the cob, iceberg lettuce and sweet & sour licchis. the corn & lettuce, of couse, is seasonal, while most of our fruit trees were planted when we made the back gardens over the past 2-3 years; but everything comes up quickly here. although, coming to think of it, the fruiting licchi tree must be 5 years or so, since it's much bigger than the other licchi trees & it's the only feeding us now.
early the other morning when i was strolling out back before work, i counted about 20 orange, lemon & grapefruit trees . it'll be a literal orchard in a few years, if they stay healthy. there's one absolutely adorable young grafted orange sapling (only three feet high!) ladden with about 70 green fist-size oranges and another with nine fruits that look more like dark green xmas ornaments hanging above our pond.
then, there's leah's favorite: two cute reddish mangos on a three foot grafted sapling from siraha district down in the terai (near the indian border). the save staff brought it up to me a few years ago with the licchi saplings.
plus, there are scores of purplish guavas starting to grow from flowers, they're small, marble-size, but in a month or two will get as big as peaches. oh, yes, we've got some peach trees, too, but these are small nepali ones -- not the lush greek ones of our dreams. then, the little 'muntalas' are starting to pop up all over our one kumqat tree. there must be hundreds; but we'll have to wait a few months to enjoy them.
but the biggest surprise on coming back after five weeks away, however, are two chinese thorn bamboo shoots that must have pushed out of mother earth right before we returned. these 'babies' pushed out of the ground measuring 10" in circumference. wow! i'm not sure how tall they'll get, but i surely wasn't expecting such massive 'tusa' (as the nepalis say) from this bamboo. shakun found it, i believe, in a nursery when we were in phuket some four or five years ago. in the early years, you can tell the bamboo's age b/c each year the shoots get a bit larger. this chinese thorn bamboo (there are sharp thorns on the branches) has about four generations of shoots from the 2" circumference to the 3" circumference to the 5" circumference, then this 'mother of all circumferences.
of course, since it's monsoon, there's alot of new priapic bamboo shoots stretching skyward. the early varieties did their shooting in april/may, befoe we left, with the early rains -- but the later bamboo are starting their push about now.
we've a beautiful dendracalamus minor that i brought from a nursery near mom&dad's home in florida a few years ago that has seven exquisite shoots on the other side of the tea house pond. the new shoots have a dreamy, gray-green hue with faint yellow stripes on the stalks. the crown, when coming up out of the soil, has feathery, dark four inch leaves above the culm with short black hairs. they're quite serene & beautiful, as you can imagine.
like so much of life when young, tender, fresh & innocent...
worth standing and watching, too, just like the world-weary, turbaned turkish men many decades ago in the distant mountains of the balkans...
or berkshires or sierras or adirondacks or pyreenes or pocanos or olympias or rockies or jura or just in our own backyards...
good-bye, day!
i just cut my thumb wickedly out in the garden, where i've been working for hours. pulled some grass to clear the area around a purplish, mountainous borinda bamboo that a friend of nick dawson's brought us from taplejung district and some sliver of it went through my thumb & out again. ow! it was bleeding a lot before, but it's ok now. hurts, though...
it's about 6:30 pm on a saturday. my first day staying home in our compound in budhanilkantha all day since we came back to kathmandu ten days ago from the states. it's been a lovely day, fresh this morning, then drizzling & rainy all afternoon. quite overcast actually, with billowly clouds on the horizon against the southern hills behind koppan monastery. now that i'm inside, i can watch the clouds ('both sides now') while typing upstairs in out computer/tv room (for those of you who've been here...). as you can imagine, it's very, very lush during july in the himalaya. the monsoon.
there's also a peaceful view north of the forested, 7,000' ridge on shivapuri from where i'm sitting. a cluster of houses a thousand feet above us. my clothes are still damp and the temperature is dropping. yet, listen: the birds are giving their final chirps of the day -- goodbye day -- before darkness settles in...
just an hour ago, our little rivulet had a foot or more of water pouring down with the gutteral, gurgling sound of a mountain creek overflowing. i'm surprised the fish in the ponds are smart enough not to be washed away. while the duck floats contentedly paddling against the current...
like f. scott fitzgerald's famous image of our restless american souls at the end of 'gatsby'.. trying to capture the past that eludes us, always...
well, it's summer and south asian wet is always impressive, so there's tons of stuff growing, multiplying & creeping everywhere... leah doesn't even want to go in the garden because she knows that there are leeches back there. i usually end up sufering one bite a visit, no matter how many hours i'm out & about -- although sometimes i'm lucky & see the little black creature before it enjoys a liquid meal at my expense.
this afternoon i saw a globular hornet's nest hidden on the fence in the climbing roses along the road in the back. unexpected & strange, no doubt, but actually, quite lovely decorated with whirling brown, white and tan colors like europa or io or one of the oddly resplendent distant moons of jupiter. anita says when it gets much larger, the nest will have honey & we can smoke out the hornets. well, they can... i think i'll run for cover (with ms. leah) if someone wants to challenge a wasp's nest, even for homemade honey. no winnie-the-pooh me!
still, there's nothing like nature to keep the mind occupied, rested & observant. the colors and patterns. colors & patterns. no wonder hours slip away when i'm out back meandering, trimming, cleaning, cutting, carrying, standing or just staring.
as dame rebecca west said about the balkans before the second world war, wherever you found water moving, you'd find an old turkish man standing. i think i'm slowly becoming that old turkish man in the mountainous exurbs of kathmandu...
as the wise old penguins in the cartoon 'madagascar' say, 'just smile and wave; smile and wave'...
actually, since coming back, the garden's offered a few treats as we've had the pleasure of eating home grown corn on the cob, iceberg lettuce and sweet & sour licchis. the corn & lettuce, of couse, is seasonal, while most of our fruit trees were planted when we made the back gardens over the past 2-3 years; but everything comes up quickly here. although, coming to think of it, the fruiting licchi tree must be 5 years or so, since it's much bigger than the other licchi trees & it's the only feeding us now.
early the other morning when i was strolling out back before work, i counted about 20 orange, lemon & grapefruit trees . it'll be a literal orchard in a few years, if they stay healthy. there's one absolutely adorable young grafted orange sapling (only three feet high!) ladden with about 70 green fist-size oranges and another with nine fruits that look more like dark green xmas ornaments hanging above our pond.
then, there's leah's favorite: two cute reddish mangos on a three foot grafted sapling from siraha district down in the terai (near the indian border). the save staff brought it up to me a few years ago with the licchi saplings.
plus, there are scores of purplish guavas starting to grow from flowers, they're small, marble-size, but in a month or two will get as big as peaches. oh, yes, we've got some peach trees, too, but these are small nepali ones -- not the lush greek ones of our dreams. then, the little 'muntalas' are starting to pop up all over our one kumqat tree. there must be hundreds; but we'll have to wait a few months to enjoy them.
but the biggest surprise on coming back after five weeks away, however, are two chinese thorn bamboo shoots that must have pushed out of mother earth right before we returned. these 'babies' pushed out of the ground measuring 10" in circumference. wow! i'm not sure how tall they'll get, but i surely wasn't expecting such massive 'tusa' (as the nepalis say) from this bamboo. shakun found it, i believe, in a nursery when we were in phuket some four or five years ago. in the early years, you can tell the bamboo's age b/c each year the shoots get a bit larger. this chinese thorn bamboo (there are sharp thorns on the branches) has about four generations of shoots from the 2" circumference to the 3" circumference to the 5" circumference, then this 'mother of all circumferences.
of course, since it's monsoon, there's alot of new priapic bamboo shoots stretching skyward. the early varieties did their shooting in april/may, befoe we left, with the early rains -- but the later bamboo are starting their push about now.
we've a beautiful dendracalamus minor that i brought from a nursery near mom&dad's home in florida a few years ago that has seven exquisite shoots on the other side of the tea house pond. the new shoots have a dreamy, gray-green hue with faint yellow stripes on the stalks. the crown, when coming up out of the soil, has feathery, dark four inch leaves above the culm with short black hairs. they're quite serene & beautiful, as you can imagine.
like so much of life when young, tender, fresh & innocent...
worth standing and watching, too, just like the world-weary, turbaned turkish men many decades ago in the distant mountains of the balkans...
or berkshires or sierras or adirondacks or pyreenes or pocanos or olympias or rockies or jura or just in our own backyards...
good-bye, day!
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Changes in Latitudes Changes in Attitudes
Well, the world's flipped again...
After a day and a half long day's journey through the night (and a day...), we finally reached Kathmandu and hastened to our hillside retreat in Budhanilkantha -- above the congestion and bustle of the burgeoning city.
Yet, the global travel has become second-hand, even for six year old Ms. Leah Rose. We know, intuitively, before we start that the next two days are dedicated to simply moving our physical existence (usually including a few seriously overweight bags...) from one GPS coordinates to another one some 8-10,000 miles away. Usually this occurs, without any sense of astonishment or wonder, at 30+ thousand feet in the atmosphere, then in between take-offs & landings sitting patiently in a wide-range of airport/shopping complexes.
That, actually, is the easy part.
What is more complex and less discernable are the changes in attitudes that accompany these changes in latitudes (to quote the sage/song writer Jimmy Buffet).
These are the nuances of kulture, identity and values that underpin the differences among us around the world. The differences in dress, language, architecture et al are, of course, more easily visible when the plane touches down in NYC, Amsterdam (which Leah refers to as 'Hamster-dam'), Abu Dhabi or Kathmandu. But, the underlying cultural reference points are more subtle (sometimes) and elusive.
These are the categories by which we perceive each other, what we chose to observe (when we are thoughtfully observing...), the distinct intonations or inflections of shared language, and the social, cultural or religious values we intrinsicly prefer or elevate when we communicate (by signs, words, impressions or objects).
In these categories of human empathy or misunderstanding, lie some of the most challenging and curious aspects of this bi-continental, global life some of us have chosen to lead.
Exactly where it leads is, of course, another form of question... ;-)
After a day and a half long day's journey through the night (and a day...), we finally reached Kathmandu and hastened to our hillside retreat in Budhanilkantha -- above the congestion and bustle of the burgeoning city.
Yet, the global travel has become second-hand, even for six year old Ms. Leah Rose. We know, intuitively, before we start that the next two days are dedicated to simply moving our physical existence (usually including a few seriously overweight bags...) from one GPS coordinates to another one some 8-10,000 miles away. Usually this occurs, without any sense of astonishment or wonder, at 30+ thousand feet in the atmosphere, then in between take-offs & landings sitting patiently in a wide-range of airport/shopping complexes.
That, actually, is the easy part.
What is more complex and less discernable are the changes in attitudes that accompany these changes in latitudes (to quote the sage/song writer Jimmy Buffet).
These are the nuances of kulture, identity and values that underpin the differences among us around the world. The differences in dress, language, architecture et al are, of course, more easily visible when the plane touches down in NYC, Amsterdam (which Leah refers to as 'Hamster-dam'), Abu Dhabi or Kathmandu. But, the underlying cultural reference points are more subtle (sometimes) and elusive.
These are the categories by which we perceive each other, what we chose to observe (when we are thoughtfully observing...), the distinct intonations or inflections of shared language, and the social, cultural or religious values we intrinsicly prefer or elevate when we communicate (by signs, words, impressions or objects).
In these categories of human empathy or misunderstanding, lie some of the most challenging and curious aspects of this bi-continental, global life some of us have chosen to lead.
Exactly where it leads is, of course, another form of question... ;-)
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
The First Lesson
As You Float
As you float now, where I held you
and let go, remember when fear
cramps your heart what I told
you:
lie gently and wide to the
light-year
stars, lie back, and the sea will
hold you.
Philip Booth, 1926-2007
As you float now, where I held you
and let go, remember when fear
cramps your heart what I told
you:
lie gently and wide to the
light-year
stars, lie back, and the sea will
hold you.
Philip Booth, 1926-2007
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)