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... ;-)

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!

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

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!

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.

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! ;-)

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.