Ez Writing to the Future Ezra on Family Life after Watching "The Namesake" as Josh is About to Leave for NMH at the End of the Summer 2007

To the Hill

Ezra Leslie

July 2007

                        The credits rolled down the screen listing the customary names and positions of the hundreds, if not thousands, of people involved in making the film -- it struck Ezra that ‘credits’ were the perfect visage for an unassuming, simple observance that in reality laid the framework for a calculated, complex ceremony whose purpose was to make the viewer feel splendidly insignificant and incompetent. It was getting late and his homework wasn’t finished. As it was unfinished homework made him feel incompetent (and that was on regular days) the movie only added to his sudden guilty pang of grand incompetence. He sprang up from the old Thai triangular pillow he had been lying on, compelled by his sudden pang of guilt. His parents, his brother, and his baby sister (all of whom had been watching the movie) were still hypnotically glued to the credits -- reflecting on the movie, their musings, the day, thingsthatbabiesthinkabout, dinner (possibly), lunch (maybe), breakfast (probably not).

            The movie’s end panicked him a little; it reminded him of his unfinished work, but now that he had walked over to the computer, calculated the work that needed to be done (and the time he had to get it done), and began composing an email to his ‘future-self’ he felt much more composed. Outside he could hear the light patter of rain falling on the house; these light drizzles were the pebbles that signaled the avalanche of monsoon that engulfed the Himalayan Kingdom every summer. Things would never the same. He peered over the computer and saw that the rest of his family had finally broken free from the hypnotic effects of rolling credits; his father, Keith, his mother, Shakun, and his baby sister, Leah, were now dancing to the Indian-themed music -- he couldn’t help smiling. He glanced over to his (also smiling) brother, Joshua, they caught each others eye, and smiled uncontrollably.

            He was in control now. The work would get done. In fact, now that he thought about it, he had made the right choice to watch the movie with the family. It was what his father wanted, with his brother, Joshua, preparing to go to boarding school in a couple of months, at this point every moment spent together was treasured by his parents (still dancing). He began his email:

Hey future Ez,

just try not to think about how dad was dancing around in the TV room yesterday...haha anyways i’m tired i’ve got to do some stuff so i’m gonna bounce...but just remember you’re probably gonna have some work to do cuz i didn’t do it okay? anyways just do what i don’t...

catch you on the flipsyde...

            He smiled at the thought of his future-self and decided, as a memento to the film, to sign the email: Googol Ganguly. Then he clicked ‘Send,’ said goodnight to Mum, Dad, Josher, and Leah Loo, stumbled down to his bedroom, pulled out his unfinished work, and, with the dying image of his parents and little sister dancing to movie credits, fell fast asleep.

            The book was better, Jhumpa Lahiri’s The Namesake, but it was a wonderful movie nonetheless. The movie had struck close to home tonight, Keith Leslie thought, although his own life had been the story in reverse. He had come from the West (the Land of the Free, Big Stick Democracy, Hamburgers, Home of the Brave) to explore the east (deep seated history, spicy food, governments steeped in monarchy). However, the protagonist, Gogol Ganguly, displayed the same confused idealism and youthfulness that had propelled him to his life here on this six-thousand foot ridge overlooking the Kathmandu Valley. It had given him this life with his wonderful wife (now putting the youngest to bed), his three awe-inspiring children, an amazing home, and of course the garden; reminding him that it was the perfect time to revel in the beauty of the garden. He slipped quietly downstairs and glanced into Ezra’s room -- he had fallen asleep books and papers scattered around him, one was resting lightly on his chin. Keith gently pulled it off, laid it beside him, turned off the lights and headed for the backdoor.

            The door was already locked and in the darkness he fumbled with the latch locks. Finally, he was rewarded by the distinct “kathunk!” of freedom. He pulled on the door handle, pushed the gauze screen wide open, and took a deep breath as he escaped into the peaceful serenity and bounty of nature. The light drizzle blanketed him in a soft cooling rain when the warm glow of lights turned on revealing the exquisitely fragile and beautiful garden, a delicate expanse of green existence.

            Shekhar, the Nepali gardener/guard who had been outside, heard the screen door opening, turned on the lights, and came over, “Namaste, Sir.” It was always a pleasure to walk in the garden with Sahib, together they had helped nurture and build this garden. He had been with the Leslies for over fifteen years now -- he knew that Sahib understood the true beauty of the garden. If everything went ahead as planned though, he would be leaving the Leslies in a few months time to serve manual labor in the Middle East. Although nothing could beat the working conditions here with the Leslies, the Western salary would help earn money -- he wasn’t getting younger.

            Together in mutual silence and respect they walked along the bank of the brook that runs alongside the ten ropanis (acre)  of property that Keith had bought with Shakun twenty years ago. The house, built seven years ago, represented how far he had come since he arrived in this Himalayan Kingdom, a simple Amherst graduate from Upstate New York who left America seeking enlightenment, but never came back. Leah was born into this house, Josh and Ezra had grown from boys into men here, and even he had gone into his fifties in this house.

            Shekhar was now kneeling over the bank, the moonlight shining upon his short and thin, but strong, frame as he peered into the cool, flowing water. “Aunus, Sahib,” he said pointing into the water. Keith walked over and gazed at the ten-inch river crabs digging up the streambed. They both gazed on in wonder at the richness of life that thrived around them. After several minutes of wandering thoughts and gazing at the crabs, Keith glanced up, Shekhar had already walked on ahead. Standing underneath the willow tree that swayed slowly under the patter of rain, amidst the otherwise humid spring night, they both turned towards the wire fence (many years since covered in vines, ivies, and plants) at the sound of leaves crunching.

            A horse had wandered over to the fence from nearby grazing pastures to eat at the other side of the property fence. “We must all leave our own grazing pastures at some point,” Keith mused thinking back on his own travels away from the West, Gogol’s less physical (more emotional) departure from his past, and Joshua’s imminent geographic departure halfway across the world to a boarding school in Northfield, Massachusetts (of all places). At the thought he felt a deep remorse rise up in his throat, feeling the physical and emotional distance that would soon separate him from his son. Knowing his two sons it would probably be Ezra leaving next year. “It is funny,” he thought, “I spend the majority of my adult life worlds away from my own parents, and now I feel the pain of a parent as Josh prepares to spread his wings.” He knew it was for the best though, the type of opportunities lay in wait for his son that students at their International school in Kathmandu could only dream of.

            Shekhar and Keith now had slowly made their way along the fence (they let the horse graze) around the stream, across the pond, and into the front yard. The maple tree they had smuggled over from America ten years ago was thriving. It was a wonder to observe the often arbitrary nature of survival for the plants -- some survived, some didn’t -- this maple was already nearly ten feet tall. He stepped forward, the moonlight suddenly revealing the intricate intertwined gossamer web of a spider spun throughout the limbs of the maple. “Hopefully, the spider is more of a Charlotte than a Shelob”, he thought as he smiled to himself.

            What was this Northfield Mount Hermon? This mystical hill ten thousand miles from Kathmandu, this self-professed educational institution of “the head, the heart, and the hand.” What webs would Joshua spin for himself at Mount Hermon, where would they lead him to? These questions rolled through Keith’s mind like the credits at the end of the film making him feel strangely insignificant and incompetent. There was really no way of knowing what his experience would be like in Massachusetts, but whatever happened Keith knew that few kids had grown up in the cosmopolitan, worldly setting that Kathmandu had offered Josh and Ezra (Leah still had time).

            The rain was beginning to fall in larger and more concentrated flurries now, it would soon be time to go in. It must already be 1 am in the morning, but there was one last stop he would have to make. Shekhar had already gotten there. Just beyond the maple, across the other side of the property, lay the bamboo grove. Keith’s love for bamboo encapsulated his passion for his children -- wonder, awe, and immense pride. No stroll in the garden was complete without contemplating the beauty of at least a couple of the forty some-odd bamboo species on their property. Particularly in the spring, as it was now, they were rewarded by the multi-inch sprouting and growth of bamboo’ tusas’ (shoots) daily. Their powers of growth never ceased to amaze him. Together, Shekhar and Keith, caressingly removed the fallen leaves from the roots of the bamboo unearthing new ‘tusas’ and revealing growing ones.

            Keith sighed looking up at the house, the TV light (forgotten to be turned off) still glowing through the window, “Never again will they be the tusas they once were.”  The rain was pouring now -- it was time to go in, he turned to his companion “Namaste, Shekhar.”  “Namaste, Saab,” Shekhar called out, already disappearing off in search of shelter.

            Inside, the house was quiet -- everybody was asleep and staying put, although not for long. Quietly, Keith closed the screen door closing his garden palace behind him. He tiptoed slowly upstairs where Leah had fallen fast asleep in Shakun’s arms (or the other way around, he never could quite tell). The TV and computer were still on, gently bathing their features in the day’s activities.

            Keith silently turned off the TV and sat down at the computer, peering over the top smiling at his daughter and wife softly dozing in each other’s warm embrace; his smile grew as he saw Ezra’s habitual email to his “future-self” in the Outbox. Slipping on his glasses he prepared an email to his son:

           

        “hey, future once, now past easy ez, what's cooking?  ya missed a splendid stroll in the midnight garden w/ sheks et moi.  great visuals of ten inch crabs digging up the stream bed, a horse out the fence munching on the grass, magnificent gossamer charlotte's webs on the maple tree, the massive tusa coming up in the bamboo groves and the drizzle becoming a slight downpour telling us it was time to turn in.  i know it's no comparison to chemistry or mystic literature... but what's an olde guy to do when he doesn't have classes anymore... just go out and watch the natural world do its amazing thing...  have a lovely morning, son.  love you, you know, your once and future dad."

            Outside, the rain fell unabatedly on the ten inch crabs digging into the river bed, on the horse grazing away from its pastures, on Charlotte spinning her webs, on the ‘tusas’ growing without respite, on Shekhar dreaming in his room, on the young and the old, on the awake and the sleeping, on the staying and the going. 

Notes to a Distant Son

Ezra, just a brief note to say that you are deep in our thoughts, hearts and stomachs as you journey further into your second (and last…) year at Deep Springs College.  It was a gift to have you with us and the family whole again for those two months in Kathmandu after so much time apart these past three years.  

Your gentle, guiding spirit lingers and resides here with us still.

This summer Mom, Leah and I were so fortunate to join you at Deep Springs on your birthday in late June.  We know so much better your reality after seeing you at your self-chosen college, as well as meeting some of your friends on that unique ranch campus, as well as the family who help manage the ranch and the impressive professors who expressed much respect for your moral universe and intellectual curiosity. 

We definitely gained a better insight into the isolated, purposeful world that you will call home for two years.  There’s no doubt that DSC is a unique collegiate experience, exhausting the students physically while challenging them academically.  Maybe it was your high-minded naiveté that carried you there a year ago.  Your Henry David Thoreau alone in the desert dreams.  

Now, with full knowledge of the time-consuming demands required by a self-managed, self-governed isolated college cum ranch and farm, you have returned this autumn to the that western desert with your eyes wide open as to the fortitude and discipline of this rigorous almost 19th C. physical and academic life. 

For us, however temporarily, meandering those wild, raw, limitless California-Nevada borderlands, our visit was a spacious frontier beginning for our month together with you in the US. 

Now, we will always know where you spent those two years when we speak in the future about Deep Springs.  We have all also gained some perspective, and no doubt affection, for that rough, beautiful western American desert landscape, where the hoary, twisted Bristlecone Pines grow for thousands of years at 10,000’ and the herds of cattle gaze in the patches of alfalfa your school has educed from that rough, hardened, desolate soil. 

Yet when we walked amid that landscape and looked close, strolling on the perimeter of the college’s farm land, we could see the life that lives below the fragrant lavender and thistle plants, the petite thrushes darting in the shrubs and wily snakes flitting across the dirt trails.  In the distance beckoned the white patina of salt flats, where the mountain run-off gathers on those dark, rainy winter days in this forbidding mountainous terrain.

The name of the school, too, has a remote resonance… Deep Springs.  

Here, the founder, LL Nunn, knew he was pealing away the layers of earthly comfort when he first envisioned the school in the early 20^th C.  He knew then, as we may have forgotten now, the difference between the urban luxuries of his East Coast life and the harsher demands of America’s formidable West.  There amid the great swath of barren landscape between the snowcapped Sierra and Rockies, more akin to the Pueblo Southwest than the gentle central valleys of California or Colorado, he founded DSC to teach the rigors of the land to young men with ambition and a calling.

Out there, past the primordial salt stalagmites of Mono Lake, past the large irrigated farms below the eastern Sierra, past the highway towns of Bishop and Big Pines, just north of Death Valley, past any cell service or internet connection, turning east over a rough, single lane 8,000’ pass toward Nevada, then down into your east of Eden valley, you and your 25 college friends dig deep within yourselves, as well, to sustain the ranch and farm life others before you established over the past 94 years.  

Deep Springs appears on the horizon, a splash of verdant cultivation amid the desolation, an oasis of human settlement and energy amid nature’s private realm. 

Although we were there for only a couple of days, 72 hours, they will remain a vital visual source of memories for us for years to come.  

The ego mind is well-organized that way...  our personal mind stores, then collates images for recollection, refreshment and understanding in future times.  

In modern-speak, we each have individualized hard drives initiated and registered at birth, like arriving new at an Apple store, or going to the Embassy to register a birth abroad.  We are each provided a freshly cleansed 'iMind', personalized with our new names, birth date and family connections, written into the 'Book of Life' (as the rebbes reverently pronounce at this sacred time of the year...) accessible for decades as a source of joy, observation, reflection and moral tidings.

Thus, in our mind’s eye, Ezi-bezi, even as you have been hurtled, once again, by those amazing gravity defying jet planes so far away from us, from our dank, lush, ever more polluted Kathmandu Valley to your remote, high altitude, burnished Deep Springs Valley, from the Asian Himalaya to the American Sierra, from Nepal to California, you are no longer so far away, no longer somewhere distant and unknown, no longer on a exiled journey where we cannot follow you. 

For now, albeit briefly, we have crossed those geographic barriers with you and shared, momentarily, the beauty and isolation of your temporary abode.

For us, for parents, for those who love, that is almost, nearly, enough… 

The ache remains, the sense of loss, the diminishment of our own fragile and isolated lives, the peculiar parental knowledge that a part of us has escaped, swept away into a new creation, a new creature, of us and yet no longer part of us.   

This is definitely one of life’s great mysteries.  As incomprehensible and yet as wrenchingly true as our sense of the sacred immanence of life, along with the uncertain moral universe that has us gasping for breath in an effort to protect and guide our vulnerable children.

These are the truths that no one, not even the sacred itself, can protect us from in this sublime and yet fragile material world.

So, as you have been whooshed away in the empyrean, up in the clouds, floating on the air pockets that keep us emotionally aloft here on earth, as well, our hearts have gone with you, seek to protect you and, if possible, guide you… even far away from us.

For us, we must remind ourselves that it's a gift when we are together at all.  

We share our family, odd, stiff-necked as we may be, yet one we share with so many friends around the world.  We can't imagine our world w/o you, which is why it means so much to all of us to have you among us, whenever it's possible.  

We do know and appreciate that you and Josh must make your own ways in this world, find your own path, your own friends, loves and relationships while creating a career and profession by which you can contribute to this crazy, fleeting world.  We know that, of course, as you do.  But it still ain't any easier to watch you go through those airport doors and cascade ten thousand miles away.

Appreciate the magnificence of the larger world that we inhabit and are so fortunate to share, East and West, American and Nepali, Buddhist and Jewish, Licchavi Grove and Thamel, Deep Springs and Manhattan, East Coast and West Coast, friends and family, Josh and Leah, brother and sister, mother and father, Grammy and Afu Mua, Man U and Liverpool, Caroline, Karma and Pia, Luke and Sam, Lincoln and NMH, Yosemite and Thak Khola, 'Creation' and 'Ice Age 3', Adele and Dylan...  

The antipodes and neighborhoods that unite us...

Endless... and endlessly absorbing, challenging and gifted...

We are very fortunate, my beloved son to have each other. 

Fortunate that you are in our lives and fortunate to have had this time together this summer past. 

Travel peacefully, safely and carefully.  You are in our thoughts every hour at Deep Springs, protected, we chose to believe, by the g-ds of nature and nuture.

with much love and affection, dear one...

Deep Springs or Bust!

i'm at Deep Springs College, at last!

after nearly a year wondering what this strange new world that ez had uncovered is all about, i arrived here after the himalayan policy research conference in madison on flights to reno via an incredibly (incredibly!!) beautiful drive south along the eastern sierra mountains with poplar groves bursting into gold and the raw ridges dusted with snow stretching toward the great basin of california.

i actually arrived at deep springs that first day about 6 pm, right before dusk. i wanted to get there before the light fizzled and i could see the distant green from miles away as i rose up a narrow wadi from big pine in landscape that wud be fully at home in the judean wilderness or tibetan plateau. at last, a highway sign that said, 'deep springs', to the right as a rough road lead through the alfafa fields to the gateway of one of the most isolated and unique college campuses in the world.

what a joy to get a big hug from ez as he strolled toward me on the open green of the ranch/campus and see him happy as usual here in his brave, isolated new world... a beautiful, intended, intellectual oasis in the desert landscape. a handful of his college friends are here, a couple of other parents, as well, a cat, a dog, two cows... well, you get the picture.

in fact, i got up w/ ez at 4 am (to the alarm clock of a van morrison song in ez' spacious room...) under the stars to go out to milk the two cows (lilith and ruth) and feed their four calfs in the dark. ez is the new cow boy for the winter, so he's learning the tricks of the trade from eamon, a friend from wisconsin. he was already much more practiced than me, as i filled my tin bucket at about half the pace of ez til he finally took over and finished the deed.

in brief, ez seems very comfortable in his skin, as always. he's wickedly busy w/ his academics w/ three courses this term, the required public speaking and composition classes, an optional auto mechanics and his regular jobs.

yet, he seems to swim very easily w/ it all. last night he gave me the synopsis of his course on the history of the Congo which seems to really animate him (Belgan treachery; European colonialism; Congoese corrugption; Mobuto's greed, American hypocrisy and the tragedy for the people). he's equally enthralled w/ Count Tolstoi and War & Peace, plus many of his other writings. intellectually, he seems to bursting out all over! but, he says, as well, that the time required for the academia is more than he wanted, not to mention the infamous SB (student body) which meets every friday for hours and hours and hours in managing their own estate -- as he still came here for some of that thoreau walden isloation and reflection, which he doesn't get enough.

for me, father of the story, it all seems quite good, encouraging and engaging. remarkable, actually. maturing, deeply. unique, absolutely!

ez and i spent our next day taking a four mile walk in bristlecone national forest about 10,000 way up in the white mtns just a few miles north of the deep springs valley. amazing gnarled, ancient trees, the oldest in the world at 5,000 years! great to stroll in that fresh mountain air, with the threat of rain, chatting the whole time while it drizzled a bit and the views down to bishop and the valleys below were amazing! the eastern sierra, so much drier than on the west side facing the ocean. here we're facing nevada and the deserts that stretch out to the rockies. it's a whole different feel of our america, vast, purple mountains majesty as they say, and untamable. beautiful.

then, since time is so tight (and gracious...), we drove to yosemite on monday en route back to reno by tuesday night. the drive along the east side of the sierra was magnificent, both coming and going. so beautiful, open, idyllic, wild and grand. we stopped where my friend, greg in k'du, said there was an exquisite side valley, by convict lake. the seen was so refined and charmed that we walked an hour or two around the lake to the base of the tall mountains, where a bevy of streams came out filling the landscape w/ willows and the clusters of popular trees inflamed w/ golden leaves against the stone mountains as we ambled on the well-made wooden walkway with the fresh, cool waters trundled into the lake.

afterward, we went down to the edge of the vast mono lake with undescribable space, wide open space all around and clouds billowy and white just seemingly sitting in the sky, unmoving and painted there like a raphael landscape...

in the late afternoon the drive through twuolme meadows above the yosemite valley in those fields of granite was another one for the books. i've driven many places in the world, but i will never tire of the approach to yosemite. sans doubt, g-d's gift to the americans and the new world. thank uncle teddy for creating these national parks so that there are not corporate sponsors all over the place. the fact that it only costs $20 still to enter the park is a gift of our federal government and wise, caring souls who appreciate the grandeur of such natural wonders. like a few years ago at crater lake, i'm transformed...

of course, leaving it late, there was no room at the elegant ahwanhee hotel where i wanted to treat ez, so we went to the other end of the spectrum with an unheated tent cabin in curry village. fortunately, we can do either end of the cultural divide and it was fun to be back in one of the most international, cosmpolitian campsites in the world. we sat down for our margaritas and burgers with an english couple, a former policeman who had escorted king birendra when he was on an official visit to england, and two cute, freckled young danish women who were visiting a friend in sf and took a couple days for yosemite while watching another disastrous performance by the yankees in the play-offs.

ironically, earlier we'd been at the same curry campsite and restaurant with the davis clan watching the 1998 world cup, france vs brazil with a racoon in the tree overhead some years before... the circles and cycles of time...

josh still doesn't know ez is coming east, i think. it will be a lovely surprise for him, hopefully! i've tried to keep this one as quiet as possible, b/c josh will be absolutely delighted to see ez in dc. from DSC to DC, as i say. it'll mean a lot, naturally, for ez to make his way all the way east, even or because it's only a few days, josh will appreciate it even more.

there's nothing more important for a parent than to see your children close and caring for each other. these two young men have begun to form lives more and more distinct and separate from each other now that they have both left lincoln, kathmandu, now their good two years at NMH and, at last, in colleges of their own choices. the future is theirs and yet to be written...

but for moi, what a joy! what an opportunity! the beauty of california rediscovered through my son and my sons rediscovered through me...

allah-hum-dillah, as they say!

by the grace of G-d, we are fortunate to be human beings in this risky and incredibly stunning natural world!!

The Churning, Whizzing, and Whirrrling of the World around Ezra

Hey Phamily,

Whoosh! Josh is gone, I'm gone, we're all going -- but where to, where to?

In relation to each other, in a spacial context, I suppose we are forever moving apart now, then back together, moving apart now and then back together.

Never at the same distance apart.

However, through the lens which we see the world (our own lens) it seems less so that we are moving and more so that the world is churning, whizzing, and whirrrling.

I have indeed heard of "Looking for Eric", in fact I have watched it! It is a really wonderful little film (funny how we use little describe things we find quaint when really it is only as little or large as any other film). I suppose I also mean little in that it doesn't claim to have the scope or breadth of all the world -- instead it focuses on one man and his pains and struggles to come to terms with the churning, whizzing, and whirrrling of the world around him.

Perhaps I am biased, as a Manchester United fan, but it really was wonderful -- technically, I believe, it is a 'comedy', but it doesn't allow that tag to inhibit it from telling a story. Lovely.

Speaking of lovely films, several weeks back we watched a beautiful film -- we almost saw it in New York once -- it's a Japanese film called 'Departures'. I forget if you guys saw it, but if you haven't, get a hold of it. I really enjoyed it.

You didn't tell me about Patricia and Phillipe -- it's been a while since I've seen either of them -- I'm sorry to hear about their problems. Still, it seems to me that perhaps Patricia's anger is justified and the murky politics of Nepal only continues to get murkier. How the tides turn. It seems that being Tibetan is no longer the 'in' thing it once was -- sad, but true as they search for a home.

As I'm sure you've heard the proposed mosque at ground zero has raised similar passions here in Amrika -- there seem to be so many truths and pains and justice-deserved that there is no right or wrong. A web of wrong-doings that only creates more anger. Makes you want to reject the 'real' world, as Arendt would say, and simply collapse into your 'own' world.

I don't know what my plans for October break are (I don't really have the need to plan that far ahead, I don't even know when my October break is), but I'd be happy to do a trip on the road with you. Just give me specific dates, and I'll tell you what I think. We can figure it out.

Other than that, we made a scarecrow out on the main lawn today after dinner of dolmades, foccacia, hibiscus tea, and cookies.

There is also a fair in Bishop coming up so Karen (the Mitchells are the resident Christian family who have been here for 12+ years; her husband, Ken, is the ranch manager and they live here with their three daughters) is taking a bunch of stuff and has arranged for students to bring the scarecrow, some beef jerky, baked goods, and other stuff from the garden.

As for classes, the next two weeks are sort of trial periods -- right now I'm deciding between Tolstoy & Kafka (thats almost definite), 'Freedom and the State' (that is also pretty certain), and then I have to decide between a Congo/African-colonial-history-type-thing class, 'People & Plants', 'Ethics', or 'Tragedy & Politics'. I'm not entirely sure what all of them are about, but I'll let you know when I find out.

Tomorrow I'll head to 'Freedom and the State' for which we read a Kant essay on 'Enlightenment.' The teachers I've met seem great though, so I'm excited.

Peace frogs. Ezi

Ezra Reflects on Time, Distance and Space from DSC

Hello Mum and Pops and family,

To be fair, whilst you were writing your email to me, it wasn't completely two months ago that we last crossed paths -- but we are certainly heading towards two months at this point.

Although to be even fairer, it isn't like we haven't done this before -- its funny that we should spend two years apart and yet after just three weeks together in Kathmandu it seems that that is the norm.

Although to be completely fair, we did live some 16 years before that together.

However -- point well taken -- it is funny how life goes on...

Even funnier in light of my recent escapades into 'War and Peace', where I have the opportunity to live vicariously through the turning cogs of time that Tolstoy relates to a clock, and see exactly how "life goes on." W&P also has absentee family members for stretches of a time, and I guess that ability to make several years pass by in the print of a word is part of the beauty and allure. Whereas in 'real' life we actually have to live through those days, weeks, months and years.

I guess you guys really took my 'not being back for two years' to heart, seeing as my bed is no longer my bed. Unbelievably, really unbelievable. I'm gone not even two months, I get a couple of emails saying how much my presence is missed, and then slipped casually into the fourth paragraph of a seemingly normal email is the subtle hint that all my possessions have been pawned off and my bed conquered.

Call me old fashioned, but I thought the rule of thumb was six months, not a mere two months. In any case, I don't even think my bed is proportioned correctly for Leah's room (although that would be even more the case for my room seeing as it takes up half my room).

I take it that the keyboard has still not been fixed, and instead you've just become extremely adept at using the on-screen keyboard (a skill I know only too well from when my laptop's v and s stopped working). I feel like I should just suggest purchasing a new keyboard, but I also recognize that that is an extremely obvious answer, so instead, I'll modify it to: purchase a new keyboard NOW. don't wait, you may not pass GO, you may not collect $200. (that is until you get that keyboard).

Having said that, I'm always happy to get emails from you guys and even more so when it isn't just a reminder about this or that. I'm sure you guys know only too well that warm feeling when you get an email from a long lost family member sitting quietly in your inbox, often it makes my day :)

Wow, quite a crew you had over to the house the other w/end. If I'm not mistaken there is a lot of history between that motley crew, but I suppose somewhere in these intervening years they have been resolved (like in W&P I guess years and incidents can just slip by in 'real' life as well).

It sounds like you guys had a lovely time and I'm sure having James, Caroline, and Alexa over was wonderful. Its nice that Josh and Alexa got to spend time together though, its always interesting and fun to pick up the threads of old 'childhood' friendships.

I actually just got off the phone with Grammy, it was nice to talk to somebody from my 'old' world. Its strange how passive we can be in accepting new worlds and how apathetic we are to remembering our old ones, simply accepting them and attempting to not look out of place in the new current we've found ourselves in.

It really was nice though, to hear Grammy's voice and be able to hear through the grapevine how everyone is doing and what everyone is up to. It also made me smile to hear her talk about being in HAMSTERdam for the World Cup finals and listen to her nonchalantly slip in how by 10 in the morning everyone "was out in the streets smoking marijuana".

Anyway, the summer term officially ended five days ago, so it is indeed 'inter-term' although there is still, as ever, much to do on campus. I've slowly been being weened into my new job as one of the four members of a 'Ground and Orderly' staff. Although, I think at the moment I'm running it pretty much solo -- not to imply that I'm doing more than my fair share of work, but just that most of the guys who are away for break and that possibly the grounds aren't so orderly...

I've been in charge of the lawns, and I'm proud to be able to say that for the first time in my life i know what it means to be 'proud of a lawn'. Our DSC lawn is looking very green as I cut it with the lawn mower vehicle. (These are just as fun to ride around on as they appear to be).

Other than that I've been trying to tear away at 'War and Peace', reading 100+ pages a day. Then, usually ending the day with a movie or -- for instance last night -- a group of ten of us congregated on the front porch of the dorm to discuss co-education. I'll spare you the details, but it certainly is contentious and I think rightly so, its not a issue to be taken lightly, but I'm strongly on the pro-side of the debate. As I said, I'll spare you the details and what would inevitably a biased report. Since it is break time, we also have two girlfriends on campus, new teachers, and some of the second years have returned giving a refreshing air to life on campus.

The Summer Seminar was great! I really appreciated it. I thought it was a great way to inculcate us into Deep Springs academia. We had one teacher who taught for all seven weeks, and she had different teachers join her for different segments. I enjoyed her presence, but there was some tension with some of the class who felt that she was narrowly interpreting the texts. Perhaps a fair criticism, but if she was -- then, certainly, the majority of teachers must struggle to strike a balance (which I get the sense many teachers do struggle with the right balance).

Th class began with all of us from 9 to 10:30 for a discussion on the previous night's reading, then we split up for the 11 to 12 class to discuss our other reading.

I don't think many would argue against us having had a great collection of material to read. The course was roughly organized chronologically -- but probably a more accurate description was that it built itself. We created of an intellectual foundation, then read more specific areas of social and political interest.

We started with Hobbes and Locke to build an understanding of man and his movement from the state of nature into a social contract, followed by reading Nietszche, then we moved to Raymond Williams and his understanding the development of the industrial City and the pastoral vision of the Country. We read Karl Polanyi, too, and his analysis of man's progression into a fully fledged capitalist market economy, which was only an indicator of our progression into a fully fledged market society. We then read Carl Schmitt and set a sort of basic understanding of international law and the complications that arose with the introduction of 'the new world' completely free from a jus publicum Europaem.

Then, finally, we read of the fall of that European law with WWI. Meanwhile, we read 'The Book of Job'. Then we ended with a lot of Hannah Arendt and her attempts to convey what politics actually is, plus a look at Gayle Rubin's analysis of sex and gender roles in modern society. Followed by the even more interesting 'The Cyborg Manifesto' written by Donna Harraway, possibly pointing to the future of mankind.

Then with David Neidorf, the DSC president, we looked at 'The Grey Book' -- a collection of letters and significant articles written between or from L. L. Nunn (founder of DSC) to the Student Body between the school's birth and his death not ten years later. I think I heard Keely, our main teacher, describe the class at one point as "setting a framework for self-governance" here at DSC. Certainly Nunn's writings didn't answer all they questions, or perhaps even many, but they did certainly bring some interesting conversations to the fore.

I'll write more soon, but revisiting the whole term has me tired, and 'W&P' is calling to me (I have several hundred pages to read in the next five days), so the next installment will come soon. Lets see if we can get a skype going, I'll ask the Frodo and the Gandalf (the resident 'techies' -- students).

Lots of love, Ezi

'As for me...' Ez Checks In from DSC #3

I couldn't decide on a form of salutation, so I suppose this will have to do as an acknowledgment on my part that I thought about it -- but really just couldn't come up with anything that encapsulated what I wanted to encapsulate.

In any case, if that wasn't satisfactory then how about just a simple "Hey!"

The necessities needing to be dealt with first as I was in need of buying several items, namely
'War & Peace', a companion to 'War & Peace', and an Ali G dvd. The essentials of life, no?

There is going to be a Tolstoy/Kafka class offered next term and you have to have read 'War & Peace' before the term starts so I have just started today and en challah I will be done by the start of Term 2. If the first sixty pages are anything to judge by, I will really enjoy the next 1000+. Tolstoy has already managed to weave together numerous characters, places, ideas, trains of thought without sacrificing the larger fabric of the novel.

Anyway perhaps it is time to finish that "As for me..." that I finished my last email with or, as you put it Mom, "the finding of my navel at Deep Springs".

I'm not sure that I have found my navel here because finding your navel here is not the same as most places. It is full of intricacies and nuances that I'm not sure I can express, let alone fully express. In fact, looking back retrospectively it seems that each week only brings me seemingly insignificant amounts closer to having even a basic understanding of the fabric at work here.

You are, of course, catching me right after possibly the most expressive form of the tensions that flow underneath our simple existence at Deep Springs -- the infamous student body (SB) meeting. It is here where the hydra's seemingly endless stream of heads rear themselves in some of the most beautiful, as well as conflicting, forms of truth. The student body fights back and forth, for hours at a time, over relatively innocuous legislation -- finding underneath the harmless veneer of legislation countless conflicts and problems that one can't help but feel are simply symptomatic of humanity itself.

I think perhaps its time I go to bed -- I'll finish tomorrow -- before my ramblings become entirely unintelligible.

However, like a recently disturbed bowl of miso soup, I have to say (before the miso settles to a more distinct and manageable state of confusion) that these ramblings will probably only become more unintelligible before (or rather if) they get slightly more comprehensible. There is a lot at play here and I'm not sure yet that I understand the pieces, or the board, or even the rules for that matter -- anyway as I said, perhaps it is time to go to bed. Hopefully a little bit of 'War & Peace' will settle my broth.

Until tomorrow....

Okay, great! It is no longer Friday night and I'm returning to this email on Monday mid-afternoon. As you can see (and I can as well), my state of mind that night was ... something. I'm not sure exactly what that something entails, but I think it is good to have those 'something' moments -- in fact that 'something' is the mindset I usually find myself in after most SB meetings.

It really is as if the politics and self-governance of the student body lay dormant for the week and then on Friday nights rear their head for all of us to awe at it. Often a combination of frustration, happiness, zeal, camaraderie, and more frustration. Trying to grasp exactly what it is that is going on, what needs to be done, and what your role in all of it is confusing to say the least -- but it is also in a odd way inspiring. I think I'll leave it at that because at this point I really can't elucidate the process any more.

However, in spite of all of that confusion there still is no place I'd rather be, and I am thrilled to be here. The majority of days go by without this degree of internal conflict and as with any community we have begun to develop our own rhythm and idiosyncrasies. There are always things to be done and often people doing them, although equally as often people not doing them.

Summer Seminar continues to be fascinating and we have just come off the back of a week on Rousseau and his 'Discourse on Inequality' and 'The Book of Job', and the week before that we got into political economy reading Carl Schmitt and his 'Nomos of the Earth', Karl Polanyi's 'The Great Transformation', Garett Hardin's 'The Tragedy of the Common', Adam Smith's 'Wealth of Nations', and other good stuff like that. All of it very interesting as we had into our last couple of weeks of the seminar.

It was nice to hear from both of you! Dad, despite your lack of the 's' and the 'w' on the keyboard, it was fun to hear you sort of ramble (perhaps more fun because of it?) Always good to hear that you are in the garden battling the forces of nature, specifically your dearest of enemies -- the evergreen boulder. Perhaps there is some darker and more sinister psychology at work regarding your undying fascination with the movement and manipulation of these boulders -- but I won't even begin to explore them.

Its good to know that all of this is happening to the backdrop of my free flowin' tunes -- perhaps two more won't hurt? (specifically with Miss Leah Loo in mind): Can't Get it Right Today - Joe Purdy and Sunshine - Matt Costa.

Mom, I think I sort of addressed your thoughts on finding my navel here at DS -- all I can say is that I'm working on it. It sounds like Josh is really being helpful to you and I'm glad that you, him, and Kishore are making quite the triumvirate. I'm sure he is elated at being able to fly from one side of town to the other on his new motorcycle -- after all it is the hip thing to do, isn't it (the flying)? Thanks for the lovely musings on Hypatia, balance, memories, and time and space. The poem was also lovely!

Anyway, I'm off to get some work done (although in all probability it will descend quickly and unrelentingly into an extended nap). Give my love to Josh and Leah!

Lots of love, Ez

Home is our children...

Life is a lot to manage, at times, and we are all tested along the way, particularly in our primary relationships. Marriage is a great gift but a bit of a maze, as well, at times as we try to fill our own lives and passions while caring for the person who shares the journey and life with us.

I know how much Shakun and I struggle, at times, to find that balance and keep our marriage real and honest while, at the same time, challenging each other and not losing the cord that connects us. We are both so thankful that we have our three children to keep us bound together in mutual adoration and affection of these holy creatures...

Ez, we know is now gone on the other side of the earth's shadow up into the High Sierras. We're so happy for him as it's what he wanted, this form of isolation and intense community. He'd been reading Thoreau at NMH his Junior year and wanted the challenge of finding out some simple, hard truths for himself at college.

Plus, he is a natural for the intense leadership responsibilities that DSC offers and depends upon. He'll have plenty of time to read Plato, Locke and Tolkien while doing his daily chores, learning how to herd cattle and help manage the college. He is definitely following his own drummer in this life and we expect he will meander for a few years ahead in finding his way and purpose in life.

After two years of DSC, Ez may head to one of the East Coast universities to complete his education (ala Obama...) and become fully bicoastal, or balance his new desert world with East Coast urbanity. No doubt, Ez already has a beautiful soul, these years are simply to find his meaning, settle some youthful questions and create his independence.

In that regard, Ez and Josh are quite different. Josh is so happy to be here w/ us in the family home for the summer, watching 'Bambi' on his computer w/ Leah, helping Shakun with her website design, working in a local Tamang NGO on ethnic rights, building an innovative, organic greenhouse in the backyard, buying a new motorcycle and hanging out with his childhood friends here in Kathmandu.

Josh is totally loyal to Nepal and doesn't even want to hear me talk of spending a few years in the States. He's his mother's son and devoted to her, her causes and the Nepali side of his life. Although going back to Georgetown at the end of August, he hasn't really settled in the US in a deep way. He enjoys his studies on South Asia politics and governance, but his heart is still fully in the Himalaya and our home.

For now, Josh says that he is coming 'home' to Nepal to start up his own businesses when he graduates (after spending a Junior year at SOAS in London to stretch his wings and watch football games...). Josh's good and kind heart is right here, near us and on our land.

As for Leah, she is in love with her new kitten, Coaby, who sleeps with her and Leah protects from the dogs, especially, Sumi, in the yard. Her summer camp is over, so she has more time at home with Gita and Laxmi, her two 'didis' and dear, older sister friends. Like Josh, Leah, too, is a real homebody. She wants us to buy a beach house in America (ala Hannah Montana...), but still insists that we never sell this home, the only home she has ever had.

Funny, this sense of home that envelopes us as we're busy doing other things...

Funny, rich, satisfying and profoundly fulfilling...

'Even the Wisest Can't Tell...' Update #2 from Ez of the Desert

Hey family!

Well, of all people to tell you that I had sent an email I probably would have guessed Leah last -- but I'm glad that your race up to the top of the hilltop in Dandeldhura was greeted by my email.

'Numina' is indeed an apt word to describe my relation to the desert, but it's an enjoyable numina. You, however, are not the only one who hasn't spent time in the desert -- I was thinking the other day that the desert is one of the few environments that 'Lord of the Rings' hardly references as well. Of course Tolkein's Euro-centric vision can be excused for not adding literary splendor to the catalog of novels that have commented on the desert.

Also, as nice a picture it is to imagine me sitting on a rock in my "open lanscape just indulging the sense of space and the curiosity of time out there in the High Sierra" it probably doesn't happen as often as I would like (I probably even imagine myself doing the same on the odd occasion) -- Deep Springs is not monastery, at least not in the typical sense of the word.

Maybe an educational monastery, but education (at least by the Western Canon of thought) is not particularly solemn, introspective, or withdrawn, but based on activity, discussion, and liveliness. A hive of activity would be more descriptive of it, although certainly at moments and in different aspects it is monastic. Certainly, I think there is a certain collective desire that it would be more monastic on the part of the student body, yet too often we are pulled away by our cultural inclinations -- the hegemony of the West.

Even so this isn't so much a criticism of the students, but more simply the reality of the situation. It probably would be more monastic if there were more time, but between trying to "eradicate the line between intellectuals and laborers," as well as simply 'doing', we end up looking more like a Marxist commune than a remote monastery tucked away in the folds of the desert.

Nonetheless, on my more permitting days I am able to find time to simply sit on a rock, or in my room, or at the upper reservoir, or the Time Shack (a record room in the basement of the main building), and can simply ruminate. But, as I said, those are the more permitting days and even then it seems the time to reflect is fleeting. However, I certainly have been able to 'sit on a rock' more time than I ever did at NMH (or probably any time before that, come to think of it). So although I hope to find more time I certainly cannot complain as to the current levels of ruminating.

As you noted, it was indeed my first night at Deep Springs -- but not exactly at the college and probably just about toeing the line between Deep Springs Valley and the neighboring Eureka Valley -- when the second year students took us up a nearby ridge where we laid down our sleeping mats and bags to have our first SB (student body) meeting. Then they announced they were leaving, and off they left. So the sixteen of us first year students, just introduced to each other, sat huddled around the fire, under the most amazing sky splattered with stars (or rather stars splattered with sky) and got to know each other.

Its a nice class, a good mix of kids, but I guess particularly notable for its amiability in comparison to DS classes historically (or so they say...). We woke up in the morning, cooked ourselves bacon, eggs, and a whole lot of bacon grease in between, then climbed the several hundred feet left to the top of Chocolate Mountain, before we continued onward with the three hour or so hike back to campus.

I was very sad to hear from you about Tiger, if Tara did indeed push Tiger over it seems a strange, sadistic power is at play -- even in nature. Odd, and frightening that an animal would be capable of such an action -- all the more considering we consider them not to have 'consciences'.

It is also slightly concerning to hear another untruth told to Leah over the disappearance over yet another childhood pet, but what am I to do? At some point or another Leah will have to face these realities and I think we maybe try to protect her too much. Then again, maybe she is too young to know these sadistic traits of the world; however I think it is worth noting the exposure Leah has received via her education in film.

There is certainly a lack of continuity between her 'reel' life education and 'real' life -- but maybe I'm over analyzing. Regardless, I look forward to meeting our newest addition to the family (whether it is Coco or otherwise) when I return to our Himalayan kingdom (whenever that is).

It sounds like both Leah and Josh are doing well, I think of you guys often and of course fondly. I miss you guys, but don't worry I'm not homesick.

It sounds, too, like Dad you are enjoying your Federalism Dialogues, and your newfound (or should I say 'refound') power. I have no doubt that you can handle Larry's absence, and I am sure that people will appreciate your presence. After all, if you don't mind reminding them, before you joined the UN conglomerate you probably had more leadership experience than most of them.

It's just a matter of whether they give you the position to exert those influences -- although, I do think its a good thing you've been relegated to bit-part leader for the past couple of years, altho who knows maybe it's time for a return? Or maybe not? Who knows, "even the wisest cannot tell" (as Galadriel says).

And hopefully Sushila (Gita's daughter) does get the stewardess job, even if is against all odds. After all, 'against all odds' is kind of how I ended up where I am now at Deep Springs so I have faith in the power of "against all odds".

Interestingly enough I had a dream the other day I ran into Gita, Tek, and Anita at a tea shop in Kathmandu -- an odd experience (in a dream no less), but it was nice to see them.

Now I just need an update from you Mumski, I appreciated your soulful reminders of your existence from across the Orient to my little oasis here in California, but give me some meat to work with. ;) I like hearing what you are you up to in addition to forwarded power points of your political and civil endeavors...

As for me...

That is for another email, hopefully within the next couple of days, time permitting (for "even the wisest cannot tell") and besides if you read between the lines of this email I'm sure you'll be able to tell I'm doing well. Vignettes and other things to come next email ;)

Love, Ezi