Chapter 22
Awakenings
“Take care to do all of these things, for you know the time in which we are living. It is now the hour for you to wake from sleep....”-Epistle of Paul, Letter to the Romans 13:11
Tom reclined in his little rooftop room of the Red House Lodge, and listened to the wind-related sounds that seemingly engulfed the world. The room was simple, clean; and solidly built upon the earthen roof of the guesthouse below. But the walls were fraught with holes; and there were gaping cracks between the random width, rough-sawn, wallboards. He lay on his bed, staring at the makeshift roof above him, and tried to allow the past day’s events to sink in. He’d experienced many such self-imposed periods of seclusion on his journey. He would have a great day, full of new experiences and different perspectives; and then be so overwhelmed, that he had to retreat to the isolation of a quiet room to absorb it all. He laughed at himself; and compared the situation to an overloaded computer file system, and overtaxed computer hard drive.
“My disk is getting full. Slowdown the input, or the system’s going to freeze up,” he would say to himself.
His mind needed to regroup from the intense experiences, allowing all the new inputs to be reorganized. Like a Unix file system, he was acutely aware what could happen to him if he allowed the emotional and intellectual inputs to fill his ‘file system.’ He would be frozen - incapable of processing anything. He couldn’t allow that, traveling totally alone; because he didn’t have anyone to help him while ‘frozen to action;’ and that could mean personal danger. He had to be alert, aware, and yet still open and accepting of new things; if he were to be successful in his quest for self awareness - and remain alive as well. After breakfast, and his experience of nearly losing all of his papers, he needed a break. So he lay silently in his bed, and prayed that Sandra wouldn’t disturb him. She didn’t. No one did. He lay still, for an hour or so, nearly catatonic; until he became cognizant of the sounds of the wind whipping around his exposed room. The subtleties of the sounds intrigued him, as he made that his only focus. He was amazed that he hadn’t noticed them before; but they were evidently masked by the physical effects of the strong winds, and his distraction by other considerations. Once he allowed himself to fully relax on his bed and remain totally open, ‘safe’ in his solitary space, his mind and emotions drifted into a calm and receptive state. ‘Hearing’ and experiencing the wind was his only concern - and it was incredible. The lack of any other stimulation allowed him to experience the beautiful presence of the wind. He stayed in his bed for hours, letting the sounds all wash through him. They were high pitched and whining, then they abated, and subsequently they resurged with stronger force. He felt like he was enveloped by the wind‘s embrace. Calmed into a highly attuned awareness of the vagarious nature of the winds, he got up from his bed and went outside onto the sun-drenched roof to actually feel its pulsations upon his skin. Its caress was forceful, yet soothing and restorative. To eliminate all barriers to understanding, he dropped all of his clothes - other than his underwear. He closed his eyes to eliminate the distractions of visual input, as he redirected his attention towards the concurrent sensations that resulted from the wind playing across his skin - correlating them with the corresponding sounds. After some indeterminable, yet probably brief, period he opened his eyes to acknowledge the presence he felt before he saw actually ‘saw’ him. He had felt the wind finally abate, after its daily rush through the dried river valley. It began to ebb and flow like invisible water, lapping against his exposed body - as the rush subsided. Then, he sensed an infinitesimal difference around him. He let his awareness shift out of the mysterious and elemental space it was in, to accept the presence of another person in his quiet, and newly revered, place. He purposely kept his eyes closed, to exercise his new awareness by attempting to gauge the person’s intentions - without gross, and potentially overriding, visual input. He wanted to test his awareness of the subtly changing conditions. There wasn’t the hint of interruption, conversation, or distraction by the other person in Tom’s perception; so he was expecting to open his eyes to find no one there. He supposed a specter; attributable to his heightened, and maybe overextended, imagination. But even though he was eager to know whether he was right or wrong in his newfound perception, he took his time to consider it all before opening his eyes. As he opened his eyes, his body betrayed itself by producing a warm and sincere smile.
There he was, standing patiently in front of Tom; smiling quietly and serenely at Thomas with his childlike, fathomless, and trusting eyes. Tom didn’t even feign surprise, he accepted whatever was to happen before it happened; and communicated this to his visitor by moving directly into a deeper discussion than was warranted by his seemingly surprising presence.
“The wind has its own life. It is a life that I’ve failed to truly appreciate until now. I’m very happy to finally see the unseen, and to feel the strength of it.”
All Tom got back in return for his newfound wisdom was a broader smile - but that was more than enough. Laughing at his apparent immaturity next to the man, Tom went on, “You’ll have to excuse me - so many old things are so new to me now.”
A loving and accepting smile, and twinkling eyes, was all the got in confirmation of his revelations. Feeling o.k. however, Tom continued talking.
“I’d like to thank you again for helping me find my papers earlier today. You saved much of my original work. I’m not sure I could have rewritten it.”
“It seemed important to you, I merely assisted.”
“It was very important, and I want you to know that I appreciate your efforts. I feel indebted to you.”
“Not to worry, I was glad to help. You seemed most distressed. Now, you are not.”
The man seemed genuinely happy with his observation.
Tom started to pull his shirt and shorts back on, without any sign of embarrassment; and continued talking.
“Maybe you can answer a couple of questions for me.”
“I will if I can,” was his brief reply.
“Thank you,” Tom said, as he sat down at the small table next to the imposing red-cloaked monk.
“Will you explain the four noble truths of the Buddha to me?”
Laughing good naturedly, he said: “That will take much time to do well, and our little caravan leaves soon.”
“I don’t mean everything, just a brief description from your point of view.”
“First, we must acknowledge that true suffering exists. That is an indisputable truth,” was his reply.
“I got that one from reading something the Dalai Lama wrote. He said that we need to accept that we all suffer, to some degree, and to recognize a persons suffering is an act of compassion. We may not be able to do much for the person to ease their suffering, but anything we can do is better than nothing. If we can only empathize with their suffering, by acknowledging it with a few simple words, that is something; and, it’s enough. Even just saying ‘I understand how you feel,’ helps ease their pain; because they know that someone else knows, and cares, about them.”
“That is good; you understand then, that suffering is part of all humans. If this is true of all, we then need to examine, learn, and understand the second noble truth: The origin of suffering. This is very complex, and takes much effort, training, and dedication to fully understand.”
"O.k, I get the general concept. That's something I have to work on - to raise my awareness and sensitivity; so that I don’t inadvertently cause more suffering.”
“Just so. Many world leaders should do the same!” he said with a hearty laugh. “But it is not so easy. There are many deceptions and untruths in the world.”
“I hear that!” Tom joked. “My biggest frustration is who can I trust? My trust has been violated so many times, that I wanted to give up on trusting people - so that no one could hurt me anymore.”
“That is understandable; but you cannot do that, because everything is interdependent. There is no true independence, all life is interrelated and actions in one area affect others. That is why violence and destruction live on - propagated from seemingly unrelated events. Once you understand that the whole earth is a closed system, you will see. When we hurt others, or cause violence and hate towards others, we only hurt us all. That is why violence, hate, and anger should not be met with the same. Instead, it must be recognized for what it is, and then met with patience and understanding; so that we can begin to guide those who engage in it out of the darkness of ignorance - into a greater awareness: An awareness of themselves, others, and the true path towards enlightenment.”
“Hmmmm. I’ve never heard it put quite like that. Please go on, you’re helping me a lot!”
“So! As we accept that there is suffering, and work towards better understanding and deeper awareness of ourselves and those around us, then we can understand that these are the starting points for the third noble truth: The cessation of suffering.”
“The fourth noble truth, then, is the true path that is dictated by the understanding and acceptance of the first three truths: The path towards enlightenment.”
Sensing the monk’s desire to leave and assist his travel companions, and satisfied that he’d gotten the gist of it, Tom relented in his questions.
“So the attainment of nirvana is predicated on the cessation of suffering? And moving towards that end, is the true path?”
“Yes. Exactly!”
“Thank you,“ Tom said with a beaming smile that emanated from deep within. “You’ve helped me more than you can imagine. Now it’s time for me to work on myself some more. And, it looks like it’s near time for you to go!” Tom said with a laugh.
While they had been talking, a group of guides and travelers were organizing and packing a string of pack mules in the alleyway immediately below them. The guides had been working for hours in preparation for their journey into the tiny secret Kingdom of Mustãng - the sounds of their activity lost within the maze of alleyways formed by the close, and tall, mud brick buildings; and muffled by the strong winds.
Tom had fun with that word, “Moo -stangg,” and repeated it silently in his head a few times with a laugh.
“In Spanish, mustang means untamed,” Tom said to the monk, smiling.
With the winds nearly all gone, Tom could clearly hear the preparations of the caravan. With a sweeping movement of his right hand, he motioned down below to them to signify his understanding of the monk’s pressing obligations as leader of the expedition. He was to take the Swiss woman, and her young lady friend, to the hidden Tibetan school in the remote kingdom of Mustãng. She was a generous benefactor of the school, and had a strong desire to experience the place for herself. Given her advanced age and health, she’d brought all of their food in cans, and had her cooks prepare everything. Breakfast seemed like a feast, compared to the local fare. But Tom understood, because a simple case of persistent bacterial diarrhea could be deadly in its dehydrating aftereffects. In all, it took six retainers to manage the journey for the ladies and the monk. Tom felt privileged to meet and spend time with them. They were all wonderfully sincere and caring people....and it showed. But they were also very strong people - not mealy mouthed idealists. They were people with a life mission; and a highly admirable one at that. Tom respected the woman’s temerity in taking on such an arduous trek into desolate lands, bereft of anything remotely Swiss.
“Yes! You are right. I must go now.”
“Thank you very much - for everything. I hope your trip goes well. Is there anything I can do for you in return?”
“No. We are many, and well prepared. Just keep on the path you now see; in that way, you’ll help me.”
Laughing, Tom replied.
"O.k.. I’ll do my best. It might take me a few lifetimes, but I’ll try my best.”
Grinning, the monk bowed his head slightly at Tom with hands clasped together at his chest, and took his leave.
Two minutes later, Sandra came bounding up the ladder-like steps.
“Hey, Thomas. How’re you doing?”
“Fine. Just taking a much needed break, a little quiet time.”
“Was that monk guy up here long?” she asked in her typically direct way.
“A while.”
“Well, I think they’re so funny in those long robes and bald heads. Do they have underwear on underneath the robes?”
“I dunno,” replied Tom - a bit disconcerted by the odd question. “Does it matter?”
“Well, I hear that they’re great with sex. All that Karma Sutra and stuff!”
“Jesus, Sandra, is that all you think of? Getting laid? You know that there are other things in life?”
“Oh yeah? I know.....Mantras and stuff. I hear that Vishnu says it’s great to smoke marijuana.”
“Sandra, you are getting a couple of religions mixed up here, and you’re off base on the monks in a big way. I wouldn’t ask them for sex, o.k.?” Tom teased with a smile.
“Oh, who cares? They don’t even talk to you when you talk to them! They’re stuck up, self-possessed, and self-absorbed!”
Exasperated, Tom wanted to give up; but he couldn’t. Yet he knew she wasn’t in a very receptive or understanding mood for spiritual discussions; or any ‘self awareness’ beyond her next orgasm. Men were walking penises to her; and a spiritual experience to her meant the possibility of multiple organisms - preferably invoked by a couple of hot guys. Being both adorable, and bright, she could have as many guys as she wanted on the trek circuit.
“Lots of lonely men on this road,” thought Tom with a smile.
"O.k.. Sandra, I can’t let this go; but I don’t think you’re taking anything too serious right now, so I don’t want to belabor the point. Someday when you’re interested in really learning about the Tibetan Buddhists, and what they can teach us, I encourage you to read up on the Dalai Lama’s writings. His best book is ‘The Art of Happiness.’ Try reading it, when you can take it seriously. It’s really good stuff.”
It was the best that Tom could manage, but it seemed to work alright.
“Oh, O.K!” she replied brightly, dismissing the whole topic blithely. “Hey, since the wind has finally stopped we’re heading out. Do you want to hike with us?”
“Sure. Which way are you going?”
“We think that the riverbed is the shortest way, so we’re going to hike down into it, and follow the pack mule trail.”
“That's bleak and boring, isn’t it? It’s barren along there, for as far as you can see,” Tom said, as he pointed towards the northbound riverbed.
“Yeah, but it’s quick. I’m not here for the scenery.”
“Well, tell you what. I’ll go with you guys until the trail splits off. One path goes through the mountains, villages, and the forest; and, the other one goes down to the river bed. But, they both start out on the same path out of here.”
"O.k., whatever you want Thomas,” she said in a ‘God, you are stupid’ tone of voice.
“I think that's what I want. What are the Germans doing?”
“Dunno....ask them,” was her curt reply.
“Aren't we short today?” Tom teased. “I thought you liked Lars?”
“I did. But his wife got in the way! Anyway, I think he likes you more than me!” she said with a mischievous smile.
Playing along, Tom replied with a grin.
“Too bad I have sworn off sex on this trip - guess I missed my chance! Seriously Sandra, they’re a great couple - she’s a good woman, and loves him a lot. Don’t tempt him to mess up the best thing he can have, just for a frisky roll in the hay.”
“Spoil sport! O.k., I’ll leave him alone! Weellll, we have to get going! Everyone will be downstairs in a half an hour.”
"O.k.. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
“See ya!”
“Yeah,” he replied absently, quickly dismissing more thoughts of her confused state.
Tom returned to his little room, quickly packed, and tried to re-assemble his pile of notebook papers. Since he hadn’t numbered them, it wasn’t too easy; so he opted instead to just keep them together, and to sort them out when he got home.
“After all, if there are pages missing there isn’t anything I can do about it now,” he spoke aloud.
Once back outside, he took one more long look at the 360 degree view around him. It was nothing short of spectacular, and he had almost ignored it in his preoccupation with other matters. To his right was Mount Dhaulâgiri .....really close up, with its snowy peak of over 26,800 feet dead ahead. Lower down, mountains covered with green vegetation continued in an unbroken range....forming a huge bowl of a valley. The mountains were dense with verdant growth, and capped with snow. With the brilliant, deep blue sky overhead, the picture was extraordinary; and overwhelming in its natural beauty. The base of the mountain range acted as a steep wall to the right side of the dried river bed that ran the length of the narrow valley. The mountains seemed to grow almost straight up from its sun-baked brown clay surface. To the left of the dried riverbed was a long narrow field of grain; looking like a waist high sea of grass, it rippled and waved with the ebb and flow of the now gentle winds. Beyond and above the valley....straight South....were the majestic Nilgiris mountains. Another one of the highest peaks in the world, Annapurna I at roughly 26,600 feet, was barely visible; slightly shrouded by wispy clouds, and located to the far left of Tom’s view....giving him a narrow, side angled view. Still, the peak was impressive. Tom sighed with an audible sound, signaling relief, relaxation, and wonder at the spectacular view. Taking in a large breath his lungs stretched, laboring slightly, as they adjusted to the lower oxygen content of the air, while simultaneously being refreshed by its lack of pollution. Tom not only saw the clarity of the environment, but he felt its purity as well. It was more than the ordinary feeling that he had when he hiked in the woods and mountains at home. That was a great feeling - free, quiet, and refreshing, being submerged in the heady smells of pine sap. But this was something more. The air was totally clean, the views vast; and, the silence complete. The minor sounds of the pack animals three stories below, braying in the narrow alley, began to be audible. With the wind fully abated, Tom could clearly hear the scraping of hooves, and snorts of impatience, as they were being led into the alleyway. He lifted his gaze from the alley below, to the mountain peak in the distance; and wondered if the mountain truly spoke to the native sherpa guides, as rumor had it. He could better understand that legend, after he’d experienced his contact with the wind today. They said that the sherpa’s listened closely to the mountain....a woman... to determine if it was safe to climb to the summit or not. If she said no, they wouldn’t even try. Those climbers who ignored this ‘voice,’ usually died in the attempt, or at best barely escaped with their lives. They said that the weather could look beautiful, with clear royal blue skies, only to turn into wild snow storms within minutes....trapping climbers in freezing, low oxygen, hells. The extreme cold, and the lack of oxygen for energy, quickly sealed their fates. A day ago, this supposition would have seemed an absurd superstition to Tom; but after the day’s experience, he could see how being attuned to nature was not only possible, but key to survival. Slowly turning to his right, 180 degrees, Tom’s vision passed by the empty and ancient monastery built into the hills, and then proceeded on along the winding river bed ....following its course as it narrowed, and twisted off into obscurity. This was the path to the tiny
“Focus, Tom. Focus,” he reminded himself.
It was a short, but necessary, mantra that he practiced to keep himself on track.
“God, I could see spending years traveling this part of the world. It’d pass in no time; in a land where time doesn’t seem to exist.”
He was near the border of old
“Patience Tom; Patience,” he reminded himself.
He left the roof, and bounded down the narrow and steep steps. The outside stairs were very narrow and functioned more like ladders than steps; forcing Tom to ‘walk’ down them backwards, and leaning forward to balance himself as he went down. The steps ended at the door of the Red House Lodge, by the common room; which also served as an entryway on the other side of the building. Everyone staying at the guesthouse seemed to be packed and ready to leave at the same time. They had all waited until the morning winds had subsided before departing. From across the crowded porch, Tom waved a salute to the monk, along with a big smile; and he got a big one in return. There was nothing more to be said. They understood, and respected each other. This filled Tom with more happiness and joy than he could have ever expected.
“Finally, I’m finding my place in this crazy world,” thought Thomas.
“They’re people who look at the world in a way that I can relate to; people whom I can truly respect.”
It was a wonderful feeling. Sandra approached Tom from the left side of the room and had witnessed the brief, silent, yet intense interaction. She stopped, looked, and her facial features shifted from a dumb blonde look, to genuine interest and puzzlement. As she approached Tom, she spoke.
“I didn’t know you knew those people so well. Last night they invited you to their table, today you’re meeting on the roof; and now, the big goodbye. What is it?”
Tom laughed at her mix of cynicism, confusion, and tinge of jealousy - it meant, at least, she was aware of something outside of herself. Although how much, Tom couldn’t really tell. Well, ‘The journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step,’ Tom reminded himself. ‘Best to keep her thinking positively, now that her interest has been sparked.’
“I don’t really know them that well. We just met last night, and I had a nice talk with the monk today. They aren't being stuck up, they’re just in a different head space than the casual hikers. We just clicked, and got along really well. Similar philosophies, I think,” he added for emphasis.
Undeterred from her ever present inquisitiveness, she whined.
“Well, why you and not us?” she said with a bit of hurt, and bruised pride.
But Tom wasn’t going to be baited again. Sandra was a bright one, and ruthless to boot. She played dumb blonde very well, and weaseled her way into anything she thought she should know. Tom wasn’t going to give her the easy route this time.
”Its better to get her thinking,” he considered quietly.
“That's something you’ll have to figure out for yourself, Sandra,” he replied, kindly.
“Listen, you’re a good person. It’s just that there are some things you haven’t experienced yet. Let me give you a tip - since you asked. Stick to who you are inside, trust your heart, and work on sincerity. Life isn’t a game to be won or lost - whose result is only dependant upon learning, or not learning, ‘secret’ rules that others don’t easily share. Its about respecting life, living life, and helping others do the same - as you can. Relax. Its all good.”
Unappeased, but obviously thinking differently, Sandra signaled that she had heard enough by her response.
“Whatever! Lets go.”
"O.k., lets go,” agreed Tom without a blink.
So they walked off of the guesthouse porch, and down the common path leading into the thickly vegetated terrain. They reached the bottom of the hill, and there was a small clearing with two paths leading out. The left one went back the way they had come to Kagbeni; and the right one led off onto a narrow mountain ridge path. At the clearing they met with the other hikers. The loud spoilt girl from dinner was there with her travel companion, as was the German couple, the alcoholic man from Toronto, and the other loudmouth hung-over guy whose name Tom didn‘t even try to remember.
“Yikes,” thought Tom. “How am I going to get out of this?” he wondered.
“Oh well, just start walking and keep with the Germans,” he decided.
Then, they were off. After walking an hour or so, a broad path branched off to the right and headed down a manmade ledge - leading to the riverbed far below. It bordered the first of many fields of crops, and dropped sharply from view, down the cliff side. It had been cut ages ago, alongside the huge Kaligandaki River during the years of its former glory. Now, the glacier-fed river was a fraction of its original size.
“This is where we go to the riverbed,” announced Sandra. “Thank God for global warming, it gives us a great place to hike!”
Choking on her comment, Tom replied as politely as he could - given her outrageously insensitive remark.
“You guys go on ahead, I’m going to stay on the mountain trail. I’d like to see these fields, and the villages ahead. The riverbed is too stark for me today.”
“Have a nice hike, if we don’t see you again.....” taunted Sandra.
Glad to have a good reason to split up, Tom ignored the unspoken but clear message of: ‘you are sooo stupid to stay on that long trail, when you can take a shortcut.’
He really liked Sandra....she had lots of potential; but she first had to realize that her time was better spent on internal examination, instead of manipulating others less intelligent than herself.
“Some folks never get that one,” mused Tom, despondently. “I hope she does. I planted the seed, that's all I can do,” he commented to himself.
“Oh, I think we’ll see each other again,” replied Tom, aloud.
The rest of the group moved down without a word of goodbye, eager to make good time towards the day’s hiking goal; and, Tom thought: “to make time with the girls.”
The guys seemed relieved that Tom was going in another direction. It was less competition for them, they thought, as they scrambled like dogs after a bitch in heat.
“Men! When will they ever learn?”
It was his eternal question. Thought, though not spoken, it still made him laugh aloud. Then, he considered his present state.
“Jeez, I seem to be smiling and laughing a lot lately. Its kinda nice! Whatever, they‘re just doing their best!” Tom dismissed it all with a laugh.
Pleased with himself, and his calmer state of mind, Tom turned his attention to the German couple standing next to him. The couple looked askance at each other, as if Tom didn’t exist. Lars seemed to want to take the shorter path with the others, following the pretty girl’s lead. But he deferred to his wife’s judgment with a cowed look.
“I think we go with Thomas. Enjoy yourselves,” she said with a sincere, but relieved voice.
Her unspoken comment was: “so long, hoe!”
Lars smiled at Tom, and shrugged his shoulders in acceptance. And so, Tom walked in-between them; and placed his arms around both of their necks.
“Glad to be traveling with you guys!”
They all laughed knowingly, mutually affirming everything that was unspoken; and started along their trail. As the hours passed, Tom was relieved to have the German couple with him. They were pleasant, upbeat, and very loving people. At times, Lars seemed a bit too loving; using any excuse to repeat their physical contact, and smiling broadly as he examined Tom’s eyes with his. But that was cool with Tom. He was a good guy, just a little explorative; and Tom knew he could always say “no,” if need be. It was actually quite pleasant to be included in the couple. Their glowing natures were almost effervescent, now that the three of them were alone. Their mutual love felt good to Tom. Catherine was a few years older than Lars, and she allowed him lots of slack without getting upset or jealous. He was just happy, friendly, and a bit frisky. Lars was simply happy to be spending time with his new wife, and with Tom; someone he loved dearly, and someone whom he respected. Best of all, they respected each other. An unspoken harmony developed between the three - something that was glaringly absent from Sandra’s probing and cynical nature. So Tom felt comfortable being demonstrative; and he openly told them that he really enjoyed their company during one of their extended conversations. Tom made a resolution with himself to communicate the good feelings that he felt for people as best that he could. Before in his life, it seemed like his most common compliment to people was the absence of negative feedback. Therefore, he felt was important to make the effort, and to risk the ridicule, of being more effusive; and he felt safe doing so with the German couple. It was a pleasant trip for them all. After a few hours hiking, their path tapered off into narrow ledge that ran alongside the mountains. They had left the fields of the valley long ago, far below, as the trail had continually risen. They were gaining significant altitude as they went; but not uncomfortably so, as the gradient was gradual. It just felt slightly more strenuous, as they got higher and higher. As they approached a large break in the dense tree cover to their right, they saw the barren riverbed again. At the higher altitude they could see its impressive length and width, as it spread out very far below them. It had stayed level, or even dropped a little, while their trail rose. As a result, the gap between their trail and the donkey path had grown surprisingly huge. Stopping for a break, they sat down on the edge of the cliff to enjoy the unobstructed view. Their trail varied from one foot to two foot wide, and lay about one foot away from the cliff edge. Tom now understood why the local people used the riverbed for pack animals. It would be too easy to lose one off of their cliff side trail. They let their feet dangle off the edge of the cliff playfully, and began tossing stones and gravel down into the gulf below; watching them bounce off of the cliff side, and into the monstrous abyss that yawned open before them.
“Hey look down there,” Lars said. “See those people?”
Squinting against the sun, Tom looked below to see ant-sized people hiking at a ragged pace, scattered in a broken, single-file, line. Approaching them from the left was a large group of donkeys being led, pushed, and forced along by a few persistent men.
“That's got to be Sandra and the rest,” said Tom.
“I thought so,” replied Lars.
Without rancor or negativity, Catherine voiced her observations. “They look like they’re having a hard time of it down there. Their movements look pretty tired, and worn out.”
Tom gave a laugh, and confirmed her observation.
“That's what happens when you run across a barren place in the sun, uphill and downhill, after a long night drinking! Those poor folks are going to be a mess. The sad thing is that they can’t really stop until they get out of the riverbed. What a shitty day, eh? Glad I stuck to the shade of the forest, and with good company!” he finished.
The other two smiled in acknowledgement.
“Yes. This is a good day,” responded Lars.
“Well, lets get going. We should be able to get to our next stop early tonight. How about we stay in Larjung? It looks like they have showers, and its supposed to be a nice village. Someone told me that they have lots of gardens, and that one guesthouse is almost like a hotel.”
Catherine’s face lit up at the prospect.
“A shower? I would love to wash my hair!”
“Well, that’s where we’ll go then. Let’s get there before the hot water’s all gone!” Tom said with a big smile.
And so the day went, very fast, as the happy threesome talked, laughed and wiled away the day.
Near midday, the path widened into a narrow road as it approached a large village. The road took a sharp right turn, nearly 90 degrees, and so it was impossible to see where it led; but Tom knew that the wider road size was an indication of an upcoming village. As they approached the turn in the road, they got a full view of the dried light brown wheat fields that bordered the road. They wrapped around the left edge of the road, and rolled off into the horizon. The right side of the road was still dense forest, but they had suddenly emerged from the tunnel effect of the forest into a sun drenched fields. The effect was dramatic and startling, as if they had entered a new world. Little people were active in the fields, but it was unclear what they were doing - they were still very far away. But as the trio grew closer to the fields, Tom could see that they were harvesting the wheat. A father and mother, and other adults, were cutting the wheat and wrapping them into bundles. Their children were carrying the bundles on their backs to large stacks, where they were systematically being hand threshed. The scene was idyllic. Everyone was happy, and efficiently performing the harvest. The children seemed to be the happiest. As Tom approached the turn in the road, a little girl dressed in simple but colorful fabrics entered the road from the field. She had a large bundle of wheat on her back. It seemed way too large for her, but it was obviously very light. Her smile towards Tom was angelic, and he had to stop and take her picture. In the background her parents and family looked up from their work, but were otherwise unconcerned. Tom didn’t want to interrupt anything, so he kept moving; but the whole scene was imprinted in his memory. It was an amazing sight. Just when he felt like he had seen it all, he experienced something else. In this case, a friendly group of simple people were quite contentedly harvesting their crops. Tom wasn’t struck by the activity, as much as he was with the attitude and serenity that they projected - without pretense or effort, and with ultimate sincerity in their plain expression. Lars and Catherine had stopped behind Tom while he took his picture. They smiled at Thomas, expressing their similar understanding and recognition of the moment, as they walked past him in seeming slow motion. Not a word was spoken by anyone, but volumes of knowledge had been communicated. Once again, Tom was struck by the near perfect balance of life in northern
“This is a much different feeling than my experiences on
The contrast was brutal in its clarity. The message, undeniable. Life here....in poor, underprivileged, and low GNP Nepal....was more real life than Tom had ever felt before. The honesty and reality of it all was both reassuring and comforting. How could he ever describe this to people who were afraid to get their feet sandy at the beach?
“How have we become so detached from our real world?” he lamented.
In conjunction with his wonderful travel companions, he couldn’t think of anything more vibrant and real. He truly felt the embracing ‘love’ of nature.
“It is love, receptiveness, openness, and the total acceptance of who they all are; along with the recognition and acceptance of what life in the natural world is.....” he mused.
It all struck a harmonic chord in Tom’s consciousness. It was magical, yet he knew that it took all of his life’s efforts up to this moment to see it, understand it, and to embrace it as the way he wanted to live the rest of his life. Not as an itinerant farmer in
“Now, how I’m going to achieve that? That’s the $64 question,” he wondered.
He quickened his pace to catch up with his friends - quickly leaving the visual experience behind him, while silently committing himself to retaining the lesson.
“Cesare Pavese said that: ‘We do not remember days, we remember moments.’ This is one of those cathartic moments,” thought Tom, happily.
Later on, as they drew closer to the village, the threesome came upon two beautifully muscled white horses. They were cantering along, down the road alone; without bridle, stirrup, tack, or anyone attending them. Like his goats, they were obviously allowed to wander around without being watched - due to the close nature of the village community.
“Everyone must know whose horses these are, so they’re allowed to roam about without any worries. I don’t think they’re wild, or they’d be more skittish,” he observed.
As Tom approached them, they stopped, stood side by side, one slightly ahead of the other; and turned their heads in unison to look at him straight in the eye to divine his intent. Again, it was one of those moments that looked and felt like an amazing work of art. So Tom snapped a picture, marveling at their natural beauty; and captivated by their thoughtful consideration. The experience prompted him to consider another radical, but quite logical, train of thought.
“Is beautiful art simply a more truthful and accurate reflection of nature than poor art?” he wondered.
“Whether ‘the nature’ being represented is either physical nature, or internal human nature as expressed as feelings; is the purpose of art to evoke, or express, things or emotions that feel right and are honest? Is brilliant art simply showing an exact glimpse of the real world; to a populace that’s grown far away from their true natures, so that they can live it vicariously....or to shock them into the realization of just how far removed they are? Isn’t the real skill of an artist best measured by his or her ability to express, and convey, to the observer a true reflection of nature; either human or environmental? Not a photographic exact image, but one that evokes the emotions and life of something? Is this what excellent artists mean, when they speak of ‘art having to be brutally truthful to be real?’ And, why they seem to lack empathy towards others when their representation is accurate, yet hurtful in its very accuracy? Therein lay the true tradeoff between self honesty in one’s art, and commercial success. By pandering to the demand for ‘pretty pictures’ or ‘pulp fiction’ that perpetuates an unreality, they feel like they’ve betrayed their purpose; or worse yet, furthered deception and denial of reality. A true artist knows their work has to be truthful as well....as best as they perceive it....to be real; regardless if people are ready to see it or understand it yet. That’s why they seem so aloof, odd, arrogant in their beliefs; and, incredibly strong in the defense of their work..... until their end.....able to defy current convention or social ’conscience,’ by being unwilling to compromise themselves!“ Tom concluded.
His realizations brought him a further sense of reassured calmness - through a better understanding of himself, and his propensity to defend his ‘art of living life’ truthfully.
“What does it mean, though? Is art imitating life, for our pretentious perusal? Or, do people look to art to help show them how to truly ‘live life?‘ Life imitating art can only happen when we‘re so detached from our natures that we feel lucky to be two important steps away from reality, and are trying our best to emulate what we see in art. Why have all those unnecessary steps? Why not just get back to connecting with life ourselves?”
All of his radical thoughts led Tom onto a somewhat scary deduction.
“Isn’t then, our elevation of civilization to the seemingly higher platitudes of art, poetry, music, and theatre just a metaphysical, allegorical, mystical, abstract....and slightly voyeuristic.....representation of the natural world that birthed us? Civilization isn’t intrinsically evolution; unguarded, it’s led to a devolution of our spirit for true life. Is civilization only a strenuous, and seemingly safe, effort to return to our true roots? That to which we long to return; a racial sense of natural harmony?”
Tom’s conclusion was the result of simple deductive logic. While the local people’s environment lacked anything technological or modern, and contained no manmade ’development;’ they shared a daily affinity with the most insightful, creative, and dramatic moments Tom had ever experienced in his full life - exceeding all prior experiences of artistic brilliance in music, writings, the theatre, or any art. Of which, they now seemed like pale comparisons to real life.
“Were those brilliant moments of artistry simply surrogate approximations of real harmonic moments with nature? What are we destroying? By paving over nature, and detaching ourselves unnecessarily from real life, we’re creating the collective disassociative state we all bemoan. We’re allowing a minority of blind and ruthlessly greedy people to enslave us emotionally and spiritually.....forever.”
This realization was nothing short of catastrophic to Thomas, and his body trembled with the revelation.
As he pondered all of his wild insights, the horses lost interest in him and drifted away. They moved as if in a dream, or some romantic movie scene. Tom was totally shaken, yet he wanted nothing to interrupt his present state of awareness. So as he caught up to the Germans, he smiled but spoke nothing; and they walked on silently into the village. The village wasn’t as large as Tom expected it to be; which was a nice surprise. It was quiet, and full of barnyard animals that were kept in small corrals adjacent to the small homes. It was monochromatic, yet full of colorful scenes. So the effect was captivating. But Tom kept his silence, as did the German couple; and they drifted through the village - nodding with smiles to passersby, and receiving warm smiles in return. The hikers, like the little girl in the field and the horses, felt like part of the landscape. They were highly attuned to life around them, and therefore they required no verbal communication. It was surreal in its reality, and Tom loved it. As they approached the guesthouse compound in the larger
Tom rested in his room a while, and waited for the shower to be freed up. After Catherine, he went right in and took a long hot shower. Something he hadn’t done since
“What a day, eh?” Tom started the conversation.
“Yes. A very good day for us,” replied Lars. “It was....uuummm....unusual, no?”
“Yeah......pretty nice. I’ve really enjoyed hiking with you guys.”
“Us too,” responded Catherine. “Today was special in a way I cannot describe. What do you think, Thomas?”
“Well, I had a really good talk with a Tibetan monk a while back; and what I felt today was how I felt with him....all connected and calm, and relaxed.”
“A very nice place to hike, yes?” queried Lars, with a sincere grin.
“Yeah, but its more than the place. Its being with you guys in such a loving state, meeting local people and animals along the way, and feeling like we belong in the countryside. The monk told me that I’d achieve this kind of state once I let go of all attachments; and accepted the world as it is, suffering and all.”
“Suffering?” puzzled Lars.
“Well in this case, the elimination of suffering in ourselves by letting go of preconceptions, judgments, material things in the world, and learning to better appreciate of life. A total connection with our individual natures, and nature itself.”
“Sounds like a 60’s love-in, Tom!” Lars said with a laugh. “That's what anyone would say if we told them about it, yes?”
“Yeah, I guess it sounds hokey when you try to describe intimate experiences to people without a point of reference - when experiences are so different from theirs.”
“I wonder why that is?” intoned Catherine.
“I think its because when we are in a state of suffering, its hard to relate to anything positive. Everything seems bad or hurtful, colored as it were, by our feelings of despair. But if we try to be like the Tibetan Buddhists, you know ‘be one with the world’ by recognizing ourselves as part of the interrelated whole, then the suffering diminishes and a lightheartedness of spirit keeps us strong and happy. Then it seems like we can face just about anything; where it was just bleakness before, when we wallowed in pain. Just knowing that I’m not alone in feeling pain and suffering, makes it easier for me to relate to other’s issues. Then after I do what I can for them, its easy to let go of the suffering and to move on - without feeling burdened by all of the world’s problems. After all, there’s only so much that we can do anyway, right?”
“Yes I suppose so,” said Lars. “But all this talk of suffering. We are on vacation, holiday. Let’s not talk of suffering. That's why I feel good, because we are on holiday!”
“Well yes, in a way. But think about it. A vacation or ‘holiday’ means relaxation, and no pain; it implies a carefree and easy time, huh?”
“Yes.”
“So why can’t we do that when we’re at home too?”
“Because we have work, and commitments; and people can be mean....”
“Well, isn’t that just a state of mind? I mean, look at it objectively. We walked how many kilometers on this trek? Over snowy mountain passes, mostly uphill, and very strenuous. And, we see people everyday who live below our modern world’s view of an adequate standard of living. My legs hurt, and I’m usually really hungry since the food is so bland and in such small quantities. These aren’t horrible sufferings, but they aren’t easy either, eh? Not many people would even hike like this, huh?”
“I agree with that Thomas, my legs really are tired. I will be glad for a couple of days break here,” interjected Catherine.
“So anyway, vacations can entail lots of very hard work; but we don’t really feel them, because in our minds we perceive them as a break from our regular ‘work’ lives. What would happen if we kept this same frame of mind everyday, in our regular lives? Maybe things wouldn’t stress us out so much, huh? Maybe we wouldn't let the bastards get us down, because we would understand that they do it out of ignorance. Maybe, we’d be more empathetic and compassionate to others less fortunate than us? Then maybe, we’d be happier. Like we are now!”
“That makes sense, Tom; but you forget one thing: other people. There are many peoples who push us to do what we don’t like, or that cause us more troubles?”
“What happens if we just don’t allow them to push us?”
“But they control us!”
“Maybe physically, but not emotionally; not if we don’t let them.”
“So,” Catherine started hesitantly, you are saying that happiness is a state of mind?”
“Yes. And its a lot easier here to attain that state of mind, due to our closeness to and actual inclusion with the natural world. We’ve had to really get attuned to weather, to gauge our risks of travel. We’ve had to really get attuned to our physical limits and abilities, to understand how far to travel. We then have been privileged enough, due to being with nice people who are in a very loving state, to be in a very sensitive and receptive state. The gentle local people, and their un-abused animals, also have a big effect. In effect, we’ve become part of the environment here. Not as much as the locals, but enough to see and feel the wonderful subtleties. Could we experience this feeling for the first time in the busy
“I see what you mean, Thomas,” said Catherine.
“What I think we’ve experienced, is what the Buddhists work on daily by being more aware of themselves, others, and the environment. They understand and accept that everything is interrelated, and nothing happens in a vacuum. So things we do affects other people and things, and visa versa. According to them, we should work on achieving harmony within ourselves, with each other, and with nature....our true ‘source’ of everything. The extent to which we accomplish this will determine our level of happiness. Happiness which is based upon compassion and empathy for others less ‘aware.‘ And to avoid the temptation to engage in violent, disturbing, or distracting behavior. Today I think we got a glimpse of that. Many people come close to these same kind of feelings when they get ‘into nature;‘ but they don’t totally understand it. Like you said, they attribute it to outside forces. Outside elements do affect it; but only to the extent in which we let them. A lot has to do with our internal state. It’s our receptiveness, or lack thereof, that determines a lot. We just don’t see or understand that, because we aren't honestly in touch with our real selves. Who do you know, that spends time in reflective thought each day?”
“Not many people, and not for too long,” commented Lars. “Maybe in University; then not.” he replied.
“Maybe not, is more the norm. We’re trained to think that reflective thought is a normal state of development; something we pass through, and finally outgrow when we accept ‘the world as it is,’ and ‘growing up.‘” Tom commented sarcastically.
“Pluuuesssee!” he continued, in total exasperation.
Tom could tell that he was getting more and more passionate about the topic, and at the same time more excited about the connections he was making. But at the same time he was finding collaborative and supporting evidence for his theories, he could see looks of growing confusion on his younger friends’ faces.
“Yep, I’ve almost done it again! Get on a hot topic, get excited, and go on and on and on,” he thought.
Eventually, Tom burned people out with an overload of information. It was often a timing thing; where he touched on topics long before his listeners were ready, willing, or able, to assimilate it. Tom knew he did it as much to confirm things in his mind, as to help others to come along with him. His discussions were attempts to help them out; so they could avoid the struggles that he’d undergone. But there were limits to what anyone could assimilate, and he was finally learning to be cautious of exceeding them. He learned that if he didn’t see and respect their limits, he’d do just the opposite of what he intended - turning folks away from the best path by sounding too ‘out there.’ He was finally realizing that he couldn’t do everything for people; to help them achieve a certain awareness. They had to do some on their own, and were at various stages of understanding. Some people could avoid experiences that their intelligence ‘warned’ them were hurtful, painful, dangerous, or could result in an unpleasant or dangerous consequences. Conversely, others had to learn things by doing them. Often times, that resulted in a harder way of living life, and that was difficult for Tom to accept...thinking their pain was avoidable. But sometimes, it was a stronger way of learning - resulting in deeper understandings, by having their beliefs verified or changed through real experiences. Whatever the case, Tom realized that he’d gone about as far as he should with the Germans. They’d gotten as much as they wanted. Tom understood this, as their questions diminished and they began looking more and more puzzled. He knew from many prior experiences, that after the puzzling looks came incredulity; and then, downright rejection. If he was insensitive enough to not realize that they’d gotten to the rejection stage, then he was rewarded with mockery. It was a potent reminder of his folly in trying to: ‘give answers to questions they aren't even aware enough to ask.’
“Tom my boy, you’re finally learning something,” he congratulated himself silently.
But it was still hard for him to stop talking. To not help people out fully, when he saw them running towards trouble, was something that killed him inside. It was like watching a train wreck happen, and being powerless to stop it.
“But accept their limits Thomas, or you’ll lose the benefits you’ve started; and, be mocked for the efforts. Let go. Let go. Let go,” his personal mantra kicked in.
"O.k.,” he said to himself, "O.k..”
The hurt of being ridiculed by the very people he loved, and wanted to help, was too much for him to handle anymore. It was the most devastating thing to Tom; and until now, he didn’t understand that its cause was often his very eagerness to help.
“After all, why would someone try to hurt you when you’re only trying to show them your love by helping them all that you can?” was his heretofore recurrent dilemma.
So he stopped dead in his tracks, and changed the subject abruptly.
“You guys look beat! I am too. Guess we should get to bed, or I’ll talk your ears off! God, and the world! That's what I like to do! Talk about ‘God and the world!’”
They both laughed at Tom’s German joke; and said their goodnights, rising quickly to leave.
“Yes, they’ve gotten enough to think about. Bless their hearts,” he observed.
He’d caught himself in time.
“Yeah!” he congratulated himself.
His reference to the old German maxim saved his credibility; as he humorously acknowledged his propensity for verbose overkill.
Tom also understood that Lars and Catherine wanted to spend a few days touring the odd little city. It had a long and interesting history; but Tom wasn’t into tourism, so he didn’t really pay attention to those aspects of his trip. His experience was internal, as much as physical; and the last thing he wanted was to deal with tourist trap distractions. So Tom intimated that he’d be going on alone the next morning. Catherine was happy to stop and relax, and Lars was content to spend romantic time alone with her. They were in a really good intimate space, so Tom knew that it was time to break from them anyway. He decided that this was a good way to do that, so everyone would be fine with the split up.
Tom went off to bed. He was fully satisfied with his day, but also felt a little lonely. It was difficult for him to find people whom he could really share experiences - on a peer to peer level. Instead of blowing off the pain of his loneliness however, like he used to do with all painful things, he allowed the feelings to flow through him; and then, be superseded by all the good feelings that he’d experienced that day. He’d finally found a coping mechanism for pain that worked.
“It has been a monumental day!” he exclaimed, happily.
©Tibet
***************
©Tibet, Lamplight Unto a Darkened World…the American Delusion, a Parody of life ( L'illusion Américaine, une Parodie de Vie); is copyright protected, by author, Patrick Mahoney. Online Internet Reproduction/Propagation/Quotation Encouraged, with this citation. Any Printed reproduction, other than for personal reading, requires written permission by author, patrickm at http://patrickm.gather.com/ or patrick1000000000@yahoo.com
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