OK
folks.
Here
it is August 2, and I am still trying to finish an email for you that I started
on June 4th. It’s about why
our trip to Nepal was so meaningful for me.
At this point I have been home for 3.5
months.
Marian,
dear, what is going on? Where is
your final email for us about Nepal?
Well,
some of those 100 or so days since we returned I used to get over jet lag and
the trek cold, re-write the lost trek emails, take a class on Chekov’s SEAGULL,
go on a 5-night meditation retreat, throw parties for Dick’s mom on Mother’s
Day and her Birthday, attend grandson Patrick Pham’s high school graduation in
Kent, WA, show Paula van Deventer, her daughter Titia and grandsons Herman and
Dirk around the northern Sacramento valley, celebrate my 68th
birthday 8 times, and “host” friends for theater in Ashland.
But
still, one must ask, “Why are you still thinking and writing about Nepal?
It’s
not that I haven’t tried to answer this question. As of July 22, members of my Monday afternoon
writing group had patiently listened to me read and thoughtfully commented on over
5,366 words of revisions to my June 4 draft (white pages in picture). I even
resorted to Natalie Goldberg’s writing exercises (yellow pages) to help extract
ideas from my recalcitrant grey matter.
 |
| Evidence of efforts to answer “Marian, why are you still in Nepal?” |
My
writing group friends did say that writing the sort of piece I’ve wanted to
make for you often requires some time and a bit of distance from the experience. And so, I’ve been reflecting on some
questions to define why my trip to Nepal was unique.
Was
it my cool technology?
My
sweet little iPhone, its nifty keyboard, and the
WiFi connections that were everywhere except, not surprisingly, on the trek
were a joy to work with. Did Nepal make
me proud to be a real 21st century tekkie?
 |
| Marian’s iPhone, keyboard, and paper journal technology. |
Or . . . was it the product of that
technology?
Specifically,
was it the connection between you and me friends at home who encouraged me to
send more emails? Was Nepal about
receiving your ego-soothing accolades?
Well,
actually, no. These things are all true,
but they’re not quite it, really, though writing on my tekkie toys was fun, and
late in the trip these “toys” delivered some very welcome news from home.
Was the “specialness of Nepal” a medication side effect?
Well,
I did take 600mg of ibuprofen three times a day for my knees and the
occasional bedtime soma for leg cramps on the trek, but, again, that’s not it
either.
Was it the exotic spices in the delicious
and abundant Indian food?
Now
Marian, STOPPIT! Now you are really getting too silly!
Well OK . . . I’ll get serious.
Maybe what made this trip special is
what DID NOT happen?
None
of us who travelled together fell for a scam -- like camel drivers trying to
charge us twice for a ride up a Moroccan sand dune, or complained about infrastructure
inconveniences – such as Kathmandu’s daily electrical outages, or whined that
because of a province-wide strike they had to ride in a rustic pony cart for
hours over dirt roads to “transfer” to the airport, or required high-end
pre-dinner beverages -- a bottle of Chardonnay before every dinner, or had to
have center stage every evening to boast that they had photographed the biggest elephant or got closest to the leopard in the tree, or was
obliged to wait while others shopped for GOLD!, or was embarrassed by their
compatriots bargaining down the price of already cheap souvenirs, or needed to
know if we had a yacht as long as their
yacht before they could converse with us at dinner. Our trip was free of the high-maintenance companions
Dick and I’ve met on other trips.
So,
OK, Marian, this is nice, but it still does not really get us to an answer,
does it?
No, but looking at what did not
happen helped me realize that this was a true spiritual journey. Things that didn’t
happen helped me open up to receive Nepal’s gifts in my heart.
And, the list helped remind me that I
was different.
Since
2005 I have been a student and practitioner of Buddhist teachings brought to
the US from south Asia during the 1970’s and 80’s. About seven months before leaving for Nepal,
I entered a formal relationship with a teacher who had been trained in both
this tradition and in Tibetan Buddhism. My teachers have advised me to practice
loving-kindness meditation, one of the ten “perfections of the heart” of
Buddhist practice. Although just a beginner, using this practice I have become
more open and receptive, less judgmental, quieter inside, and more connected to
what is happening around me. When I’m
feeling cranky, I’m more likely to think “Oh, that’s interesting,” rather than
blame someone for ticking me off or feed a grumpy rumination. That’s probably not very impressive, but, as
I said, compared to other trips, it helped make this trip more about the life
of the spirit. My dharma studies also made me curious to experience life in
Boudha, an area of Kathmandu where many Tibetan refugees live.
In
the two months before our departure, Dick’s oldest and dearest friend – a guy
who introduced himself at Dick’s mom’s 90th birthday party as “Her other
son.”—had three violent seizures, lost the ability to read, and was diagnosed
with a fast-growing, highly invasive, and inoperable brain cancer. The day before we flew to Nepal, this closest
of friends began aggressive treatments that, we prayed, would extend his life
beyond the “few weeks” of his oncologist’s estimate. Dick and I began this trip in a state of shock
and emotional vulnerability that we’d never felt before: a cherished friend with whom we had shared
3/4 of our lives with might not be alive when we returned. We were also unsure if we could get news of Dean
while we were gone.
On
our flight to Kathmandu, I practiced a loving-kindness meditation from Jack
Kornfield’s A PATH WITH HEART: May I (you)
be filled with loving-kindness, may I (you) be well, may I (you) be peaceful
and at ease, may I (you) be happy. I pictured myself as the vulnerable little
girl I felt like and repeated the “I” phrases.
I visualized Dean and each of his relatives and friends. I repeated the “you” phrases for each of them.
I fell asleep saying the phrases. I woke
up to say them some more. My “loving-kindness-for-Dean
list” was quite long, but so was the flight.
As we west across the Pacific and through that elongated night I grew
more quiet and relaxed.
Practicing
this loving-kindness meditation moved me into a mental state that was utterly
unlike the emotionally tender and teary mind state in which I had planned and packed. My choosing clothes and fitting them into a
suitcase was often interrupted by outbursts of sobbing that sent my cats, who
were “helping,” diving under the bed. More
than once as I packed I wondered whether taking this trip was actually
unconscionable with our dear friend’s life now possibly measured in weeks. On the flight, I did recall that he had just
sent us off with his blessing. For the
moment, and for the flight, I was at peace.
 |
| Dean coloring with granddaughter Delphine at breakfast on the day of our departure. |
Our dear friends Karma and Donna were
terrific traveling companions.
In addition to me being different
from my meditation and dharma practice and Dean’s cancer leaving us
vulnerable, our friends Karma and Donna were
simply perfect companions.
Karma
Ganzler first went to Nepal in 1973. He fell
in love with the country and its people and has returned a dozen times to lead
treks and study tours. He spent a year
in the mid-70’s studying the Nepali language and receiving dharma instructions
with a Tibetan Rinpoche. Karma was
inspired to return last summer when he learned that his old teacher was to give
a four-day course in early April 2012. Karma asked Jawane Tamang, who had been
a young kitchen boy on a trek with him and Donna, to be our guide.
Karma’s wife Donna Barnett fell in
love with him two decades ago on a Himalayan trek that he led. They have
returned to Nepal together several times since. Like Karma, Donna is a
long-time meditation practitioner and dharma student. Together they made a film, “To Touch and Be
Touched, a Buddhist Pilgrimage,” as they visited Buddhist holy sites seeking to
understand her 22-year old daughter Holly’s death. Donna and Karma, whose oldest friend Ron died
last year, know what it is so lose someone dear and easily included us and our
grief over Dean’s cancer in their sphere of compassion.
We
four also had fun. We travelled
comfortably together. We connected in a
real way -- understanding the preciousness and impermanence of life and the
rare opportunity of this trip. Dick and Karma are passionate photographers, so
they were happy to be capturing images side-by-side. Donna and I are good at sharing stories and laughing
together. Unlikely as it may seem, we four
never tired of having three meals and conversations together each day, a ritual
we all missed when we found ourselves back home.
In Nepal spiritual practice is not
separate from daily life.
In Boudha every morning and evening devoted Buddhists circumnavigate
the great stupa, spinning prayer wheels and chanting the Tibetan mantra
OM MANI PADME HUM. This mantra has been interpreted to mean that, through
practice, anyone can transform their ordinary body, speech, and mind into the
pure body, speech, and mind of a Buddha. It was a powerful experience for me
to walk around this magnificent stupa with 200-300 other devotees and chant
this affirmation that everyone has a discoverable “Buddha nature” inside.
Nearly
everywhere, and especially in the city centers, we saw Hindus making their
daily puja, a prayerful offering for
the health and safety of their family.
In Patan on April 1, I asked our city guide to help me make a puja for my friend Ann at a shrine of Ganesh,
the elephant-headed god, who is a “remover of obstacles” and has a reputation
for bringing good luck. We bought the necessary incense, marigold garland,
candles, and special pastry, and he gently showed me how to use them in the puja: set the candles at the base of the statue and
light them, break the pastry and put the pieces on Ganesh’s feet and the tip of
his trunk, light the incense and draw three big circles in front of the statue and
state my hopes for Ann’s successful surgery, and, lastly, place the marigold
garland over Ganesh’s head. I instinctively bowed. I had no idea what to expect
after completing this exotic ritual, but I was happily surprised by the joy
that ran through me as I walked back to where Dick, Donna, Karma, and Jawane
waited.
The Nepalis we met were relaxed, welcoming,
and caring.
From Karma’s friend Tsering’s family
in Boudha, to monks, waiters, students at the Rinpoche’s school, our guides and
porters, folks we stopped to ask for directions, people we met on the trail, to
the staff at the trekking lodges, we found the Nepalis to be hospitable, kind,
and playful. Our guide Jawane and his
porters and helpers were particularly attentive. Jawane treated Karma with the respect and
tenderness most of us reserve for our precious grandparents. Jawane’s team reached out to help us. We didn’t have to ask them to carry our
gear.
The
friendly and spirited women who cooked at the Heaven View Guest House in
Banthanti invited Donna into their kitchen to learn to make momos. They offered each of us a glass of raksi – a Nepalese firewater distilled
from rice wine -- that we happily sipped as we kibitzed around the kitchen
fire. Two days later when Donna plopped
down next to a Nepalese grandma cleaning green beans next to the trail, she was
welcomed with a smiling acceptance of her impromptu offer to help with lunch
preparations.
One event from the trip can embody
all that was most important for me in Nepal
Three weeks ago I was telling my
friend Maryanne about my efforts to write this email for you, and she asked if
there was one event that captured everything that was important about Nepal for
me. I thought for a moment and chose the puja
that we made for Dean on the trek. From
my first backpacking trip at thirteen, I have felt a sacred quality and felt inspiration
in the mountains. So, when I thought
about the comfort of making Ann’s puja,
I decided to offer a puja in the
mountains for the success of Dean cancer therapy. Because he loves plants and
has devoted his life to caring for them -- both at home and professionally -- I
thought we would find the right spot in the rhododendron forest I had read
about. When we climbed into a large clearing bordered by majestic rhododendron
trees in full bloom and with a monumental stone porters’ resting bench in its
center, we had found a splendid place for dean’s puja.
Other
trekkers had placed rhododendron branches laden with red and dark pink blossoms
on the upper level of the stone “altar.”
When we explained that we wanted to make a puja here, Jawane and his helpers immediately added more branches
and helped with the preparations. I retrieved
some candles and incense from my daypack.
Jawane came to my aid with a cigarette lighter and got the candles and
incense burning. Dick and I held the smoking sticks of incense, drew circles in
front of the candles among the blossoms, and spoke our wishes for Dean and his
family. We passed the incense to Donna
and Karma who made their pujas. We four hugged tearfully as Jawane and his
team looked on with warm understanding: an
impromptu forest puja was a most
normal thing to do in Nepal.
 |
| Marian and Dick draw circles with incense at Dean’s Rhododendron Forest puja. |
Dean’s puja was my symbol for how Nepal grew into
my more-tender-than-usual heart. It combined our concern for our dear friend
with the deep companionship of Donna and Karma and the support of our Nepali
trekking team. We used a ritual whose importance I had begun to understand on
this trip. The natural beauty of the Himalayas and the setting among flowering
trees added another layer of blessing. That
we made this offering during a challenging uphill hike brought the pleasure of
physical exertion and feeling of accomplishment of the trek into the puja. This emotionally rich event
contained all the elements of human connection and natural beauty that made
Nepal take root in my heart.
And . . .
So,
Marian, what about your “tekkie toys” that let you connect to your friends at
home that you mentioned at the outset in this email?
I
have to say that they allowed me to create a delicious sort of “electronic icing”
on the “cake” of my Nepal experiences: they made it possible share my experiences
and receive your happy feedback. AND, more
importantly, when, after our trek, we returned to the land of WiFi on April 13,
we could receive Dean’s joyous email: “I am SO MUCH BETTER than when you left.
Doctors are talking in terms of months, not weeks. I can read again.” Our puja prayers had been answered. A great
weight was lifted. Dean would be alive when we returned and for many months
thereafter.
My
writing group buddies had said that to write this email for you would take some
time and distance from Nepal. It did,
but that passage of time has also allowed me to tell you that it was visiting Dean
in July that woke me up to the role his illness played in opening me to my
experiences in Nepal. Dean is still sick,
and he takes more naps with his cat Violet. He has some speech and language
troubles, but he has been able to invest his gift of time with friends and
family. His son and daughter and their
husbands have worked to relieve Dean of his greatest concern: to assure that
his wife will be well cared for when he is gone.
 |
| Dean and his cat Violet take a nap on the family room couch. |
Thank
you for letting me share this trip with you. Namaste,
Marian
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