More from Mirge, and a Trip to Kathmandu

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take your broken wings and learn to fly

All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arrive”

-Paul McCartney

Have you ever heard 17 quasi tone deaf Nepali 3^rd graders sing Blackbird?  It’s very sweet.  I wrote the lyrics up on the board and we went through and underlined and circled the nouns, verbs, adjectives and prepositions in order to keep it educational, traditionally speaking.  They were big on the guitar and it serves as a pretty good motivational tool for them to get things done.  Sometimes I feel like I’m too hard on them, but I’m learning gradually.  The 4^th graders are helping me write a song about Nepal (they are still the class I get along with the best by leaps and bounds…and I’m pretty sure they are more advanced in terms of English and general knowledge than the 5^th grade class).  The 5^th grade class and I haven’t done any music yet since I only have them once a day and I haven’t had the time to fit it in since they all have exams coming up, but they are pretty insistent that I bring the instrument in.

The fourth grade class and I read, from their English book mind you…I brought nothing in, the story of Siddhartha Gautama (The Buddha).  Since he was born in Lumbini, Nepal, he is taught in their social studies and english as an “important person of Nepal.”  Most of them have the 8 fold path (some bad translations aside) memorized…I thought that was pretty interesting.  Some of their general knowledge questions include, “Who is the Hindu goddess of knowledge?” “Where was the Buddha born?” “Who is called the Light of the World?”  “Where was Mohammad born?”…religion is just part of social science for them, and is such a part of daily life (not saying it isn’t in America…we are just in such a state of repression and denial about it with our, illusory “separation of church and state” that we like to hide it from the young ones)…that it is central to the curriculum.  I did notice some interesting and wonderful, in my opinion of course, cultural differences when the class was asked questions about what makes a person “great.”  Before the story began, the book, highlighted as a class discussion, asked, “What makes you a great person?”…the options were Rich and Wealthy, Very Beautiful, Strong and Powerful, Highly Educated.  Dissatisfied with these options as I understood them, I asked independent of the book…they said things like “being nice,” “being intelligent,” “doing something good for your country” came up a few times…I asked if any of them thought their parents were “great people” and then asked why…that opened it up further into the realm of “sharing” and “nice” was repeated a few times.  I asked if they knew the words Honesty, Generosity, Kindness, Peacemaker…and they were very attentive and understood pointed out that “Ghandi was honest and kind and a peacemaker” and that “people who share are generous.” 

What caught me off guard was that when I asked them about the options in the book, assuming that they would understand them in the same culturally biased way that I did...but I definitely underestimated them.  It started off normally enough, “What makes someone rich and wealthy… “money…gold....”  they ran out of steam pretty quick…I pressed and one girl said “silver?...precious stones”  and that was the end of that.  I asked them about beautiful…and they said, “kindness…peacefulness…niceness…honesty” many of the new terms introduced a few minutes before…I’m the one that had to pull the conversation to a joking point and ask “But what about long beautiful hair?  Or pretty eyes?” and then we joked about that for a little bit on looks but that’s really not what they thought of first when the subject of beauty was raised.  Highly Educated was fairly straight forward, “reading a lot,” “going to school,” etc.  It was when we got to Strong and Powerful that I was taken aback.  One girl, my big talker, said, “doing yoga and gymnastics and exercising in the morning,” and I laughed and said, “very good.”  And then Rasik, he and his sister Rasila constitute a very sweet and bright set of twins whose father is a very pleasant man and an English teacher at the first college (grade 13) in Mirge, stood up and said, “meditation,” and I just smiled so huge cause I did not expect, despite the fact that he is clearly from a very Hindu family and often comes to class with a Tikka (-un?) on his forehead signifying that he has done his Puja in the morning,  to hear that out of a 3^rd grader.  Other students repeated things about “goodness and truthfulness.”  Not one of them mentioned anything about ruling or anything political or war until we talked about what a ruler was, but even then I could see that political power is not what they connected with the topic under discussion.  It was quite clear that, for them, spirituality, morality and health are the sources of true strength and power.  My hope meter for the future of humanity jumped a few notches that morning.  They really are an awesome class.

Ok, I didn’t get on here to brag about my 4^th graders all day…I just got caught up.  I have been reading a lot lately.  I just finished a book called Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress about the "Cultural Revolution" and romantic literature left here by the previous teachers, as well as a book of short stories by Thich Nhat Hanh I picked up in Varanasi called, The Stone Boy and other stories, which was a real experience…I don’t know if everyone would have found it as fascinating since part of the novelty was noting the transformations as well as the patterns in his writing and teaching style, but, for me to hear/read this teacher that I always associate with super tranquil, healing, meditative literature, write detailed stories about the ravages of war, dying children, pirates, rape, quantum physics, exile and self-immolation (apparently one of Thay’s students was one of the female monks who “immolated herself for peace” during the Vietnam War …and he writes a very abstract story/tribute to her about a bird and a fire in a wood…it was like looking at Pollack, I didn’t know what it was about until I read the explanation, but I was moved in a way I didn’t really understand), most of which were written in the years during the conflict or directly afterwards when he was in his 30’s…very different perspectives in some ways…same wonderful Thay in others.  There was a story about a woman who climbs a bamboo stalk to the moon and who ends up having to split herself in two so that she can be with her moon family and her earth family , and one that takes place largely in the mind of a physics professor whose son is at death’s door and who discovers the non-dual nature of life and death by way of relativity and wavicles and the law of conservation…one with a girl who becomes a fish and so she speaks in great detail about the gruesome events of the refugee boats and chants the Heart Sutra to the stranded refugee in order to relax her and allow her to sleep…anyways…I recommend it. 

Thanks in part to my sister Zara, who wrote me a very nice email about guitar the other day, and to Nikesh, who is still constantly strumming away, I have started playing more and writing again.  It feels good to mess around again and invent some new sounds.  I am working on an entry from Lumbini, but its been a little difficult for multiple reasons including power outages etc. but also because I feel like Lumbini deserves four entries and I am having a little difficulty trimming it to one.  But I’d like to get caught up so I’ll get it out there soon. 

Haha.  I got on the computer to say that I am planning to head out to Kathmandu tomorrow for a few days since the children have their exams coming up for a while and my teaching services will not be required.  I am planning to visit some monasteries and to buy some more food and maybe visit with my friends if they are still around.  I will let you know how that goes.  Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone since I may not write again before then, but don’t forget that every day is an opportunity to begin anew…it is not necessary to wait for Jan 1^st.  As the light of the sun once again takes ground from the night after the solstice, allow the light of mindfulness expand and dissolve the darkness of delusions.  Metta to you all. 

"We gathered all the truth we found behind the sun
Blinded by the brightness of it all
But the light will bend the lies will fall..."

But the Saga of Mirge is far from over...

One Final Fabrication: Kushinagar

Arise, pass away
The nature of all things born
Take refuge in change

After the Buddha had announced his imminent passing, he set off for Kushinagar with Ananda, his brother-cousin and right hand man for 25 years, and the Sangha.  He stopped in numerous villages giving the same comprehensive teaching, emphasizing the three ingredients of the path to awakening (the eight points of the Noble Eightfold Path are divided into these categories...maybe more on that another time).

This is sila (moral virtue), this is samadhi (meditative concentration), this is panna (purifying insight/wisdom...there is supposed to be an tilde over the n's in panna but I don't know how to do that on this computer).  Samadhi imbued with sila brings great benefits.  Panna imbued with samadhi brings great benefits.  The mind imbued with panna becomes totally free from the defilements of (craving for and clinging to) sense pleasures, becoming, false views, and ignorance.

To make a long story short he ate some bad food offered to him by a silversmith or blacksmith and got very sick.  As the Buddha lay dying, Ananda, at the head of the Sangha, asked who would be their teacher after the Buddha passed:

Therefore, Ananda
Be a lamp unto yourself (alt. trans: Be an island unto yourself...pali ain't easy)
Be a refuge unto yourself.
Take for yourself no external refuge.
Hold fast to the Dhamma as a lamp, (In this context Dhamma is often translated as "truth")
Hold fast to the Dhamma as a refuge.
Look not for a refuge in anyone besides yourself.
And those Ananda, who either now or after I am dead,
Shall be lamps unto themselves...
And holding fast to the Dhamma as their refuge...
It is they who shall reach the highest goal. 

-Mahaparinibbana Sutta

His last words to his followers were:

Decay is inherent in all compounded things.  Strive with diligence to understand this.

Kushinagar is ten or so temples/monasteries, three "upscale" hotels, the stupa which marks the spot where the Buddha was cremated (Ramambar Stupa), the stupa which marks his passage into parinibbana (bodily death and final cessation of bhava [becoming]), the Bodhi Tree (ficus religiosa) that marks the spot where the Buddha's relics were distributed to the eight kingdoms, one cafe, a handful of chai/sweets shop, some dhabas (street restaurants built of sheet metal, tarp and some wood posts that generally serve a fixed menu),
the straw shacks in which the inhabitants of the town lived (if they didn't just sleep in their open shops), and then its just farmland for miles around. 

I stayed in a dinge-pot the first night, but after twelve hours of traveling from Sarnath into Varanasi proper to Gorakhpur to Kushinagar, it already being dark in an unfamiliar place, I was happy to have a bed.  I moved the next day to the Korean Monastery and stayed there for the next three nights.  I liked it there very much.  There was only one monk present while I was there, a young Indian.  I'm told the senior monk, who is in fact Korean, is only present for a month out of the year.  In his absence, an Indian man named Shushil manages the place and decides who stays in the three rooms.  One was occupied by a very interesting Korean gentleman, a meditator and pretty goofy guy all around...in a good way, one by a young Japanese man named "Kaytch" (I have no idea how to spell it) who only knew how to play songs from video games on my guitar) and an Indian man who I didn't get the chance to know very well, and then there was the room which served as my home for the duration of my stay in town.  I liked it very much despite the fact that it was just being used for storage until a bed was moved in for me.  The rooms occupied the bottom floor of the structure, while the temple occupied the top.  I sat in there a couple of times and did my tai chi on the roof behind it looking out over the fields.  There was a healthy lotus pond (where I played my guitar one afternoon), a big green lawn, and a very modest stupa in front of the temple structure and before the gate to the street.  It was generally very quiet and relaxing within the walls of the monastery. 

When I get back, ask me about the Raj Yoga studio that I visited out of curiousity, was invited to and ate dinner at, listened to an "Introduction to Raj Yoga"/meditation CD....was asked to return when an "english speaking" teacher could explain the practice to me (/reread me the book I had already read) in the evening... came back, got creeped out, left and immediately fell into a five foot ditch, but was fortunate enough to fall in the one place filled with leaves to break my fall right as an "Inidian Security" officer was walking by, who then escorted me back to the monastery clutching my arm the whole way as though I might keel over, excited and proud that he had something to do story...and I'll tell you all about it.  That fall ended up assisting me in my decision to stay in Kushinagar an extra day. 

There was also the time I went to Ramambar stupa and after three circumambulations and a lot of staring, I was surrounded by a hundred or so Indian junior high students asking me every question they could remember from class.  One rather forward girl asked if I was engaged and when I told her I wasn't, she said I was "smart" and asked why not. Their teacher eventually jumped in...not to break it up mind you...but to demonstrate his linguistic abilities as well.  Then we all got to take part in the photoshoot before they asked me to sign their journals, bits of paper, or hands in many cases.  I can't imagine what it would have been like had I actually been famous. 

While in town, I also had the privelege of receiving a private tour of the beautiful Thai monastic complex, which was otherwise closed to the public due to a section of it being under construction.  Most of the complexes in Kushinagar consist of a building with some residential rooms, a temple or pagoda or both and some land around...but the Thai complex was an entire community of thin waterways, gardens, beautiful structures in that uniquely Thai style of multiple roofs with little crowns on everything, and a great glass structure which held the relics of the Buddha and the current Thai king (which was a little odd to me, but they are super into their king) stood in the center.  My tour guide, Langsan Bhante (the monk in charge of "foreign relations" and a very nice guy) lead me around explaining some things to me, and invited me back that night for walking meditation around the reliquary and said that I was welcome to sit in the structure and come for the chanting as well.  I returned that night and did all of the above and afterwards, we had tea and...remember that insanely hot thing I ate in Berlin, the green papaya salad?...ya, he gave me that too.  This one wasn't quite as bad, but it was still intense.  He said I could come the following day to look around again but I decided against it as I wasn't feeling well and had to get stuff together for my departure.  Sorry, there won't be more than one picture of the Thai monastery up on FB...I only got one shot and it was at night and not very good.  Oh, and I don't think I'll be able to get anything up on there for the next couple months since I have crossed the border into Nepal and my phone no longer has working email and internet. 

I had a few very important sits (in my experience, no sit is more or less important than any other as long as you are making an effort to be in the present moment and have a genuine desire to attain liberation...what I mean to say here is that there was a noticeable event in namarupa [the mind-body process] or shift, the breaking down of a previous conditioning...ehh i may try to put it into words some other time haha...just go sit and watch your breath) beneath the bodhi tree which is supposed to mark the spot where the Buddha's relics were distributed after his cremation. The distribution is an event I don't know much about, nor do I find it particularly significant, but there is a power in that tree I tell you.  It's root system, marked by a bunch of little 1" x 1" gold squares left by pilgrims (also all over the Dhammek Stupa in Sarnath), is something to behold (I think there are pictures on facebook).  It sits in the middle of a few small fields, off of a dirt path, a hundred yards or so behind the Thai monastery...a very modest housing for such an impressive organism and a very peaceful spot for meditation (aside from some local kids that like to come and make noise...yet another story...four of them were great teachers in patience and tolerance one afternoon).  I did battle with some of the violence within myself beneath that tree...with some of my resentment of pain and discomfort...and there were small victories.  I sat alone there sometimes...those were powerful experiences.  And one time I sat with numerous female "novitiates" (another bit I'm not going to include right now in its entirety...but they were members of a group of Malaysians, Sri Lankans, Australians and maybe a couple other countries that came to Kushinagar to participate in a program through the Aloka Foundation, where you can take robes and the monastic vows for 15 days, and I actually spent some time with them in Lumbini as well...the women were dressed in all white beneath the tree and they created, collectively in meditation, a very powerful vibration [...I think there are a couple pictures of that scene up on facebook as well...and the four Indian boys you see standing behind the group are the four teachers mentioned above]) and that sit was also very profound.  I originally wanted to include a great deal about my time beneath the tree but I don't think beating my head against a wall trying to find the right words would be beneficial right now.  There was some other cool stuff: walking with bear feet through the 108 ft. high pagoda at the Burmese temple and examining the tasteful and enlightening paintings of the Buddha's life inside, spending time chanting and doing metta with the novitiates and learning about this new center in Malaysia that I would love to visit one day, going to the Parinibbana stupa and park mobbed with little students in uniforms and being followed around there as well...oh and the Chinese monastery that looked a little like downtown disney...I think there are some pictures of that up as well...anyways, more for when I get back.

Present time, from Mirge: Alright, I'm gonna head back downstairs and rest.  I am feeling a little under the weather today and since there is a festival in the village, which means there is no school, I am going to do some reading and relaxing.  As the halfway point of this trip (which I think will be New Year's...and I am going to friggin miss Adam's annual bash rrr...well, certain sacrifices had to be made haha) approaches, I reflect on how worthwhile this experience has been...and continues to be.  Thank you to all those who have supported me on this trip, emotionally, morally, spiritually, financially, in the past and in the present...on into infinity.  Thank you.  I send Metta out in all directions.  And now...you guessed it...another haiku...

This self eternal
Gone in the blink of an eye
Who is really here?

Oh, and I saw this in the Japan-Sri Lanka Center and had thought it was interesting:

"The religion in the future will be a cosmic religion.  It should transcend a personal God and avoid dogma and theology.  Covering both the natural and spiritual, it should be based on a religious sense arising from the experience of all things, natural and spiritual, as a meaningful unity.  Buddhism answers this description."

-Albert Einstein

The Saga of Mirge Begins

"Backbeat the word is on the street that the fire in your heart is out
I'm sure you've heard it all before but you never really had a doubt
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now

And all the roads we have to walk are winding
And all the lights that lead the way are blinding
There are many things that I would like to say to you
But I don't know how

Cause maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me
Cause afterall, you're my Wonderwall..."

-Oasis (Wonderwall)

Hello everyone,

It has been a little while.  Internet has not been the plentiful resource it was on the tourist trail and, more relevantly perhaps, I have taken a rather hard hit from that side of the globe emotionally which diminished my desire to spend time online...but time and this journey dance onward and I think sharing my experiences is a beneficial and healing practice.  Entries on Kusinagar and Lumbini are in the works and will be up soon...who needs chronology anyhow?

I have arrived in Mirge (pronounced Meer Gee/Gay depending on who is saying it), Nepal.  It is a farming village of a few hundred families in houses scattered across a few hillsides a couple hundred kilometers and a nine hour bus ride north-east of Kathmandu.  This is where I will be living and teaching for the next seven or eight weeks. If and when I find the little blurb that introduced me to the town I will copy it here or attach the website link. 

I live in a house with the principal, Mahesh, his brother Surendra, his wife Supadi, and two of his three children (the other, his oldest daughter, goes to school during the week in the nearby [2 hour bus ride] town of Charykot).  The house is the second and third story of the school house which holds the classrooms of grades K through 2 (so you can imagine the fun songs and noises that drift up from below during the day).  I teach English, Computers (there's a text book, and its pretty much rote...so quit your laughing) and General Knowledge to grades 3 through 5.  So far, grade 4 and I have hit it off really well (and they are super cute when I ask them if they understand and they do that head wobble as a whole).  Grade 3 cant seem to stop talking to each other, at least the middle row can't but we had a good lesson where I jumped all over the classroom and poked some students in our lesson about prepositions, verbs and nouns.  I only have grade 5 once per day so we'll see how that unfolds...some of the older kids are in that class and I might have to work a little to earn their respect.  Every time I walk into a classroom all of the children stand up and say "Good Morning/Good Afternoon Sir!"  and then I say "Good Morning class.  How are you?"  "We are fine sir! And you?!" "I'm doing quite well...now bassa bassa ('sit sit' in Nepali)."  Something similar happens when I leave the room as well.  They stand up every time you call on them and won't sit down until you tell them too.  Michelle and Jeff, the last teachers here, with whom I met in Kathmandu a few days ago, have taught them some Spanish songs and some basic terms and I am teaching them some Italian and they are teaching me Nepali and some Tamang (the language spoken in the home of many of the families, including Mahesh's...kind of amazing that some of these kids are learning their third language). 

The balcony just outside my room, to which the staircase down to the school is attached, faces out to the valley and the opposing series of mountains which, in the late afternoon, roll like four waves-gradually fading out in color and detail due to winter mist, as though Constable or Freidrich had come along and purposefully applied an atmospheric perspective to this rural Nepali landscape.  The sun sets around 5:20 now and then the power goes out at 5:30 everyday for about 15 minutes (which after the 4 to 6 hours of power outage per day in Lumbini is not really a big deal)...(haha, I wrote that before today...the power was out for most of the last 24 hours, which was actually pretty great considering it allowed me and Nikesh, Mahesh's 12 year old and my 5th grade student, and Bim, the 17 year old math teacher who is also a refugee from Bhutan, to have a little play date...some Volleyball, some table tennis and then I taught them HORSE and the Magic Johnson hook shot [of which I made two in a row thank you very much...[have to thank my dad for that one haha]...I mean, anyone who has seen me play knows I am not a basketball player, but its easy to look like a pro on a rim built for people half my size...I can comfortably 180 dunk haha). 

My room is pretty fantastic.  Its relative luxury (and the power went out for the third time while trying to write this)...my feet don't even hang off the end of the bed for one of the first times since coming to the subcontinent (I don't know if Nepal is considered part of the subcontinent).  I have a double gas burner in my room and I bought some food supplies for the next couple months in Kathmandu...but I am also invited to most meals upstairs with the family...which sometimes leads to me eating two breakfasts...though Nepali breakfast is the same as every other Nepali meal: (salt with a side of) "Dahl Bhath," which is RICE, lentils, a vegetable (cauliflower, potatoes, spinach or some combo of the three) and sometimes meat (goat) for the family...so it feels more like I eat breakfast and lunch in super quick succession rather than eating a second breakfast.  Anyways, my books and food fit nicely on the shelf and the bed is comfortable and I sleep well here with head to the north (until Hero the dog starts barking a few meters from me at 4:30 or so but I go back to sleep with the earplugs...which have been invaluable on this trip)....and another power outage...rrr.

The village is about half Hindu, half Buddhist (I didn't realize that 90% of Nepal is Hindu before coming here).  The Pakhrin family falls on the Buddhist side and so there is a lovely little Buddha statue in dammacakka pavattana mudra in my room which I have since adorned with the katas (traditional white scarfs presented to an honored guest) given to me by Mahesh, his wife, his mother and his father upon our respective meetings, and some of the flower garlands that the children had placed around my neck on my first day of school (since removed due to the fact that I am allergic haha), and the sandlewood mala (prayer beads) from Sarnath.  I have a nice meditation space that I am breaking in right next to my bed and in front of the Buddha.  I use the space as often as Nikesh, Mahesh's son and my newest guitar student, will let me without knocking on my door ever so quietly, hiding behind the curtain, giggling to himself and then saying "guitar?," making a little strumming hand motion.  I've never seen a more dedicated child...he spends hours sitting in my room just strumming away (in fact he's in here right now while I write this draft).  You would think he's never seen a guitar before...oh wait...musical instruments are not exactly a common household object around here aside from the drum at assembly every morning...I understand there is a tamborine somewhere but I haven't seen it.  Nikesh is a good kid and quite bright.  We are learning Wonderwall by Oasis, hence the above quote...though it has other dimensions as well I suppose.  He calls in the "I don't believe" song, since thats his favorite part since my voice gets all loud and he thinks its funny, and asks me to play it constantly.  No one has asked me to play (or more notably, to sing) this much since the person who was there when I first picked up the guitar a few years ago so I'm still getting used to it. 

His little sister Sushmita is possibly the cutest and goofiest child I have ever spent time with.  She is 9, looks 5 and has the mannerisms of an 80 year old.  I wish I understood more Tamang cause I get such a kick out of just watching her.  Her little hands digging into the rice...I mean, I guess its something you can't really appreciate if you haven't seen how Indian and Nepali people eat.  Everyone here eats with their hand (singular since they use the other as toilet paper) and this has made for the creation of a very specific style of mushing your rice with your lentils to create a sort of goop (you like these technical terms ay?) and she is just a little pro.  To watch this munchkin mush her food around and then shove it in her face while bossing her uncle around, "O Baba, Dhal!"...its fun with every meal.  I too eat with my hands when I eat with the family.  I was doing it sometimes in India depending on what or where I was eating, but I was inexperienced until I got my first real lesson from my very cool Nepali friend, Prasanna, whose name also means happiness, who I met in the van from Lumbini to Kathmandu...and now I can finger eat at a 3rd grade level.  Which is a bit better than my reading and writing of Devanagari, the script used for Nepali and also for North Indian Sanskrit based languages like Hindi.  I studied during my retreat in Jaipur...don't tell Goenkaji.

I put up a prayer flag from Lumbini in the room, which brings in some color and joy.  The family seems to like what I've done with the space.  My habits regualar meditation, abstaining from meat, saying something over my food, in addition to the facts that I have taken the Buddha statue out of the corner of the room and show it respect and that I am on pilgrimage have lead to the family referring to me as a "real Buddhist."  They are both mildly entertained by and quite respectful of my practice, which has, in certain respects, created a fairly healthy atmosphere for development.

If the householders life is what is in store for me, I could see being very happy with someone else...living in a quiet place like this, where its cold but not unbearably so in the winter, where its hot but not unbearably so in the summer, where there are rivers and mountains and clean air, and people that know each others names...no car horns or helicopter claps to be heard in any of the ten directions.  But that conversation is for another day I think. 

I was right, I got a lot of joy writing this entry.  Sometimes I am just joyful to be here after all the planning and correspondences and coordinating, etc...and there have been some great surprises, like my family calling last night when I couldn't sleep.  Much of the time, especially that time spent on the cushion, or laying in bed after waking up or before going to sleep (I think anyone who has ever dealt with serious depression or loneliness knows the depth of the stillness and the silence of these times of day...luckily that stillness and silence can be utilized to bring about a light instead of a darkness, but I am bumbling about with that process much of the time) has been spent with my mind swaying between a sadness and that peace that comes from penetrating sadness and arriving at something more fundamental than sadness...or fear, or jealousy, or ill-will, or joy or maybe even love.  But it is difficult to remain that focused when there is so much to take in here and when there has been such immense emotional stimulation with few familiar crutches.  I feel as though I am in a rush alot even though there is little reason to be...I come back to the present, find my breath and slow it on down...and I do this tens or hundreds or thousands of times a day...so much of the practice is just coming back...being patient and forgiving with yourself and saying, "Be Here Now."  I also have found that Metta practice, even though it can seem impossible at times, is the most helpful with anger and sadness...genuinely wishing the happiness of another when you are in pain has a healing power, it is a great light in the midst of darkness. 

I keep working.  Meditation is work, despite what it may look like from an outside perspective. In fact, it is the hardest work I have ever done...and also the most worthwhile.  When I got emotionally blindsided from across the Atlantic, close to the start of my year abroad in Italy, I had nothing...and so I self destructed...turning to unhealthy crutches that controlled much of my life for the next few years.  But now there is some shelter.  Than Geoff's "A post at the edge of the sea," Shinzen Young's "A place to stand," Thich Nhat Hanh's "The island within myself," call it God if you want...there is a refuge, no matter what the name. There is some insight into the nature of what is actually happening in my mind and body without feeling completely overwhelmed by it...I have found somewhere that I can sit and watch the storm...though, at this point, I still get tossed around quite a bit.  I don't know if I included this in the entry about Plum Village but over my bed there was a calendar with quotations and meditation from Thay's teachings...and one that has spoken to me throughout is, "Breathing in, I observe the coming and going of the waves.  Breathing out, I observe the no-coming, no-going of the water."  Akin to this is his teaching on the nature of the fully awakened one: "The tathagatha is free to come and go, because the tathagatha is not limited by the ideas of coming and going."

The first noble truth is that there is dukkha (suffering) in life.  Any battle must be acknowledged in order to be won.  When it has gotten a little overwhelming, I have gone to many places for help, both internal and external...to gladden the mind and soften the heart.  These pockets exists all around us, and within each one of us, without noone as an exception...we must develop the eyes of wisdom to see them.  One cannot see goodness if one is not looking for it.  Remember that, "Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding."  -Gibran

I wish everyone health and joy.  I am very grateful to those people who have sent kind words in the midst of busy schedules, and to those who have both lent and accepted support as they are two sides of the same coin and are equally beneficial practices.  May we all find true happiness.

The Turning of the Wheel: Sarnath

Thus have I heard: Once the blessed one was sojourning near Benares (Varanasi), at Isipatana (Sarnath), in the deer-park. 

The blessed one addressed the company of five bikkhus.

"Bikkhus, these are the two extremes that should not be followed by one who has gone out from home to the homeless life.  What two?

The giving up of the pleasures of sense...and the giving up to self mortification...O Bikkhus, by avoiding these two extremes the Tathagata (this is the way the Buddha referred to himself and its a whole discourse in and of itself, for now I'll just give its literal meaning: "thus-gone") has found out that middle path which gives vision, which gives knowledge, which tends to peace, higher wisdom and Nibbana. 

And what, O Bikkhus, is that middle path which is found out by the Tathagata...?  It is this very eightfold noble path, namely: right (also: total, complete, true) view, right aspiration (also: intention, thought), right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, right meditative concentration.  This, O Bikkhus, is that middle path...

Now this, O Bikkhus, is the noble truth of suffering...
of the origin of suffering...
of the cessation of suffering...
of the path leading to the cessation of suffering

When, O Bikkhus, my knowledge and insight of the Four Noble Truths...in their essential nature was quite clear to me, then only...did I profess in this world...that I had gained the incomparable supreme enlightenment; and there arose in me knowledge and insight; 'Sure is my heart's release.  This is my last birth.  There is no more becoming for me.'"

-  section of the Dhamma-Cakka-Pavattana Sutta (Discourse of the Turning of the Wheel of Dhamma)
(Please forgive some of the grammatical shortcommings with the translation.  I'm working with a poor paper-back version I bought in one of the vihars here and trying to compensate for some bad translation with bits I know from my studies and to clarify without going into too much detail.)

And so begins the pilgrimage.  I mean, to draw a line and say "this is where it begins" is silly, but along with Lumbini, where the Buddha was born, Bodh Gaya, where he realized nibbana (skt. nirvana), and Kusinagar, where he died and entered into parinibbana, the Sarnath deer park, where he delivered his first teaching (referred to as the Dhammacakkapavatana or "The Turning of the Wheel of Dhamma") after becomming Sambuddha ("fully/completely awakened") is one of the four major pilgrimage sites for practitioners of the Dhamma.  I am glad to have met all of my recent travel companions, but part of me is happy to be back on my own, saying no more than a hundred words a day, paying closer attention to my steps and my breath...being on a schedule that doesn't have to cater to quite so many people.

I had planned to be in Sarnath for only a few days, but as is often the case while travelling, my plans were changed when the bank cancelled my card and I had to wait here until it arrived.  I don't mind as it has given me a chance to get to know this small suburb of Varanasi very well (and to frequent all two of its restaurants since I don't want to press my luck, or stomach, by eating from the street vendors too often).  I spent my first night in a Tibetan Nyingma (the oldest of the four major schools of Tibetan Buddhism) monastery for young monks (thought I didn't know that at the time...they were all between about 4 and 9, very cute and very loud at 4 am) as it was the first monastery I saw.  From the second night onward I have been living under the roof of the Mahabodhi Society Pilgrim Rest House across from the deer park, since they very generously offered me a room until I leave. 
I have spent a good chunk of almost every day here in the deer park (and paid its entrance fee every one of those days).  I have done many circumambulations of mindful walking around Dhammekh Stupa and the ruins of the Dharmarajika Stupa (one of these stupas marks the spot of the first discourse [above] and the other, the second [Anattalakana Sutta - Teaching on the Characteristic of "No-Self"] and done quite a bit of sitting meditation around the ruins of the old monasteries and beside the Dhammekh Stupa.  Everyday hundreds of pilgrims visit the stupas and do morning chanting and leave incense and lotus flowers and candles...and I watch the same little Indian kids work their same tricks day after day, trying to get someone to buy a five rupee statue for a hundred, trying to sell the lotus one pilgrim just placed on the stupa to another...they recognize me by now and leave me alone...after all I am the only "white" pilgrim I've seen here so far...and the only person who seems to be doing (silent) sitting meditation.  I saw a couple that looked Japanese-American doing mindful walking once, but thats it.  I am aware of the stats that something like 90%of those considered "Buddhist" in the world don't do the main practice of Buddhism, insight meditation, but I was still a little surprised to see that the only practices around these parts seems to be chanting, prostrating, making offerings, etc.  It definitely looks like a religion here, which would frustrate me if I weren't so happy just to be here...and since my practice, and progress therein, depend on my effort and equinimity, that is where I have chosen to place most of my energy and focus.  I still feel a very strong connection to the place and many of the people and events here.  I am actually getting slightly overwhelmed trying to figure out how to organize this entry...what to talk about and what to leave out.  You would think that sitting quietly, watching my breath, body sensation and thought patterns for half the day, combined with being in a town that consists of a few streets, would make for a relatively simple entry...but a lot has happened in the past week. 

I spend quite a bit of time at the Tibetan University about 2k away from the park to use the internet and read and as a quiet haven away from the vendors and tourists.  I found a nice spot between a short group of bamboo stalks and a pond to spend some time in the past few days.  I have visited the archaelogical museum and every temple in town now I think...Thai, Japanese, Chinese, Burmese, Sri Lankan, Tibetan (Nyingma and Geluk...maybe I missed the Sakya and I don't think there's a Kagyu one in town)...pictures of which are gradually coming up on facebook.  I listen to the Sri Lankans monks of the Mahabodhi Society chant the Dhamma-Cakka-Pavattana Sutta every night either from my room, since its across the street (everything is across the street here) or I go and do sitting meditation in the back for an hour while they send out their vibrations.  They have an almost lifesize statue of the Buddha making the (dhammacakkapavattana mudra)teaching gesture (very similar to the one in the archaelogical museum, thought in the museum it is simple stone and the one in the temple is, at least in color, gold) that looks like it may just open its eyes and start moving and teaching at any moment.  This temple is also a reliquary so it draws many from all over the world (and that fact may contribute to the aliveness of the statue).  Which is why it is a little odd that the day before yesterday I had the entire temple to myself (of course the monks were also there chanting, but I was the only audience for 95% of the recitation and chanting)...I'm not complaining, it was wonderful, it was just a little surprising.  Adjacent the temple is a small courtyard in which there is a tasteful display of a larger than life size Buddha statue teaching the five ascetics.  This grouping is surrounded by sets of marble slabs on which the sutta is written in Cambodian, Thai, Vietnamese, Singalese, Mongolian (which may be the most beautiful written language I've ever seen), Burmese (which looks like pac-man and the mrs. had millions of crazy babies that smashed into each other and then they're smushiness was looked at by the Burmese and it was decided "ahhh, this shall be our written language), Tibetan, Nepalese Rananja (I think thats write?), Korean, English, and Pali in the Latin script...among others.  I did a good amount of walking meditation in that courtyard as well.

My experience here has been emotionally charged in general and there are many little instances or events I could site but I'd rather be out there doing the travel and meditation thing than here on the computer so I will keep it to the events of one morning...but first a precursor to put it in context.  As an external confirmation, symbol, gesture...whatever you want to call it, of the beginning of this pilgrimage, I had my head and face shaved soon after I arrived in Sarnath.  (It is the first time I have had a clean shaven face in over seven years and, I believe, the first time I've had no hair on my head or face [save the eyebrows] since before I came out of the womb...Mom, back me up on this?).  Regardless of personal history, my new appearance has lead to some interesting situations in a town filled with monks...especially since I have been wearing a piece of cloth I bought in Pushkar as a Lunghi (a long surong...I don't know how to spell that)...and that cloth, I realize now, is almost the same earth tone as the robes of the Thai Forest tradition (which might explain why I was subconsciously attracted to it in the first place).  I never had the intention of tricking anyone into thinking that I was a monk thought I did shave my head and face for the same reasons that the Buddha instructed the Sangha to do it: to symbolically, and actually to some extent, reject heirarchies based on caste and sex, to shift away from an attachment to and identification with the physical body, to remove unnecessary boundaries, to recognize a new beginning, and to undercut the rigidity of our normal view of the separate and isolated individual (an no, despite much confusion on the subject, the Buddha did not teach us to throw ourselves into a giant pool of oneness where none of us have any significance...but we will have to revisit this topic another time).  I mean, I like to sometimes think of myself as a "monk of the earth" (that term may or may not get more of an explanation later on) and let that inspire me to be a better person, to more rigorously observe the precepts and push myself a little more in meditation...it gives a sense of uprightness that is a source of energy.  Regardless of my intentions, or lack thereof, it was clear that some people thought that I was in fact ordained. 

I noticed a change in the way some interacted with me...people were kinder in general (though that is definitely not universally true), my "Namaste"'s were returned more regularly or even initiated by another party...I wasn't stared at any less and the number of people who wanted to take my photograph or have their photograph taken with me went from a once-in-a-while phenomenon to a daily one.  Once, when I was sitting in the Sri Lankan Temple for the chant, I saw through my eyelids a bright flash and opened my eyes to see what it was.  I saw a young Indian girl, maybe 12, holding her camera, she looked surprised and embarassed, like maybe she thought the flash was off and wasn't expecting to distrub the meditation.  I smiled and she quickly scuttled off, eyes down cast.  Another time I was approached next to the Dhammekh Stupa, immediately after standing up from sitting meditation, by a couple, who it seemed had been waiting for me to finish sitting so the guy could take a picture with me. 

Anyways...this was all to get to the morning I visited the Burmese monastery.  It was the last one I wanted to visit (and maybe the last one to visit in town period) and so I brought my meditation seat/sleeping bag thinking they might have a good spot to sit for a bit...I walked in and there stood a Burmese monk, accompanied by 50 or so Indian Buddhists (that's how he introduced them) who had just gotten up from morning puja/meditation and were about to go to the deer park.  I was the tallest person by about 6 inches and everyone was looking up at me with big smiles.  And the questions began.  First a few from the monk and then another man took over for a bit. "From which country?  You like India?  How long you have been here?  Which places have you visited?  Where are you going?"  Every answer followed by an Ooo of approval...I got the impression breifly that they thought I was something more or different than I was, but no one addressed me as anything or asked any questions that were beyond the norm when I meet someone new in India...and plus, the haircut and style were still fairly new and combined with the over-abundance of attention I was recieving, which made me a little nervous, I wasn't as mindful of my appearance.  After a little more questioning, they then got in line to take pictures with me (if you happen to be surfing any Indian tourist sites and see my picture blasted all over the place let me know).  Then, as they were gradually filing out to leave for the deer-park, next door, they, especially the women, came up and did little namaste hands and bowed to me, some of them taking my hands in theirs, all very genuine and kind...but I had no idea what to do and this was a severe contrast to the normal cold shoulder I get from most here, and so the intensity of affection seemed amplified by its own scarcity.  I just smiled, bowed back and wished them well....and then when I thought I had recovered I walked out of the gate in the same direction.

In hindsight, I thought to myself how nice it is to see Indian Buddhists, seeing as the tradition has been all but dead in India for over 1500 years, and how kind they were...but also that I was glad that series of events was over with.  And then, as I was approaching the gate, a monk, at least 20 years my senior, I believe Sri Lankan, but came up to me very gently and said, "Bhante, where are you from?"  "Bhante" is the way one addresses a monk.  Even remembering it now makes me feel a little emotionally off-balance. It hit me like a ton of bricks and I just kind of froze...I responded automatically, "America."  He said "Oh," smiled and walked off, hands at his chest, before I snapped out of it.  Instead of walking into the deer park, I went in the direction of the guest house.  I was smiling almost the whole way back, but not a joyful smile, at least not for the most part...it was that smile one puts on when someone tells you something you don't know how to react to...I remember when I was 12 or so and my best friend's mother told me that someone in their family had died and my response was, "Are you kidding?" (that event still embarasses me today, though it is only me replaying it in my mind and I'm pretty sure that the other party involved has forgotten all about it)...it was that kind of smile.  I walked back to my room and changed immediately.  I was happy enough to let people think what they wanted as long as nothing was said...but when this monk who had given his life to the practice...and from what I recieved energetically from him, was a very kind and learned being, addressed me with that title of respect, I just felt guilty and stupid.  I have since made peace with the event...and it was certainly a learning experience...though I haven't quite figured out all the lessons yet.  I suspect there are many other reasons for my guilit than simply that I didn't say, "Oh, excuse me Bhante, I'm not a monk.  Just on pilgrimage."  But I am not ready to talk about those reasons right now...and I'm quite certain there are more beyond the ones that have presented themselves thus far...I will simply try to observe as they unfold before my mind. 

After all that, I feel that I should say that my experience in Sarnath was overall very positive.  It was a quiet celebration, rich in many ways.  I have looked forward to this aspect of the trip, and to Sarnath specifically for a long time.  It was the realization of much planning and daydreaming.  I was given an opportunity to generate gratitude for all the factors that allowed me "to be in the here and the now" in the place where the Buddha taught his first enlightened discourse.  Once I gave up the clinging to some preconceived notion as to how I was "supposed to be" sitting and what I was supposed to be feeling it became easier to forgive myself, which in turn allowed me to save time and energy, which I then used to achieve greater states of concentration and investigate in more depth. I spent much time contemplating the four noble truths and the eight fold path, and the nature of joy and emptiness and I am learning to see the events of my mind in terms of causes and effects rather than as isolated incidents.  I mean, I've just scratched the surface...I still get frustrated constantly...but I am working ardently.  And in time, I will realize that which I now seek.

Well...this entry has stretched on long enough I think...I'm apologize to and admire all those of you patient enough to read this through.  I would like to also tell about some things I wrote in the museum in front of the statue of Agni (the Vedic personification of the sacrificial fire), about the time I got swarmed by 30+ beggars because I made the "mistake" ( I use that word loosely here) of giving some money out in plain sight to numerous children on my way to the university and then had to jump on a rickshaw to escape the madness...and other bits but its time to go.  Maybe later. 

May the clear light of wisdom, joy and compassion rain down in your minds like the monsoon.  May we all find true happiness. 

...and now for another haiku

Why sit quietly?
In the stillness and silence
Is where truth is heard