Street Vendors

25 year old sales-person mentioned below

Dear Richard,

Thank you for your sweet and insightful comment. Noah and I also had a couple of really nice interactions with street sales-people. There was one ghat, centrally located, that we ended up at a couple of times a day. there we would sit, watch the goings-on of the day, drink chai from flimsy plastic cups, and be recognized by a few of the sales-people. Our favorites were a twelve year old girl selling post cards, and a 25 year old mother of two selling stone elephants, post cards, and about anything else you needed. Before, during and after our minimal financial dealings, there was a genuine sense of human interaction - curiosity about each other's world.

Though the constant barrage of "boat, you want boat," or "hashish" or "postcards" or "massage, only ten rupees" was annoying, I cannot condemn them their aggressive sales tactics, for they are born of desperation. It is not fair, coming from such comparatively affluence, to judge those who are eking out a living, day by day, when the difference between making a sale or not might result in not eating that day.

9/19: Kathmandu

So, I had the choice of spending 18 hours on a bus over two days for $14, or a one hour flight for $160. I think I made the right choice.

Last images from Varanasi

water buffalo

View from the south

Noah's new look

hanging out at sunrise

Sunrise on the Ganga

Last full day in Varanasi

What an interesting mix the ghats are. Everywhere you look there are temples, shrines, people ringing bells, chanting, doing puja in the Ganga, and Sadhus (holy men) wandering about or more often just sitting. But then there is also the constant harassment by people trying to sell you things, from boat rides to post cards to hashish. There are the massage men ("head massage only 10 rupees") who hold out their hand to shake yours, then won't let go, and the children selling stone elephants, flower temple offerings, or postcards. You can find some quiet places, but more often then not you will soon draw a crowd. There are the young children who only want their picture taken, and then to view it. Every once in a while someone wants you to give them the photo, though they do not have an email address. I am often the subject of pictures as well - Indian tourists wanting a shot of a foreigner . At some point during the day you hear chanting and then a funeral procession passes you by, with a flower covered body resting atop bamboo poles. This is what you do in Varanasi - sit on the ghat and watch.

I am reading Three Cups of Tea, about ex-climber Greg Mortenson and his mission of building schools, infirmaries and women centers for the poorest of Pakistan living near the Himalayas. At one point in the book, Mortenson accompanies Haji Ali, the village leader and mentor to Mortenson for years, to Ali's wife's grave site. Ali said, "one day soon, you're going to come here looking for me and find me planted in the ground, too." Mortenson asks, "What should I do, a long time from now, when that day comes?" Haju Ali looks up towards the summit of K2, weighing his words. "Listen to the wind," he said.

9/17: the first day of our second month

It was either Rabbi Ted, Jack Kornfield, or Adyashanti that said God is not a noun, but a verb.

This morning I am thinking of oneness as a state of being. It is how we interact with each other and the world. There was a Buddhist passage about reincarnation that I read years ago. It said something like, "Every soul has reincarnated so many times we have each been each other's father, mother, sister and brother. Every person you meet has at one time been your mother." Thus, each person you meet has, during some incarnation, given you the gift of life. It is a very personal way of translating oneness.

It is just past 5AM. The darkness of the sky has turned orange. A large bird is circling. The Ganga is slowly receding from the swelling of the monsoon season. An island in the river, which wasn't there two days ago and was only a sliver yesterday, has grown more substantial today. Everything is in motion. In the stillness of the early morning light, I sense this motion more easily. The one and the ten thousand, motion and stillness, all interconnected.

The island growing in the Ganga

spraying the mud from the receding Ganga off the steps of the ghat

end of day 9/16

Morning view from our hotel roof top restaurant

The "burning Ghat"

Mosque

Yesterday I found a little shade atop one of the smaller ghats.
Kids swimming in the strong current of the Ganga
people doing puja at the water's edge
Brahmins lounging on platforms under large umbrellas
dogs, goats and cows wandering about looking for scraps
a man trying to sell me a palm reading

Last night we were pointed out the government drug shop - opium, hash, marijuana. By way of explanation, we were told, "This is okay. Varanasi is a holy city."

I went to my balcony and witnessed dozens of monkeys leaping from balcony to building to temple roof - a veritable monkey playground.

Noah and I spent today exploring the entire breadth of Varanasi ghats. We took a bicycle rickshaw to the southern most ghat, then hired a boat to take us down river to the northern most ghat, then walked back along the ghats as far as we could, then made our way through the alley ways to our hotel.

Morning thoughts 9/16

"Not hammer-strokes,
but dance of the water,
sings the pebbles into perfection."
RabindranathTagore

This poem sings to me about patience and faith, about searching your heart and finding your Truth, and accepting that truth, regardless of the obstacles. For though we each have our truths, I have faith that it is also possible to connect to Truth, which has something to do with love and acceptance and the oneness of all.

How would our lives and our actions and our world be different if we knew with every fiber of our being the Truth of Oneness?

9/15 morning thoughts

Sometimes I get caught up in the drama in my head and I forget where I am.

Sometimes I get engrossed in the book I am reading and I forget where I am.

And then sometimes it all clears, and I see where I am. I smell it, feel it, hear it, even taste it. And I am so grateful.

And just as I finished writing that, a monkey walked across the rooftop restaurant where I am sitting with this incredible view of the river and city below me. The monkey found something to eat, then scurried away. This is truly a remarkable place.

Returning from my last Vietnam student trip in May, I asked the students to reflect one last time on their experience. Their first trip reflection was in September, the first week of school, 8 months earlier and 7 months before they even departed on their journey, when I asked them to reflect on when the trip started for them. For that original trip reflection, many students wrote about the first time they went to the 8th grade "trip day," when the 8th graders shared with the whole school about their global studies experience. Many students remembered their first "trip day" ten years before. Some students wrote about how the Vietnam trip began for them the day it was official in their 7th grade year that the country of study was changing from China to Vietnam. But I am reminded of one student who wrote about how unreal the upcoming trip was, and it still hadn't started for her. On her final trip reflection in May, she wrote that the trip really didn't start for her until she returned to Seattle.

It seemed an odd thing to write, and almost impossible to imagine, but there is so much truth in those words. We carry so much with us, a weight far heavier than our backpacks. Of our six senses, the mind is by far the most powerful, for it can transport us to any place or time, or color everything that we are experiencing at the moment. My manta these last few days has been, "What am I seeing? What am I hearing? What am I smelling? What am I feeling? What am I tasting?" It has been useful in helping me get "lighter," carrying as little as my five senses.

pictures above:

one of the main ghats

my favorite food - aloo chat (potato, chick pea curry, yogurt, sweet and spicy sauces, all mixed together)

a vegetable market

First images of Varanasi

Varanasi, one of the oldest cities in the world, is reported to be over 3000 years old. It is the holiest city in all of India for Hindus, with over one million making the pilgrimage every year. Varanasi is built right on the Ganga, with over 100 ghats, the most dramatic are the two burning ghats, where hundreds of Indians are cremated daily. Our hotel is very near one of the burning ghats.

When close to the ghats, the streets become narrow alleyways, winding and meandering as if in a maze. Being lost, I told a shopkeeper that I didn't know where I was. "You are in the same place as I am," he replied.

The water is pretty high right now, right at the end of monsoons

View from my balcony of temple and Ganga

Last photos of Bodh Gaya

water buffalo - Noah thinks they are ugly, I think they are cute in a pathetic kind of way

Coincidence/commonality

There is an old Hasidic tale.
The pupil comes to the rabbi and asks, “Why does the Torah tell us to place these words on our heart? Why does it not tell us to place the holy words in our heart?”
The rabbi answered “It is because as we are, our hearts are closed and we cannot place holy words in our heart. So we place them on top of our heart. And there they stay until, one day, the heart breaks, and the words fall in.”

Allah says, “The broken ones are my beloved. Crush your heart. Be broken.”
Shaikh Abu Saeed Abil Kheir

And then there is my favorite quote by Parker Palmer: “Wholeness does not mean perfection: it means embracing brokenness as an integral part of life.”

That's all from me for now.

9/14: Trust

"Why ponder thus the future to foresee,
And jade thy brain to vain perplexity?
Cast off thy care, leave Allah's plans to him -
He formed them all without consulting thee."
Omar Khayyum

Noah has been having such a hard time with all the fake friendliness of the Indians, for it almost always comes around to them wanting something or having something to sell.

It is trust that has been violated - trust in the good will of brothers, and that good will is being exploited. It is a terrible thing to violate, for trust is the essential connection when two people meet. For what is left when you cannot trust?

9/11: Dinu and his family

Much of my five days in Bodh Gaya have been spent with a young man named Dinu. He has toured me around the many monasteries here, helped me buy train tickets, and took me to his village across the water to have lunch with his family. Dinu is a hard working student who truly understands the value of education. Besides studying for his own career, Dinu is trying to raise money to send his three younger sisters to a better school so they can be self-sufficient in later life. It costs him about $20 a month for each sister to go to a better school. If you have any interest in helping Dinu and his family, pleae contact him at: dinusinha@yahoo.co.in

Connections

Walking into town this morning I truly saw where I was (which is an interesting phenomenon, these different degrees of seeing).

A little boy with a dirty shirt singing a song as I passed
A man at his tangerine stall, stacking his fruit, one by one
a cafe/sweetshop with a large tin covered with bees
A goat scratching its head on a metal gate
A young boy carrying his infant sibling
This is a remarkable opportunity I have.

I met a Danish man yesterday who is working here building another Tibetan monastery. He sat at my table as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do. And it was. He spoke of his project, of his understanding of reality which he learned from Tibetan Buddhism, of the project's difficulties dealing with the Indian authorities, of the joy in life that Indians seem to hold. And then he left. I don't even know his name, but the impression he made in that half an hour while he drank chai, was remarkable. His life was so full of joy as well.

I think of my quotes which I shared in my blog yesterday:
"It's not about letting go of attachments, but holding them more gently."
"We do not have to improve ourselves; we just have to let go of what blocks our heart." (Jack Kornfield)
"Wholeness does not mean perfection; it means embracing brokenness as an integral part of life." (Parker Palmer)

These "truths" are so significant to me, for it is so difficult to accept what is, but also how it is the essence of our being. For through acceptance comes love (in the most general and specific terms) - living with an open heart. I hope they are more than just words, thoughts. When I truly feel them in my being, I feel so connected to everything and everyone.

9/10: Bodh Gaya

We changed hotels. We are now staying on the other side of town, though it only takes about 15 minutes to walk there. This place feels more like a homestay, especially since we are the only people staying there. Noah and I each have our own rooms. . The Gupta Hotel is on the edge of town. You have to walk on a muddy road to get there. In front of the hotel are tethered a cow and horse, with a couple of goats roaming about. We have intermittent electricity. This is the view from my balcony (I love balconies).



I found a restaurant that serves coffee without sugar. This is the view from my restaurant. They also make delicious dahl, bhat, sabji (lentils rice and vegetables) and papadam for 75 cents. Noah said yesterday at dinner, "It will probably be good for me to not eat meat for a while." As I am writing this, I just witnessed my third funeral. First comes the drums, then four people carrying the body covered with flowers, then the procession of people following.

With thousands of pilgrims a day, they far outnumber the locals. Bodh Gaya is still a village, with many dirt roads, and cows, goats, dogs and pigs wandering the streets. There are flies and the smell of shit everywhere. You definitely have to watch where you step.

The quotes I woke up to this morning:

"It's not about letting go of attachments, but holding them more gently."

"We do not have to improve ourselves; we just have to let go of what blocks our heart." (Jack Kornfield)

"Wholeness does not mean perfection; it means embracing brokenness as an integral part of life." (Parker Palmer)

Main temple in Bodh Gaya

I spent the morning at the main temple in Bodh Gaya, where Buddha sat underneath the Bodhi tree and became enlightened. There are monasteries here from Bhutan, Tibet, Nepal, Japan, China, Thailand, Burma and Vietnam.

I made friends with a Thai monk. A Hindu priest gave me a "very important" leaf to put in my journal. There are Buddhist monks here from everywhere, but it is a holy spot for Hindus as well, who make up the vast majority of visitors. I found many special spots to sit and watch (what I find I do best) and meditate. Sometimes it was quiet, and other times huge, noisy groups would walk past. Outside the temple is infested with salesmen, craft shops, and beggars.

Train to Bodh Gaya

I am sitting on the train in the middle of nowhere. At 4AM, one hour from Gaya, the train stopped. It turns out that it has been raining for 72 hours in Gaya. The flooding caused a landslide across the train tracks. It is now 9AM. we made it past the land slide area, but there must be such a backlog of trains that we are waiting our turn.

I spent a lot of time 0n the train talking to a young man, a ship engineer. He told my of his life in the village outside of Gaya. Not only is he the first person in his family with an advanced education, he is also the first person in his village. He qualified for a special school outside of his village, which enabled him the education towards his profession. He told me of his life in is village. His older brother still lives with his parents. His sisters live with their in-laws. His older brother paid for his education. He told me that there are still untouchables in his village. He told me of how the untouchables are treated, and how he, being exposed to the rest of the world through his life at sea, lives in two worlds. He told me of how he had only spent two hours with his future wife before they were married. That was one and a half years ago, and he has a baby due next month. when I asked him if he knows the gender, he explained to me that it is illegal in India for the doctors to disclose the gender, due to aborted females.

Finally, at 11AM, the train arrived in Gaya. The eight and a half hour train ride turned into fourteen and a half hours. It is raining still. Everything is flooded. My engineer friend, named Jitendra, offered to drive me to Bodh Gaya. He took me to a hotel that a relative of his manages. It was nice not having to bargain with motor rickshaw drivers or search for a hotel in the pouring rain.

9/7: Last day in Calcutta reflections

Morning:

One of my hopes for my sabbatical year was to take a "sabbatical" from my life in Seattle. And though I have only been gone for three weeks, I feel the tug of my past, leading to fears of my future.

I am sitting on the front porch of my hotel, watching the street scene in front of me. There is a brick fence about three feet tall, then a metal grate ending in sharp points, protecting the hotel property from intruders. This feels like a metaphor for me right now - watching through a metal grate, my intentions not clear, my commitment half-hearted.

So I did what I often do - look at my notes of quotes and insights that I carry with me, reminders of lessons I've learned and have to keep relearning.

"The only gift we have to offer in this moment is our undivided attention. . . . Why wait for the last few hours before offering each other our presence . . . (Parker Palmer)." This is a good reminder for me to remain present and give each moment my undivided attention.

afternoon:

Now I take refuge behind the grated porch. I bought a big piece of plastic for my beggar lady so she and her kids could sleep at night during this rainy time. It seems the word got around. Now I have 2 other women hanging on me. I literally had to run away, but still they follow. It is very sad.

Poverty

pictures of Rama Krishna Hindu temple to the north of Calcutta, the largest banyan tree in the world (in the Guiness book of records), and really large pond things (don't know what they are called, but they were about 3 feet across)

The beggar woman with 4 kids, who I wrote about earlier and I bought 2 kilos of rice for a few days ago, finds me a couple of times a day. Every time, she greets me with such gratefulness. She is a sweet and gentle woman. But she also greets me with stories of misfortune - her accident when she was hit by a car a few months ago and injured her wrist and knee, her son who has no shirt to wear, her children's sleepless nights due to the constant rain and living on the street. It is so difficult to feel for her and know that you can't save her. I can provide some temporary relief easily enough. I will buy more rice for her and her family tomorrow before I leave Calcutta, but that is about it.

Yesterday a woman with an infant came up to me with her hand out. I reached in my bag to give her 10 rupees, but she said, "No rupees, " and pointed to a container of powered milk for her infant, who is sick. I bought her the milk, and as soon as I did, another woman came up to me, who I had to say no to. I can't help them all, and these are only "band aids." The real problems continue - of hunger and poverty, corruption, inequitable distribution of income, and even the way the international banking decides that 1 rupee is worth 1/50 of a dollar. But for this woman who is trying to take care of her children, her difficulties are not so abstract, but day to day. It pains my heart to come in contact with it, and to know that I can't do more, or have not been doing more.