Sunday, May 15, 2011

Life has re-assumed some sort of linearity.  Or, rather, linearity re-imposed itself upon my life the moment I walked into Tribhuvan International Airport in Kathmandu on the afternoon of Saturday, May 14. 

Nepal was my home for the past four weeks.   Three planes, four stops and thirty hours later: I’m sitting, cleanly and too comfortably, at the kitchen table in my tidy suburban Dallas home.  My circadian rhythms will simply have to work it out on their own.


This entry is an inadequate attempt to preface what I hope will be several more devoted my life in the center of the universe with Nepal as my backdrop.  Based on past patterns, I could very well just drop the whole project.  All I have to go on are scribbled notes inside the covers of books, ticket stubs, addresses written on napkins and my own feeble, fickle memory.  I don’t pretend to assume you have any vested interest, dear reader.  My hypothesis is that, with any luck, I will have a record for myself of how, for (too) brief but brilliant moments, I found myself able to release my iron grip on fear, breathe and be completely clear about just. this. moment. I was there when it happened.  I fought it.  I know it’s possible; what a fucking relief! 

I want more of that kind of stillness and gentleness and openness, but oh look, there I go grasping again.   So silly, so predictable!  If I can manage to steal time outside of linearity, expectations, obligations and structure - these things that just have their way with me because I invite them in and hold on to them – well, I have a chance. 

So what follows (if it does, because you know, a girl has to reintegrate.  Make appointments.  Meet expectations.  Answer calls and respond to emails.  Construct schedules and lists and make sure everybody takes their meds and eats a balanced meal) is my selective accounting of “what I did in Nepal!” (because many of you asked and because, frankly, I find it interesting).   I’ll just be right up front about my selectivity.  Dear readers, you get the polished (?), mostly palatable version.  If you want to know more, want to dig a little deeper; ask me in person: I may or may not oblige.

With compassion, and humor, and lightness; because we really are all on the same ridiculous boat.

Om tare

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