A Cosmic Hive of Humanity

A Cosmic Hive of Humanity

I’m writing this note from Boudhanath, a city inside of Kathmandu, Nepal. I don’t believe in bucket lists – good god, no – but I do hope you to get to this place sometime in your life – the sooner the better. Not that it’s going anywhere; it’s been here since the 13th century and probably longer – but we know where you’re going –  where we’re all going – eventually. My partner out here, James Hopkins, who runs the Himalayan Writer’s Workshop, has a story about a student who tells his Buddhist teacher that he doesn’t think he has time to take the path to enlightenment. His teacher says, “well, then you may have a scheduling problem.” I took that to mean if you want it – enlightenment, or to visit Nepal, or to let someone know that you love them – you might want to get on that, put it higher on the schedule. Kathmandu is cracked open brilliance. The entire valley is laid out like a mandala – for real – and there are sacred sites everywhere you turn. Some of them are too mind blowing to comprehend – like the Boudhanath Stupa which I’ve pictured above – and which is also a world heritage site. But some of these ancient, sacred spots are in the middle of congested streets and surrounded by broken buildings, sidewalks that fall into sewers, and monkeys swaying from thick electrical wires covered in soot and which hang low in the cool November breeze. I’ll be honest with you, much of Kathmandu is a chaotic catastrophe of open fires on the...
On a flight to Kathmandu …

On a flight to Kathmandu …

As I write this * I’m on a flight from Guangzhou, China to Kathmandu, Nepal, where I’ll be co-leading a writing workshop for 10 days with my friend James Hopkins who runs the Himalayan Writers Workshop. It’s surreal to be leaving the country now, a day before the election results come in, and head to a place where American politics won’t be front and center. The Nepalise people probably don’t give much thought to what’s going on in the U.S. because they’re busy surviving. I read the other day that the average monthly income in Kathmandu is $59. Two years ago, in that other election, I stood in a sports bar in Ubud, Bali, eyes scrunched and head cocked as I watched a televised map of the U.S. turn bright red. The Balianese people I ran into for the next few days didn’t mention the election. Apparently U.S. politics aren’t the center of the universe, though it’s certainly felt that way as we live the daily horror show of bombs and shootings and a president so vile that it’s impossible to believe he’s still among us. And least we forget, there’s the caravan of Honduran refugees that hasn’t even gotten to the border yet, but you already know how that one ends. By the way, are there still children in detention camps who haven’t been reunited with their parents? I am ashamed that I don’t know the answer to that, and like the news media, have moved on. I’ll be honest, it’s tricky writing blog posts and sending newsletters in this political climate. To be writing about anything other than politics and...