The Face of The Buddha

The Face of the Buddha

I'm a fidgeter, always have been. As a kid I'd always squirm around in my seat and drum my fingers on the table. If my parents had any rhythm they would have found a drum teacher for me instead of slapping my hands and yelling in exasperation, "stop it!" If for no other reason, this was enough to make going to Sunday school and church painful. I did pretty well during my construction years but when I got a desk job as an engineer, I seemed to find many more excuses than anyone else to get out of my chair. I'd get up to go talk to someone instead of calling their extension. I'd go to the library or down to the shop at the slightest provocation. I managed.

So I knew going into the 10-day meditation that it would be a challenge to sit cross-legged on the floor for extended periods. When I was in Pakistan, I would sit with the guys on the floor for lunch and would only make it a few minutes before I had to adjust my poor, aching, western, 58-year-old legs. What little meditation I did back home (about ½ hour a week when I don't miss Sangha) I do on a bench with my legs folded back underneath it. With that I can sometimes survive a half hour or so without too much difficulty, but not much more.

So I entered the retreat with some trepidation over this matter which was not alleviated when I saw the schedule. The meditation periods would start with a 2-hour session from 4:30 – 6:30 am. After some breakfast and a short break we'd come back for a 3-hour session from 8:00 – 11:00 am. Lunch and a good long rest period would be followed by the make-or-break 4 hour session from 1:00 – 5:00 pm. Finally we'd end the day with 3 hours of sitting from 6:00 – 9:00 pm. Over the 10 day retreat, this would represent about 5 years of sitting at my current pace.

Before the retreat even started (day 0) we had an informational meeting of an hour and a half followed by another gathering in the meditation hall which included a short (1/2 hour) sit. Even this was torture for me so I went up to the teacher afterwards and told him of my predicament, thinking I might be able to score some extra pillows. "No problem" he said, I could use a chair. While my ego wanted to protest this obvious sign of weakness the others would see, my legs convinced my mouth to remain silent, saying only, "thank you."

I started the next morning (day 1) in that chair and couldn't help but notice that I was the only one (of about 50) who required such a crutch. I felt like the big Sahib. Even with the chair, I still had pains in my neck, shoulder, back and butt (apparently my butt is only rated to about 150 lbs, not the 170+ it has to bear). So during the morning break, I fashioned a cushion by putting my thermo-rest into my sleeping bag stuff-sack, pulling the draw string and filling the thermo-rest with as much air as I could manage to force into it. This created a large, firm sausage-shaped pillow that I could sit astride, with my legs folded back.

I used this pillow exclusively for the rest of day 1, all of day 2 and the beginning of day 3. But even so, I had to shift between 4 different positions, at times enduring a lot of agony before succumbing to the shift.

If I've been told once, I've been told a thousand times that I must lift with my legs. But during breakfast on day 3 I did not take heed of this ancient wisdom and lifted my spoon filled to the brim with an oatmeal-like substance without using them. The result of my reckless action was a disturbance in the force field in my lower back, right side.

As far as back spasms go, it was not a particularly serious event but it was an ever present source of difficulty during my meditations and made my sittings an even greater challenge.

By day 4 I decided I would have to resort to a natural cure that I have used in the past for everything from any type of stress to fighting off a cold. Vigorous exercise. I used to get on the treadmill during lunch when I worked as an engineer and found the resulting endorphin-induced calm afterwards consistently helpful. I also knew that the heat generated by some exercise would help melt the knot in my back.

I was lucky enough to have a private residence so I started to run in place in my room during the morning break. I'd already been busted for picking up litter on the grounds during an earlier afternoon break (one is supposed to meditate all the time, not just during the sittings) so I had to hide this forbidden activity by closing the translucent windows.

I would run in place for 30 minutes just before the 8:00 am sitting and would be rewarded by a sit that not only was relatively free of pain for at least the first half hour, but was also accompanied by a calmness and quiet mind that was otherwise quite rare.

I would hang my clothes on a hook in front of me and change into my swimming shorts when I ran. I'd set the alarm on my watch, take off my glasses and start. My feet would protest mildly at the start but soon I was running in place with little difficulty. Again I was consciously grateful for my new heart that continues to function as it was designed. I continued this forbidden activity for the remainder of the retreat, always grateful for the results.

I don't remember which day it was, but during one of my runs as I looked up and gazed without intention in a generally forward direction, I saw it.

In the folds of my underwear, hanging on the hook a couple of feet in front of me was a distinct image of a meditating Buddha. There was a long slender nose disappearing into the forehead made from a convex undulation, with 2 long almond-shaped eyes, both closed in meditation, formed by concave indulations on each side. Even the overall shape of the face seemed very Buddha-like, though I suppose that someone not in a Buddhist retreat might see in it a face that looked more like the aliens reported to have been observed in the Rockwell, New Mexico region of the U.S.

I was intrigued and then amazed as I looked at this image, realizing that if nothing else it represented a new art form (brief relief). I'm quite blind without my glasses, so much so that it is important that I not forget where I put them since, with their slender wire rim, they are quite invisible to me. My vision is so bad that I can't see the top letter on the charts and it was once described as 20/2000. That is, I see at 20 feet what a person with normal vision would see at 2000 feet (almost 6 football fields, including end zones). So I wondered how this image might change when I put my glasses back on and saw "the reality" of whatever I was looking at.

Figuring that without the freedom for my brain to fill in the vagueness with something that I might subconsciously want to perceive, I was more than a little surprised to find that with my glasses on, the face of the Buddha was still clearly present in my underwear!

This was now getting serious. After all, it's not every day that I am witness to a miracle such as this, for by now that is what I felt it was. I would have taken a picture of it since I was pretty certain that no one would believe that this image was as clear as I would claim, but that technology had been placed in a locker with everything else that might have detracted from my meditating experience. This included my cell phone, all jewelry, good luck charms, books and writing implements.

I pondered for a moment what to do. I mean if this had been an image of the Virgin Mary instead of the Buddha, it may have formed the beginning of a major shrine for the world's Catholics. For a moment I had a vision of a huge line of pilgrims making their way from far off lands to look at my underwear. I also imagined that were it the Virgin Mary, this might be leveraged into a considerable financial return for me as well as the Bodh-Gaya Vipassana center.

But this wasn't the Virgin Mary, and so my next thought was of Buddhist sand art. Monks will sit hunched over a Mandala, often chanting while tediously spilling bits of colored sand into the complex pattern, which days later results in a brilliant design of great beauty. But because everything arises and then passes away (Anicha) and we should therefore have no attachments, they take this work of art down to the river and dump it in.

And so, with no disrespect intended, I took my underwear down and put them back on.

Varanasi to Bodh-Gaya, Preparing for Enlightenment

Varanasi to Bodh-Gaya, Preparing for Enlightenment

I had hoped to send one last post before entering my 10 day retreat and had a plan to do so. It was a good plan, but this is India and one must learn to expect the unexpected, to abandon expectations and go with the flow since to resist is futile. So what follows are a couple of stories from before I entered the 10-day retreat.

My last night in Varanasi was another incredible evening. I wanted to hear some Indian music and had noticed a flyer for what was described as Sufi Soul, kiwali music at a nearby guesthouse. I sat on the roof top with 100 others as we enjoyed the haunting sounds of a master flute player, accompanied by a guy on a vertical stringed instrument played with a bow (excuse my ignorance here) as well as a percussionist on a set of Tablas. They did a single song that must have been at least 30 minutes (all their songs were of similar duration) mesmerizing us all. This was followed by another set in which the flute player was replaced by a harmonium player and a sitar player who combined their voices in spiritual chanting that was breathtaking! It required the determination and will of an ascetic, but I managed to hold my camera by hand for over 30 minutes to record most of this. It should make for an interesting bit of video.

As if this performance was not enough, a woman started dancing with it. She was beautiful as were her graceful movements. I don't think it would be likely to see such dancing in the us. Though I was a bit concerned that she might think I was hitting on her, I did go up to her afterwards and express my appreciation for making a very special night even more special. She took the complement without offense or suspicion and instead gave me a huge and genuine smile, like the one she was displaying during her dancing.

As I walked along the Ghats back to my hotel I felt I'd been uniquely blessed yet again.

The taxi picked me up at 4:30 in the morning to take me to the airport. I had a sleeper car so figured I'd be able to get some sleep during the 4 hour ride to Gaya (which is a short tuk-tuk ride from Bodh-Gaya).

HA!

The train was packed like only India can pack 'em. It was a struggle but I managed somehow to get my backpack, my daypack and myself into the middle bunk. Once there the surrounding floor area was quickly covered with wall-to-wall humanity and I could neither see out any window to be able to find my stop nor imagine how I might be capable of extracting myself from my current position.

But I managed to get reasonably comfortable and tried to dose off, thinking that perhaps in 4 hours I might find the conditions improved.

I did manage to get a bit of semi-sleep and when I regained the better part of my consciousness, I began to notice the people around me with more interest. These were the folks who would either help me find my stop and get me out or not so I was relieved when they turned out to be some young high school students, most of whom spoke at least some English. They were quite friendly and helpful and said they'd tell me when we got to Gaya. They were in the middle of a 4-day train trip from Punjab in the northern-most part of India to Calcutta in the southern-most part. They had just placed 3rd in a music competition and they were the sweetest kids you could ever meet. With bright eyes and eager smiles we chatted about everything from economics (they were quite surprised that I did not know about Ravindernath Nath Tagore and his Nobel prize) and music (they love Michael Jackson). They taught me how to say I love you (ami tomake bhalobashi) which they had me recite to their teacher whom they called over from a neighboring compartment to meet me. They were delightful and when we got to my stop were instrumental in helping to extract me from the human sarcophagus in which I was entombed.

After arriving in Gaya, I was recruited by a monk to ride along in a tuk-tuk to Bodh-Gaya with several others. Along the way the driver would pick up some and drop off others. At times there were as many as 10 others. If you've ever seen one of these 3-wheeled glorified scooters you might be incredulous that 11 of us (some like me with considerable luggage) could fit into and on one of these, but I'm sure this was not a record of any sort. That's just the way things are done in India, no space is willingly left unused.

After arriving in Bodh-Gaya I had to catch another ride to the Bodh-Gaya Vipassana Meditation Center, which was surprisingly far from town, particularly to the poor rickshaw peddler.

Once there I got registered and unloaded my backpack (always a joy!) and was preparing to go back into town to get something to eat and find an internet café when one of the facilitators, Remi from France, said that lunch would be provided for us at the center and that I could use his computer and their wi-fi internet connection to send my last post before entering the 10-day retreat.

That sounded like a good plan but I was foiled by 3 converging issues:

1) The computer Remi loaned me had a French keyboard. Several of the letters and much of the punctuation is different than a us keyboard and aside from challenging my patience (what a great tool for discovering aversion and lack of equanimity!), it slowed down my writing by more than half.

2) There was no outlet in my Spartan quarters and Remi's battery was only good for about 1 hour of (very inefficient) typing.

3) In the end it all didn't matter because when I went to connect to the internet to send what I had, it was down and my time had run out.

So you now have what I would have sent then. I'll report on some of what happened during and after the retreat in another post, hopefully within the next day or 2.

Sometimes you gotta say, "yes!"

Sometimes you gotta say "yes!"

After I left Delhi and Rita's protective bubble, I learned what everyone who has ever traveled through India knows. It seems like everyone is trying to scam you, either a little or a lot, depending on how gullible/trusting/stupid you may be. To make several long stories very short, I've been plenty of all 3. So like everyone else who has savvied up some, I have now developed an automatic response as soon as someone, no matter how pleasant their delivery might be, comes up and says, "hello" or pretty much anything else. After, "hello" their favorite lines are, "where are you from?", "Can I help you?", "Where are you going?" (I, in particular, usually look lost). As soon as I hear one of these lines I immediately tense up and tell them, pleasantly at first, "no thank you." If they persist, which they usually do, I turn up the volume and by the third time it's even money that I'll deliver some version of an unrestrained, "get the hell out of may face!" scream.

And so it was on the banks of the Ganges this evening when an old (70?) grizzled guy in a torn t-shirt came up to me and shook my hand. I offered mine hesitantly and he immediately began to massage it, telling me that for only 10 Rs (about 25 cents) he would give me a head and shoulders massage. In automatic mode, I told him politely but firmly, "no" I wasn't interested. As he disappeared down the steps into the crowd that had gathered for an Indian music and dance performance I began to think about the persistent pains I've had in my neck, upper back and lower back for the past couple of months. I began to think that perhaps in this instance I had been too rash.

So when he came back up the steps I did not immediately avert my gaze and he started in again saying it would only be 10 Rs, not 50 Rs or 100 Rs.

So finally, I said, "ok."

He took me over to the edge of the steps and had me sit cross-legged as he started massaging my head. Now one of the things I know how to do pretty well is fully accept a massage without inhibitions. So except for trying to keep my eye on my pack, i immediately began to relax and let him do his work.

And it turns out he did very good work. He had very strong hands and knew how to use them. Pretty soon I was laying on my stomach as he upped the ante to a full body massage. It was all great and he was truly an expert. Later he described himself as a, "master" and I would have to agree. I was enjoying it all but there was one point when I felt a drop of something on my earlobe. I was hoping it was a bit of his sweat but did I mention that when he came back up the steps he had a mouth full of chew? All I could do was laugh at the prospect.

After he had finished with my back he had me turn over. The massage itself was probably one of the best I've ever had, certainly the most vigorous as he combined massage with chiropractic procedures to get as much of me unstuck as anyone could in the 45 minutes he blessed me with his talents. But aside from the massage, I found it darn near incredible to realize I was laying on the steps of the main Ghat in Varanasi, next to the Holy Ganges, listening to beautiful Indian music and gazing up at the moon as I was melting into this old man's hands. Of course it is true than no moment of our lives can be duplicated but in this case that realization was particularly easy to grasp.

And for 500 Rs, it was still a bargain (talk about up-selling!).

Sometimes you gotta say, "yes!"

Re: Delhi, Diwali, the Taj and Beyond

Mark Ji:

your life sounds charmed. and the Koi baat nahin is a magic mantra
indeed. Thank you so much for just letting me know that you did not
intend to write about David and me, but just about the work we do
here. Thank you for also not being pissed at me for thinking that you
would write, but I feel I can be honest with you, because you are a
very real human being.

It has been fun hanging out with Helena and Jimmy in Udaipur. Helena
and I are continuing to visualize what a festival on feminine
spirituality would be like...........

One of the ideas David gave this morning was a by line to the title
(not yet decided)
as - Leveraging Feminine Power to Green and Save the World
I think I will cut "power" out of the byline and put Feminine energy
instead.............what do you think?

All is good other wise.................. more soon I am being invited
to some beer and dinner making.

love and warm regards,
Rita

On 11/11/10, Mark Phillips <mrppy@fix.net> wrote:
> Delhi, Diwali, the Taj and Beyond
>
>
> Rita and I traveled to Delhi for the Diwali festival which was an experience
> I'll not soon forget. They do fireworks on a grand scale where the only
> measure of success is the degree of excess. Along with Rita's sister, Joya,
> niece, Blanka and nephew, Nishu (whose names are correct if my memory serves
> me, which is unlikely) we went to 3 parties over 2 evenings each ending just
> before sunrise. I met some interesting folks but because I stayed up so
> late I was pretty wasted on the following days as this schedule does not
> particularly agree with my delicate constitution.
>
> It took half a day, but I finally got a train ticket to Agra and after a
> very nice final evening with Rita and Joya, I bid them adieu and headed off
> on my own again.
>
> The train ride to Agra was highlighted by meeting Gunjan, a young woman who
> was taking her son, Anan (means "peace") to a boarding school in Gwalior.
> She seemed very nice and we chatted for a bit. Some time later, after I had
> taken residence in the upper bunk, she looked up at me from her seat below
> and tells me that I have missed my stop in Agra! On the one hand, after
> getting on the wrong bus in Udaipur it is entirely possible that I could
> have missed my stop in Agra, but on the other hand, she and her son were
> both laughing as she explained that she did not want to wake me when the
> train stopped in Agra. My mind was spinning as I tried to figure out if
> they were kidding or not. I'm sure my confusion showed, particularly when
> Gunjan said, "Mark, what about koi bat nahin? You have failed miserably."
> By this time the other woman in our sector and another guy were hanging
> around, all laughing, and I was finally told that I was the target of a Big
> Tease. When done correctly I think teasing is a highly refined form of
> love... And this WAS done correctly so I ended up laughing about it with
> them after I was initiated into the club. I was amazed that someone I had
> just met would take a chance with an act that could easily backfire. I was
> really quite touched by the gesture.
>
> I hooked up with a taxi driver at the Agra train station who took me to a
> hotel I had booked online. After freshening up a bit, he took me to a
> viewpoint he said would provide a stunning view of the Taj Mahal at sunset.
>
> Or at least he tried. Several minutes into the trip he muttered something
> that sounded a lot like, "shit! traffic!!" as we hit the most colossal
> traffic clusterf**k I've ever experienced. It was at a roundabout and so
> many cars, scooters, bicycles, rickshaws, tok toks and busses had coagulated
> there that the entire system was clogged and no longer functional. Several
> guys had taken it upon themselves to try and get vehicles moved enough that
> a bus could maneuver itself through the intersection. Yelling and waving of
> hands were the tools they used and after some time they managed to get the
> bus through which helped a bit but not nearly enough. I saw other tourists
> trapped in the same chaos and we were all laughing about it. It was so
> absurd there was really nothing else to do.
>
> Finally my driver admitted defeat and (somehow) managed to turn around and
> flee the scene. We finally got to our destination, long after sunset.
>
> The next day I got to the Taj as soon as it opened (6:30 am) so I could see
> it at sunrise. During the security check they discovered a 6 inch tripod I
> had for my camera and told me that this was not allowed. In utter amazement
> and a Kafkaesque sense of disbelief, I was told I would have to exit the
> entrance queue and take my FO (Forbidden Object) to the lockers. It turns
> out that these lockers are not conveniently located anywhere near the
> entrance gate I was trying to breach, but ¼ mile away. As I trudged I
> noticed that my demeanor had deteriorated significantly so I began to chant
> my mantra (everyone now…), "koi bat nahin, koi bat nahin….. When I got back
> to the line the security guy tried to make me get back in at the end of it
> but I simply refused. Marching myself straight on to the front I boldly
> ducked under the railing so I could be searched again.
>
> This time I was successful and I entered the large grounds that contain the
> Taj Mahal. Many authors and poets have tried unsuccessfully to describe its
> beauty so I'll just leave it at "sublime".
>
> As I left the grounds, I realized I was exiting through a different gate
> than the one I had entered (typical for me). I spoke to the security guard
> there and after showing him the card for my motel he told me I needed to
> exit West gate (I was at the South gate). So I turned around to re-enter
> which required going through security again. Even though I had just come
> from inside (and thus successfully passed security) and had taken only a
> step beyond the exit, the guard determined that I and my daypack would have
> to be searched again. I was really more amused than anything at what seemed
> to me to be an absurd degree of security, but this changed considerably when
> he discovered 2 more FOs (a Swiss army knife and a head lamp). So now I was
> prohibited from entering the grounds and easily finding my way to the proper
> gate from the inside, and instead had to exit and walk around the
> considerable perimeter. This took some time and again my attitude took a
> dump. It was only exacerbated when, arriving at the West gate I discovered
> to my dismay that it was the third, and final, gate that I needed, the now
> quite elusive East gate. In all it took about an hour to get out.
>
> These are not the only frustrations I've encountered but as anyone who has
> traveled India will tell you, it is to be expected. But somehow I have
> survived them and now find myself in Khajuraho for 3 days away from big
> cities. This will hopefully prepare me for Varanasi and then it is on to
> Bodh Gaya and a 10 day silent meditation.
>
>

Delhi, Diwali, the Taj and Beyond

Delhi, Diwali, the Taj and Beyond

Rita and I traveled to Delhi for the Diwali festival which was an experience I'll not soon forget. They do fireworks on a grand scale where the only measure of success is the degree of excess. Along with Rita's sister, Joya, niece, Blanka and nephew, Nishu (whose names are correct if my memory serves me, which is unlikely) we went to 3 parties over 2 evenings each ending just before sunrise. I met some interesting folks but because I stayed up so late I was pretty wasted on the following days as this schedule does not particularly agree with my delicate constitution.

It took half a day, but I finally got a train ticket to Agra and after a very nice final evening with Rita and Joya, I bid them adieu and headed off on my own again.

The train ride to Agra was highlighted by meeting Gunjan, a young woman who was taking her son, Anan (means "peace") to a boarding school in Gwalior. She seemed very nice and we chatted for a bit. Some time later, after I had taken residence in the upper bunk, she looked up at me from her seat below and tells me that I have missed my stop in Agra! On the one hand, after getting on the wrong bus in Udaipur it is entirely possible that I could have missed my stop in Agra, but on the other hand, she and her son were both laughing as she explained that she did not want to wake me when the train stopped in Agra. My mind was spinning as I tried to figure out if they were kidding or not. I'm sure my confusion showed, particularly when Gunjan said, "Mark, what about koi bat nahin? You have failed miserably." By this time the other woman in our sector and another guy were hanging around, all laughing, and I was finally told that I was the target of a Big Tease. When done correctly I think teasing is a highly refined form of love... And this WAS done correctly so I ended up laughing about it with them after I was initiated into the club. I was amazed that someone I had just met would take a chance with an act that could easily backfire. I was really quite touched by the gesture.

I hooked up with a taxi driver at the Agra train station who took me to a hotel I had booked online. After freshening up a bit, he took me to a viewpoint he said would provide a stunning view of the Taj Mahal at sunset.

Or at least he tried. Several minutes into the trip he muttered something that sounded a lot like, "shit! traffic!!" as we hit the most colossal traffic clusterf**k I've ever experienced. It was at a roundabout and so many cars, scooters, bicycles, rickshaws, tok toks and busses had coagulated there that the entire system was clogged and no longer functional. Several guys had taken it upon themselves to try and get vehicles moved enough that a bus could maneuver itself through the intersection. Yelling and waving of hands were the tools they used and after some time they managed to get the bus through which helped a bit but not nearly enough. I saw other tourists trapped in the same chaos and we were all laughing about it. It was so absurd there was really nothing else to do.

Finally my driver admitted defeat and (somehow) managed to turn around and flee the scene. We finally got to our destination, long after sunset.

The next day I got to the Taj as soon as it opened (6:30 am) so I could see it at sunrise. During the security check they discovered a 6 inch tripod I had for my camera and told me that this was not allowed. In utter amazement and a Kafkaesque sense of disbelief, I was told I would have to exit the entrance queue and take my FO (Forbidden Object) to the lockers. It turns out that these lockers are not conveniently located anywhere near the entrance gate I was trying to breach, but ¼ mile away. As I trudged I noticed that my demeanor had deteriorated significantly so I began to chant my mantra (everyone now…), "koi bat nahin, koi bat nahin….. When I got back to the line the security guy tried to make me get back in at the end of it but I simply refused. Marching myself straight on to the front I boldly ducked under the railing so I could be searched again.

This time I was successful and I entered the large grounds that contain the Taj Mahal. Many authors and poets have tried unsuccessfully to describe its beauty so I'll just leave it at "sublime".

As I left the grounds, I realized I was exiting through a different gate than the one I had entered (typical for me). I spoke to the security guard there and after showing him the card for my motel he told me I needed to exit West gate (I was at the South gate). So I turned around to re-enter which required going through security again. Even though I had just come from inside (and thus successfully passed security) and had taken only a step beyond the exit, the guard determined that I and my daypack would have to be searched again. I was really more amused than anything at what seemed to me to be an absurd degree of security, but this changed considerably when he discovered 2 more FOs (a Swiss army knife and a head lamp). So now I was prohibited from entering the grounds and easily finding my way to the proper gate from the inside, and instead had to exit and walk around the considerable perimeter. This took some time and again my attitude took a dump. It was only exacerbated when, arriving at the West gate I discovered to my dismay that it was the third, and final, gate that I needed, the now quite elusive East gate. In all it took about an hour to get out.

These are not the only frustrations I've encountered but as anyone who has traveled India will tell you, it is to be expected. But somehow I have survived them and now find myself in Khajuraho for 3 days away from big cities. This will hopefully prepare me for Varanasi and then it is on to Bodh Gaya and a 10 day silent meditation.

Onward

Onward

By the time I returned to Udaipur from Jaisalmer, it was clear to me that even though the temples, museums and forts are amazing and stupendous, traveling from one to the next does not appear to be my cup of tea. Or at least I have sipped enough of this potent tea to be pretty saturated at this point. So the plan I had when I left Udaipur, to come back for no more than a day before heading east to see as many places as possible before the Nov. 16th start of my 10-day silent meditation in Bodh Gaya, required modification.

What that modification would be became apparent when Rita said her sister wanted her to return to Delhi for the Diwali celebration. Along with the Lawyer I met on the plane from Delhi to Udaipur, Rita wanted me to talk to her niece's boyfriend about the possibility of building straw-bale homes. I had thought it would be a good idea for Rita to join me in these discussions, particularly if they come to the point of talking about working for pay (as both of these projects might) since she could help to negotiate these matters much better than I. It might also provide for a bit of revenue for Rita which she could sorely use to support her social activism. Her and David's story is a long and interesting one that I hope to get back to at another time.

We had talked about doing this when I traveled to Delhi before flying home at the end of November but this way she does not have to make a special trip. And I would be able to spend a few more days with locals doing whatever comes up, instead of suffering through another marvelous temple.

I'm hoping that after a few days in Delhi, I'll be able to enjoy Agra and the Taj Mahal.

Because it is Diwali, getting a train to Delhi is not possible so Rita is buying the bus tickets now. Rita has turned into a good friend and it will be fun to have someone to chat with during the 14 hour trip.

Ali, Manu and Me

Ali, Manu and Me

My trip to Jaisalmer was delayed while I spent a day in bed recovering from my second relapse after the cold I had in Pakistan. Another low-grade fever with body aches. I was worried enough about it that I went and had my blood tested to make sure I didn't have something really nasty. I didn't so after mostly recovering I got on the bus Tuesday night that would take me to Jodhpur Wednesday morning. Then I would transfer to another bus that would take me to Jaisalmer.

Or so I thought.

When I got out of the bus Wednesday morning, I found myself in Jaipur, further from Jaisalmer than when I started.

Of course all I could do was laugh and wonder how I could get on the wrong bus. I think I now understand, but the details are not worth relating now. But I'll add it to my upcoming book, "1001 Ways to Get Lost without really Trying."

So I got an auto-rickshaw to a nearby hotel that would keep my bag while I toured the city waiting for my 5:30 pm bus that would deposit me in Jaisalmer some 13 hours later. The most interesting site I visited was an Observatory built in 1728. I found the math and geometry interesting and enlightening. I was profoundly impressed by the intelligence of its design. They have the world's most accurate sundial with a resolution of 2 seconds!

The bus to Jaisalmer was another with "sleeper" bunks. These are 1 or 2 wide bunks with small sliding glass doors one can crawl into and, if you're under 5' 9", stretch out completely.

The good news is that I'm only 5" 7", the bad news is that the term "sleeper" is a euphemism,

Only the most unflappable could possibly sleep on these rambling beasts as they bump and grind their way along pothole strewn Indian roads. Then there is the sea of kids talking, laughing and squealing just outside the glass doors.

And if anyone would dare to find a bit of sleep within that milieu, there is the custom of honking to quickly bring one back to semi-consciousness. Whenever a vehicle wants to pass another, there is a long series of honks that are necessary to warn the over driver of one's approach. And after, there is another ceremony that must be performed, perhaps thanking the Gods that all is well. Now I must say that the horns themselves are quite whimsical with their musical riffs, but it is still necessary that they be quite loud to perform their intended function.

still, I arrived in Jaisalmer more or less in tact and after getting a hotel room, a nap and a shower, I was ready to plan my next move.

I met Manu, the owner or at least the manager of the hotel who offered to help me arrange my camel tour. after some discussion of the many possibilities (in India everything is possible) I decided to leave later in the afternoon for an overnight trip, returning the next afternoon. I haggled just a bit on the price and we decided on 5000 Rs (about $120). this would include taxi to and from the site, with all food and cooking and my own camel. while I was willing to go with someone else, Manu was not able to work this out so I would go alone.

after determining the cost, I told Manu that I could pay in us $$ if that would be ok. so he added up the cost of the hotel room (400 Rs/$9) the safari and a few other things and converted this total into dollars (at 43 Rs per $). since I only had $100 bills, he would owe me some change which I figured would be 1390 Rs. so I gave him his dollars, he gave me my rupees and I thought we were done.

but an hour or so later he came up to me and handed me 1000 Rs, telling me a mistake had been made. when he showed me the paper on which we had made the calculations, I realized that 8-6 equals 2, not 1 (my math is usually better than that, my only defense is that I had not slept properly for 2 nights). I was a bit astonished, not only by my inability to make simple calculations, but also by Manu's honesty. I complemented him profusely on this and he just smiled and asked rhetorically what good would it be to spend the money if he could no longer consider himself an honest man. by itself, this is only (perhaps) mildly interesting. but from this small gesture on Manu's part, an important deal would later be consummated.

on the way to the safari starting point we came upon a parasailing operation. a few guys with a jeep and a parachute offered 5 minute rides for 500 Rs. a few minutes later I was hooked up in the harness and sailing 50 feet above the desert floor, looking down on a surprisingly small jeep and out on a fantastic panoramic view. the taxi driver used my video camera to try and capture the event, but I have not seen the results yet.

a few minutes later I met Ali, the young camel driver who would take me into the desert for the night. his English was surprisingly good so he was easy to talk to. Ali confided to me his dream of someday owning his own camel. I asked how much that would cost and he said 25,000 Rs (about $600). it occurred to me that it would be within my ability to grant his wish but I let the thought pass as organically as it had arisen.

We traveled to some nice dunes well before sunset and settled in. Me on my carpet with my camera ready as Ali started making chai and preparing dinner. after the hustle and bustle of several busy Indian cities, it was amazingly peaceful and quite to be in the desert. the sunset was beautiful and I hope some of the pictures I took will do it some justice.

Ali and I talked of many things including a healthy dose of religion/spirituality. as with the folks in Pakistan, talk on this subject comes quite easily and naturally to the people of India. in all cases folks agree that it is most important to lead a good life even if they remain poor.

Just before dinner and just before sunset, a friend of Ali's from a village that was surprisingly nearby came over and offered to sell me something to drink. Something COLD to drink and one of the options was a BEER! I had anticipated that I would not drink anything while I was in India prior to my retreat in Bodh Gaya but an opportunity like this may never occur again so I said, "sure!"

Sunset, dinner and beer were all great (though my stomach has had a bit of a problem with Indian food). Before the moon came up the stars came out in massive numbers. Later we each retired to our blankets to sleep on the sand. it was not quite as romantic as I would have liked as the sand is still pretty hard and it gets quite cold and windy during the evening.

Still, morning came and found me in good spirits.

Sunrise was beautiful but only revealed itself briefly between the morning clouds.

After a bit of chai, we saddled up and were back on the path again.

Between more chatting, I experimented with various methods of riding a camel. by this time I had developed an advanced case of camel-butt and found it to be of glorious relief to sit side-saddle as Ali often did (though Ali disapproved, thinking I might fall as others before me had done).

While stationary, I tried "camel-surfing" as Ali handled the photography. Unfortunately I never got the chance to try this while moving, which would have elevated it from a photo-op to a real sport.

We came upon a wonderful oasis, just like in the cartoons I used to watch. Out of nowhere, a beautiful lake with trees materialized and this is where we stopped for lunch. Mercifully, this would be the end of the journey by camel as Ali used his cell phone (that he used throughout the trip) to call for the taxi that would take me back to town.

I was joined in the taxi by Daniel and Elaine, 2 folks from Sweden who had just finished their own safari. I had to laugh as Daniel and I, sitting on opposing benches in the back, both leaned heavily to the side, each nursing our own case of camel-butt. They had been on a 2-day safari, and I could only guess at how much worse their case was than my own.

When I got back to the hotel, there was only one thing left for me to do before heading back to Udaipur.

I bought a camel.

With Manu's administrative help, I loaned Ali the $600 it would take for him to buy his camel. He will do his best to pay this interest-free loan back over the next 3-5 years. Manu will keep the money in a bank and if it gets paid back we'll find someone else who needs a camel and make them the same offer.

It seemed like the least I could do.

Laxmi

Laxmi

I've endured a lot of difficulties with computers, the internet and accessing my e-mail. After a particularly difficult session in which I spent well over an hour just trying to print out the plane ticket that will get me to Delhi for my flight home I was finally saved by a couple of locals who took pity on me. Afterwards I told them I wanted to find a place to eat and they suggested a restaurant that was nearby.

All I had to do was go down the street we were on, take the first left and go until I found the place. Now I've known for most of my life that I have an uncanny ability to get lost while following the most simple directions, but even I was surprised when the street where I was to find the restaurant became narrower, darker and eventually came to a dead end at lake Pinhole without yielding my destination.

So, a bit incredulous that I had set a new standard for how quickly I could get lost, I turned around and headed back.

On the way a guy (whose name I later learned was Prakash) said, "Hello". Now that I've been wearing western clothing this happens to me a lot. When I'm in the market it is often a prelude to a sales pitch of some sort but in this case I felt reasonably certain it was just Indian friendliness. I responded with, "hello" and a brief conversation ensued. "Where are you from?" "America" "how long are you in India" etc. but at one point Prakash asked me a question I had not heard before, "can you read English?" A bit perplexed I said, "of course." Then he asked if I could read a letter he had received as he invited me into his house.

When I was in Ghana I was invited into the home of a couple of young boys to meet their mother and was immediately accosted for my money. I escaped after loosing only a few dollars but it taught me a lesson about staying out in the public. And because I was already a bit spooked by being well down a dimly lit nearly deserted street, there was a voice in my head that said, "Watch it!" when Prakash invited me into his home. But it was not a loud voice and my gut seemed to think it was ok, so I followed him inside.

Once inside I was introduced to another guy, Laxmi. Laxmi has cerebral palsy, a result of a bad reaction to a polio vaccine when he was a young child. If he was ever bitter about this unfortunate turn of events, he has long gotten over it. He is perhaps the sweetest guy I've ever met as well as one of the happiest. It was a letter someone had sent to Laxmi that Prakash had wanted me to read.

A guy from Spain who had met Laxmi while traveling in Udaipur had written to tell Laxmi of how much he had enjoyed meeting him and how his life had gone upon his return to Spain.

When I finished reading the letter we all started talking and the atmosphere continued to grow more friendly and comfortable. I learned that Prakash was the cook for the king of Udaipur (I hadn't known Udaipur even had a king). Apparently this lofty and strategic position is not rewarded with an adequate salary as Prakash shares Laxmi's apartment and cooks for him in return. I also became more enthralled with Laxmi. Besides his good nature and good humor, he was really a very wise man. We talked about what does and does not make one a happy person and other matters of the spirit and heart.

Eventually the conversation got around to me and what I've been up to. I started into my building-load-bearing-straw-bale-homes-in-Pakistan spiel when I pulled out a picture that showed what I was talking about.

Laxmi looked at the picture for a moment and then looked up and said, "Do you know David?" Stunned, I responded that I DID know a David Kubiac. Then he asked, "and Rita?" At this point an elephant could have materialized in the room and I would not have been any more astonished.

"Yes!" I replied, "I DO know Rita" as I wondered if this was not a revamped version of "Candid Camera."

Laxmi explained that he was very good friends with David and Rita. Rita had told him that an American was coming to Udaipur after spending a month in Pakistan building straw homes and that we should meet. Rita, too, had told me of a special friend she had wanted me to meet and I was waiting for her to return from Delhi to arrange the introduction.

As it dawned on the 3 of us that out of a city of ½ million we had managed to bump into each other quite by "accident" it became difficult to keep our jaws off the floor.

Apparently the universe could not wait for Rita's return so it arranged the meeting on its own terms.

Laxmi and I agreed that we would not divulge the details of our meeting until we could both be with her to appreciate her response.

That did not happen until a couple of days after she got home. Finally she said she had this friend of hers she wanted me to meet. She warned me that he had cerebral palsy and that he got around by doing a sort of crab-walk/crawl. When we went to pick up Laxmi she introduced us. It was all Laxmi and could do to keep from laughing out loud as we each said, "nice to meet you." Whenever Rita's gaze was diverted we would share a secret grin as we anticipated our telling of the story.

That happened about an hour later. She, too, had a problem keeping her jaw off the floor. As she realized how well we had pretended to not know each other when she "introduced" us all she could do was laugh and say, "you guys are SO bad!"

And then we all laughed, long and deeply.

Equipment Malfunction

Equipment Malfunction

In March I had a multi-day procedure scheduled at Stanford hospital to correct a heart arrhythmia. This required some logistics effort, including getting someone who could pick me up from the hospital on the first day and take me back to my hotel as I would be recovering from anesthesia. The obvious solution, to call a cab, was not allowed (for reasons that were never really made clear).

In February I met carol at a news conference in San Francisco for architects and engineers for 9/11 truth. I discovered that she lived in Palo Alto and even though I had just met her I decided that it would not be too outrageous to ask her if she would be willing to provide the taxi service I needed.

Those of you who know carol can easily predict her response. Of course she would be willing to do this for me.

The day before the procedure I drove to Paso Robles and got on the train (as I would also not be able to drive myself home after the entire procedure was completed). The next day I walked over to Stanford hospital and was waiting for the 1st of several appointments when I got a call on my cell phone form one of the nurses saying that due to an equipment malfunction the procedure would have to be cancelled and rescheduled for 2 months later. I had a brief moment of "oh why me, lord?" but I quickly let go of that, realizing that stuff happens and I've grown weary of being miserable when things do not go "my way."

When I called carol to tell her she was off the hook she suggested that as long as I was in the area for the rest of the day anyway, we might as well go for a walk.

To make a long story a bit shorter, a result of this unplanned walk was that carol and I became good friends.

So, starting from the top, here is the short story of what has happened since.

Because of an equipment malfunction, my appointment was cancelled.

Because my appointment was cancelled, I became good friends with carol.

Because I became good friends with carol, I was part of a retreat that followed the "understanding deep politics" conference in Santa Cruz.

Because I went to this retreat, I met several interesting people including David Kubiak who invited me to stay in Udaipur when I went to India.

Because I went to Udaipur I met Rita, David's wife, mar Kabra, Laxmi, Kusum and others.

Because of the people I have met in Udaipur, there are 3 possibilities for me to return to build load-bearing straw bale homes in India.

And who knows how much more fruit will be produced by an equipment malfunction at Stanford….