Last weekend we took a fantastic day-trip hiking along the edge of the hills that surround the Kathmandu Valley.  Spectacular views, excellent company, incredible Buddhist monasteries, and some much needed peace were the highlights.  The single low-light:  the most crowded and painful microbus ride through almost knee deep monsoon puddles after waiting for 45 minutes.  It was totally worth the pain but clearly I need some practice on the whole Buddhist zen…the following conversation occurred between me and my brain during said painful micro ride:

Breathe in deeply  (except while my nose is crammed into the armpit of the guy in front of me).

Breathe out deeply (and hope that guy in front of me doesn’t mistake my excellent belly-breathing as a sexual advance).

Let all the muscles from the top of your head to the bottom of your toes just relax and release (except for the muscles that are hanging on for dear life to the roof of the 10-person microbus that is currently carrying me and 50 other people through torrential rains).

Close your eyes (but occasionally scan the rain streaked windows for any landmark that looks familiar where I can make a fast exit).

Imagine you are floating (actually, I am floating, there are so many people on this bus that they have squished me upwards for lack of space and your feet  are no longer connected with the ground).

Your weight is fully supported by a gentle breeze (actually it is not a breeze but the heavy breathing of the 50 people crammed inside this small space).

Let any thoughts you have surround themselves in bubbles and float away (how do I surround every curse word I have ever known in a bubble?).

Allow yourself to drift away, slowly, gently into the state of peace (or how about I just get the heck off and find a damn taxi!).

So despite my inability to release my ego and be zen, I do have many things to be grateful for.

• Bacon. Greasy and salty, crunchy and chewy, deeply savoury goodness in the form of a fried strip of pig meat.  Bacon is something I rarely eat here in Nepal.  But the breakfast buffet at the hotel I stayed at for a workshop this week served bacon.  And I ate it.  All of it.   I couldn’t stop myself – I actually went for a second helping of just bacon…who does that??!!!  I think it reminded me of home and filled some sort of hole in my soul.  It felt almost spiritual – like some inner food-god connection had been unleashed. Perhaps if I had carried some bacon on the micro with me the conversation above would be different. Don’t you worry bacon…we will have a rendezvous again soon, although this time I might just arm myself with some  lettuce and tomato.  Until then, I will keep you in my thoughts here.
• I am grateful for realizing that it’s no longer my problem. We had a proposal due for funding today.  It isn’t yet finished.   I don’t know when it will be.  We might get an extension but we might not.  I poured heart and soul into helping to write this thing but couldn’t do it alone.  I asked for help and nobody heard my call.  I was seriously saddened and frustrated until I spoke with a good colleague, Jeevan, and he reminded me that it wasn’t my problem.  I was propping up a crumbling building alone – even if I managed to stabilize one corner, it was still doomed to crumble.  I did everything I could but if the building crumbles…I will be sad but it’s just no longer my problem.
• Being in the right place at the right time. During our hike and monastery visits last week, just as we arrived at the final monastery, the thunder began to clap and a light rain began to fall.  Almost at the exact same time a large drum began to sound inside the monastery.  The Buddhist monks were being called to prayer.  It was a practice of one of the traditional Tibetan chants.  We were able to sneak inside and sit near the back and observe the ritual chanting.  It was a beautiful combination of sounds – the booming of large drums marking a return to mindfulness, the gentle snap of fingers when a particular state of consciousness or being had been achieved and the gentle murmur of about 100 voices repeating the soft and rounded Tibetan words.  With the rains outside it was the perfect place to be, without a plan and finding ourselves sitting on the edges of daily life in a monastery.
• Rex.  He has been trying to make it onto my blog for weeks.  But I always tell him that I am ALWAYS grateful for him so don’t need to blog about it every week.  But this week, I am more grateful for him than usual.  He has been away in Hetauda and I am always reminded, when he is gone, just how much support, love, kindness, patience, laughter, and joy he brings to my life.  You made the blog sweetie – now get on that crowded smelly microbus and come home soon!