Om Ma Ni Pad Me Hum

The next morning we headed off to the Medieval town of Bhaktapur in a small van on the bumpiest dirt roads in my travels to date. The pollution is visible in Kathmandu Valley, you could cut it with a knife and it sears your lungs, exhaust, burning trash, dust from the construction. It's not rare to see many locals wearing masks. I wish I had one in hindsight, my lungs have been taking a beating. Bhaktapur was one of the towns with the greatest quake damage in Nepal, the destruction is still rampant, and there is building happening everywhere, men and women, buckling down to rebuild houses and temples. Some people are still living in relief tents, marked with the country who donated them. This town is home to the tallest temple in Nepal, Nyatapola, at 5 stories, which miraculously survived the quake, while others were not so lucky. It's also known for it's pottery, brick making factories, King of Curds - the most delicious sweet, creamy yogurt served in a clay pot, and Thangka paintings. Common themes in Thangka paintings are usually a mandala or birds eye view of a stuppah (did you know that?? - I didn't!), the wheel of life, or Buddha's life. As my fascination for Buddhism grows, I was attracted more and more to the paintings describing Buddha's life, the detail and skill involved was impressive to say the least. I got one of the masters paintings.

It seems like no one sleeps in Bhaktapur, the City of Devotees. The bells at the temples start ringing at 3:30am, the dogs tussling, the vendors setting up their wares and vegetables for the days selling. The city was bustling before the sunrise. Morning devotion: the bells sounding, ring one here, then one there, then step down to enter the small temple, offer flowers and kumkuma, a red or yellow powder coloring to mark the idols, then exit, ring the bells again. The idols faces on the carvings are so repeatedly touched, any detail is worn off and the faces are just reddish orange domes with vague impressions of what they once were. One of the most intriguing things about Hinduism is that it's not accessible to me. Yes, I can see the gods and goddesses in sculptures on buildings, doorways, in homes at personal alters, even on keychains, and knick knacks. But I'm not allowed within the temple doors because I'm not Hindu. As far as I can understand it, I couldn't be Hindu because I wasn't born into that life. The religion, the culture, and the ethnicity are all so intricately intertwined, it's almost impossible to be one without the other. You are Hindu by religion, you are Hindu by birthplace, you are Hindu by blood. Yes, I think you can follow the practices and convert, but it's not always recognized in these parts of the world. How do you karmically just jump into a life, into a reincarnation cycle without having been born into it altogether? On top of that, there are 33 million gods and goddesses in which Hindu's pray to, most of whom I believe would have been learned through tradition and anecdotes from parents while growing up, ie. a situation happens, we pray to this god because of it. Not to mention each god has many reincarnations that consist of other gods. For instance Buddha is believed to be the ninth reincarnation or avatar of Vishnu, the God of preservation and protection, one of the top three gods in Hinduism along with Brahma, the Creator and Shiva, the Destroyer. It's a fascinating religion on so many levels, but also endlessly complicated and impossible to summarize in a paragraph. I think Buddhism has become so popular and really caught on in the Western world because it's so accessible to everyone. It's a method of thinking, a way of being, a philosophy of life. As Bipin, our guide would say, "Hinduism is our religion, and Buddhism is a philosophy most of us follow, so we are really both".  There are also different kinds of Buddhism, and different sects within those kinds, which I learned over a campfire with some of the Nepali locals. Theravada, Mahayana, and Vajrayana are the major branches of Buddhism. I feel like either I'm subconsciously seeking out more information or it's coming to me effortlessly. In any case, I'm so excited to read more when I'm home.

After Bhaktapur, we spent some days walking through the hillsides of Nepal over suspension bridges, through valleys, and over mountains. A vast majority of the population of Nepal lives on the land in small villages. They are self sustaining terrace farmers, with a few cows, buffalo or goats. We were constantly unaware if we were eating cows milk, buffalo milk, or even yak cheese (more likely than not). Cows are holy and only used for their milk and their meat is never eaten, so most of the meat is buff (buffalo) or mutton (goat). The women and men carry large bundles of firewood or leaves in a basket that goes behind their backs and a strap that is placed on their foreheads to bear the weight. The were amazing amounts in these baskets, it was unbelievable. The amount of time and care that goes into feeding yourself and your family this way is humbling. We have such easy access to food (not always the best food), but imagine having to pick your rice, then shuck it, then sift it, then sift again and again. We stopped for chai and oranges along the way in a local home, saw the locals playing games - Bath-Chal or Tigers and Goats, Carrom - a mixture of billiards and shuffleboard, and card gambling. We saw the children playing, the dogs protecting their land with barks and growls, and the goats bleating bloody murder. We came across hilltop Hindu sacrificial temples in the middle of what seemed to be nowhere. This really was the best way to see the culture and the people in Nepal, by walking amongst them through the hills.

After the end of a long days trek, we came to Namobuddha, the home of the Tibetan Thrangu Tashi Yangtze Monastery. As we climbed the mountain, we could see the monastery and in the near distance, a forest covered in Nepali prayer flags.  As we approached closer, the amount of flags there became greater and greater, they were everywhere, new flags, old withered flags, fluttering in the wind. I had never seen anything like this before, the devotion was palpable. This site is home to 250 Tibetan monks, they live here, train here, and pray here. When we finally got to the temple, it was immaculate. Colorful, clean, the overall colors were red and gold, but with so many flourishes and details in many colors. No photos were allowed, so unfortunately I cannot show it, but I was really overwhelmed by the beauty of it, I started to well up. We left the monastery to freshen up and check into our lovely German owned slice of paradise in the mountains (the vegetarian food was immaculate - the first salad I had in weeks). We returned to the monastery for the evening chanting. We sat against the wall in the back of the large hall as the monks came in, one by one, taking their seats. They had prayer books with them. I assumed they would be chanting the mantra Om Ma Ni Pad Me Hum, the most widely used mantra in Buddhism, evoking compassion; it cannot be translated into a single meaning, but is said to contain all of Buddha's teachings. Instead, we received the loud gong of the large drums, horns in two sizes, one a deep baritone, the other a treble, and chanting, sometimes in discord, not always in unison from their prayer books. It was an odd sound, I can't say it was entirely soothing, or disconcerting. It just existed in it's purity, strong and without hesitation. I found myself entranced for the hour we sat patiently. I put my jacket under me and got into a meditation position, legs crossed, hands on knees, back straight. I generally find it difficult to sit in this position for long periods of time, and have a hard time with meditation, my thoughts always seem to get the best of me - mind racing. But in this moment, I closed my eyes and I sat for the majority of that hour, listening intently, mind clear, body un-phased and alert. It was almost as if I was floating, lighter than my earthly body, and my mind was in another dimension. I left that moment with so much peace in my heart, a serenity I have rarely felt in my life, open, loved, and ready to give of myself. Full. Something inexplicable is happening.