For stupid, and immature, and unenlightened, and shitty reasons, I am angry. I am angry at other people, which in turn is causing me to be angry at myself, because directing anger at others is perhaps the most pointless and self-destructive action an individual is capable of. Therefore, this is going to be quite brief, even though I have oodles and oodles of thoughts that I've been kicking around in my head, and oodles and oodles of experiences and happenings that I figure (since you are still reading this) are interested in hearing about. Well sorry, but that's not gonna happen. Anger fucks up everything, including my willingness to articulate with a moderate thoughtfulness. Ok, today we took a 7 hour bus ride from Kathmandu to Pokhara. There are so many white people here, relatively speaking; I'm not sure if I like it or not. Early, early, early tomorrow morning, we fly from Pokhara, through the world's deepest gorge, to the world's most dangerous airport in Jomsom, Lower Mustang. Maybe it is just me, but I feel it is kind of surreal to be flying, to the world's most dangerous airport no less, on the 10th anniversary of you know what.

Expect turbulence is a pretty apt description for life,
-Doug B.

Blogging in the Dark

The following is from 7:51PM on 8 September:

More often than not, I find myself disparaging the West’s recent obsession with material science (I say recent because not so long ago, when the Chinese and Indians were studying the stars, inventing gunpowder, and perfecting meditation, Europeans were still rolling around in the mud and killing each other with sharpened wooden sticks). Not only is this ironic, it is a bit pigheaded on my part. Though I don’t always like to admit it, material progress and the advancement of scientific knowledge isn’t a bad thing. Indeed it has alleviated a great deal of human suffering and allowed for countless more beings to appreciate this precious human life. After all, I’m here halfway around the world because two brothers from Ohio figured out how to make objects that are heavier than air pretend, so long as they have adequate power, to be less heavy than air. I have clean water to drink because someone figured out how to kill viruses, bacteria, and protozoa with ultraviolet light and carbon filters. Why the sudden change of heart? Because the battery, the microprocessor, the LCD screen, and the 8,000 other patents that make up my laptop, allow me to write this blog post despite the fact that the power is out right now because of load-shedding. We can all thank the Second World War for the computer, I’m still not necessarily sold as to whether 55 million human lives are a fair trade. I guess the jury’s still out.

            Do you know what the man who invented the AK-47 said (the AK-47 is the most mass-produced gun in history and a greater weapon of mass destruction than any hypothetical Iranian nuclear bomb ever could be)? He said ‘I wish I invented the lawnmower.’ The iPad, despite being hugely entertaining, is pure evil. No good can or ever will come from an iPad, save for it maybe deflecting a bullet or stopping a knife. I feel equally strongly about twitter. Tweeting is for the birds. Reason #1 to love Nepal: no Apple stores. Thank the Buddha. Reason #2: No McDonalds; there is however, a Kentucky Fried Chicken, or as my cousin Kate once said, a ‘Kenfucky Fried Chicken.’ Power’s back on! There is a gecko on the ceiling, making gravity look like a punk. Good for it, gravity is a punk, weighing our souls down on this rock while it hurdles around our Sun, while our Sun hurdles around the Milky-way galaxy, while the Milky-way Galaxy hurdles around the local group of galaxies, while the local group of galaxies hurdles around the Virgo supercluster of galaxies (one of millions of galaxy superclusters in the observable universe), while the Virgo supercluster hurdles around the cosmos. Don’t be fooled. The planet Earth is a speck, on a speck, on a speck, on a speck, on a speck, on a speck. There’s a hell of a lot more out there, living and with various levels of intelligence. I’m not saying little green men with a penchant for anal-probing are abducting us and studying our physiology to eventually invade this planet. I’m saying the universe is way to freaking big for the Earth to be the only rock where some carbon got together with some oxygen and other stuff, and then started farting around forming cells, and nervous systems, and organs. Life is a diaspora, and there’s a lesson in that somewhere. Maybe, it’s because we are all born into this life as exiles from our own true nature, the Tathāgatagarbha or Buddha nature. Unlike most exiles though, all of us can go home, we just have to start walking the path. Peace.

The Frequency is Courage,

-Doug B.

P.S. Time to get used to squat toilets again.

Don't Let the Door Hit You On the Way In

Even on a slow day here, it seems like 5,000 some-odd things happen to you. And the last few days have been anything but slow. There is a great deal to tell, some of it happy, some of it less so, and some are merely the strange observations of a wandering fool. I'm going to do away with the pleasantries for the time being and just list some things that have happened whilst in Nepal, or the side effects thereof. Ok.

1. I have a rash on my fingers caused by some foreign irritant. Don't worry, I went to the travel clinic, they gave me some cream, all is well now.
2. We have just moved in with our homestay families in Boudha. My pala's (Tibetan for father) name is Tashi. My amala's (mother) name is Sherab. They are lovely. They have three daughters. Two are in America going to college at Bemidji State University and Trumann State University. Tashi and Sherab haven't seen them for two years. Talk about studying abroad. The third daughter is quite young, no older than 10. As of right now, she mostly ignores me.
3. Everything shits everywhere.
4. My jaded, reverse-orientalist idolatry of Buddhists has been shattered. Whilst circumambulating Boudha Stupa, I was scammed into giving a man 1000 rupees after talking to him sometime about Buddhism and the like. He said he was sick and could not afford his medicine. I believed him. That is what the Dalai Lama calls idiot compassion. I found out I had been scammed when I was relating what happened to another student on the program and was told the exact same man had approached him the previous day with the same story. They were smart. They didn't give him anything, so he called them evil. He seemed so sincere. Many of the people here really are. He was not. Live and learn, right?
5. I have a crush on one of my Tibetan language teachers. In fact, I'm writing this from the internet cafe that she also owns. I'm not sure if that qualifies as some kind of irony. Maybe a hipster would know.
6. We are not going to Tibet. That door has been a closed. This was related to us yesterday. We took all the precautions, all the extra steps, we even deliberately stayed away from the exile community. In truth, we were likely doomed from the get go. The Chinese government is scared shitless by young Americans going to Tibet. That apprehension turns to hysteria when those Americans are college students. So it goes.
7. I bought a Nepali hat called a Topi. I was already a big hit with locals because I smile and wave at everyone. Now I am a flipping all-star. Not really, but I do get a lot of comments and smiles, and one or two cat calls (I am flabbergasted over how difficult, and culturally inappropriate, it would be to try and start a casual relationship with a Nepali or Tibetan girl whilst I am here. So far the this is the only pick-up line I can come up that also complies with the traditional relationship dynamics that I am told are the standard fare: Will you marry me?).
8. Hindi and Nepali soap-operas and commercials are atrocious. They are so over the top that everything seems like it is deliberately making fun of itself. The acting is so bad. I don't even know what people are saying and I can still tell the dialogue is ridiculous. Every five minutes or so, one of the main male characters will look into the camera with tears streaming down their face. A face, that save for the occasional lip quiver, is as stern as a concrete block. Though I thought it impossible, television here makes Spartacus on Starz look good by comparison (I died a little just from typing that). I suppose I can always read books. Books, for those of you born post-1995, are collections of many sheets of paper on which information or stories are printed as words and are then read aloud.
9. The man sitting in the cyber cafe next to me is playing Farmville, but it is in Chinese. It hurts me to see this. His hypothetical thought process: 'I'm on vacation in Kathmandu, a city bursting at the seams in culture and history...and I really need to harvest the imaginary soybeans I planted on my imaginary farm so I can get to the next imaginary level, buy more imaginary animals, plant more imaginary crops, and waste more non-imaginary time.' (All of that in Chinese, of course.)
10. The Door to Tibet has closed, but the window to Mustang has opened. I will explain all this entails in a later post, but know that we are leaving on Saturday. Given Mustang's remoteness, this may mean that I will be incommunicado for as long as three weeks. "Peculiar travel suggestions are dancing lessons from [Buddha]." - Kurt Vonnegut

I'll let you know more, and relate some emotional gobbledegoop over the next day.

The Frequency is Courage,
-Doug B.

Post-Birthday Wax Philosophical, or A Letter to My Father

Thank you so much Dad. I know I don't say it enough and maybe its the fact that I'm +5:45 hours from you and therefore many thousands of kilometers away (physical distance is an illusion that can be overcome through meditation, by the way), assuming your still in Great Britain, BUT: I love you and Mom, more than you could ever know. And I am so glad (tears are welling up in my eyes, so you know I'm being sincere), and so thankful, and words are lacking to express what I know in my heart, to be your son. I am what I am because of you and Mom and the way you raised me, and though we all have our struggles, there is no one else I would rather be. I am supremely confident that you and Mom will have a most fortunate rebirth. In fact, perhaps this is presumptuous on my part, but considering your tremendous wisdom and rapid progress on the path of mindfulness, Dad, I think you might be a tulku, the rebirth of an enlightened being (google it, I'm being sincere by the way, I really think you may be. It certainly helps to explain why I am the way I am. Also, I found out yesterday that in the Sakya [Again, google it] school of Tibetan Buddhism, monks and especially accomplished lamas [In my humble opinion, you are the latter] are encouraged to marry. Indeed, the spiritual leader of the Sakya tradition is carried on in a hereditary line from father to son. I think and hope a daughter will enter the fold in the near future. By the way, though it is silly, on facebook there is a place to list people who inspire you, you are on there. Mom should be too, because she is so wonderful to everyone she meets, and Bek should be because she is following the Bodhisattva path (wholeheartedly working to alleviate the suffering of sentient beings) more than I ever could. Maybe, in time, I can inspire someone too. The Dalai Lama says if we cannot help people, the least we can do is not hurt them. I want to help people. I don't know why. I always have, but I am not special. I think everyone wants to help people, sometimes it just takes a while for people to find out they do. A lot of helping is misguided unfortunately, pray the gay away, right? I love you. I love you. I love you. I love. I needed to get that off my chest. Dad, this is for you: I know that sometimes you doubt yourself and that sometimes you are what we might call in Tibetan Buddhism, wrathful. (Another aside: wrathful deities in Tibetan Buddhism are protectors of the faithful and those they care about, and the powerful mindstream emanations of compassionate and enlightened Bodhisattvas [Sorry, but again, if you're confused or just interested about terms I use, google them. And if you're really interested, read Dharma books]. Growing up in a society built around material existence, it is so hard to realize our true nature, it took me eighteen years just to enter the stream, so don't feel bad. Don't be trapped by regret about how we have acted in the past. Be mindful yes, which I know you are, and dedicate yourself to the present and the future. Mistakes, like enemies, are the greatest teachers in the world. They show us our limitations. They remind us that no one, not even the Buddha, is perfect. We struggle, that is what makes us human, sentient. Samsara is hard, but without it, there could be no bodhi, no awakening. Back to my point, the past is the past. I know you feel regret for how you used to act. That is okay, but don't be trapped by it. I know that regret traps me all the time, but we have to try and move past it. That is not to say we should be callous, no, never. Simply, and I apologize for being a bit of a broken record, we must be mindful of the past but dedicate ourselves to the present. Negative karma can only be purified through meritorious action. Apologies are good. Righteousness in the here and now is better. Dedication to the path is better. And by God, do you have dedication. Be mindful of that accomplishment, but not proud. Pride ensnares us in the cycle of birth, death, and rebirth. I don't know where I am going with this, I guess that st why I am a wandering fool (chuckle, chuckle). If it is ok with you, I'd like to post this on my blog, because I think everyone can appreciate much of what I said, but I'll censor whatever you would like me to. That's the least I can do. I love you. Enjoy London and England. Enjoy America. Thank you so much, for everything. And thank you for letting me be here. I realize, it takes a lot to let your child go back to the place where they got typhoid fever. A lot. Peace.

The Frequency is Always Courage,
- Your unbelievably grateful son.

I Love You

Tears well up in my eyes as I wonder at the majesty of this precious human life. May the Buddha smile upon you and all sentient beings as he has so graciously smiled upon me. The Tibetan horns don't hurt either. More to follow before the end of the day, I promise.

21 Plus 1

Apple Brandy...Enough Said.

Frequent Updates Are Easier Said Than Done

Sorry folks, but this'll be a short one. I'm quite tired, I have reading to do, and I'd like to be well rested for tomorrow as it is a very important day for most young American adults. Can you guess what it is? Well if you can't, tomorrow marks the beginning of my 21st year of existence on this here blue and green rock, at least the 21st year of this lifetime. Big deal right? Eh, not really. At least not here. I've had three beers since landing in Kathmandu. In Nepal, the drinking age is as nonexistent as the traffic laws. If you can pay, you can play. In my humble opinion, that is a pretty good system. But the hypocrisy and ludicrousness of American drinking laws isn't my problem anymore...cause I'm 21 bitches! Now what do I have to look forward to? 25 so I can run for Congress? 30 for the Senate? 35 for the presidency? While they might give my future birthdays some more purpose, I have no intention of joining the clusterfuck that is the American political system. Gandhi said we should be the change we wish to see in the world, but Gandhi never saw a modern American election cycle. Sorry that this post is so rife with cynicism. But isn't that normal? Aren't we supposed to abandon our dreams and aspirations, our individuality, the naive hopefulness of youth, and embrace instead the morbid outlook of the post-post-modern that has become so conflated with maturity as to be understood as one and the same. At least let me apologize for the fact that this post has nothing to do with Nepal and relates virtually no information to you about the phantasmagoria in which I am whirling about. All in due time, I promise. In the meantime, I'm sure as hell not getting any younger, so I should better start making the most of this most precious human life.

- The Frequency is Courage,
Doug B.

Fives Days and 25 Cups of Tea Into the Journey

Please excuse the run-on sentences that follow. Proper sentence structure and semi-colon usage can bite my ass, just like the mosquitoes here; however, I will not abandon my penchant for correct spelling and wily diction. Now then, let's get on with it shall we. I'm not really sure how many days it has been since I arrived in the Federal Democratic Republic of Nepal, née Kingdom. Technically I got here on 31 August (using the local date format is my way of fitting in) and since it is 4 September (at least where I am at the time of writing this), that would mean I've been in Nepal for roughly five days, but here, time seems to be a wholly irrelevant commodity. I suppose when everything one experiences is new and unfathomably exciting, time--which serves as the root of all perception, real and false, and is thereby the sense that is most difficult to transcend--no longer follows standard operating procedure. To give a mundane example, bus rides can feel like an eternity or a snap depending on how likely the next abrupt turn on a mountain road will cause the expulsion of my stomach contents. On the other end of the spectrum of suffering, climbing up 700 meter hills draped in Tibetan prayer flags, a physically exhausting but remarkably enjoyable task which takes about half an hour when moving at a brisk pace, seems to come and go as quick as the afternoon rains. This isn't really anything mindblowlingly new; time flies when you're having fun is a rather old cliche.

An aside: the smiles here are so full and blissful. When I smile at someone and they smile back, they radiate an emotional sincerity that is almost entirely lacking in the lands of white people. There are no feigned grins, no reluctant half smiles, no condescending smirks, only beaming contentedness reflected in the gleeful laugh of a little Nepali boy or the weathered but compassionate face of an old Tibetan woman whose wrinkles are as much from a life of hard work as they are from constantly smiling. That is not to say everyone smiles at you, because they don't, not by a long shot. There is great pain and suffering in many of these faces, be they human or not. It is just when someone returns the almost ignorantly jovial grin that invariably commandeers my face, they do so with such a genuine integrity that our two souls, otherwise divided by seemingly impassable gulfs of culture, language, and numerous other societal constructs, realize for a fleeting moment a connection so luminous as to dispel all the darkness in the world.

Sorry about that, I should've probably mentioned earlier, be prepared for some pretty lengthy asides. I still have so much more to discuss but I have been in this internet cafe for at least an hour and a half; there goes time again, being all moody and inconsistent. Given that there is free wi-fi in our guest house, I'll post again later today about all the amazing places I've been going, people I've been meeting, things I've been doing, and how my karma is far too corrupted to deserve any of it. Jeyla Jey-lyong (goodbye in Tibetan).


The Frequency is Courage!
-Doug B.