HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FAITH YET?

I’m writing about the 19th century now, and the simplicity of life has made me ponder my own rather horrific journey.  Of course I’m glad for all the freedom — though that’s getting to be more of a challenge to hang onto, isn’t it?  The scans, all the invasions into one’s life.  I feel more and more coarsened by my resistance, but damned if I’ll stop fighting…

 

Loss of faith:  I went to a Buddhist temple here in Kathmandu this morning, and saw a Nepalese man who was on his way to guide some trekkers, from the spic and span way he looked.  He had a huge yellow flower behind his left ear and his forehead was splotched with the sacred red tika.

 

I saw him in the garden of my hotel a few minutes later.  “I saw you in the temple just now.  Good morning!”  said I.  He said, in broken Nepali-English, ‘oh,temple. Very good.’  and I noticed that he’d left behind every trace of his indigenous fervor.  (He was fervent, too, praying away at 7 am.)  And this had made me realize that I hadn’t taken anything seriously since I got mugged in Dharamsala (by a Tibetan) last year.

 

I attach a photo in my school for Tibetan refugees, with a couple of Boet kids and one of the books I wrote for that school.  (I gave it to the Karmapa.)

Image

 

My way to keep on keepin on has been to re-ignite my connection to myself: the Irish laboring grandfather peeps through my patina quite often, for example.

 

Keeping hold of one’s … life force… isn’t easy these days.  Keep well;  hope you read my books.  Best from KTM.  MAD

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