drawings of Nepal

 Last Dal Baht, last and best, at Ngima's house, in the valley.

Frequency, she argues, helps facilitate what Arthur Koestler has famously termed “bisociation” — the crucial ability to link the seemingly unlinkable, which is the defining characteristic of the creative mind. Rubin writes:
You’re much more likely to spot surprising relationships and to see fresh connections among ideas, if your mind is constantly humming with issues related to your work. When I’m deep in a project, everything I experience seems to relate to it in a way that’s absolutely exhilarating. The entire world becomes more interesting. That’s critical, because I have a voracious need for material, and as I become hyperaware of potential fodder, ideas pour in. By contrast, working sporadically makes it hard to keep your focus. It’s easy to become blocked, confused, or distracted, or to forget what you were aiming to accomplish. (from Brainpickings.com)

 drawings inside the monastery at Tengbouche,
the hand of Buddha

and drawings of the ever changing mountain

 and drawings from life inside the tent

and the tent, the beloved yellow tent, once high in the mountain, now back on my porch, after taking a bath.

Paris croissant

One minute I am wandering through the clouds of dust in Kathmandu, talking with a young man from Israel about his trek into Dolpo, Tibetan regions of Nepal, climbing in Jordan, and Jerusalem, the next minute it is 6:00 am and I am eating a chocolate croissant in Paris. OK, it is CDG airport, but still Paris, and one of my favorite airports, lots of shopping, everyone speaks French, I just have to trade in namaste with the folded hands and slight bow for merci, hand me another baguette...

Goodbye Kathmandu

Nigma gave us a tour of the local organic farm, listened to the cukoo birds and enjoyed the perfect dal baht of the entire trip in his home, before departing to the uniquely chaotic Kathmandu airport, where we pleaded, cajoled, begged, and bribed to get our excess luggage on the plane. Of course I had to leave the ever resourceful and open minded Tom Taylor behind, Nigma gave me yet another farewell scarf and a Buddhist trophy emblem framed good luck charm, I was very sad to say goodbye, but glad to back in those carefully curated airports. I had to put up a huge argument once again in Delhi airport, where the international transfers are interminable, same people as last, at least a dozen, calmly smiling as I raved on about getting me out of there. I was not really mad, it is like arguing with Shiva.

The burning ground

It is 6:00 am in Kathmandu, the electricity is off, which happens every day, twice a day for five hours. I prepare to leave the great Buddhist temples, the Boudhanath, the prayer flags, the burning place by the river where the corpse is adorned with bright cloth and flowers and set ablaze, Shree Boudhanath, right there in front of everyone, while small boys scamper around, and then the ashes thrown into the river. Even the wild chaos of Kathmandu I have begun to appreciate, the birds calling high over the streets, streets full of children come here from all over the country to go to boarding school. Yesterday we went to the movies in the Kathmandu mall, ate another dal baht with Nima, and again with the shopkeeper I made friends win last year, playing chess with her very bright grandson long into the night. We ate on the floor Nepalese style, out of courtesy they gave me a spoon.
And now I have begun to dream again of the Khumbu, the high mountains are calling to me. Turns out I like living in a tent, Turns out that even though I don't walk all that fast, Nima thinks I am some kind of brave and strong climber. This is because his brother saw me climb the yellow tower and because I don't seem to mind climbing by myself, being alone in the mountain. And so now I dream of walking back into the mountain, over that long rocky trail, lighter next time, even lighter.

Kathmandu

They strung purple flowers for our school visit, the young boy nickson rai picked wild berries for our last dinner together, we spent our last afternoon in Kharakhola playing with the children on the street outside the house. All the school children gathered to watch the helicopter land and take us over the terraced hillsides to Kathmandu.