LA blues

3.4.13

Laxmi’s husband comes into the garden and sits with Laxman and five minutes later Sumjana’s father strolls in and I give him my warmed up seat.  You trust your instincts when it comes to how and where your seat ought to be when a most senior elder of the community is in the garden so I turned my new chair at his two o’clock in front of him with plenty of space between us.  I must say again true knowledge is achieved in hindsight and if I hadn’t shared a peace pipe with the Kuchinger ten minutes earlier I would have found something to do and excused myself from this rare meeting.  I don’t know for the life of Jesus how a man who has lost his son by suicide cannot feel remorse in the worst way but we go on, right?  There’s probably a lot of guilt, if only I hadn’t, if only I said this, if only I didn’t tie him to a bed, the last time I saw his eyes and scraggly beard.  Yes, John, you feel their pain and you know they’ve got it a lot worse than you so stop your bellyaching. 

The theory is this, people who live in the mountains are more likely to achieve a state of silence because they are more tired and when I’m tired, really tired I think of nothing.  Listen to the wind and the noisy birds, nature’s tonic and two six seater airplanes buzz by.  Buddha had it easy, right?  No zeppelins disturbing enlightenment around here. 

3.5.13

Six am—a blue overcast start, whiffs of rain, an interview scheduled in LA at the end of this month provides some challenges.  First getting there.  Second staying there.  If I am offered a post the process to take me back to the desert will be two months.  What would I do in that time?  Sleeping under bridges, lining up at the soup kitchens.  And the outfit I would choose for the interview, how high will that table be between us.

I don’t like seeing signs.  I don’t like any second guessing about what is or isn’t happening in the world.  Am I pimping out with this plan?  Alternatives right now are nil. 

You see I created this dilemma and…wait, you say taking a job in the desert is a dilemma, no, I see everything before I get on that plane assuming I am offered and accept the job as the dilemma.  Fifty blanking years old, I should not be doing this. 

And the thing is it was my efforts, not God or any metaphysical entity that led me to consider another homeless round and that leaves doubt in hindsight.  Follow your dreams, well since I rarely dream unless I am awake.

Be yourself it’s all you can do

Then I ain’t going nowehere right now.  If there is any trouble in the force Luke you must procrastinate.  Ah you don’t believe we’re on the eve of destruction.  Every generation has been on it.  The wind blows ferociously, rain tomorrow.  This morning I walked to the grandparents to pick up a large tin of milk and sat on the steps drinking chia with Beem and the owner of the Sherpa Resort, sitting next to him a mini Tibetan mastiff, a beautifully thick black coated dog and the most fearless and wildly fierce animal up here.  He came over to me and we exchanged pleasantries then he stuck his nose right between my eyes and held a stare for about six or seven seconds as if to see who was inside. 

As this day closes a bag of mint tea is passed to me under the table.  Hm, medicine it is, menthol it isn’t. 

There was much to consider but no decision is made about swinging back to the west though there may be many more options once there.  I am not even remotely excited about doing this.  Brother can you spare that dime, no that one over there, thanks. 

3.6.13

Everyone carries water from the banyon tree tap for it comes strong.  Yesterday Reetchi and others walked to Naudana to repair a break in the pipe that provides 75% of the water for this mountain community from the Seti.

Meanwhile a strike keeps the schools closed and the children are let loose and there is no shanti so a glass of coffee above the roundhouses is necessary.  A few full red Rhododendron trees in a few hours of haze helped deal with one of those life altering moments in transit.  Upon return Manab declares he has a girlfriend and has to be restrained from crawling under the table.  

Yesterday I said it would rain today and didn’t it wait until six pm and then for a few seconds it spat.  Suraksha is as a child ought to be in leading her younger neighbors to singing and dancing in the dining room and outside.  It’s nice when it’s quiet at dusk in this room.  The panoramic vista windows reduce the hum below in the valley and you can slow it all down. 

Only in darkness does the rumble subside and there’s nothing better than being outside when it is pleasant.  A barbecue, a pool, beer, with who I don’t know anymore, what in hell do you want.  People you want to see, fly em in from wherever land.  A ridiculous waste of brain energy and here the kids return.

Women and one male voice argue at the tap below.  It has to be about being in line.  When water stops coming there is a bottleneck and things get hot.  Maya returns with Suraksha and two small gallons.   Do I wish now I’d know what they are saying in the dark?  I could ask but my throat hurts.  Almost eight no one feels like cooking, that is Maya.  Well I don’t blame her, when is your kitchen your home and when is it the restaurant? Tempers flare, there’s no use watching what you can’t see.