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Showing posts from September, 2018

Nepalese Notebook: September 24th, 2014

September 24th, 2014
Bahundanda  1000m?
Short walk today from Chyamche; tropical weather, hot and humid, heavy sun.  The trail splits in two not far from Syange, where the right side of the river valley becomes wide enough for jeep travel; although upon our splitting from this, and taking the foot-path on the left, we found the road blocked and many vehicles waiting for access; further down a landslide had stalled most of the transport.  Our trail as well was hobbled by landslides from earlier in the season, with us having to wait or be waited on at certain crossings, as only a narrow path through the rubble was possible.  These parts, though not so much scary in themselves, did tend to leave an impression of the massive amount of earth that had slid down the slope, and even if the ground felt stable under foot, you could not help but feel the eerie silence that surrounded the crossing, and the relief, albeit small, as we stepped away from it. Earlier in the morning we stopped at a small…

A Poet's Journal: October 12th, 2013

October 12th, 2013

Morning and evening have such an effect on the mind that it is a great consternation to wonder if it is the incline of the sun or the opacity of thought that keeps us from experiencing the world the way we think it should be.  From the one we are ever ready to see the intimacy for which to set ourselves down in its presence; and from the other to feel that instant of appearance wherein the whole land shall embrace an ephemeral perspective.
Douglas Thornton

A Poet's Journal: October 9th, 2013

October 9th, 2013

The joys and contentment of this world provide us with such a meaningful place that it is rather lamentable to find out that the grounds for their existence are weighed by the ruling hand of man, and man is subject to fault, and that even his fault may be given the appearance of success.  If we are confined to his limits, we are all kept busy by his inventions and make no greater use of them than they of us and though we may submit or rebel to his idea, we cannot change it, but that we are the bearers of this idea as well proves that we are not slaves to its existence.  Perhaps the most worrisome thing about this is that we are driven to get out of life a maximum potential of gain and comfort--cultural perceptions that change with time--and by this pass up what it is that we are actually trying to understand: a reason to have faith in life itself.  But there is also a capacity for a minimum effort, where monetary value only becomes compensation for what is superfluo…

A Poet's Journal: October 7th, 2013

October 7th, 2013

To peruse the pages of forgotten books is a pastime in which I shall always partake; and though it turns out that very few sentences are actually read, the mere fixture of the words, or the subject, create an affinity in the mind apt to deeper contemplation.  Hardly can such a book be opened before we feel exist a mystic relationship with what is old, and even more so to the obscure, and far from leading us into a clear path of understanding, that same awkward and unsettling sentiment transfixes us and our thoughts drift back and forth upon the page until it is no longer the story to which we are attached, but the power of our imagination.  It is only when we feel we need to know something that words become our greatest let down; they are but a means to the mysterious--for even among the driest of archaeological accounts there remains something so unilluminating, that were the greatest poet to take up their theme, he could not inspire a finer feeling than the descrip…