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Showing posts from June, 2020

A Poet's Journal: October 23rd, 2014

  October 23rd, 2014 It is tempting to believe that in the lives of the past there was never a dull moment.  Take the life of any dead poet and his years seem as minutes, and every great word or sentence that was conceived by him is as if molded into every second of his life.  There is such an ideal that goes along with it, it is hard to believe they ever took the time to cook for themselves, or do housework, or were prey to the mundane emotions of life.  Boredom, I doubt, has evolved over the centuries, but why do we not see it in them?  What makes us believe that we are so lowly we have not yet reached a state of awareness, the kind of which appeared open to the poets of the past?  It is easy to suffer, but harder to turn that suffering into something no one will ever bat an eye at.  Perhaps what we believe of the past is only our unrealized suffering coming into view.  But perhaps it all comes from our trying too hard, of our making the most of each moment; for it is all too much of

Nepalese Notebook: September 23rd, 2014

September 23rd, 2014 Chyamche 1450m. First view of the Annapurna range this morning.  Passing through Tililje (2300m.) earlier, we found a man at the mill grinding his roasted barley and parched corn mix.  He was quite surprised that I offered to buy some, the ground roasted barley being known as Tsampa, considered a staple ingredient to many of those living in the mountainous regions and outlying areas, oftentimes being mixed with parched corn. The intermediaries who dealt with the affair seemed rather tentative to approach the man because the grain was more essential to his family's needs than the money that was eventually paid for it.  Nevertheless I found myself with a rather large plastic bag full of the mix, which had the most fragrant and pleasing odor.  It was perhaps this mix of Tsampa and parched corn that made me feel closer to anything Nepalese or Himalayan during the whole extent of our trip, but many would be befuddled by how bland and unattractive the taste actually

Nepalese Notebook: September 22nd, 2014

September 22nd, 2014 Goa Valley 2515m. Beautiful morning in Bhimtang; the Dudh Khola begins its descent here as a clear and shallow stream with a bed of white glacial sand, almost surreal.  There are three or four glaciers to the north, the Salpudanda being the one which we came down along side of yesterday; above these sits the Himlung (7126m.)  To the east is the Manaslu (8163m.) but hidden, and to the south is the majestic Phungi Himal (6538m.)  We left Bhimtang reluctantly, looking up to the left and right, but mostly looking back, not because of any special feeling we had experienced, but because the highest part of the Himalayas was now behind us, physically and mentally.  Everything was downhill, the eternal snows would become less conspicuous, the landscape less alpine, and the feeling that links one to something unique in his experience merely a vague and undetermined memory.  No one really believes anything that can be said about such places anyway; perhaps in reality for the