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Showing posts from January, 2019

Nepalese Notebook: September 13th, 2014

September 13th, 2014

Upper Jagat 1340m.

The country people are remarkable for their stature and muscle though none of them are very tall.  A boy of no more than 8 or 9 years old came up the trail today carrying a bag of damp sand from the river bottom; it must have been at least 50 pounds and as tall as him because he had to bend over with the tumpline almost perpendicular to the ground to be able to move forward.  Further down we saw the father and another boy filling up more bags to be taken in turn, and these, as we found out, were for house-constructing and repairs.  A woman in the village before, where we stopped for refreshments, spoke in a rather lively tone of voice about how she wanted to have 12 children with her husband, already had 3, and was pushing 31 years old. After we passed the hot springs of Tatopani where we cleansed our hair and face, the more prevalent signs of Tibetan culture began to appear, most notably the women wearing vibrantly coloured aprons of knitted woo…

A Poet's Journal: November 7th, 2013

November 7th, 2013

Most often what we fear is not the future itself, but what must be left behind.  But this is a strange thought because expectation arrives so quickly that it turns what is around us into a hindrance that cannot be let go of soon enough.  But it is also a melancholic thought because if we do not leave, the joy of giving breath to something that was for so long taken away, shall lengthen into the despair of us never feeling the flow of life again.
Douglas Thornton

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There is time for nothing else in this world but what we ourselves have set afoot, and finding the majority of our efforts occupied with a certain hope of reward, it is not distasteful to give ourselves pleasure with simplicity and joy in far-seeming whims.  Thus, it is the hope that, with the release of Seasons Of Mind, those of you may find in it a pleasure to your free time and a joy in reflection.

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A Poet's Journal: November 5th, 2013

November 5th, 2013

We ask ourselves what conviction is, but cannot help but find that facility is sometimes an answer to the struggle.  There is honour in gaining something by force because the battle is for the most part a measure of one's will, yet the very intimacy with which we engage our rival becomes the merit by which the victory must be weighed.  We find ourselves at the center of this prospect of trying to gauge what is just in our demeanor so that every action may serve to better our contemplation, and in this there is neither fault nor the expectation of coming glory, merely a means by which to ease our daily toil.  If we find ourselves not up to our ambitions; if the dreams we had are now pale and sickly fomentations, the outlook has not been lost because the easy way was chosen, rather we realize the rivalry has become one of perpetuity and our interest a vague plea for the stability of life. We are never really near or far from what we want to accomplish, but always …