Skip to main content

Posts

Showing posts from June, 2020

The Art of Memory

  The Art of Memory When we can traverse the plains of memory, stopping at each fire to warm ourselves before we start again on our journey, there is a world inside a world that keeps going on to infinity.  If we are lucky enough to hear the eternal melody that is at work in these moments, many fine hours may come upon us.   But sometimes the solace and hospitality are too much and we live with our new found companions, taking them along wherever we go, as a shadow upon our eyes.  The memories of Thoreau, or the early frontier narratives of Indian captivity, are something that I have felt eternal and unchangeable in human nature, not for any piece of information they have given me, but because my melancholy has always found peace in their environment.  For some the world is old or the world is new, but the point is that we tend to look at it through memory.  One memorable event confounds all future celebrations; we remember so as not to forget, but we do not remember that we are able t

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