Katy and Mark Lewis
We are two siblings from Colorado (aged 24 and 26) who find ourselves simultaneously between a job and a graduate school program. We both came down with a case of itchy feet, so we're going...

Day One - Off to a good start
Delhi, India
Aaaaahhhh, it is good to be back in Asia! There was a small sense of accomplishment upon arriving into Delhi after a 15 hour flight from Chicago (American Airlines' longest non-stop international flight). I managed to watch three movies en route, two of which were of the Bollywood variety. These flicks quickly illustrated the materialistic capacity of what I considered to still be Ghandi's land of homespun clothing and peaceful meditation. The flight served dinner when we boarded, and then breakfast about 13 hours later, at 8pm local time.
The 30 minute ride from the airport seemed to be one long construction zone. Apparently there is a new underground metro that will be servicing the airport in the near future, bringing welcome relief to the highway traffic. After realizing this was our first visit to his country, the proud Indian driver insisted this particular night carried a strange "fog". Katy and I agreed this "fog" certainly contained potent elements of dirt and pollution. Arriving at our bungalow hotel slightly disoriented, we decided, rather effortlessly, to go to bed. By 4:30am, we were both wide awake, wondering when the sun was going to greet our day.
Overall, the city of New Delhi is surprisingly clean, with more beautiful shady trees than most urban areas. The people are generally quiet, kind, and peaceful. This seems to be not only a reflection of their collective heightened spiritual state, but also a direct result of their densely crowded condition.
The TV and newspaper coverage has been dominated by the G20 Summit and pictures of India's PM with President Obama. One gets a strong sense that India has turned a corner and no longer considers itself a "developing country", but rather a "rising world power". Indeed, India's economy is expected to be one of the few (if not only) economies that is expected to grow (not contract) in 2009. There is a feeling of pride that India might not need to be included in receiving international aid during this global economic downturn.
During today's tour, we took in the beautiful Lodhi Gardens, practically useful Khan Market, emotionally touching Indira Ghandi memorial, educational and inspiring Nehru museum, relentless Kashmir rug sales pitch, and our first local meal without contracting the infamous "Delhi belly"! We struck out on foot, but quickly hailed a rikshaw to cover more ground and get cover from the heat.
We've just met up with our friend, Courtney, who has been living here for several months. She's going to show us the local scene tonight, and then we'll depart tomorrow for somewhere else. We thought we were going to Kathmandu, Nepal tomorrow, but India's grip has proven to be too strong, so we'll remain here for a bit longer. We hope to visit Old Delhi tomorrow, which is apparently much more of an adventure.
Katy has just awoken from a nap to provide some stunning shots of our first day...
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on April 3, 2009 from Delhi, India
from the travel blog: India and Nepal

Old Delhi
Delhi, India
Old Delhi was postponed due to Mark's case of the "Delhi Belly". Surely this will strengthen the tummy for more things to come!
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on April 5, 2009 from Delhi, India
from the travel blog: India and Nepal

Apologies for the extended silence
Pokhara, Nepal
Due to any number of potential factors (not excluding user error/incompetence), we've been a little slow on the blog. We've kept a voluminous pace thus far, opting on a number of occasions to crash in our beds at the end of the day instead of updating the blog. For the last few weeks, we've been trekking high in the Himalayas, totally removed from internet access. We've found a fairly cheap and reliable internet cafe here in Pokhara, so I'll attempt to catch up a bit while we're here. We still haven't figured out how to align the photos that Katy is uploading with my blog entries, but we'll get there, maybe.
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on April 25, 2009 from Pokhara, Nepal
from the travel blog: India and Nepal

Varanasi and Sarnath
Varanasi, India
After Mark rallied like a champ from his brief digestive bout with the help of Katy's healing hand, we ventured to Varanasi (also called Benares), the holiest city of the Hindu faith. Varanasi is almost beyond description. It is one of the oldest cities in the world, and daily life for its inhabitants has remained more or less the same for several thousand years. I literally found myself thinking that certain snapshots of life here that I witnessed could have been exactly the same in the time when the Buddha walked these streets. It is the city of Shiva, the Hindu god of destruction, and Hindus (82% of all Indians) come here to be cleansed by the Ganges (Ganga) River. If you die and are cremated here, you end the cycle of reincarnation. Katy and I both decided to stay alive, but we appreciated the intimate experience of death that is common and pronounced in this place. We found ourselves discussing how and why our Western culture tends to keep death and dying hidden away out of view and out of mind. Not in Varanasi. The bodies are cremated on the shores of the river over open flames.
It is challenging for the Western mind to reconcile how the people of Varanasi can treat the Ganges as their public bath, toilet, and sacrosanct spiritual water source, all in one. I suppose one way of viewing this is to realize that for these people, there simply is no separation of daily life and spiritual life. Mundane tasks such as brushing your teeth need not seem strangely juxtaposed to the most sacred and revered act of worship. Many faith traditions preach continuity of ordinary life and religious life, but this is the practice in action as no other.
Varanasi is dirty, really dirty. After walking the streets for an hour or two, your nose begins to run and you find yourself coughing from the inhilation of dirt, pollution, smoke, and animal (including human) debris everywhere. This is the condition of much of urban India, but it's particularly alarming in this place.
We also made a day trip from here to Sarnath, the location of the Buddha's first lecture after attaining enlightenment under the Bodhi tree. Despite this being the birthplace of Buddhism, only a couple percent of all Indians claim this spiritual tradition. If you've read the book, Siddhartha, by Hermann Hesse, this is the "Deer Park", and looks just like what I pictured from his description in the novel. It was very cool to imagine monks and Hindu holy men gathered around, listening to this new philosophical breakthrough from a recently enlightened being. It is said that the message was so potent, several in the crowd realized nirvana upon the conclusion of his remarks hitting their ears. In other words, he described reality with such lucidity that it just plain made sense to his intimate audience of yogic practitioners.
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on April 25, 2009 from Varanasi, India

Taj Mahal
Agra, India
The Taj Mahal is grand. Staring up at the edifice certainly inspires awe, and boggles the mind with questions of "why?" and "how?". There are a couple of different versions to answer both of these questions, so I'll encourage you to fact-check on wikipedia or someplace legitimate if interested. The story we got from our excellent guide went something like this: The ruler of an empire which stretched further than modern day India decided to build the monument as a tribute of sorts to his favorite (one of four) wife who passed away shortly after giving birth to her thirteenth child. In this way, the magnificent structure is a monument to the love he had for this woman. This is definitely the theme emphasized by the government-sponsored information, complete with a sob-story romantic ending of the ruler gazing out the window at the Taj Mahal on his deathbed, yearning to join his love in the afterlife.
An alternative version we read about claimed that the ruler died after an intense night of opiates and aphrodisiacs at the ripe old age of 74. Either way, this guy definitely had a soft spot for the female. It is also theorized that the structure was intended to transport the ruler and his wife directly to heaven, after they were both buried directly under the main dome of the building. There is some speculation that this ruler believed he was God himself. In any case, the narcissism (perhaps even solipsism) that this ruler engaged in continues to bring tremendous benefit to the people of Agra, India, 450 years after the completion of the building. I'm currently reading the book, Atlas Shrugged (the capitalists' Bible), by Ayn Rand, which apologetically states that the highest form of morality and virtue is to act in your own self-interest and produce more than you consume. I can't help but think that Rand would emphatically approve of the Taj Mahal construction as an ego-maniacal tribute to the love of wife and self which has had unmeasurable positive economic impact for this region of India.
The trip from Delhi to Agra was filled with stereotypical visions of India: A snake charmer, camels, elephants, monkeys doing tricks on sticks, an eyeball-less beggar, endless roadside trinkets for sale, etc.
Simply stated, I don't disagree with the claim that the Taj Mahal might just be the most beautiful building in the world.
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on April 26, 2009 from Agra, India

Trekking the Annapurna Circuit
Muktinath, Nepal
After a HUGE travel day involving trains, planes, and automobiles, we arrived at the start of the famed Annapurna Circuit in northern Nepal. The last bit of the journey was an eventful five hour taxi ride in which we very nearly made dreadful impact with, in sequential order: a dog, a two year old girl, a chicken, a duck, a mule, and a water buffalo. Our driver was in a hurry, and thankfully the brakes worked as well as the accelerator in that little Toyota Corolla.
I'll use this blog entry to give the overall picture of the trek, and then fill in some interesting daily details in entries to follow.
Katy and I started out carrying packs weighing about 40 lbs each. We didn't have an opportunity to leave any gear behind because we ended the two-week hike in a different location than we started. So, we carried everything we had packed for the entire trip. Feeling young, fit, and invincible, we declined many offers for hiring a guide or porter (sherpa), determined to be "independent" trekkers. By day two, Katy was dealing with leg pain that was cause for concern. It was at this point that I realized she was carrying about one third of her body weight, so I took on an additional 10 pounds or so. On day three, we decided to really charge it and marched 14 miles, over 9 hours, and 2,500 feet of elevation gain. My calf muscles have been sore ever since, and that was 14 days ago.
In short, the Annapurna Circuit is certainly one of the most gorgeous, rewarding, culturally-diverse, and fun hiking experiences on the planet. We walked a total of 15 days, covering more than 130 miles. The highest point of the trek was over Thorung La pass, which is 17,768 feet high. We slept the night before at 14,500 feet, which is higher than any peak in Colorado.
We met many wonderful people on the trail, and made some new friends along the way. In addition to the peaceful and hospitable local Nepali people who fed us great meals and provided a bed to lay our heads at the end of the day, the Circuit is populated with a fascinating blend of international trekkers. We met people from over 20 different countries, so we were learning about many world cultures in addition to the varied sort dwelling high in the Himalayas.
If you're looking to heighten your world view, your physical fitness, and your relationship with nature, go trekking in Nepal.
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on April 26, 2009 from Muktinath, Nepal

Day two on the trail
Muktinath, Nepal
We slept last night in a "teahouse" on the banks of a stunning river landscape with the sound of a soothing waterfall gently augmenting our dreams. We enjoyed a tasty breakfast of oat porridge, apple pancakes, eggs, toast, and coffee. Our legs, feet, and backs are definitely stiff from our first day of hiking, but we're determined to motor through the soreness because we've only got 15 days to cover 130 Miles.
Most of the time on the trail it feels like you could be hiking in any beautiful mountain setting. Then, you'll turn a corner and find yourself suddenly struck by the Vista of 26,000 + ft. Himalayan peak towering above you. To give a feel for the scale, if you're in Keystone, CO looking at Grey's and Torrey's (two very fine fourteeners), you are experiencing about a 5,000 foot elevation differential. In roughly the same horizontal distance, we're experiencing the view of about four times that. These are big mountains, making the Rockies look a bit like hills.
All of the children living in the small villages that we pass along the trail are very keen on saying, "namaste" many times upon sighting a foreigner. If you respond in kind, the kids proceed to uncannily request, in order, a pen, sweets, then rupees. The elder Nepali people use the same "namaste" greeting, but their body language suggests they intend the full and true meaning of the expression. Roughly translated to English, it means: "I bow to the divine spirit within you". What a beautiful expression of brotherly love and righteous expectation of one another.
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on April 26, 2009 from Muktinath, Nepal

A couple of final Nepal trekking highlights
Muktinath, Nepal
Katy and I walk mostly in silence, occasionally pointing out a wonderful view or sharing an insight or pondering. We've enjoyed a couple of hefty philosophical debates along the trail, and several conversations analyzing our upbringing, our place in the world, and our dreams for the future. It has struck me recently that there is no other human being on the planet that I've spent more time with than my little sister. So, there's really nothing to hide from each other and nothing that needs explaining. We understand each other, we completely love and accept one another, and I feel utterly blessed and grateful for our relationship. Not everybody is lucky enough to have a wiser younger sister, so I'm trying to take advantage! Aside from one or two brief moments of frustration, we've been getting along swimmingly, and we're very compatable travel partners.
4/16 - We killed a day in Manang in order to acclimatize and rest our legs before beginning the serious ascent to Thorung La pass (18,000 ft). We attempted to hike to Ice Lake, but we (Mark) lost the path and ended up in a fairly scary situation on a steep mountainside. Katy held her cool beautifully, and a couple of hours later we somehow rejoined another path which led us to a cliffside gompa (temple) where we were surpised and delighted to see a Buddhist nun tending her small vegetable garden. She escorted us up a ladder into a small cave-like room where we were greeted by Lama Teshi. Lama Teshi, we would learn, is 93 years old and has been living in this cliffside dwelling for over fifty years! The nun is his daughter, and they proceeded to offer us tea, conversation, and blessings for crossing the Thorung Lass pass and beyond. We spent perhaps half an hour in silence watching the Lama with his ritualistic prayer beads and meditation wheel. When we finally returned to Manang that evening, Katy and I looked at each other in astonishment and relief at where our day had taken us. Losing the path to Ice Lake, only to stumble upon a blessing from a Lama dwelling high in a cliffside cave gompa was quite the memorable experience.
4/19 - We slept last night at 14,500 feet and successfully traversed Thorung La pass this morning. It was a physically exhausting but tremendously rewarding day. After a long descent into the town of Muktinath, it was bizarre to catch the sight of the first motorized vehicles we had seen in five or six days. There are many Indian pilgrims that visit Muktinath because of the temple complex situated here. As we approached the complex, we were greeted by a very warm monk who's appearance indicated a blend of Buddhist monk and Hindu Sadhu. He had the traditional saffron robe of a monk, but was also donning the characteristic dreadlocks of the Hindu holymen. People in this region don't really identify themselves as Hindu or Buddhist, as their tradition is a mix of the two along with some shamanism/animism passed down from their ancestors.
4/20 - We're staying in Marpha this evening, a lovely little town nestled between a rising cliffband and beautiful apple orchards in the river valley below. We're dropping in elevation now, leaving the arid high country and entering a more lush lowland landscape. Dalgheri (world's seventh highest peak) towers in the East, rising above 26,700 feet toward the heavens. I'm sitting at the top of a beautiful monastery, drinking in the view and watching my thoughts. If I can observe myself, am I the observer or the observed? Perhaps the answer is that there is no "I", or there is no distinction between the two and really no separation between "me" and all beings. Good trip.
4/21 - Our first rain storm today. Just after lunch, the drizzle turned into a pretty good downpour which lasted until we reached the next teahouse around 4pm. We've joined forces with two other Americans and an Argentinian who we've been seeing along the trail for several days now. They have taught us a couple of fun dice games, and it is nice to have some additional company on the trek.
4/22 - Katy elected to catch a jeep to the next tea house today because she is growing concerned about her swollen ankle. Her hip was bothering her, and I think the correction she made in her gate has now effected her achilles. She has been nothing short of impressive the entire time, and we're both dealing with some pain management. I put my pack on the jeep with her, and we said we'd meet at a specified guest house in the town of Tatopani, where there is a nice hot spring to sooth the sore muscles. A long story made short, I had a momentary panic when I couldn't find my little sister for a little while and became convinced that something terrible had happened. I walked for several hours in the heat, and came back to the teahouse entirely dehydrated, hungry, and emotionally stressed. It turns out that Katy was just fine all along, and that I wasn't the horrible older brother who lost his sister in rural Nepal. A huge relief indeed. The hot springs were just what the doctor (mother nature) ordered, and helped relax my body and mind.
4/24 - Yesterday we had a monstrous climb from Tatopani to Ghorepani, involving just over a 5,000 foot elevation gain. This morning, we woke before the dawn and trekked up an additional hill to soak in the sunrise over the Annapurna and Dhalgeri ranges. The views were worth every step. After breakfast, we departed for Ghandruk. The trail weaved through gorgeous jungle of rhodedendron, birch, and magnolia trees. Moss and ferns were also plentiful in this lush landscape. Occasionally, we'd get a magnificent vista of one of the high snow-capped peaks through a window in the moss-laden tree branches. Tomorrow, we finish the trek and catch the bus from Naya Pul to Pokhara. I can say with great confidence that I'll return to Nepal someday...
4/25 - Looking out over the planted terraces of potatoes, beans, rice, corn, ganja, and wheat, I'm drawn to the idea of a subsistent farming lifestyle. Watching the genuine and meaningful interactions of the family who works this land makes me yearn for greater simplicity in life. The Himalayas tower in the distance, catching all sorts of varied light. The Tibetan prayer flags flap gently and rhthmically in the gentle evening breeze. The air is filled with with a subtle rhodedendren aroma. This moment is all that exists. It's the way back, and the way forward.
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on April 29, 2009 from Muktinath, Nepal

Dharmsala
Dharmsala, India
With a wonderful sense of accomplishment and reward for finishing the Annapurna Circuit in 15 days carrying all of our own weight, Katy and I enjoyed a couple of beers and some Western food in the lakeside town of Pokhara. We then continued onto Kathmandu, where we stayed one night before catching our flight back to Delhi. Kathmandu would do well to take a page out of the Delhi transportation policy by switching their bus fleet to Compressed Natural Gas (CNG). The pollution resulting from the diesel exhaust is pretty terrible, and completely conceals the view of the surrounding mountains. It is also overly crowded, with motorbikes and taxis flying down narrow roads honking their horns and perpetually just barely missing each other and pedestrians. There is some charm in the street side stalls, and I'm sure many travelers really enjoy their time in Kathmandu. But, for Katy and I, we were content to just pass through in favor of less noise, haze, and chaos.
We then proceeded straight from the Delhi airport to the Old Delhi train station (complete madness) to catch our overnight train to Amritsar. This was our first train ride in India, and will certainly not be my last. We splurged for the air conditioned sleeper coach, which was a very wise idea and resulted in a fair night's rest. Amritsar is home of the Golden Temple, the holy site of the Sikh religion. We spent some time soaking in the sight of the many pilgrims circumambulating the mote-surrounded temple. Hopefully we can upload those pictures shortly.
Arriving into Dharamsala a couple of days ago, we're really enjoying ourselves here. For those of you who are unaware, this is the home of the Dalai Lama and a large portion of the Tibetan community living in exile. I won't get into the entire history, but here is a brief synopsis:
Shortly after Chairman Mao took power in 1949, China began its "cultural revolution" which sought to implement a Marxist-style state of socialism across the fragmented country. The Tibetans were among the many minority ethnic groups that were persecuted and killed and forced to give up their rich culture and unique spiritual tradition. In 1959, at the age of 26, the Dalai Lama was forced to leave his palace in the Tibetan capital of Lhasa. He took up "temporary" residence here, and this year marks the 50th anniversary of Tibetan exile in India. If you missed his recent speech commemorating the event, check it out on You Tube. 1.2 million Tibetans have lost their lives in the struggle for freedom, and the Chinese have committed a host of human rights violations throughout the conflict. Before arriving here, I didn't realize that the Panchen Lama (#2 holy lineage in Tibetan Buddhism) is the world's youngest political prisoner, disappearing at the age of six when the Chinese disagreed with the Dalai Lama's appointment (recognition) of the 11th reincarnation of this spiritual figure. The Dalai Lama was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1989, but the nonviolent struggle to reclaim Tibetan independence (or at least autonomy) from China continues today.
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on April 30, 2009 from Dharmsala, India

The mental journey continues
Dharmsala, India
Our childhood friend, Courtney Zenner, has been living here off and on for a couple of years. She is currently helping to teach a course on Tibetan Buddhism for an Emory University study abroad program. She is a wealth of knowledge on the historical struggle for freedom, as well as the philosophical and spiritual traditions which are unique to Tibetan Buddhism. We had the privilege of attending a class session in which the lecture was titled, "Buddhism and Science". It was an impressive talk, pointing out the commonalities between modern scientific theory and ancient Buddhist teachings. To compare the findings of quantum physics with the Buddha's teachings on "emptiness" was quite interesting and challenging to the mind.
This afternoon, Katy and I enroll in our 10-day silent vipassana meditation retreat in a forested monastery above the town of Dharamsala. We'll be waking up at 4am, eating two meals of rice and vegetables before noon, and spending 10 hours each day on the meditation cushion. We'll be watching our breath, our thoughts, and the interplay between mind and body. So, we'll check you on the other side of reality!
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on May 1, 2009 from Dharmsala, India

And then there was one
Pahalgam, India
It was sad to see Katy go as she stepped onto the bus bound for Delhi in order to catch her flight back to the US to begin Physician Assistant school in a couple of weeks. Saying goodbye to my travel companion was tough, but it was wonderful to know how many lifelong memories we've created over the past six weeks. The consensus from people along the way was a sense of surprise and envy that two siblings could get along so well while traveling. We feel very fortunate, indeed, and I give Katy most of the credit for handling me so brilliantly! I just received an email from her that she is stuck in Delhi for a couple of days due to airplane mechanical issues. The high today in Delhi was 109 degrees, so I am particularly pleased with my decision to stay north to escape the infamous Indian Summer.
I departed early yesterday morning with my new friend, Gulam, to his home in Kashmir. His family has a nice guest house on a gorgeous plot of land in the river valley outside of Pahalgam. It is fascinating to visit this furthermost Northwest state of India because it is so distinct from the rest of the country. The proportion of the population that is of the Muslim faith is dramatically higher here, and the place generally feels much more like Central Asia (Pakistan, Afghanistan, etc.) than South Asia (the rest of the Indian subcontinent). The Kashmir region is not only world-renowned for its rugs, teas, and silk, but also for the multi-decade long armed conflict over the disputed border between India and Pakistan here. The violence is relatively mellow at the moment, and non-existent here where I am. But, this is the region which, perhaps outside of the Bay of Pigs incident, brought the world the closest to the use of nuclear arms in 1998. The military presence is certainly felt still today, but the people generally do not live in fear at this time.
That has not always been the case. I went for an afternoon trek today with a wonderful guy named Valle, during which we talked quite a bit about his life in Kashmir. He spoke at length about how hard life was here during the height of the conflict between 1989 and 1991. At this time everyone lived in complete terror, as the violence was imminent and widespread. It was the first time I have received an eye-witness civilian account of living in a war zone. Hearing about the personal consequences that were suffered and the everyday struggle to survive, I was struck with how fragile peace and prosperity can be, and how fortunate most of us are to live in a land of freedom and peace.
Within five minutes of leaving the guest house, we were trekking through a landscape that appeared totally timeless. Unaltered nature, with the occasional shepard tending to his flock of sheep. We later came across a gypsy camp, where Valle communicated in Urdu with these nomadic people. Their lifestyle is truly frozen in time, with their daily tasks and material possessions being very nearly the same as their ancestors from centuries past. In many ways it is a beautiful, simple existence. At other times, their lives are struck with preventative illnesses which they have no money to cure, or some other event knocks them from their fragile subsistence balance. No bank account, no insurance policy, no mortgage; these people have only what they can pack up and put on their backs.
The scenery is quite simply the best of what I've seen of India thus far. Untouched mountain streams teeming with rainbow trout rush down wildflower-covered valleys, weaving between huge pine and deciduous trees, complete with high snow-covered peaks towering in every direction. The weather is nearly perfect in this season, the bugs are nonexistent, the people are friendly, and I've seen two other tourists since I arrived into Kashmir four days ago. It feels safe to me, and the reward for the adventuresome traveler who ignores certain U.S. government warnings is simply exceptional.
There was some violence in the capital city of Srinigar over the past month, coinciding with the drawn-out process of the world's largest democracy going to the polls for their Parliamentary vote. The Congress party had a decisive victory in the election, and Manmohan Singh will retain the PM job for another term. He is India's first non-Hindu leader, and took the post when Sonia Ghandi, the next heir in a long line of politicians from that family, declined the post. Singh is a member of the Sikh faith, which is a relatively young religion (17th century), blending some of the tenants from Hinduism and Islam. Sikhs represent roughly 10% of the population of India. He's an accomplished Economist who was trained at Cambridge, and these credentials are serving him well in this tumultuous global marketplace.
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on May 16, 2009 from Pahalgam, India

A few ruminations from the retreat
Dharmsala, India
I've said it before, and I'll repeat it now: The path to enlightenment is no walk in the park. Katy and I sat on a meditation cushion for 12 hours each day, straining to not strain, but rather remain equanimous with our mind and body. It is pretty amazing how quickly my inflexible body was able to adjust to the lotus position, but the first five days were filled with awkward squirming and consistent back and leg pain. It was an amazing experience to share with Katy, and I know that we both came away with some very valuable insights into the "Art of Living". What follows are some random journal entries that I made in secret, as writing is not permitted under the rule of "noble silence" during the retreat. At times I may have become delusional, but other moments were filled with great clarity. You be the judge.
Be where you are. Seems simple enough, but when one really examines the mind, it finds the energy is almost always concentrated on either the past or the future. It is an art form to remain present, and to just let it be.
Awareness is the goal. The Buddha taught the practice of being aware of the breath. It could be any number of different objects which you could focus on, but the breath always remains with you, from birth to death, from the first to the last. It is a particularly useful object of concentration because it can be controlled by the mind to some extent, but is still a constant bodily function similar to the beating of the heart. The focus on this interplay of mind and body helps the meditator to remain present. If the mind wonders, and it inevitably will, there is always another chance at being present with the next breath. When the mind wonders, the practitioner makes every effort to remain balanced, not becoming upset when the realization occurs of how feeble and sporadic the mind is.
I sat in the half-lotus position for one hour straight today. It was undoubtedly my least mindful meditation session thus far, as I was simply determined not to change my position for the entire time. The physical pain waxes and wains, and the mind follows. I've resorted to using the helpful wooden stool as an alternative meditating position from time to time to relieve the knees.
There are subtle sensations all over the body all of the time, one must simply train the mind to shut out all the clutter and remain aware of the present moment. Today, when I successfully quieted my mind, I was able to detect my heartbeat in every single corner of the body. Just sitting, listening to the rhythmic flow of my being, the pulse begins to feel like the eternal wave, connecting me to all beings. When I pass my awareness from one hand to the other, the flow is simply transferred. Rather, my attention is transferred within the continuous flow which occurs everywhere all the time. Nature has a continuous flow, a rhythmic heartbeat, an eternal wave. If the mind is sharp and the body aware, one can consciously join their flow with that of the universe. Far out, man.
I just had my first experience of uniform subtle sensations throughout my body for a brief period. The dominant sensation of the pain in my upper-right back subsided for some time, and I was able to observe, objectively, the constantly changing vibrations of sub-atomic particles which comprise my body and all things. This is the Buddhist concept of impermanence, which holds that everything is in a constant state of flux. Or, the only constant is change. There is no entity which is Mark qua Mark or tree qua tree.
The vipassana technique is wonderful and very reasonable. It is experiential wisdom that each individual must gain for themselves. For full liberation, one cannot simply listen and obediently follow another, but must find their own path to universal truth. There are many great sages and saints and prophets from which to gain knowledge and draw inspiration, but they themselves warned of the danger of following their words blindly without direct experience. These are humans who have conquered all suffering, and intimately understood the law of nature, seeing reality as it is. I have read a lot, and will continue to seek wisdom through the words of others. But, to personally draw connections from my experience in meditation and thoughtful contemplation is go beyond knowledge gained from a book.
Summary of Buddha's teaching: Suffering (sin) exists in the world. This suffering is caused by our reactions to any and every sensation which we experience through our six senses. We begin to crave (desire) positive sensations, and have aversion (fear) toward negative sensations. It is better not to react at all, but simply to observe, be aware, and let the sensation pass, as it is. Every sensation will inevitably pass, as change is the only constant. If you can view this objectively and with equanimity all the time, the universal truth, which lies beyond the realm of mind and matter, will reveal itself. This allows the enlightened being to live faultlessly, in perfect accordance with nature, creating nothing but peace and harmony with their presence. Although full enlightenment may be beyond the grasp in this lifetime, any effort made will bring benefit in the form of karma, for the individual and for all beings. The ardent meditation practitioner will surely perceive reality with more and more frequency, eliminating suffering and moving toward greater wisdom and happiness. This echoes my favorite quote from Aristotle: "Happiness lies not in the pursuit of pleasure, but in the contemplative use of the mind."
This "noble silence" at the retreat can be pretty hilarious at times. One guy dropped a wooden stool on another guy's foot in the mediation hall, and it took all of the victim's strength to withhold a loud cry. There is also a big, tough-looking guy with a NY Yankees cap that has been cruising around hugging trees the past couple of days. I've found myself to be quite uninhibited as well, which is refreshing.
Between moments of "get me the hell out of here" and "why did I think this was a good idea again?", I've taken away many valuable insights from this experience. Extended periods of pure peace, sheer bliss, and complete harmony lasted during and between meditation periods. Despite the challenges, I remain convinced that meditation is one of the best things you can do for yourself to sharpen your mind and deal with your demons. "Know thyself" is a common theme among the sages of the past, and sitting in silence for ten days is certainly conducive toward that end. Discovering that you can survive without eating dinner, without speaking at all, and without any material comforts can actually be quite liberating. You are truly living like a monk or a nun for ten days, completely dependent on the charity of others to survive so that you can afford to concentrate all of your attention on your meditation practice and remaining present and balanced.
A couple of alternative definitions of "Son of God": "Offspring of Universal Truth". "Product of complete awareness of the Law of Nature". Jesus was certainly an enlightened being, as evidenced by his complete peace of mind at the time of death. Even as he was brutally tortured and grossly humiliated, he had nothing but love and compassion for his executioners. "Forgive them, for they know not what they do". Most of us walk around with a mind saturated in ignorance (manifesting as fear and desire) and our actions reflect this imperfect state of consciousness. How difficult it is to really wake up, see clearly, and act rightly on every occasion. Anyway, I think Jesus and the Buddha would have been buddies.
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on May 17, 2009 from Dharmsala, India

A couple more highlights from Kashmir
Srinagar, India
Pahalgam is an old British Hill Station from the days of the Raj (when the British ruled India for 150 years after taking a liking to it when they started the East India Trading Company). The British families involved in government, military, and business in India would come here to escape the Indian summer heat and humidity brought on by the monsoon from June-September.
Life is good at the Himalaya House Hotel in Pahalgam. After a great night's rest in a bed that is actually pretty soft and using the attached bath with a Western toilet, you're already feeling like a Prince. You walk outside and the first employee you see kindly takes your customized breakfast order. You sit on the bank of the river in the flower garden and soak up the morning rays, which begin pouring over the mountain range to the East, creating a majestic morning alpenglow on the peaks to the West. After eating, you either relax in the hammock or retire to your room for a couple hours of birding or reading. Just about the time you're getting thirsty, Nagendra brings you a Chai, with the customized dose of sugar he has memorized, and a smile as well. At lunchtime you reconnect with the river and garden, drinking in the view with your Kashmiri tea. Hiking is in store for the afternoon, for further-reaching exploration of this exotic land and its people. The daily ritual is way too comfortable here, but definitely a safe way to experience this slightly unstable region of India.
The scenery makes you feel like you could be in Switzerland or the Sierras, but then you suddenly recall your location in India as your eye follows the flow of the river to a woman doing laundry on the opposite bank. With the right soap, it could be the single most sustainable washing system on the planet. I don't know the percentage, of course, but a large portion of Indians bath regularly, if not exclusively, in the nearest body of water. How easily we forget what a luxury it is to have indoor plumbing. But, we definitely miss an opportunity of communing with nature by cleansing the body in the wild river.
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When interacting with the Kashmiri men at the hotel, it feels like you are at the negotiating table at all times. Even when performing a seemingly innocent and straightforward task such as asking for someone to kindly pass the salt, they make you feel like this effort will somehow need to be repaid in the future. Indeed, Kashmiri salesmen have an international reputation of being, shall I say, persistent?
Today I subtley discovered that the gardeners eat whatever is leftover from my lunch. Tomorrow I won't indulge quite as much. We should always know not to overconsume, for it always will leave too little for someone else along the line. The same world that is satisfying to me is utterly devastating to those least fortunate. But by the grace of God, there would be I. I must remain simple in my requirements for a "good" lifestyle. What if the rich didn't consume so much? My guess is there would be more resources to go around to the billions of humans just scratching by. With a hugely increasing global population and constrained natural resources, the wealthy should be morally compelled to do with less, which is so very easy. I hope things don't just go back to the way they were before the sub-prime crisis. We must learn not to let our lifestyles inflate the "bubble" to unreasonable volumes.
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I've been spending some time observing the entire staff here at the Himalaya House. There is certainly more than heirarchy at work here, as the caste system, despite great progress in the last 50 or 60 years, is still very much relevant in India. To the average "Western" mind, this appears and is categorized as discrimination. I'm currently reading a very good book, A Fine Balance, which is written by an Indian author and describes, with fiction, the lives of four individuals from separate castes whose stories converge. They become mutually dependent upon one another, and the borders of caste begin to come crumbling down. I'm halfway through the novel, savoring the brilliant language on each page. It is set in 1970's India at the time of Indira Ghandi's election scandal (she cheated to win and then changed the law after the fact) and ensuing "Internal Emergency" during which many gross human rights violations occurred across the country.
Very quick primer on India politics: Ghandi and Nehru started the Congress Party on the principle foundation that India needed to move beyond the caste system and grant rights and freedoms to all citizens. Nehru was the first PM of independent India in 1947. He is the guy always wearing the white cap in the film, "Ghandi". His daughter was Indira Ghandi, who took power shortly after her father passed on. She was assassinated by her Sikh body guards (Katy and I visited the site in Delhi) after her goverment ordered a brutal massacre at the Golden Temple in Amritsar (which Katy and I also visited). Her son, Rajiv Ghandi, assumed power, and was also killed. His daughter, Sonia Ghandi, was born in Italy, and is currently the President of the Congress Party. Everyone says that although Monmohan Singh is the PM and appears to be the leader of the country, Sonia Ghandi is pulling the strings. So, this country has essentially been run by one family for the entirity of its existence. For the most part, the people of India seem to be just fine with this arrangement.
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on June 5, 2009 from Srinagar, India

Kashmiri Wedding and more from Srinigar
Srinagar, India
This is my first experience of immersion into a Muslim community. The first of five daily prayers led by the local Imam blares from the loud speakers of the local mosque just after 4am. All of the women have head coverings, and some wear the full-on black cloth that conceals every square inch of flesh, including their eyes. We've visited a couple of different mosques, watching the worshipers move from feet to knees, back to their feet, then touching the forehead to the ground, all the while facing Mecca. I've come across a couple of Sufi mystics, and learned a bit about the Dhikar, which is the recitation of the 99 revealed names of God. There are others who claim the title of Hafiz, who can recite the Qur'an, in the original Arabic, in its entirity.
My new travelling companion and I had the incredible opportunity of attending a Muslim wedding in Srinigar. I met Lyle in Dharamsala through our mutual friend who we were both visiting there. He's a super bright guy who went to Stanford and then was a Fulbright Fellow and then worked for the World Bank and is now going back for his MBA at NYU (Stern). He keeps me on my toes.
Matrimony is a week-long process in this culture, and we enjoyed dancing to the very unique Kashmiri traditional music until 4am, perplexedly observing the complete separation of sexes during the entire affair. It was a very traditional celebration, and from my view, the bride looked less than thrilled with some of the more cumbersome aspects of upholding the proper right and ritual (i.e. she had to eat a bite of cake served by each member of her extended family, numbering well over one hundred). On the last day, there were over eight hundred people at the ceremony, and I've never seen so much mutton (lamb) in my entire life as was served to the guests that night.
I was halfway through my morning sunscreen ritual, ready for another day of sightseeing and people watching in Srinigar, when Riaz (a great guy who Lyle met and we ended up staying with his family for several days) came upstairs to inform us that the whole city was on lockdown due to the morningtime protests which resulted in tear gas and shellings from the military and police units. Such is life in Kashmir. The protest was in response to the death of a 17 year old boy who was killed when a tear gas canister was lodged in his temple. That incident took place during the recent elections, and it has caused the most uproar of the 36 polling-related deaths during the month-long parliamentary vote last month. Although progress has been made over the last twenty years in this region, Kashmir is still very much in conflict.
Without exception, every Kashmiri I've spoken with says they'd prefer for Kashmir to become an autonomous state, moving toward complete independence. However, most of them are quick to clarify that they would much rather be under the rule of India than the alternative of Pakistan. You may have noticed in the world news that things are heating up a bit in Pakistan right now, so it has been an interesting time to be just one hundred miles from the border with that (mostly) failed state.
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Srinigar is very cool because the main form of transport is by manually-powered boat. The city sits on top of Dal Lake, which has some absolutely picturesque coves and canals containing lotus flowers, floating vegetable markets, and docks leading to homes and shops. Lyle and I toured several markets, including one at sunrise which is the "wholesale" vegetable trading that involves a bunch of guys paddling their simple wooden boats in a very confined cove, slinging cabbages and carrots in exchange for green beans and rupees. We also toured the Old City of Srinigar. The equisite wood carving on the doors and window frames of the red brick buildings is very distinctive of this place. Shikaras (covered paddle boats which function as taxis) slide silently past each other in the canals, the drivers exhibiting not only masterful control of their craft, but also the impressive fading conversation with the other driver as they effortlessly conclude their remarks just as they float beyond earshot.
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on June 5, 2009 from Srinagar, India

Ladakh is special (this entry is super long)
Leh, India
This is the first internet access I've had in a week, and I depart the day after tomorrow for another trek through remote mountain wilderness for twelve days. I have a lot to write, and this internet connection is spotty and fairly expensive. So, please excuse this load dumping and any accompanying sloppyness (i.e. lack of sequential order, addressing an inconsistent audience with variable tense, and any other grammatical mishaps).
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At the village of Lamayuru, I got off the bus full of twenty-somethings from Bombay feeling both relief and excitement. It was a long, jarring ride in a seat that simply doesn't square with the length of my legs, so I was pleased to give it up to another passenger when my stop finally came. The Bombay crowd had chartered the entire bus, and had been kind enough to stop when I flagged it down on the side of the road that morning. They were mostly young professionals and graduate students who were vacationing up north to escape the stifling heat and drenching monsoon back home. They were clearly from the Indian upper class. They were convinced that I was a "professional" mountaineer, which tells you something about the amount of time they've spent outside of the city. It was fascinating to watch them experience such a vastly contrasting region of their own country, which Ladakh certainly is. In some ways, I think I was actually more at home in this mountain landscape than this group of Indians. They were clearly into the Bollywood scene, but their Hindu culture was still readily apparent. Juxtaposed to the gregarious Kashmiri bus driver and the reserved Ladakhi fare steward, the youthful city dwellers from the South rounded out a pretty good sample of the diversity of people in this country.
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Lamayuru is seriously cool. All of the buildings (homes, hotels, monasteries, schools, etc.) are made principally of mud brick. The architecture blends so seamlessly with the surrounding natural landscape that at times it becomes challenging to decipher where man-made structure begins and nature ends. It's truly beautiful and inspiring. The aging chortens (Tibetan Buddhist statue of sorts) look like sandcastles that have endured one or two rising tides; dilapidated and smoothed over, yet retaining their integrity, as if to return to the earth with grace and poise. It stikes me that the entire built infrastructure around the globe is deteriorating all the time, but the edifices in Lamayuru really display just how temporary our human endeavors are. The Buddhist teaching of Impermanence comes to mind as you observe men building an identical chorten next to another that has endured many years of harsh weather in service to this community.
I ventured above the Lamayuru monastery to the higher chortens and prayer wheels. This is also where the local monks come for silent meditation retreats. Looking down at the magnificent gompa on the cliffside, the perspective is very nearly dizzying. On the horizon above the gompa emerges steep and jagged snow-capped peaks leading into the Zanskar region. All of the Tibetan artwork with figures seemingly floating between the earthly realm and the heavenly realm began to resonate much more with me from this vantage point. Perched in an elevated cave staring out at the junction of earth and sky, the Tibetan Lamas sit in meditation for hours, days, weeks, months, and even years at a time. Not many of us could survive for long under these harsh conditions, let alone reach a heightened state of mind and clearer view of reality. When you exchange a glance with one of these Lamas, their eyes, smile, and overall presence suggest a life well-lived. These are the masters of the Art of Living.
The main gompa and monastery at the highest point in the village was built right around a cave where Naropa, a major figure in Tibetan Buddhism, meditated for awhile in the 11th century. I was imagining the scenario if you happened upon this sage sitting here a thousand years ago. He spent his life walking great distances between natural dwelling places that he found suitable for meditation. Among the historical individuals whom I admire, one common theme that emerges is a large portion of time spent walking. It is very conducive to simplicity, self-reflection, touching nature, and meeting strangers. This is why I go trekking, with the hope and intention of following in the footsteps of the wise ones.
After a great and tiring first day of hiking from Lamayuru to Phanjila, my guide, Konchok, and I have taken shelter with a family in a "homestay" arrangement. This valley holds about fifteen families, and this house seems to be a central gathering place. As I write in my journal, there is a Buddhist nun with her prayer beads sitting directly across the room from my guide and another fellow who are drinking a strong barley alchohol and telling what appear to be outrageous stories. This is a truely eclectic gathering, complete with a gangly, white, bearded guy. The host just took time to explain to me that, "we don't work too hard, this is more of a mindful life here". I dig it.
This particular house had a "western" toilet. While I'll admit it felt great to sit on the white porcelin throne, the composting squat toilets are certainly preferable from an environmental standpoint. They not only contribute to making very valuable soil for farming in this arid and rocky earth, but they also require no water, no pipe, and no waste when the throne eventually breaks and must be discarded in the nearest landfill (i.e. river). When I was travelling in New Zealand working on various organic farms, several of them had composting toilets of very similar design to these in Ladakh. Those Kiwis were seriously keen on getting back to a subsistent way of living, which the Ladakhis have mastered, and in an inhospitable environment at that.
Climbing the wooden ladder to the rooftop, I heard chanting and drums coming and going in the swirling winds above. Nothing beats live tunes from the local monastery on the hill at sunset!
Arriving in Ursi at another homestay, I discover that my bed for the night is about fifteen feet from where the family keeps the farm animals. They were mostly agreeable housemates, although either the yak or the cow had a bit of a snoring issue. But, the fresh milk in my chai tea made up for it.
This morning I walked up the hill to the local gompa which is currently under repair. I was able to meet the artist who is painting the new walls, which was very neat. There were also several elderly monks and about a dozen townspeople who were volunteering their time to help with the construction work. The costs of the work on the gompas are taken care of by donations from the villagers. I decided I wanted to subtley contribute, but they insisted on first sitting down for some tea, then signing some paperwork for both parties, and finally being given a lovely prayer shawl as thanks for my donation. I exchanged some invaluable smiles with the monks and laypeople as I continued on my way.
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Walking about an hour past the village of Ursi on the trail leading to Tar La pass, which we will attempt tomorrow morning, I came upon a herd of twelve mammals. According to my sweet guidebook, they were either blue sheep or siberian ibex. I was solo, so I wasn't making much noise and was able to get quite close before spooking them. Nature is nature, as Konchok likes to say.
While at the new gompa in Ursi, I began speaking a little English with the local schoolteacher who stopped in. He thought it was a very dangerous idea to attempt the Tar La pass as we intended to do the next day. The other six or eight people working in the area were given a translation of our conversation by my guide, and the discussion began. One of the monks who looked particularly weather-worn insisted there was an alternative route that wouldn't have too much snow and was definitely passable at this time of year. It was at this point that I realized Konchok and I might be the very first trekking party to do the pass in 2009. This added to the thrill and mystique of the trek, and also augmented the number of butterflies in my stomach. We're going to give it an early start in the morning and just see how it goes. If we are strong enough in the lungs to reach the summit, (16,000 ft) the greater amount of snow will be on the downside. I don't know if we should expect a cornice and huge slippery slope of ice and snow, or a possible path on dirt and rocks between the snow patches. If it seems too dangerous, we have no reservations about turning around after taking in the supreme views at the top.
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Uh, we're now halfway down the east (down) side of the Tar La, feeling really strong. There is evidence that we're the first trekking party this year: zero footprints anywhere, a horse carcass that had died before or during the winter, (we later saw the broken leg about 100 meters further down the slope) and the villagers in Ursi said that two other parties had attempted and turned back earlier this year. I think the significant snowmelt must have been just in the last week or so. A stroke of good fortune.
Confirmation...At the first house we came upon in the village of Tar (there are 12 households with 70 people total) the three guys working outside the house looked at Konchok and me with surprise and enthusiasm. They informed us that we were in fact the first hikers they had seen since last year. I was thinking that was pretty cool, so I got excited and we all shared a good smiling session. They also said it would not be possible to get any pack animals over the pass at this time, so we were lucky to be traveling light without a tent, stove, food, etc. I guess we were traveling fast as well, as everyone was skeptical that we had finished the pass in less than six hours with decent sized packs.
The landscape here in Tar draws comparison with some parts of southern Utah in that the rock is different shades of red, orange, and cream and it tends to rise quite abruptly. I think it is sedimentary, smooth in parts and crumbling away in others. There are many poplar and willow trees, and this is the first time I've seen a cottonwood along the streamside. This settlement is uniquely encircled by immediately steep rising mountains on all sides. There is a cool spring at the top of the village which is distributed to every home and barley field via narrow canals dug into the earth with little more than a gardening spade. One gets the feeling this little slice of land was meant to be inhabited by animals, and the Ladakhis in Tar are doing a simply beautiful job of living here.
The idea of living off the land with a community of friends and family in a habitable and scenic environment is very attractive to me. These people have carved out a lovely existence in this place. Although some of the traditional culture is visibly fading with the younger generation, there still seems to be a strong identity and also contentment in this way of life. Things will inevitably continue to change, and perhaps at an increasing rate, but the smiles and pleasant energy of the Ladakhi people here suggest that they intend to keep on keepin' on. In some small way, I intend to carry forth a few of the cultural aspects that I'm particularly fond of. All distinct world cultures seem to be streaming into more of a global village (dare I say monoculture?), which may only accelerate in time. If in fact this trend is inevitable and irreversible, then why not attempt to harness the highest achievements as well as the beautiful subtle nuances of the smaller, more traditional and more ancient ways of life? Alternatively, perhaps this ancient wisdom and traditional way of life will make a resurgence if/when any substantial "sustainability" movement ever gets off the ground in the developed countries. Skills of survival and subsistence have been almost completely lost in the "developed" world. Fascination will lie in the unfolding of the mysteries and complexities of our time. I primarily wish to be one of many voices for peace, simplicity, and sustainable innovation. We only have to believe that we can create the world we want to live in. Before we can solve the climate crisis and other pending global issues of importance, individuals must cultivate peace within themselves. Only when we reach a critical mass/tipping point of human beings who are balanced within can we ever hope to solve the imminent issues facing our earth.
"Ju-le" is Ladakhi for "hello", "goodbye", "thank you", "your welcome", among other things, I assume. The craft of speech these people have is in the myriad intonations that can be used for expression with this single word. One woman gave me a tired, yet sincere "Ju-le" as I was descending from the gompa and she returning home from a long day of working the fields in the blazing sun. I got her meaning.
Traditional Ladakhi women wear their hair in two long braids that are joined at the tips to create a circle on their back. The tips look almost dreaded, and some of the braids look like they haven't been touched for months, if not longer. I'm guessing one reason for this hairstyle is to avoid getting the head wet in the winter months that regularly see negative thirty degree temperatures, but that's just a guess.
This place is spectacular! The high arid mountain landscape is very special in and of itself. Add to that the fascinating and easy-going Ladakhi people, the beautiful Tibetan Buddhist gompas, chortens, mani walls, and prayer flags. Throw in some serious exercise for the lungs and legs, and you have one hell of a trekking experience. Hiking in the Annapurna region of Nepal was very special. Somehow, Ladakh seems to be the next level still, with more demanding terrain, far less tourists, and more isolated and unique culture. Come to think of it, I believe I've seen less than twenty or thirty foreign tourists since I left Dharmsala almost three weeks ago. I've been the only foreigner at my place of rest each of the last six nights and most of the nights before that. I really can't believe there aren't any other travelers around here right now, but I'm not complaining. The main trekking season isn't until July, but the weather has been great thus far. It feels good to take the road less travelled.
The homestay is a really great way to trek in Ladakh. In addition to the cultural exchange while cooking in the kitchen, the bed is relatively comfortable and it may just be the lightest way to travel as well.
Ladakh is a spectaular venue for cloud-viewing; a very nice way to pass the time in contemplation.
There are no guns in these villages, as far as I can tell. There are lots of guns in Kashmir.
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Firewood is fairly scarce here. They mostly use twigs from the poplars and willows (after feeding the leaves to the animals) to stoke the kitchen stove. It requires almost constant attention to heat water to a boil, so one of the daughters is always sitting in front of the stove, which is a great location when the sun disappears behind the mountains.
They plant six to eight feet long trimmed branches into the ground to start a new willow (or poplar) tree. Tar is particularly pleasant because it is shaded by the surrounding mountains for a couple of extra hours a day. (Shade is generally hard to come by in Ladakh. Sometimes we'll be on the trail, ready for a rest break, and we won't find a single shady spot for fifteen minutes or longer.) Perhaps the extra shade in Tar is the reason the trees are so happy here, creating more shade and giving rise to grasses and small plants along the canals and turning this little patch of arid mountain land into a green oasis. I don't know if the water source here is a spring or an underground river. I'm also not sure what the difference between the two is...
The canyon below Tar is where all the water runs after the irrigation system usage in the village. I'm still using chlorine tablets to make sure I'm safe, (this is not a good place to come down with any nasty water-borne illness) but the water here must be about as clean and pure as it comes, especially in the context of India. It is easy to forget that you are in India here. I go some days on the trail and in the villages and I see only a handful or two of other human beings. In the rest of India, it is challenging to find respite outdoors for thirty seconds before being interupted by a horn or one of the 1.2 billion people living in this beautifully cramped country.
Wandering between the sparse shady spots, I breathe, I reflect, I am. This streamside tree with a dry grassy patch will do just fine. Happiness lies here, in contemplation.
Every Ladakhi kitchen I've been in has very nearly the same layout. There are way more copper bowls, pots, and tea kettles than seem necessary, but perhaps they are all in use during the long, cold winter months. This particular kitchen has a sick and dying mother in the corner bed. She has a terribly deep cough, and the look on her face is one of pain and agony. This culture doesn't hide death away, but rather puts the process right in the middle of family life. I seem to be the one most affected by her anguish, which tells you how naturally and gracefully the Ladakhis deal with death. Tibetan Buddhism teaches that the process of dying illustrates the true character and wisdom of the individual. For this reason they have immense respect for the figure of Jesus, who handled a torturous and excruciating death will complete peace and compassion. Because of the belief in reincarnation, there is significant right and ritual to assure the loss of this life transitions as well as possible into the creation of the next. We're accustomed to the idea of a dying person "passing away" to another place. In this region, there is no concept of "away". Only change.
We've been trailblazing, navigating, and contemplating along the trail. I do some of my very best thinking while walking in nature. One foot in front of the other, you stay present.
"Above all do not lose your desire to walk. Every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness. I have walked into my best thoughts and know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it." - The Buddha
This has become more than just trekking for me. It has evolved into what could perhaps be called a pilgrimage or sorts. I'm living a bit like a pilgrim at present.
The rockslides to the West of the trail between Hibti La pass and Mangyu La pass today were a wonderful exhibit of nature's art. The maroon, cream, brown, and orange colored rocks were blending together as on a canvas as they gradually slip and slide down the steep slope. Toward their inevitable sedimentation in the valley below, the mountainside is a very patient yet persistent piece of canvas that is always being painted. The artist is mother nature, and the medium is father time.
There is a process whereby nature is governed. That is to say, there is a law of nature. That law is the supreme truth. Gain experiential wisdom of that law, and know the truth. This is liberation. Rocks, plants, and animals experience nothing but this law, but perhaps have no concious method of discerning its properties. Man is equipped with the method (aptitude) of logic and reason to discover properties and patterns of nature in order to gain knowledge of the law which governs all things. Total knowledge means total harmony with the law, resulting in peace and happiness. I believe this is what the Buddha, Jesus, Aristotle, and many other saints and sages achieved in their lifetime. I've got a lot more observing to do!
The composting toilet at the homestay in Mangyu is three stories high! Konchok and I slept on the rooftop under an incredibly starry sky. During my morning ritual, I kept making sure nobody was using the lavatory on the story below. The hole in the ground on my level perfectly aligned with the hole in the ground on the level below, which led to the ground level where the compost was collected. I can say with great confidence that I will never again see my duece travel such a distance!
Sometimes when you're traveling you can get a pretty good sense for what kind of foreigners have preceded your visit to a place. Walking in between Lamayuru and Alchi for the past five days, I've been suspecting that the trekkers who traveled before me were the generally "good" kind. There was little if any evidence of their stay, and my interactions with the locals were so genuine that they had obviously not been burned by any unpleasant interactions with big white guys before. So, that was encouraging to discover that many mindful travelers do exist, and some of them have picked this route along the way. I'd guess that less than a dozen foreigners have stayed with some of the families that hosted my guide and I. Most of the hard-core trekkers who come through this remote and challenging terrain travel with horses to carry the tents and stoves and food. Unfortunately, they miss the interaction with the families if they remain at the campsite. I'm not particularly fond of sleeping in tents, so the homestay is ideal for me!
Perhaps I shouldn't be, but I'm surprised to find columbine flowers here in Ladakh.
At a slightly lower elevation, (11,000 ft.) the mustard seed crop provides sharply contrasting yellow patches to the already striking blue sky, green trees, maroon and orange rock, and bright white clouds and snowy peaks. This spot is gorgeous.
It seems inevitable that more development and population inflow will arrive in Ladakh, but who knows because I thought that would have happened already to a much greater extent than it has. We walk down a mountain into a valley without a single motor or commercial sign whatsoever. I'm curious as to what my reaction will be upon arriving back into "mainland" India where there is an entirely different notion of personal space. Part of me is looking forward to jumping back into the full-on noise, smells, color, and chaos of urban India. But, for a couple more weeks I'll certainly savor the serenity of Ladakh.
My natural tendency is usually to be reticent toward development. Whether that means building a road in a pristine river valley, or attempting to improve the "quality of life" for individuals by other means, I immediately hesitate and qualify because so many times development projects have been executed or conceived very poorly without sufficient knowledge of the economic, cultural, and environmental consequences. But, I've heard first hand accounts of what a huge blessing it was to a certain village when the construction of the road finally reached their valley. The answers must lie somewhere in the middle, but I still am not convinced a road should be built for proven econonmic benefit if that action carries significant cultural and environmental burden for the community.
Part of me wishes I hadn't decided not to take any photographs during my solo traveling. There have been so many instances where I've thought, "that would be an excellent picture". But, I'm sticking to my philosophy that you immediately take yourself out of that special moment when you reach for the camera to capture it. Mostly, I'm just not a very skilled photographer! Hopefully this blog has sparked your imagination, because there's magic in these mountains. The flapping prayer flags are a constant reminder.
Wow, arriving into Leh, I'm amazed at how jaded I've become toward other travelers after being largely alone the past three weeks. All I can think about is how to get away from all these tourists and dive back into the oasis of complete immersion of authentic culture. In other words, these car horns are too much!
Atop the Leh Palace, the sunrise is spectacular as the far reaching view is illuminated with gentle rays. This palace is a smaller version of the Potala Palace in Lhasa, Tibet, the former residence of the Dalai Lama. Both are now museums.
I met this afternoon with my new guide and his son who will be accompanying us for a twelve day trek through the classic Markha Valley and then across the remote and elevated Karnak. The father and son are Tibetan, and their family has been living in exhile in a refugee settlement just outside of Leh since 1959, the same year the Dalai Lama was forced to flee the nation he ruled.
Picture, if you will, Chairman Mao and the Dalai Lama sitting at the negotiation table in Beijing. Mao is widely regarded as one of the most forceful political figures in recent history, and the Dalai Lama is a self-proclaimed "simple Buddhist monk" who was about my age at the time of the first Chinese invasion. Needless to say, Tibet had no chance when China decided to invade and implement rule in their country. The Chinese government has always maintained that they "liberated" the "serfs" of Tibet from their brutal and antiquated "feudal" system of government. This propaganda seems to have some parallel with the notion of the "white man's burden" which attempted to placate the naysayers of European colonization. You must portray the conquered masses as having lived in deplorable conditions, thus being fortunate to have such benevolent nations to "liberate" them. The Chinese are quick to point out that Tibet held its "first election" in 1961 as proof of their rightful action to forcefully take control of this region.
The Tibetans have played the historical role of the "conquered" people, losing many lives and their land and their way of life. But, the Tibetans are a resilient people, and they have many, many allies across the globe. One of the ironic twists of this story is that as a result of their exile, and the international attention that followed, Tibetan culture, and particularly its unique form of Buddhism, has spread around the world. This is in no small part due to the precense of the Dalai Lama, but also many other Rinpoches like Chogyam Trungpa, who settled in Boulder and started Shambala and Naropa University.
I find it very difficult to agree with Chinese propaganda like the recent headline in a paid advertisement in the Hindustan Times: "Emancipated Serfs Become Masters of Their Homeland". That seems to imply that their leader, the Dalai Lama, intentionally and systematically opressed his people. I just can't get my head around that one. This guy is the reincarnation of Avalokiteshvara, the boddhisatva of COMPASSION. But, let us not forget Howard Zinn's message in, "A People's History of the United States": The "winners" always write the history books. Perhaps this time around, educated citizens from around the world can help to give the "losers" a voice.
Here is a quote from the Tibetan Parliamentary and Policy Research Center in New Delhi:
"Tibet of the past has often been described in the Western media as "feudal", but it is absolutely inapt and also misleading since this perception is based exclusively on the Marxist interpretation of the society in Europe of the Middle Ages. Tibetan society was neither as rigid as the medieval European society nor was it based upon the system of holding land by giving one's services to the owner which alone explains feudalism. Mobility was not restricted to permanent upper strata of the society. There were no official or social or land-holding classes, or even hereditary "castes" in Tibet. There was, however, an aristocracy. But this too was service-oriented and consisted of both lay and monastic officials. There was the underpinning of the Buddhist ideal of renunciation and service in the life of those who usually consituted the aristocracy, particularly from the clergy side. Tibet was self-governing, economically self-sufficient, and culturally thriving sans any significant social contradictions. The government of Tibet maintained postal services, an army, a currency, and an organized legal system. It also collected taxes in a regulated and systemic manner."
Having given the subject some thought, I must say that the Tibetan nation is extremely complicated and unique. I can almost understand if the Chinese did not fully grasp the entire political, commercial, cultural, and spiritual institutions of the Tibetan culture. Or perhaps they just didn't care, determined to expand their land holdings into the Tibetan plateau.
Some say that Ladakh is more like Tibet before the invasion than the current manifestation of what now lies under Chinese control. The Chinese-made posters of present day Lhasa (the former capitol of Tibet) paints a picture of another modern metropolis, with the only thing distinguishing this city being the Potala Palace on the hill.
Sometimes I find myself growing very frustrated with the Chinese government for doing their darndest to wipe the Tibetan people off the planet. At other times, I realize that the world is in a constant state of flux, and to try to preserve it as is would be the work of a madman. There is now a proud and far-reaching Tibetan diaspora which, hopefully, will continue to spread new seeds of their culture and spiritual traditions over fertile soil in countries across the globe. One thing is almost certain: Far fewer people would have ever heard of the Dalai Lama or his Tibetan Buddhist tradition if Mao had not given orders to his army to invade Tibet. Considering Mao's tragic and horrific legacy, perhaps that "simple Buddhist monk" was the victor of that first meeting in Beijing after all.
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on June 6, 2009 from Leh, India

Off on the trail again...
Leh, India
I depart early tomorrow morning for another trek across Ladakh, Karnak,and bordering Zanskar. If all goes well, I'll arrive about 200 Miles south of here along the highway where I will hitch a ride to Manali. I should arrive there on June 19th or 20th. We'll be setting off with three ponies, a couple tents, a stove, kitchen utensils, and food for three men for twelve days. We'll walk the first six days of the classic Markha Valley trek, and then we'll cut up a remote valley near Kang Yantze/Nimaling to meet up with another trail across the Karnak region. There are virtually no permanent settlements across Karnak, only the occasional nomadic group. I'll report my misadventures and hallucinations in a couple of weeks. Until then, keep the peace.
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on June 7, 2009 from Leh, India

Disclaimer and personal opinions
Manali, India
Judging by the number of comments on this blog (like five or so - with a big shout out to Uncle Russ, Juelsgaard, Newquist, and Sarah), we're not exactly setting any new records for website visits. As such, I'm going to take the liberty of using this space as less of a travel blog and more of a personal journal for my own record and amusement. Read on if you like, but please excuse the use of a new audience: My good self. If you are interested, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this stuff. I'm pretty sure some of it is controversial, but there's no time to play it safe. So, that's my disclaimer if you are troubled or offended. Read on at your own risk!
Song*
It doesn't matter who you are,
It doesn't matter where you've been.
Now that we've come this far,
We'll find our way back again.
This is for all you soul searchers,
The universal Truth thirsters.
Take a moment to watch your breath,
The law of Nature will cover the rest.
Chorus: Ride on the wave, sit under a tree, stay with the flow, set yourself free.
The Earth wants us to clearly see,
The revelation of how everything goes.
Control your mind and you're truly free.
The way is right on the tip of your nose.
If you choose to go down this path,
Don't listen to anyone's wrath.
Moment by moment you'll find the way,
Seek peace in what you think, do, and say.
Chorus
Bridge: The flow is in you, check out your heartbeat. The same flow of a stream, or grass beneath your feet. The flow is in you, and you are the Earth.
It all begins and ends in your mind,
Reality is not so easy to find.
Our planet needs us to figure it out,
To discover her secret, beyond any doubt.
Deepest wisdom can't be found in a book,
Each one of us must give our own look.
If we observe the world with awareness,
We'll stop depleting resources that are scarcest.
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A healthy and graceful crane flew just above the flow of the river and swooped down to a perfect landing on the bank opposite me. I took a couple of inquisitive steps for a closer examination of the beauty, and the crane carried it away with a few flaps of it's wings. A passing crow followed the flight path and began to stir a nuissance. Not to be disturbed from it's nibbanic peace, the crane perfectly fended off the crow.
Another moment passes, everything changes. Start again. By the time you begin to start again, all is different already. How to live in this constant state of flux? Just be where you are. Aware and balanced, like the crane, remain inside the flow, even when needing to deal with the unfortunate task of brushing off an irritable crow. The flow is in you, and you are the Earth.
We must approach the climate issue and resource depletion not with an attitude of fear and martrydom, but with creativity, confidence, and abundance. The Earth wants us to discover her secret: the only constant is change. In business, this is increasingly true. Business will lead the way to more positive/sustainable behavior patterns once an enlightened citizenry creates demand for enlightened goods and services. Our collective planetary crisis will never be solved until we address our individual spriritual crises, and ask ourselves why it is that we consume so much shit. Have you ever contemplated the size of the pile of waste you've created in your life? I have, and it is pretty disgusting.
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Even if it were a possiblity for me in this lifetime, I'm not entirely convinced that full "enlightenment" should be my highest goal. Although eternal bliss, equanimity, harmony, peace, etc. sound nice, then people would come to you for all the answers to their problems. While it would be a priviledge to help those that you can, the masses would invariably misinterpret your message, make an idol out of you, and eventually create another religion with a bunch of eventually irrelevant traditions and holidays and stuff. It all too easily serves to misguide the individual search for Truth.
Perhaps the most good I can do in this life (my goal) is not to become "enlightened", but to continue along a meditative path while putting my best skills to work. It occured to me today what a genuinely fortunate situation I am in to have been recently awarded an entrepreneurial fellowship in the CU MBA program. If I can take advantage of this opportunity, we could bring about some real positive change. Now I just have to come up with a business plan to help restore our natural resources...
I continue to contemplate the messages in Atlas Shrugged, which I finished reading over a month ago (and have digested a couple of other books since then). One of my favorite lines in the book is delivered by John Galt: "Reason accepts no commandments." You must experience it yourself in order to discover Truth. I think a few rules and pointers along the way can be useful, but too easily we can become dependent on them.
Also, probably the best dissertation on money that I've come across is given by the wonderful and controversial character of Francisco D'Anconia at Jim Taggert's wedding (or engagement?) party. It's just great. Money does not have to be the root of all evil.
One of the central themes which particularly jolted me was that of the industrialists as heroes. They are the few in society who produce more than they consume. In other words, they are responsible for creating more goods and services than they deplete, even with their opulant lifestyles. What Rand perhaps failed to see is that these figures are only heroes if these goods and services that the industrialists produce are beneficial for multiple generations, if not indefinitely. To my mind, this has not been the case with most of the industrialists to date. In the book, the "looters" are the enemy, and are comprised of those who consume more than they produce, thus living off of the industrialists. I realized I've been a looter all my life, and my desire to run a business and be a producer could actually be a noble pursuit.
Too many atrocities have been committed in the name of the "public good" and with a mantra of "sacrifice" (Mao, Pol Pot, etc.). These are the words which Ayn Rand admonishes in the book. As I appear to be joining the capitalist ranks by going for my MBA in a couple of months, I'm becoming more comfortable with putting aside some of my more socialist thought patterns. I think the "public good" is best served by the individual pursuit of happiness and freedom. That sounds like something Thomas Jefferson might agree with.
Another idea from the book that I really agreed with is that the purpose of an individual's life is to increase their happiness. No one else can do that for you, and it is not a bad thing to be looking out for yourself through the use of reason and self-confidence. The protagonists in the book (namely Dagny Taggert and Hank Reardon and Francisco D'Anconia) adhere to this philosophy. Though they may be ego-maniacal and perhaps even narcissistic, they illustrate the point that great men and women are happy and productive because of an unwavering self-confidence and application of sound logic to conduct their lives. I've always been pretty keen on happiness, reason, and myself. Despite constantly being told by my mother as a child that the world doesn't revolve around me, I was never convinced. I've never been a very good humble servant, though I've certainly tried and I have immense admiration and respect for those who fill that role. I guess the book helped me to realize that I don't have to apologize for my confidence, and that it could very well be my best character trait. I believe humility is a virtue, but I don't think that pride/confidence has to be a vice. When asked during my interview at CU to describe a personal weakness, I pointed toward my pride. I think I'd like to rescind that answer, and instead go with my inferior quantitative skills!
Buddhism also holds as a principle tenet that all sentient beings should be happy and pursue their self-interest. There seems to be no need to apologize for confidence/pride in this context. Indeed, it could be perceived as selfish/prideful for a monk to think that he has a real chance at full liberation/enlightenment and to work toward that end. The entire purpose of meditation is to break the pattern of creating your own misery through the arising of fear and desire. I dig it. So I say let's stop apologizing for being self-centered, prideful, and happy!
It occurred to me during the meditation retreat that perhaps the single greatest action you can take for humanity and for our Earth is to realize inner peace. It is only in that state that you can really perceive the universal Truth/law of Nature/God and be of service to it. What good am I to anyone if I am miserable? I vote for freedom and happiness through reason and self-exploration.
From the healing of a cut on your finger to the restoration of a forest after a fire, Nature has absolutely amazing regenerative capacity. This is what must somehow be harnessed in the marketplace.
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on June 20, 2009 from Manali, India

Okay, back to a few travel highlights
Manali, India
The Padma Guest House (thanks to Dan and Kathlyn for the stellar recommendation) in Leh is a fascinating blend of traditional Ladakhi living and Western comforts. It is apparent that the family who owns and runs the place is making an effort to both preserve their way of life and also to capitalize on the tourist industry in their town by running a profitable hospitality business. I made friends with the father, and he told me how they began over twenty years ago by letting stray trekkers crash in the extra bedroom in their home. Now, they have over twenty rooms, some with western toilets and hot showers. They still dry clothes on the line, but the washing now takes place in a machine. They still cultivate some of their fields, but other sections have become neglected. It is a tricky balance to strike, but I was impressed with how this family was walking the line of two worlds. The paradox lies in the fact that in order to share their beautiful culture with travelers, the Ladakhis end up catering to the Western lifestyles, and ultimately adopting some of the more comfortable/convenient aspects that make their lives easier. Interestingly, I've observed that the entire family continues to use the outdoor composting toilet. I want one of those.
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I've now spent nearly a year of my life in Asia. I'm thinking this will provide sound credentials for an Ambassadorship someday!
As I set off for my twelve day trek into the remote regions of Karnak, the primary objective on my mind is to explore further empirical evidence of the oneness of self and Earth; alignment with the Great Spirit; connection with the Higher Conciousness.
My travel companions are a father and son who are just great. The father, Anchok, is a "ponyman" who makes his living by using his three horses as pack animals for tourist trekking. His son, Tenzin, is 22 and currently studying political science at university in Madras (Chennai) in SE India. He's home for a couple of weeks on summer break, and is helping his father on this challenging trek, and also because Anchok is slightly hard of hearing. They are Tibetans living in a political refugee settlement outside of Leh.
On the trail today, we passed a grave. Tenzin explained that the Ladakhis bury their dead, while Tibetans cremate. On a related note, I've been reading the book, The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, and recommmend it highly to anyone interested in this spiritual classic.
I've found that one becomes a much better steward of the streams when they are your only water source and that of the villages below. My stewardship of natural resources is much more responsible when I can see the entire process unfolding in front of me. The consequences of abusing resources in a place like Ladakh are very severe. Life hangs on a finer balance here. Sooner or later, it seems that the entire planet might hang in this more fragile state if we humans continue to consume as we do.
We are in snow leopard territory now. Its one of the rarest cats in the world, and we're very unlikely to see one. There are under 100 of them in this entire vast region. We're sleeping tonight at 14,300 ft.
Donella Meadows: "The keys to environment and development lie not only in technology and production but in lifestyles and equity (among rich and poor)". I agree that the rich can no longer separate themselves from the dire consequences of poverty.
Until our culture shifts to an attitude of belonging to the Earth, rather than the Earth belonging to us, we'll continue down this (self)destructive path. If in fact the ecological crisis stems from our collective disharmony as individuals, then the fundamental question becomes: Can we change ourselves? At present, the signs don't look too promising to me. It is astonishing to think that the U.N. Earth Summit in Rio was held over 17 years ago. It was at that global conference that the planetary crisis (natural resource depletion, rising levels of carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gases, rampant population growth, etc.) was laid out by the scientific community, and the political establishment seemed willing to listen and possibly even act. They failed. While it is true that the "doomsday" scenarios that had been laid out have not exactly come to fruition as yet, the scientific proof for the problems identified back then in 1992 has only continued to strengthen. Still, we do not act. I'll state from my personal experience that despite being as connected to Nature as ever in my life, habits of consumption and waste are hard to kick. I really don't think that individuals have the will power to bring about the necessary change when a more comfortable option remains. Yet, I am not hopeless. Politicians leading the way? Never. Sustainable goods and services which are better and cheaper for individuals to consume might be our only hope.
Just as suffering for the individual is caused by ignorance, (fear or desire for any given sensation) suffering for the Earth is also caused by humanity's ignorance of the total cost of our actions. Societal change must begin with individual change. We allow ourselves to pollute, so of course we're going to allow big businesses to do the same. We won't demand more out of businesses until we demand more from ourselves/each other. Wal Mart isn't the problem. We are.
As I feel a shift of conciousness happening in me, I am deeply troubled. Even at this heightened state, my thirst to consume is not quenched. There is still too much ignorance within.
Tenzin is a young man, but already feeling the heavy pressures and stresses of life. He is the only son, so he has immense pressure to provide for his parents, grandparents, and five sisters. He's currently enrolled at a university in Southern India. English is his fifth language. His father is almost completely deaf, so Tenzin is along to help on this long trek. He's taught me a lot about what it is like to live in exile as a refugee, and the discrimination that the Tibetan community endures. They are generally very grateful to India for the ability to live in peace here, but they are not citizens, cannot vote, and are often given last priority for university/degree placement.
Did I mention that I saw an inverted rainbow the other day? Tenzin saw it too. It appeared as a half ring around the sun. Pretty wild.
The goal is to experience inner peace as often as possible. I'm using the solitude of this trek to harness and familiarize this inner peace with my everyday thinking and actions. It is good to find peace and solitude, communing with Nature. It is perhaps better still if that peace can transcend into the mundane and daily tasks back in civilization.
"Sleeping people live each in their own world; only those who are awake have a world in common". - Heraclitus
"If hope is to pass the sobriety test, then it has to walk a pretty straight line to reality. Nothing is possible unless business is willing to integrate itself into the natural world". - Paul Hawken
How much longer will we remain asleep, destroying our Mother Earth without seeming to notice? I'm starting to notice. We must wake up to the reality of our time. We're slowly killing ourselves, and giving the children a bleaker outlook by the day. Why am I asleep? Why did I litter today? My connection to the Eternal is not strong enough. What is blocking it? There is nothing. I am here. I am.
When I pollute, I'm putting myself before the interests of Nature. The part cannot take precendent over the whole. I must improve my awareness of the non-separation between "Mark" and "Nature". Polluting is selfish and ignorant. Yet, you cannot tell others not to pollute. They must awaken to the connectedness of all things by their own experience. "My life is my message". - Ghandi
Tenzin is also an impressive chef; serving up a variety of of tasty cuisine with severely limited ingredients and a single burner kerosene stove. Steamed vegetable dumplings (momos) was perhaps the greatest culinary feat in the teepee kitchen thus far.
Today we walk 22km to the village of Markha. Glad to put my pack on the horse!
We cannot rely on technology alone to deliver us from this ecological crisis. There must be a shift in consiousness among a critical mass of people. Destructive consumption patterns will not change until we don't need to consume to be content. What if we only consumed what we NEED? That question sounds so far from our experience, which indicates how far we have to go in the "sustainability movement".
I picked up a great book at the guest house in Leh written by James George, who is the former Canadian Ambassador to India, Sri Lanka, Iran, and Afghanistan. He comments that we need to develop a culture that, "puts more value than we do on community and collective rights, and less on competition and individual rights". He's been challenging some of the persuations I formed after reading Atlas Shrugged. Now I guess I have to draw my own conclusions, or keep searching...
We are the only trekking party in the village of Markha. I'm astonished, and thankful. This is one huge, impressive valley, to be sure. I'm pleased to report that the camping is going just fine. My aversion toward tent-sleeping is diminishing, and I'm enjoying my dirtiness. Then again, we're only about a third of the way along the trail!
I am making an experiential connection with myself, as Nature.
We just crossed paths with two Israeli travelers. We began chatting about my time in Kashmir, and one guy said: "It is funny with Jews and Muslims. Its like we're brothers who fight a lot. We have a lot in common." Nice. Then I watched them try to negotiate a homestay, with three meals included, for both of them, for a total of $6. My experience of Israeli travelers is that they sure drive a hard bargain. Fairly or not, this reputation precedes them.
"Om mani padme hum" is beautifully written in the Tibetan language on carved stones which pile high on occasional stretches of wall along the trail. This is also the phrase you incessantly hear eminating from the gompas, and is repeatedly chanted by devout Tibetan Buddhists to remind them of the impermanent nature of all things.
We just set up camp on the fifth day. This afternoon, Anchok and I will climb to the Kang Yahtze base camp. This is an impressive 21,000 ft. peak which some daring mountaineers attempt to summit each year. We met one American from Seattle who had made an unsuccessful attempt a couple of days earlier. Tomorrow, we will take a much less traveled valley to the West of Kang Yahtze to the remote region of Karnak. From there, we'll have three more substantial passes (16,000+ ft.) to cross, and we will not again drop below 13,300 ft until I'm on a bus toward Manali in six or seven days. This is a great adventure, and certainly the most extreme terrain I've tramped around. I'm liking the challenge it presents. I'm not liking the freezing nights!
There is a beautiful rythmic style to the way the horses eat grass. Their lips move in a cool sort of dance. This provides my entertainment in this desolate land! These three horses are 18, 17, and 6. The youngster likes to play with me. These animals represent the livlihood for Anchok's family. Needless to say, they're given a lot of love and are well cared for.
Two shepards just rolled up the valley with their flock. They're making their way toward the teepee. I better go get the lowdown...
It turns out that these goats are of the Pashmina variety. This is the most expensive and soft wool in the world, and the shawls made of pure Pashmina are very pleasant to touch.
We are in a snowstorm, watching the blazing red sun set beyond many rows of mountains in the distant blue sky.
Last night's sunset snowstorm resulted in a couple of inches of overnight accumulation. Packing up camp in the snow isn't that awesome. I started today's hike with my full-on ski gear setup, only to quickly shed several layers when the sun broke through a gap in the clouds. Then, we turned up a separate valley, and encountered another black cloud which prompted me to throw back on all of my cold-weather gear. I've never had to ford a river in an ice pellet storm before. I'm told the going gets a little easier from here! Tomorrow we tackle another big, snowy pass.
After a time, all things lose the very properties which define them. Ice melts, mountains crumble, civilizations come and go. You can either look forward to, or have hesitation about, the inevitable changes to come. Both desire and fear of a certain outcome in the future will eventually lead to disappointment. Ideally, you just stay in the moment, always. Nothing lasts forever, and most things don't last very long at all. Better to just stay cool, and watch reality as it unfolds before you. Eliminate anxiety, set yourself free. This is happiness for me.
For a couple of years now, when describing my thoughts on the fossil fuel/renewable energy dilemma, I've said: "There is no 'us' versus 'them', there's only 'us'. We all ultimately want the same thing: Life, eternally into the future if possible". If we extended this idea so that there is never any "other" or "them", mankind would live in peace and harmony. War is only feasible if there is an "enemy" or "them" that are so different from "us". Buddhism holds that there is no "other" whatsoever. Everything is connected unconditionally. There is no "away" either. All is one. It makes sense to me that if you could truly realize/experience this, you'd be without fault/pain/sin. As a government, if there is no fear of the "other", you are at peace. As individuals, if we can free ourselves from the illusion of "enemies", we'd deserve a government that delivered a land of peace and freedom. Similarly, if we could perceive that there is no "away" because everything in the universe is interdependent, we'd deserve to live on a planet that was healthy and bountiful and free of pollution. "Don't Hate, Don't Pollute". That's my bumpersticker.
Only technology that enhances/restores life-support systems would be profitable if our economy were "sustainable" and truly accounted for all costs of our economic activities. That tells you how far we have to go. You cannot impose "smart demand". Consumers consume, by definition. We need "smart supply"; enlightened producers who bring restorative goods and services to the marketplace. Reducing consumption is possible, but too cumbersome for most. Replacing consumption is better. This will never happen unless these replacement goods can offer a better quality of life. That is what consumers ultimately demand. We must get to a place where we realize that "more" does not equal "better". We need more people to taste the reward (or an Economist would say "utility") in a simpler life with deeper connections to each other and to the Earth.
The views from Zalung Karpo La Pass (16,570 ft) were as spectacular as you'd imagine. We are in Karnak now, and it is a little intimidating. We're at least four days from any sort of help if anything were to go wrong. I think we're all feeling strong though, and the weather is a little warmer on this side of the pass. I just did a little laundry in the stream running by our camp, and also washed my face for the first time in seven days.
The predominant sounds I've heard over the last week have included: the wind and whatever it makes contact with, the stream flowing by each campsite, the bells hanging around the horses necks, and the voices of Anchok, Tenzin, and myself. That's about it. It's a conducive environment for my meditative mode. I've been focusing a lot on my relationship with Nature. There's a lot there, and some subtle adjustments have been made. If you were to really and truly live as if there was no "other" or "away", that would be a radical and compassionate way of life. Of course, the real challenge lies in maintaining that existence upon re-entering society and human relationships. Its easy to feel connected to the eternal flow when you're tramping around in the wilderness for a couple of weeks. It is good to realign with the rhythm of the Earth.
Anchok and Tenzin have the coolest teepee. They are definitely the way to go for extended camping, as they are quick to set up and tear down, you can stand comfortably inside, they sleep at least four, and you can put the cooking stove inside, which provides a great heat source.
Today we had the unusual experience of having three French trekkers poke their heads into our teepee while we were eating lunch. I was very surprised to see them, and even more surprised when we learned that they were lost, very lost. They had no guide, and had made a couple of wrong turns according to their interpretation of the map they were carrying. We invited them in for chai, and helped them get back on the right track, which was a couple of days away! We gave them some food, and it was nice to chat with some other human beings besides Anchok and Tenzin. The woman in the trio has been living and working in Leh for the past year or so. Her organization is a French NGO that provides consulting for greenhouse construction and passive solar design for the Ladakhi homes. I thought it was pretty hilarious that the French thought they should come tell these people how to survive in this extreme terrain, which they've been doing successfully for many centuries. Another good example of why I'm so reticent to get involved in "third world development" work in the name of "progress". The unintended consequences are never factored in.
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High on a cliff above the abandoned nomadic settlement of Sorra lie the remains of an ancient royal palace from over a thousand years ago. I couldn't believe my eyes. Who in the world would build a palace here? It turns out that this wondrous edifice is what gives this region it's name, as "Kar-nak" means "black-palace".
Anchok playfully and skillfully hops on the back of the six year old horse for the larger stream crossings. It is pretty impressive for a guy his age. Tenzin and I try to get creative with rock-hopping or sometimes using a tree branch as a pole vault of sorts. Several times we've resigned to just taking off our shoes and wading across.
If I ever wanted to grow some dreadlocks, I've got a pretty good start after eight dusty days without a drop of water on my head.
What a trip! We just arrived into Dat, the only semi-permanent populated village in this entire region, and there is another trekking party who had already set up camp. So, I started talking to this one guy...He's an American...He lives in Colorado...He goes to school in Boulder...He's studying business...His name is Mark! I think we both thought the other guy was being clever by repeating the same thing back, but it turns out that we actually have all of those things in common. It was totally bizarre, and we had a good laugh about it. They invited me into their dining tent for tea, and it was quite disorienting to find myself suddenly in conversation about the economy, Obama, travel stories, etc. After many days of isolation in my "dreamtime" state, I was unprepared for this. We then all decided to go visit the local gompa. When we got there, everyone was snapping photos and talking loudly, and I decided I was glad to be having this experience on my own and in my way.
The sun and I have a tumultuous relationship. Each morning I eagerly await its warming presense. By 9am, it's rays are so strong that I have to cover up every square inch of skin, against the compulsion to go lighter in it's heat. Then again, each late afternoon our love affair is rekindled, and I can hardly stand to see her go as she silently slips behind the mountains to the West, sealing another cold evening. All night I shiver and shutter, hoping she won't be too long before warming me again with all the intensity she can muster. Until, of course, her cancerous strength becomes too much to bear once again.
With most things in life, we tend to perceive that there is either too much or too little. How nice it is to occasionally ditch expectation and realize that everything is as it should be, or just as it is. That is being present. That is being.
So, we just learned from the two monks who collected our camping fee here in Dat that the entire population of the village departed two days ago for higher pastures. I cannot believe that this is where they retreat to for the winter months. This is a seriously harsh environment, and I would think that sheer survival would be a daily concern. Tenzin translated the monks' description of the five day festival at the gompa before they left town. The houses here are the most primitive I've seen in Ladakh, and the people live almost entirely on barley and dairy products. Fruit and vegetables are very rare. They also eat meat when it becomes available, which is unusual for Buddhists. I guess you can't be a purist if you want to stay alive in Dat. I'm told there is now a helicopter pad for emergency airlift in the winter months.
We cruised over another 16,000 ft. pass today, and it seemed relatively easy. My fitness level is good to scary good right now. We've been camping above 14,000 ft. the past several nights, so the lungs and heart are working overtime. This is our second to last night, and I'm feeling like I could definitely keep trekking. But, a shower, a bed, and a beer are starting to sound pretty damn good.
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on June 21, 2009 from Manali, India

Happenings and Ponderings
Manali, India
Anchok just came over to my tent, and we sat in silence for a little while. Now he is rummaging thru my things. Wow, that looked like it might have been the first time he has ever worn a pair of sunglasses! It is unimaginable to me to not wear eye protection in this intense sunshine, but I guess his body is much better adapted to this environ. I thought about trying to explain how my eyes are particularly sensitive after having lasic surgery, but I decided that would be too difficult to get across, too alien to Anchok's experience of life.
He just took my journal, and commented that my handwriting is quite small. Tenzin said his father is somewhat literate in Tibetan, but mostly that he is a "simple man". I need more "simple" people in my life. Anchok's smile is as genuine as it gets. After inspecting the straps on my rucksack for a solid ten minutes, then another ten minutes of sitting in silence, he returned to his teepee. No words were exchanged the entire time, yet a wonderful connection was made.
Ecologically speaking, our "community" includes all life forms. If we view the entire earth as one living organism, (Gaia theory) then this is a scientific perspective mirroring the spiritual idea that everything is connected/all is one. For some, ecology IS their religion. The ultimate Truth/Energy/Love/Intelligence is in all things all the time. Thus, the Earth is sacred. I think a wide array of different spiritual traditions could subscribe to something similar to that thought pattern. I'm growing convinced that every religion/spiritual tradition, in its purity, ultimately points the practicioner in the exact same direction, toward "Him".
From the perspective that there is no "them" or "other", it sure makes the "Golden Rule" of Christianity a lot easier. Instead of, "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you", it might become something like, "Do well unto yourself". Create a healthy mind, body, and soul within, and it naturally follows that you will treat others with overflowing love.
This is, perhaps, another way of arriving at Ayn Rand's philosophy that there is no pure form of altruism. It requires expanding the concept of "self", and eliminating our perception of separation from all things. In this case, by treating everything (other humans, animals, plants, etc.) as you would like to be treated, you're really just treating yourself as you would like to be treated! To give love is to receive it. Once again, it is better to produce more than you consume. Perhaps Rand, the Buddha, and James George could all agree in the end. The challenge lies in putting thoughts and feelings and experiences into words that are communicable (is that a word?). From time immemorial, homo sapien sapiens have been trying to describe their individual experiences with the Truth, the Sacred, the Higher Being. From native cave paintings to Shakespeare's, "To be or not to be", we're all just trying to express some universal movement deep within our being. For me, life is all about stringing together those elusive moments where everything is illuminated, and then just staying there, with nothing else in the world to do.
The Earth is sick because humans are sick. Heal ourselves, heal the world ( a great Michael Jackson tune).
Americans might consider becoming better at doing nothing. We're always needing to DO something. Just BE.
The other trekking group just arrived at our camp. Instead of being peeved that they are cramping my experience of solitude in the wilderness, I've decided this is a good opportunity to slowly slide back into civilization and human relationships. Anyway, they have three foreigners, thirteen horses, nine tents (one for toilet shelter), eight employees, and one ferris wheel! Earlier I was feeling guilty about our impact on the land, but now we're looking pretty good. It is all relative. At times I'm feeling like an "eco hero" for living pretty simply out of a backpack for a couple of months, and then I receive a perplexed head shake from Anchok as I pull out my fourth (and final) pair of wool hiking socks. You could read it in his eyes: "How and why do you have so much stuff?" And now I'm asking the same question of the other trekking party. How does that saying go? "Remove the wooden plank in your own eye before pointing out the splinter in someone elses". Better to be slow to judge, quick to compliment.
We just endured what simply MUST be our final snowstorm of the trip. I'm glad to be using all of the cold-weather gear I've been lugging around India for the last ten weeks. I must add, however, that some warmer weather with a little humidity is beginning to sound very appealing after the chilly, arid time in Ladakh. Luckily, the rest of India is getting soaked by the monsoon, so I'll get all the heat and humidity I can handle.
This is tough terrain that demands a lot out of you. We slept last night at 15,030 ft., and I'm beginning to think that some more oxygen would be a good idea. I'm definitely tired, but it feels good to push the physical limits a bit. That said, I'll be chipper as we arrive back into a slightly more comfortable and lazy lifestyle that awaits.
Occasionally, I still wonder if the so-called "ecological crisis" isn't blown a bit out of proportion. I'll say that it does seem improbable that our species could actually jeopardize life on our Earth as we know it. While I am awed by our planet's regenerative capacity, it is very difficult not to be troubled by the status of our fresh water resources, soil, forests, GHG levels, rapid human population growth, and continued economic (and consumptive) expansion. Something is going to give.
It strikes me that since the U.S. is arguably the biggest culprit in the destruction that has taken place, Americans must take the initiative to correct the course of human progress to a place that is more harmonious. This is not a host planet which can be easily abandoned for a better offer once we've totally compromised the natural resources with our profligate consumption. I find it to be irresponsible to view the evidence of our destructive path, and to do nothing. And yet that seems to be where we are today. Most people are aware of the problem, but just not sure where to go from here.
I think we need to start demanding and creating economic, political, and social institutions that work within our new paradigm. I'd argue that our current institutions will not get us to where we need to go. If this is the case, we're talking about a renaissance, and a revolution. It is our generation's clarion call. Will we heed it?
We departed our final camp at 5:30am with just one horse. Once we reached the top of our final mountain pass, (Pogmar La - 16,000ish ft.) we said goodbye to Anchok and continued down the other side of the pass while he returned to camp to pack up and begin the long journey back to Leh. It was an emotional parting for father and son, and Anchok gave Tenzin and I a white prayer shawl for continued safe travels.
As Tenzin and I came off the pass, we reached a nomadic Tibetan settlement. It turned out to be the people who live in the currently abandoned village on the other side of the pass where we camped last night. They had probably 200 yaks, 400 sheep, and 100 goats surrounding their emcampment of tents. This group is actually documented in my guidebook as well, which says there are twelve families that have been occupying this land for several decades. Tenzin told me that within the last couple of years one or two of the families have abandoned the nomadic lifestyle and have taken up permanent residence in Leh.
About thirty minutes after leaving the settlement, a herd of wild asses (mules, for the uninitiated) galloped about one hundred feet in front of our path. They were absolutely spectacular creatures in color and stature. Evidently, they are fairly uncommon to spot, and particularly at such a close distance. The animals were checking us out as well. I stood and watched the movement of their group for a while as they continued across the desert valley floor. There was one established leader who chose a certain course, and a group of seven followed closely behind, almost in the fashion of a school of fish. One ass trailed slightly further behind, occasionally stopping to turn around and inspect any potential danger from the rear. From time to time, the leader would stomp at a severe angle, kicking up dust, then continune in a new direction. The group of seven would stop at the precise point where the leader had stomped, until given further notice that is was okay to continue on. It was a beautiful process to witness, and perhaps I wouldn't have noticed some of the subtleties had I not spent the last weeks observing slower and more subtle natural phenomenon such as cloud and rock formations.
I am now sitting on the side of a dusty road, which will eventually deliver us to Manali. We haven't seen any vehicles yet, but it has only been a half an hour or so.
We ended up catching a ride on an "Indian Oil" tanker truck with a gregarious Sikh driver who seemed pleased to have found company in such an unlikely spot along this desolate road. About 200km from Manali, we hit a traffic jam. Trucks were lined along the road at a standstill, and people were out of their cars. It turned out that another tanker truck had tipped over. I should mention that this "highway" is notoriously unsafe. The driver told us that we very well might be sleeping here tonight. Perhaps my bed, shower, and beer would have to wait one more day.
The scene was complete anarchy. I'll say that Indians handle chaos as well as anyone. At one point we got hit by another driver trying to slide through an impossible gap, and neither driver even bothered to get out to check the damage.
After several weeks of pretty full-on trekking, the closest I came to death in Ladakh was definitely on the infamous "Leh-Manali highway". The road is narrow, winding, steep, pot-holed, not paved, and pretty crowded this time of year. At a couple of particularly harrowing hair-pin turns, I remember thinking: "This is it". It took Tenzin and I the better part of two days to travel about 200km to Manali. At one point, near Rohtang Pass, a truck was high-centered smack in the middle of the road, preventing the flow of traffic in either direction for several hours. In India, patience isn't a virtue, it is a necessity.
There are an inordinate amount of laborers working on seemingly random sections of the road. I would describe their activity as incessant, yet distracted. They always appear to be ready to shovel the next load, but are generally preoccupied with watching a passing car, chatting with their neighbor, or taking in the remarkable scenery beyond the road. Indeed, that highway holds some of the most spectacular views of distant and dramatic peaks that my eyes have laid witness to.
Oh, I almost forgot to mention that the final two hours of travel were a particularly steep and sharp descent which caused the poor woman sitting next to me to lean over my lap and puke out the window every fifteen minutes or so.
In Manali, I've been reintroduced to fine Indian cuisine, the joy of music, and the nuissance of car horns. My senses seem more sensitive. I've been spending time sitting on street corners or in local cafes, simply observing the body language and gestures of Indians interacting with one another. There is a very sweet sort of head waggle that I've recently found myself adopting in my non-verbal vernacular. It kind of looks like you are shaking your head as if to say "no", but the smiling eyes quickly betray this meaning. A single sideways nod is also common, and seems to be a wonderfully humble expression of something like, "no worries".
After many nights in a cold tent with hard and uneven ground, I splurged ($18/night) on a hotel with an attached hot shower, western toilet, and room service call button. I've been taking full advantage of all three luxurious features, and soaking up the greenery outside my windows. I also just picked up four new books. Lots of quality reading time is one advantage of solo travel.
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on June 22, 2009 from Manali, India

Quotes I like
"We who live on the outer crust of a planet rotating its way through endless space, belong to the most tragical and critical of all its eras. That is why we must begin to search for its meaning to us. To discover what that is and to reorient our lives accordingly could make the impending era the most blessed of all, but not to do so could easily make it the worst." - Dr. Paul Brunton (first published in 1952)
"Critical rationalism has apparently eliminated, along with so many other mythic conceptions, and idea of life after death...To the intellect, all my mythologizing is futile speculation. To the emotions, however, it is a healing and valid activity; it gives existence a glamour which we would not like to do without. Nor is there any good reason why we should." - C.G. Jung
"What would be the effect of seeking to make love and compassion the measure of our every action, and of understanding, to any degree, the inmost nature of the mind that underlies our entire existence? This would be a true revolution, one that would free men and women to discover their birthright, that inner dimension so long neglected, and unite them with the fullness of the human experience in all its mystery and grandeur." - Sogyal Rinpoche
"A human being is a part of the whole called by us "Universe", a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings, as something separated from the rest - a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty." - Albert Einstein

stuff in my head
Chandigarh, India
It is surprising how comfortable you can get with cars passing no more than six inches from your legs as you try to navigate around the streets of Manali. I've really enjoyed my time here, and have made friends with people from all over India, and also from British Columbia, London, Grenada, Tel Aviv, and San Francisco. The other foreign travelers are almost all at some sort of crossroads in their life that has brought them to India. Some seem to be here primarily because it is a relatively cheap place to exist. Many are simply having a good time, injesting just about anything that comes their way. Others are here for some combination of outdoor recreation and spiritual search. We all know we'll be going our separate ways again very soon, so the walls fall down more easily and people let loose. I've made some genuine friendships in my short time here.
Now, I strike out on my own again for a breif stint in Chandigarh before continuing onto Rishikesh for ten days or so.
Chandigarh is one of the only master-planned cities in India. The contrast is striking. The city was apparently laid out by a pretty famous French guy. The streets lie in a grid pattern, intersected by roundabouts. Almost all of the roads are lined with large shady trees and bike/foot paths. I've hired a couple of bicycle rickshaws to take a tour of the place, and I really dig it. It is so refreshing to ride off of the crowded and dirty street, enjoying the relative calm and coolness of the bike path. That said, it is seriously hot in Chandigarh right now. Somehow, the locals don't seem to bothered by the stifling heat, and I feel like I'm the only one who is dripping with sweat. The disparity of temperature between here and Ladakh is shocking.
I visited the "Rock Garden", which was created by a local artist named Nek Chand, starting in the early 1980's. Unlike it's master planned host city, the garden is a sort of maze of sculptures winding randomly through a park, under the canopy of an urban eucalyptus forest. All of the materials are recycled and manipulated industrial waste, including broken toilets, steel barrels, flower pots, and cement beams. Integrated with this recycled waste are twisting tree branches, lotus ponds, high rock walls, and miniature temple-like structures. Apparently the artist began the project as a hobby while he was working as a road inspector for the city. Today, the Rock Garden is visited and appreciated by huge numbers of art lovers from across the globe.
Bicycle riskshaws in Chandigarh are one of the very finest places I've found to simply watch India happen. You'll silently and slowly pass a man getting a shave under a tree, a woman and her three children sprawled out on a blanket in some abandoned parking lot, another rickshaw carrying a motorcycle (very impressive), or a man sitting cross-legged on a wooden platform with two wheels being pulled by a mule down the street. And cows, of course.
I've traveled to many other places and often thought about how much change has recently occured or is bound to happen soon. Somehow, India is different. I think the way of life here for most people has been, and will continue to be, relatively the same for several generations. While I'm a proponent of progress, part of me hopes there will still be mule carts and cows in the streets in another fifty years. I intend to come back then to find out!
Ancient Native American tribes (specifically the Pueblo Nation) were convinced that without the performance of their sacred rituals, the sun might not continue to rise each day. On the one hand, this makes me wonder if all of mankind has always created some activity or another to legitimize or give validity to their existence. I guess we're all looking for a cause to believe in, something with a deeper connection. Life has meaning if there is some action we can take for the greater good. What if the "sustainability movement" is just humankind's current manifestation of that Pueblo act of helping the sun to rise each day? Maybe we don't need to do anything at all, and life on Earth will go on as it will, with or without my effort or that of the Pueblo people. The idea that we don't actually need to DO anything is a very scary prospect for most. What if the sun doesn't actually need the Pueblo people to help it to rise? What if the Earth isn't actually all that interested in the activities of humans today? That would deflate the spirit of revolution to "save our planet" or "make the sun rise". Perhaps things are going to happen as they happen, regardless of our individual interest in a certain outcome. In this case, I guess we are just left to live free and prosper, like every other species. Life seems pretty straightforward if all we have to do is survive.
This thought pattern could make one feel somewhat hopeless. Then again, some Buddhist masters say that finding hopelessness is the first genuine step on the path to liberation. Is there really that much difference between the "primitive superstition" of the Pueblo people and the mental games we play with ourselves now to justify our actions and our existence? Some people still pray to a (the) higher Being today, believing that their prayers might be answered according to their efforts. Others work to cultivate the God within. Still others choose a path of agnosticism or atheism, deciding that it either doesn't particularly matter, or that this single lifetime is quite enough to keep them busy and content. I say all paths are valid. It is the fruit they bear in individuals' lives that matters. Peace, Love, and Joy are three of my favorite fruits. That's the game of life, and whoever has the most good fruit is the winner. There is an unending cornicopia of possibility.
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on June 28, 2009 from Chandigarh, India

Rishikesh is orange
Rishikesh, India
Rishikesh is orange. Nearly everyone is wearing orange garmets, the cumin-spiced food is orange, the blazing afternoon sun is orange, and even causes the muddy Ganges river to take on a hue of orange. Many buildings are painted orange, the corn is not yellow, but orange, and even my pee is orange from the dehydrating heat of the orange sun.
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Every cell in my body is born, serves its function, and dies. During it's lifetime, each cell remains unaware that it exists within a larger common entity, called "Mark". LIkewise, every person is born, lives a life, and dies. Most of us remain completely unaware that each of us exists within a larger common entity, called "Earth" or "Nature". Personal experience and continued awareness of this fact is the path to peace and freedom. We must remember, as Krishnamurti often liked to say, that "the observer is the observed".
I just had a chai and a smoke with an elderly Indian man who pulled me aside on a crowded street in the Rishikesh market. I recognized his intellect at once, and he explained about how he was diagnosed with schizophrenia, and the myriad challenges he has encountered in life. I was struck by how fragile the balance is in our minds.
He ended up being the only Indian I have met thus far who agreed with my viewpoint that having one family more or less in power since the independence of the country isn't particularly democratic. Like many others I've spoken with, he likened the situation to that of the Kennedy dynasty in the U.S. But, he then proceeded to point out the legitimate reasons why Caroline Kennedy wasn't able to muster a run for the NY Senate seat, and I was flabbergasted. That's the exact argument I've been using. This man looks like the quintessential "average" Indian, but proved to be much much more. It is unlikely encounters such as this one that has formed my very high opinion of the Indian people.
I'm staying with a wonderful family here in Rishikesh. It is nice to sit on my front porch and watch the comings and goings of mom, dad, their three beautiful daughters and two sons, the dog, or one of the two cows (who also roam the nearby crowded streets). It has been very hot here, so the excitement was pointed yesterday when the first rains of this year's monsoon arrived in the afternoon. When it rains during the Indian monsoon, it really rains. The moisture came down in slanted sheets, blown about by the strong accompanying winds. The cooling effect was most welcome after several days of constant sweating. Apparently the monsoon arrives into Rishikesh, like clockwork, just about this exact day every year. How will climate change alter this pattern? What will be the effect on the crops and the economy in this area? Like the mind of the schizophrenic man that I met, our Earth also hangs in a fragile and beautiful balance. We're compromising that balance.
The past couple of mornings, I've been attending meditation sessions at an Osho center. Osho was a very famous spiritual teacher who pioneered many new meditation techniques designed specifically for the modern/Western mind that is accustomed to a fast pace and lots of noise. So, it is very different from the silent sitting meditation I've been doing (Vipassana). This morning we did "laughing meditation", which was, well, hilarious. This technique comes from the Japanese Buddhist tradition. Osho also incorporates techniques from Hinduism, Sufism, Gurdjieff, and others. Kundalini (chakra) yoga, sound therapy, and Tibetan Nadabrahma meditation are others I've sampled and enjoyed while here. It has been most helpful in helping me to BE more in my body, and not only in my mind. And, to further recognize the relationship between the two.
In the afternoons, I've linked up with an awesome personal yoga teacher. His name is Ravi Yogi, and we practice for a couple of hours each day. On my final day here, we'll travel together to meet Ravi's "guru" or "master". He describes his master has a "perfect Sadhu", meaning he has attained full liberation/consciousness, complete alignment with the Creator. Needless to say, I'm very curious and excited. This will happen on the Fourth of July, and I definitely anticipate some fireworks. Ravi describes that his guru lives in a treehouse of sorts in the jungle, completely alone, and in complete harmony with the tigers, leopards, snakes, monkeys, insects, trees, plants, etc. He is 79 years old, and has spent the last fifteen years preparing to go into the high Himalayas where he will live in the snow with the most meagre provisions. He is a modern day ascetic.
It is funny how I stumbled into this situation, and we'll see where the path leads from here. I'm both open and somewhat skeptical, but if this Sadhu actually happens to be God incarnate, I'm not sure I'll be able to recognize the fact. A real life Buddha, perhaps the rarest of all creatures on this Earth. Would you even know if one passed you on the street?
I'm beginning to see the same theme in what I'm reading in a number of different books from Jung, Brunton, Krishnamurti, Osho, and Trungpa. It can be called the "Conscious", the "Overself", the "Observer", the "Mind", the "Great Spirit", among many other misleading names. They all contain the message that the ultimate answers lie within; that there is a higher Mind that, if we become aware of It, is perfectly aligned with all things in all of space and time. This is what I've been calling "Nature", and could also be called "God". It is fascinating that the very best in Western pschology (from Jung) only begins to approach discovering the secrets of the mind which have been revealed among yogis and sadhus and buddhas for millenia in the East. The books I'm reading by James George and Paul Brunton do a brilliant job of relating some of this Eastern wisdom to a Western frame of mind. It is all about knowing thyself. Self-mastery.
I read in the newspaper today that India has grown by 700 million people (roughly twice the entire U.S. population) in the last 35 years. That is what I read. If this is true, and we continue on this path of growth as humans, we're sure to wipe ourselves out as a species. Perhaps this is our destined course, as Nature would have it, to restore Her health from this homo sapien cancer. If this isn't our desired course as a species, it is time, now, to evolve to a higher Being.
Last week, when 221 members of the U.S. House of Rep. vote against putting a price mechanism on the emission of carbon into the atmosphere, I wonder if there is any hope at all. Most of these Congressmen are still finding ways to reason around the scientific fact that humans are changing the natural atmospheric process. They do this because their interests (and the interests of their constituencies) are not preserved or furthered in the prospect of an entirely different economic system that factors in the price of pollution into our market decisions. Indeed, most of industry (particularly big industry)today would not benefit from this potential market shift. Sooner or later, as we continue along our current course, we'll hit a tipping point where enough people will demand a new system. It probably won't all happen at once, and in fact, many people are effectively already living in this new economy that is ready to pay for pollution.
The reaction in India to the passage of the climate bill in the House was that it will harm the Indian economy because taxes/tarrifs would increase for everything that they ship to the U.S. This is because there is a clause in the House bill (which will hopefully be omitted from the Senate version) that sets an additional import tariff only on countries that have not signed an international treaty pledging to reduce their own carbon emissions. Of course, China and India have been arguing that only developed nations which have been contributing to the problem of climate change for many decades should bear the cost of fixing the problem. They view any international climate treaty as a ploy by the U.S. to prevent China and India from becoming the new world superpowers. Needless to say, if the U.S. were to take radical action to reduce emissions, and China and India stay on their current course of economic development, our efforts will be more than nullified. So, the big showdown will be in December in Copenhagen, regardless of what happens to the current version of the House climate bill. This is a global issue. That said, the U.S. must take the lead in bringing about a new era of climate responsibility. It just so happens that the largest and most powerful industries in India and China are some of the dirtiest. This is going to be a fight. Perhaps the biggest fight mankind has ever seen. The "freedom fighters" of our generation will have to warriors of simplicity, spirituality, and sustainability. I've met many Indians who are already living in accordance with this global movement. Now, we just need to find some leadership...
How do you start an organization that helps people to consume less and better by finding contentment and satisfaction from within instead of constantly searching without? The economic proposition: Save money by spending less. The spiritual proposition: Instead of throwing money and consumption into the personal void within, seek peace and satisfaction thru simple living and connection to Nature/the Overself/Great Spirit/God. We'll consume through every last resource on this planet and still not realize whatever it is we're after. What we're really after is beyond the consumptive ability of our body or our mind. We must rise above the desires of the body and the mind to a higher conciousness. You cannot consume your way to the satisfaction of the soul. What are we really after when we buy our third car? Happiness? Status? Who has more happiness or higher status than an enlightened person? We must recognize that our activity of profligate consumption has no endgame. That is exactly what makes it so unquenchable and so destructive. How do you start a business that sells to people's soul? The soul is not for sale. No commodity can cater to it. This would require an entirely new type of economy. Putting a price on pollution would be a good start.
A quote from James George: "Can we change ourselves? Can we wake up? Or is all this talk of 'awakening' a romantic dream? The answer depends in large part on your point of view. If you are stuck with the common view that 'you can't change human nature', then you probably can't, since you assume this to be true. If you think that such a change is easily within your grasp, you will also likely be disappointed in due course, because it is not easy. But if you take a look at the great leaps that have already occurred in human evolution and human consciousness, from the African savannah, through the hunter gatherers to the agricultural settlements and on to our own times, there seems to be no reason to doubt that we are an unfinished species, endowed with some degree of free-will, and therefore with contradictory capacities for both self-destructive behavior and for extraordinary breakthroughs of creative energy and intelligence. As the present expression of this contradiction, humanity seems to be at the most crucial crossroads of its long history: we have the power to make the planet uninhabitable, and we also have the potential for a New Renaissance that would be not only sustainable but would begin to use the 80 percent of our forebrain that we seem not yet able to use today...This means that, if we awaken to the realization that we have to change, we will find that we have the capacity to go beyond what we thought were our limits, as individuals and as a species. If we must, we can. And now, if we can, we must. It is not for us to know the Master Plan...but this just might be it."
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on July 2, 2009 from Rishikesh, India

The Guru
Rishikesh, India
"He who binds to himself a Joy,
Does the winged life destroy.
He who kisses the Joy as it flies,
Lives in Eternity's sunrise." - William Blake
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On the morning of the Fourth of July, Ravi and I set off from Ram Jhoola toward the dwelling place of Ravi's spiritual master. After journeying for perhaps half an hour on a footpath into the jungle, we reached our destination. The guru looked about like you'd expect an Indian ascetic to look: He wore tattered traditional orange garmets, had an impressive white beard, dreaded hair, dark skin, thin frame, very tough feet, and a radiating smile. His gestures were perfectly humble, and he began speaking with his eyes closed, at least until he hit his stride with the message, at which time he could become wonderfully animated. He explained about the number of potential dangers of living in this jungle, including: scorpions, pythons, leopards, tigers, and elephants. Ravi translated that all of the animals and plants in the area were in communication with the guru, and this entire place received benefit from the guru's chanting and meditation.
His dwelling is in a tree. There is a dead tree very near, where the master lived previously until the tree told him that it wanted liberation. He then moved to his current tree a couple of decades ago. There is a thin bamboo ladder at the base that leads to a small platform about fifteen feet off the ground. This is where the guru does his meditation. Fifteen feet higher lies another small platform that is covered with a meagre tarp, where he reads and sleeps. On the opposite side of the base of the tree from the ladder, there is a very simple kitchen consisting of a few pots and pans and three bricks forming a stove.
The entire time we were there, a cooling breeze I haven't felt anywhere else in Rishikesh was always present, making the climate quite pleasant. I asked the master whether he prayed to/worshiped an external God, or if he was cultivating the Divine within himself. He replied that both are very important. Meditation is a time to sit and go completely inward, eventually discovering the higher consciousness within each and every one of us, a Truth that is beyond the mind, beyond the body, and cannot be explained, but only experienced through purifying your lifestyle and putting noble effort and concentration into your meditation practice. He also worships outwardly through mantras which he recites, in an effort to bow humbly before the supreme Creator. He very calmly explained that all faith traditions ultimately point in the same direction, with different ways of trying to get there.
We then spoke about my life, and my conviction to work toward restoring a harmonious connection between humans and our Earth. Ravi translated the guru's response: "Reduce your demand, take only what you need. Why are people so concerned with making money to preserve for their grandchildren, when so many humans are starving and suffering today? Once the rich man's grandchildren are born, they have bad karma on their head from all of those who suffered for two generations at the lack of resources available to them because they were saved for two generations. Do not live constantly looking to the future. The only place to really, truly BE is in the here and now."
Perhaps the biggest takeaway for me from this amazing experience was to realize that each of us already has a guru traveling around with us all the time. It is that source, deep within, that allows us to see beauty in a sunset, a painting, a song, or a child. It is that intangible voice that tells us right from wrong. You could call it your "conscience". You could just as easily call it your "guru" or "master". Whatever it is called, we all know what it is. We need to start listening to it's every utterance.
The other overwhelming lesson for me was to observe, first hand, how this master lived. He very well may be the most accomplished, smart, highest achieving person that I've had the pleasure of meeting. He has mastered himself, and thus, life. From all options available to him, he has decided to live a life of complete simplicity with overflowing service to his community. This is my hero, not Michael Jackson.
Before departing, I touched his feet and received a blessing. I was reminded of the Biblical story of the woman who washed and put oil on the feet of Jesus after he had made a long journey through the desert. That would be my greatest honor.
Oh, and I almost forgot to mention that the guru pulled out an antique radio at one point, which we listened to for a little while. I'll never forget the circumstances of when and where I learned that it will be Federer versus Roddick in the 2009 Wimbledon final!
Stay in the flow, let yourself go. Leave yourself, to become. Where do you go without the ego? Straight into reality, through the door of compassion. It is the only place to be, just be. I've heard some people call this place, "oblivion". They have never been here. Solidify the ego, only to dissolve it into pure consciousness. Allow the ego to grow to that of a King. Then you can enter into a humility that is beyond. Discovering that even the wealthiest and most powerful King is not the highest being, we move beyond materialism, beyond the self, and into pure altruistic service to the Most High. It is possible to expect nothing in return only when you realize that you already have absolutely everything, without a single fear or desire. In this state, there is true altruism, and Ayn Rand was wrong. To pursue this path, your own best interests will be served. But, to complete this journey, to realize the endgame, one must forfeit the self completely, entering into the abyss. Only the empty can be filled up. Only those who know what they're missing can ever hope to find it. So, whenever the flute plays, sway, like the trees in the breeze.
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Is man indispensible for the completion of creation? Or at least for the preservation of his own kind? C.G. Jung says: "Human consciousness created objective existence and meaning, and man found his indispensible place in the great chain of being." In his fantastic final book, Memories, Dreams, Reflections, Jung also recounts his relationship with Sigmund Freud, whom he says was filled with "bitterness". Like Freud, many giant intellectuals allow the exclusive use of the rational mind to lead them to a very dark place in their lives (Neitzche and Rand also come to mind). Perhaps we really do need some "myth" to legitimize our lives, like the Pueblo Indians' ceremony to the sun. There is myth and mysticism in every world religion and spiritual tradition. Instead of mocking the Pueblo for their "primitive superstition", perhaps we should admire their sense of purpose as well as their daily act of reverence for the source of all life. I'd much rather be a mystic than an intellectual. It is in this spirit that I intend to move forward and thrive.
I've grown very fond of the Hindu mythology that my yoga instructor has been sharing with me during our classes. You might say that some Hindus take a literal translation of these myths, while others take a more symbolic interpretation. The same could surely be said of the ancient Greeks or modern day Christians. The myth I'm choosing to believe in our time is a great story of how human beings are causing the climate to change and must discover a more harmonious way of life to ensure our survival as a species. At least some of us need to take a literal translation of that modern day myth!
Tomorrow I set off for the final leg of the trip, traveling to Delhi to catch an airplane to the little-known country of Bhutan. I'll try to update the blog again in a week or so...
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on July 4, 2009 from Rishikesh, India

Bhutan
Thimphu, Bhutan
The two best words I can use to describe Bhutan would be "rarefied" and "idyllic". I was drawn to Bhutan largely because of their unique metric for economic activity (called Gross National Happiness), their status as the world's newest democracy (first ever national election held in 2008), and its reputation as the last surviving Buddhist kingdom set amidst inspiring natural scenery. My expectations were shattered in many ways, and I'll now attempt to relate my observations of these three themes.
I was initially attracted to traveling to Bhutan to learn more about their alternative method of measuring "progress" in the country. They do not adhere to the traditional economic metric of Gross Domestic Product (GDP), but have instead developed their own system, called Gross National Happiness (GNH). Having studied economics and ultimately arriving at a state of disenchantment with the neoclassical mantra of "growth" and "maximizing utility", I've been curious for a number of years to see how GNH differs from traditional methods of measuring economic activity.
My wonderful hosts, brothers and business partners Lotay and Fin Rinchen, arranged a meeting with a senior researcher in the Department of GNH. We shared a fascinating time together in his office that included a long discussion of Mahayana Buddhism as well as conversation of different economic theories espoused by authors we were both familiar with. I very much enjoyed the banter, but came away with little additional understanding of the metrics of GNH.
From what I could gather from multiple sources during my stay, Bhutan is still very much in the process of defining, quantifying, and legitimizing GNH. However, they have held conferences in Canada, Thailand, and one other country I can't remember to gain input and insight from the international community. GNH seeks to go beyond traditional economic indicators to include other factors of wellbeing and progess, including: vitality of a sense of community and connectedness, preservation of traditional culture and folklore, conservation and responsible stewardship of natural resources, individual psychological health (happiness), etc. The term, "Gross National Happiness" was first used by the Fourth King of Bhutan in the 1970's, and it seems the government has been trying to qualify and quantify it's meaning ever since.
As you can imagine, many of these indicators are difficult to measure in a reliable and quantifiable fashion, which results in much of the criticism bestowed upon the approach of GNH. Regardless, I think it is a noble effort at pursuing an alternative path of economic, social, and environmental vitality in a country that has such unique cultural and natural capital.
Up until a couple of decades ago, Bhutan was an isolated land of subsistent farmers who had little education, very limited access to health care, and virtually no contact with the outside world. While the life expectancy has gone from about 40 to 66 in the past thirty years and a good portion of the younger generation is now receiving a western education, much of Bhutan is still living in the past (70% of the villages in the country are still not accessible by road). To some extent, this is by choice. The leadership of Bhutan is currently walking the tricky line between integrating its citizens into the global marketplace and attempting to preserve the traditional culture and spiritual way of life. As I've witnessed the rest of the developing world diving head first into the ocean of consumerism, I expected to be refreshed by a country that seems to be charting a different course. In some ways, I appreciate the ways that the government of Bhutan is choosing to remain somewhat guarded from the way of the rest of the world, but I was also struck by the unintended consequences of withholding certain freedoms and choices from its people. Bhutan was the last country in the world to allow internet and television to its citizens in 1999. Certain channels and content are still prohibited or filtered. I began to realize the potential dangers of a government that decides it can make better decisions for it's citizens than they can make for themselves. This theme was also consistent with my inability to be an "independent" traveler in Bhutan, as only certain restaurants and hotels are sanctioned to cater to foreign visitors. This serves as a reminder that Bhutan is in its infancy of democracy, and I will watch with fascination in the next several decades at what happens to this small country with the expansion of freedoms and rights.
The brand new constitution includes unique provisions for our modern era, including one clause which effectively makes deforestation illegal by stating that at least 60% of all the land must remain under forest cover at all times. Judging by my flight into the country and the roads we traveled along, this clause is in no danger of being violated any time soon. That said, the founding fathers of the USA thought it would take 1,000 years for Americans to populate the entire country, and it took less than 100 years for every square inch of our vast land to be possessed by one owner or another. That is a fact that the government of Bhutan seems to be aware of, and is taking serious measures to try to avoid going down the same resource-destructive path as the rest of the world. In contrast to America, Bhutan is roughly half the size of North Carolina, with a total population not exceeding 700,000. Particularly considering it's precarious geographic juxtaposition between the two world giants of China and India, Bhutan is compelled to remain vigilant in protecting her sovereignty. Resulting from this unique blend of demographic and geographic factors, some level of protectionism and isolationism is justified, in my opinion.
What might be termed "protectionism" is, however, something I took issue with during several mealtime conversations with my well-informed host, Fin. I argued that it could provide a slippery slope toward the unfortunate direction of North Korea or Myanmar if the government of Bhutan leans too far in the direction of deciding it can make better decisions for its people than they are capable of making for themselves. To be fair, the democracy is only one year old, and I think they are off to a commendable start. That said, I'll be happy to return to my expanded rights and freedoms in the good old U.S. of A. Our democracy is about 233 years old, and we've still got some improvements to make as well.
I recommend pulling up a Google image of "Tiger's Nest" to get a feel for the unique monastic life of Bhutan. Some people say that Bhutan holds the purest form of Tibetan Buddhism today, and nearly 100% of Bhutanese people are Buddhist, and their spiritual tradition forms an integral part of the national identity. Mirroring my travels into Nepal and Ladakh, the landscape of Bhutan is spotted with prayer flags, mani walls, mountain top monasteries, prayer wheels, and white-washed chortens. I'll say that the monasteries of Bhutan seem to have a greater number of young monks than the other places I've visited, perhaps indicating a stronger monastic community here.
We visited quite a few monasteries during my stay, and the artwork is definitely among the best I've seen. I saw the oldest gompa in the country, which was established by the famous Guru Rinpoche in the 7th or 8th century. We also visited several dzongs, which have historically served the triple purposes of monastic housing, military fortresses, and government official administrative buildings.
------Other highlights---------
Coming soon in another blog entry...
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on July 10, 2009 from Thimphu, Bhutan

Final Bhutan highlights
Paro, Bhutan
Flying into Bhutan from our stopover in Kathmandu, Nepal, our airplane passed right next to Mt. Everest, which was just about as high off the ground as we were at 30,000 feet! It is absolutely marvelous to see the world's highest point rising out of the clouds from above. The cumulous display was inspiring in and of itself, and the snow-covered peak blended quite seamlessly into the world of the sky.
Soaring over India, you can scarcely spot any land that hasn't been developed. Passing from there into Nepal, there is noticably more forest cover. Continuing from Nepal into Bhutan, you can just about trace the international border by virtue of the almost complete lack of developed land in the remote "Land of the Thunder Dragon".
They say that Paro, Bhutan is home to the lonliest international airport in the world. Most days pass with only a single flight into and out of the country, but some days the air traffic controller works overtime with up to three flights taking off or landing. Fin told me that the official number he saw from the Tourism Authority was that a total of 55 foreign tourists were registered to travel into Bhutan in the month of July! I think there must be a few more than that, but they definitely keep the volume very limited with the exhorbitant expense of the visa to travel here.
Arriving into Paro, the air is rarefied and the scenery is bountiful and idyllic. There is an amazing diversity of flora here, much of it hanging from steep sloping mountainsides. Huge cumulous clouds hang precariously below the mountain tops, unlike any other place I've ever seen. There is a definite fairy tale feeling to Bhutan.
The first day we visited a World Wildlife Fund protected area that is home to the very rare and unusual Takin. Grab a Google image of this strange beast for a good laugh. Apparently the experts have had a difficult time placing this animal in in the same genus or family as any other species on earth. I guess its fitting that this most unique Takin is to be found only in this most unique Bhutan.
The built environment consists almost exclusively of rammed-earth craftsman sytle traditional structures with super intricate wood carving and colorful painting on the trim and window panes.
With their efforts to preserve a unique and traditional way of life comes a myriad of rules and regulations for the residents and visitors of Bhutan. There is a loosely enforced dress code when entering government buildings or spiritual places. Tobacco products are banned, but a black market has (inevitably) emerged. Travel above a certain altitude on certain mountain peaks is strictly prohibited. Etc, etc.
The first night over dinner, Fin gave me the full, long story of the controversy over Nepali immigrants that has somewhat tainted the Bhutanese reputation around the globe. Essentially, it is a very complicated and drawn out affair where the government has tried to verify the citizenship of large numbers of people in the southern part of the country, and several unfortunate mistakes have been made. Many of the people who have been forced out of the country had been living there for several generations, and some of them have actually been discovered to be Bhutanese citizens after living in refugee camps in Nepal and India for awhile. A significant factor in Bhutan's approach to the situation is their fear that Bhutan could easily be absorbed by one of its larger and more powerful neighbors, which happened with the nation of Sikkim in 1974 when it unwillingly became part of India. This is part of the reasoning behind Bhutan's strongly nationalist stance in its regional affairs. Additional factors include the fear that their small government would be unable to provide support services to a rising immigrant population, and the Bhutanese insistance upon preserving their traditional culture. I have found myself growing increasingly frustrated with the ideology of nationalism, as it seems to often times place artificial and harsh separation between man and his neighbor. Can't we all just get along? What ever happened to peace, love, and understanding?!
The second night of my stay, we traveled along a breathtaking road to the infrequently visited Haa valley. Our journey was to Fin's village to participate in the annual "puja" festival, which asks for blessings upon the household for the coming year. The entire village was assembled for the celebration, which included a lot of food, moonshine (rice whisky), dance, and laughter. The monks from the local monastery were there to perform several rituals, including lots of chanting and playing of some way cool musical instruments. Every home in Bhutan has a special shrine room, decorated with Buddhist statues and artwork, where the family meditates, makes offerings, and performs the annual "puja". It was really special to witness and participate in this intimate affair which most tourists remain oblivious to. It was also fascinating to draw certain comparisons with the hill tribe communities in Thailand, where I lived in 2005-2006. They are also of Tibetan/Mongolian descent, and there are definitely some cultural features in common.
The following day we did some hiking around the isolated and most pleasant Himalayan valley surrounding the small village. A dirt road stretching to the village was completed just last year. Fin said that his family has lived here for at least four generations, and beyond that is unknown as there is no written history. Up until the last decade or so, over 90% of all Bhutanese people were subsistent farmers in remote villages similar to this one. There has recently been a flight to urban areas among the younger generation in search of a better education and economic advancement. The government is trying to encourage people to stay in their villages by building more roads in the rural parts of the country to give better access to modern comforts. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that globalization isn't out of bounds, even in this "last Shangri La".
A few words on the monarchy: There have been five kings of Bhutan. K4, as the fourth king is known, is the most colorful and fascinating. He was the first king to take multiple wives when he decided to marry four sisters. Because he's the king, nobody took issue with this break from tradition. He has several children with each, so the royal family has grown significantly in the last generation. The first-born son, K5, was given power by his father in 2007, when he was about my age. This abdication of power was unusual, as K4 was seemingly in his prime with several decades of rule ahead of him. He did so as a precursor to dissolving the absolute monarchy in favor of the constitutional monarchy that was established last year with the first parliamentary vote. K4 also insisted, above the objection of many government ministers, to include a provision in the constitution which easily allows the parliament to dissolve the monarchy if they see fit in the future. Knowing, first hand, the potential dangers of absolute authority, K4 demanded this provision in the case that any future king turns out to be a bad egg and abuses his position of power. So, he is quite the historical anomaly to have willingly given up his power in favor of democratic process. In fact, much of the country was very resistant to this idea, as they were quite happy with his benevolent rule. I can't think of another historical circumstance in which a democracy was created against the will of the people!
A couple of other places we visited were Dochula Pass, with it's 108 chortens, and Chimi Lhakhang (Temple of Fertility) established by the "Divine Madman", an eccentric monk in the 8th century. The alarmingly large and graphic penis images scattered around Bhutan are attributable to this guy. Another spectacular place that you might want to pull up a Google image of is the Punakha Dzong. It is huge and impressive and built right on the confluence of two mighty rivers.
One final tidbit: Bhutan is one of five countries in the world that does not have a U.S. embassy. I'm not sure what the other four are, but I'm guessing that these are not nations you would generally like to be listed with. Apparently, Sen. John McCain and three or four other Senators recently visited Bhutan to discuss the possibility of establishing closer relations. Bhutan is a fiercely prideful and autonomous place, and they don't want to risk being subject to any negative consequences of allying with the U.S. From what I could gather, they certainly don't intend to allow anyone else to tell them the best economic or political or social course into the future. In some ways, I found this attitude to be somewhat abrasive. On the other hand, I admire their determination to control their own destiny, and the staunch efforts to protect and preserve their cultural, spiritual, and natural resources. For many reasons, Bhutan is unlike any other country. It challenged and stimulated me. For those interested, I'd recommend traveling there, and would be very curious to hear of the conclusions you struggle to draw from this bizarre "Land of the Thunder Dragon".
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on July 13, 2009 from Paro, Bhutan

Coming home
Denver, United States
Well, it has been quite the ride. I head for the Delhi airport in a few hours for the long journey home. Arriving back into India after my time in Bhutan was somehow comforting. I guess I've grown attached to the stifling heat and humidity, the complete absence of personal space, and the generally chaotic state of affairs (to this point, a huge roadway bridge collapsed a couple of days ago, and then yesterday the crane that was cleaning up the debris also came crashing down).
It has been brought to my attention by a couple of gentle souls that perhaps I've overstepped my bounds with the philosophical/spiritual content of this blog, which is supposed to be a travel journal. I accept this criticism, and apologize if I've offended or caused an annoyance to any of you. While this might not be the appropriate venue for sharing such personal thoughts and experiences, I get easily bored with simply recounting travel tales. The fact is, I set out on this journey to not only experience new cultures and lands, but also in search of greater wisdom and inner peace. I suppose I'm an aspiring philosopher of sorts, whether or not I belong in the company of metaphysicians and ontologists and meditation masters. I don't pretend to be any of these things, but I enjoy the pursuit of knowledge and truth.
Having spent a good portion of the past two months in solitude (since Katy departed), I wouldn't be at all surprised if my sense of social normalcy and acceptability has diminished somewhat. However, I'd never exchange that for the increased awareness of the reality of nature (or nature of reality or whatever you want to call It) that I've experienced during this alone time abroad. As it turns out, I'm kind of a mystical person. Given the right circumstances, I'm pretty sure we all are. It is my strongest conviction that the single most effective way to participate in the solutions to the challenges that face our world is to go inward, and seek out that unnamable force which transcends our personal and collective universe. If we look, with the eyes of a blameless child, we might catch glimpses of of the impermanent and interconnected nature of all things. Only then can the fullest love and compassion and wisdom become manifest in our lives and in our world. This is our greatest need. This is what we must demand of ourselves. This is the way out of our crises, of which climate change is a mere symptom. What is the disease, the root cause of suffering in the world? I'd argue that it is our greed, our selfish nature, our ignorance of what Paul Brunton calls the "Overself" and what Eastern masters term the "Buddha Nature". If we don't practice some form of spiritual or philosophical pursuit in an attempt to touch a higher reality, it is astonishing what we'll consume to fill the void that remains. A few humans have figured out this puzzle of life. I'll continue to work everyday to join their ranks. That is my career, my life's work. If I have any success, the only evidence will be love. Love is a renewable energy that can save the world. Every one of us is a potential producer. Who will create the Google, Wal Mart, Exxon Mobile, or Facebook of this most precious commodity? If not us, who? If not now, never.
Well, there I go again, forgetting this is supposed to be a travel blog! With that, I'll sign off. Be in touch.
Peace and Love!
written by  Katy and Mark Lewis on July 14, 2009 from Denver, United States

Taj Mahal

Gandhi figured with the Prime Ministers who preceded him

Home of the Prime Minister

Lodi Garden

Women picking weeds

Islamic Cultural Center