Monday, September 14, 2015

One a Day: Fading Pleasures...

The monsoon is retreating after a long wet summer with bird, bat,and bee smothered in the foamy tendrils of the aquatic Leviathan . So many things have taken place and I'm ripe for the unsolicited changes that have come upon me since we last met. Summer Break was intense spending days in the company of other foreign teachers on an epic adventure that I won't elaborate on here. I'm typing on an unfamiliar keypad on a computer lab portal so I'm sure things are a bit rusty. The sun made an appearance scorching Piet and I as we descended the barren slope between Jangphu near the Indian border down to Kinney in the lowlands. We had set out from Sep traversing in and out of secret forested cirques near the clifff face of Omba Ney. In a lush pocket we heard the dolphin like clicks and whistles of little black monkeys with tufts of white fur and red markings on their faces. They played in the canopy bounding through the broad leaf treetops above tree ferns and other shimmering green species indicative of sub tropical east Bhutan. Past three water driven prayer wheels whose bells tolls for our ears alone or perhaps music to the ears of lowing cows munching on sweet grass. The spring emerges from the rocky mountain driving the paddles in a revolution that causes the bell to ding with each turn. The water is pure crystal and cold when splashed on a weary sunburnt face. DING! Further eastward the forest turns to stout oaks with many large boulders covered in luxuriant mosses and strange lichens too. The limbs of these trees branch out in strange gnarled formations due to villagers cutting branches overtime which are replaced by peculiar offshoots. These trees have been logged for centuries never killing the root but causing a manicured fores of ancient oak. (A whiff of feces drifts through the lab window) This is the easternmost forest running through the border into Arrunachal Pradesh but we stopped at the Bhutanese checkpoint for some crackers and chocolate. I pointed out a soaring regal bird with serrated wings that Piet said was a black eagle. This summer I was almost carried off by swarm of bees on more than one occasion and up at Brong La was almost crushed by a falling branch during the crux of the monsoon in July. Strange images from the last months drift into my head with too much to tell.
Maybe I should share about teaching and my ongoing struggles amidst my improvements. It was a foggy afternoon that I lost my patience screaming at the kids in 8B and even writing the Guru up for copying homework. Now Guru Wangmo is the epitome of simplicity, in fact they don't even make them like her anymore and this archetype is a dying breed in the Kingdom. How Guru incurred my wrath was a myriad of circumstances that at times seems beyond a teachers control. It all began when I was delivering a lesson and students were sniggering and not listening which caused me to blow my top. The problem is any underlying issue in my own life might just bubble to the surface in a classroom setting. All has settled down but the harder I work this year (And it has been a breakout year for me) the more frustration mounts from the countless interactions and policing that an educator must do each day. It sucks me dry although I still love the students! 

The day I returned from summer break my computer wouldn't fire up and the loss of this forum especially has been hard on me. I'm not sure what readership remains but TIAT is my best friend allowing me to spew my feelings as they come. Now I'm emotionally constipated compounded by the mist and mold of the pervasive monsoon. Although my love for this place and people deepens as the journey continues there is also a feeling of fading pleasure which is a necessity. My days have been spent slogging through muddy trails especially on my mountain proper and I've slept the last two months in my own bed in my cement box.  Shit! the bell rang so I guess I didn't get far in updating you and sorry for the rusty muddled words but the tiger staggers on.

1 comment:

  1. Sheesh, Timmers. Can't speak how much I miss you. Images of Yellowstone keep appearing to make me smile and miss you all over again. I hear your growth. You are becoming adept at the balancing act; juggling life's opposites and keeping the spinning balls in the air. AND your writing is VASTLY improving, despite lousy spelling and punctuation. eecummings would be proud. Seems to me that Spirit knew what it was doing when it sent you to Bhutan. It feeds your soul like perhaps no other circumstance would. Gives you purpose and meaning. But that doesn't diminish how much you are missed at home. Washing you in love until I can hug you in person again. Stay healthy! I LOVE you!