2012 reprise
Part 1: Lost in paradise
“…paradise I’m living for each and every day…” Jorma
Each
day I find myself in the practice of the wild, roaming the trails that lead
away from my hut. The broader landscape can be defined by three temples, Zongtopelri,
Shakshang, and Darchen. Darchen is the oldest and I have only reached it once
with my class 8A. It sits on a mountaintop at the base of high pasture land
that rolls out towards Yangtse and Arrunachal Pradesh. My only memory of this
place was my students running free like characters from the Sound of Music in
the illustrious green of July on the massive pastures. Shakshang is about two
hours below Darchen and is quite old perched on a second peak with views in all
directions. I took a student with me to talk to the lama about the horrible
trash problem at this remote temple. Today I discovered a fourth temple at a
village below Darchen where I serendipitously encountered some class seven
boys. They are “farm kids” and let me in their tiny bare board temple, housing
dozens of holy texts wrapped in cloth and sandwiched between wooden blocks.
What secrets are contained in Sanskrit obscured from my limited western mind? This
tiny settlement is where the new road ceases. They are planning a new temple to
replace the old one and I felt honored to be perhaps the only westerner to step
inside this site. The kids prattled on about monkeys and leopards while an
elder served me tea. The temple was full of holes that were clogged by cow
dung. The sun sank low and I descended to Zongtopelri the newest temple located
only twenty minutes above campus. In between these sites are more minor
temples, ruins, and wilderness broken occasionally by fields and farms. Most of
the locals I meet on the path are out foraging or harvesting from the “jungle.”
One beautiful woman I met on the canal (speaking no English) merely breaks up
rocks all day with a tiny hammer. In rural Bhutan everyone seems to know their
place. Society consists of family and neighbors which make folks accountable to
one another. Where do I fit in? The huts and farmhouses seem built in to the
landscape or at least in some unified space. On the eastern or dry side the
river snakes through an uninhabited wasteland. Up high is the domain of ravens
and wind, Blue Mountains Walking shoulders hunched to the sky and toes dipped
into the glossy river. Below Kinney a giant phallic shaft presses its head into
the tight crease of the river and ejaculates in cream rapids. On a chorten a
stone engraving depicts deities making love in the lotus position. Yin and yang
is the coming together of male and female around the natural universe. Hard
wood enters the mossy cave, birth, death, growth, and decay. Nothing is immune
to the sprouting mushroom not even the mighty ego of man.
Mine
is a small corner of the Himalayas which stretches for thousands of miles
connecting various cultures, countries, and religions. On the other end of the
chain Afghans and Americans blow each other up. (What business does the U.S.A
have in the Himalayas anyhow?) My part
of the range flows down from Tibet and into the hinterland of Northeast India
eventually crumbling into the Burmese hills, an odd locality for me to find my
heart home. The world is a vast place and endlessly diverse. Being a creature
of habit (or a habitual creature according to Phuntsho) it was hard to step out
of my comfort zone when I sailed off to Korea five years ago. I was wounded in
love and running away but ultimately happened upon a new world. That new world
was the city of Seoul and its neon jungle and vast subway system, a pulsating
vibrating Asian metropolis. I briefly
found companionship with a lovely Korean woman who I met through the internet.
The lesson here is that anything is possible and now I bounce deep into the
Blue Mountains finding love again. This time my connection is with Sister Earth
as my radius expands beyond identity. But wherever I go I must contend with
myself and my baggage accumulated from too many laps in samsara. ANXIETY is my
teacher but I don’t want to learn the lesson. You ain’t gonna learn what you
don’t want to know, right? While I am
slipping away into the dragon’s gullet my clan gathers at “home.” Tyler tells
me he accessed Bobby’s lair (TRI Studios) for an intimate performance. Wow my
bro and hero sharing the same space! That ten thousand course meal seems
delightful compared to steamed rice. I am ONLY 1 + 9,999 and I hope the vacancy
outside my celestial hut absorbs all the pain of this life and transmutes IT
into peace. MAY PEACE PREVAIL! I know my head will always be a runway for
demons but at least I can be the air traffic controller. For now I must sweep
DESIRE under the rug especially the NEED for a mate. In the stillness inside
Zongtopelri a voice told me to stop seeking and that I would be found. But as I
veer off the trodden path I wonder WHAT will find me? Perhaps solitude is my
price and as I mentioned earlier I owe the universe (friends, family, and
government) tons of currency. Holding on tightly has made me sick and I can’t move
on until I let go of the past. I’ve heard it said that love is the greatest
possession we can have, but maybe we are ONLY possessed by LOVE. And if that’s the case love can mutate and
oscillate but not dissipate. (Love is like water) Perhaps I could love myself
and be a better teacher since I have been notoriously greedy for my share while
not sharing with others. This is my LOT in life standing naked on a ridge
straddling the void.
(Sympathy For The Devil Interlude)
While sitting on a rock between Zongtopelri and
Shakshang Lucifer rode up the trail on a ruby pitchfork. His body resembled a
small dragon but his face resembled a bearded human with wavy black hair. He
had an onerous charm and was draped in a crimson robe. He hovered next to me
soaking in my aura for awhile before vaporizing into charcoal mist. From our
intimate encounter HE struck me as confident in his clout with the HUMAN RACE
as a subversive deity who always evades destruction by working closely with
MAN. It’s only natural that MAN would identify with a fallen angel rather than
enlightened BEINGS. I remained on the rock watching a RAVEN frozen in the jet
stream for ten minutes before it tumbled left gliding towards India.
Part 2: Oddball Endings AKA It’s Up To You OR
everything I needed to know I learned in Bhutan
“Love is a service done” Kimock
I
love Bhutan but things do frustrate me as you already know. For one thing my
salary is always more than a month late. The exam process is also irritating
since the students are not allowed to use their names only index numbers and
both the making and marking must follow a specific format. But if the author
adjusted his attitude these things might not matter so much. Last night I felt so exhausted, and
exasperated I turned in at 7. I awoke at 7 the next morning to magnificent
golden light coating every molecule. So I got up and got to work cleaning and
marking. The best advice I can give myself and new teachers here is to be
proactive when the system gets you down. It’s hard to believe I’m so resistant
to things after a whole year which is one reason I need another to gain
perspective. We had a whole hour of
water today so I frantically scrubbed my stove, did a wash, and prepared lunch
and SPECIAL TEA. Eating regular meals always helps my head instead of Kit
Kat’s, Coke, and Cheese balls. You must stay friends with yourself and keep an
internal ally when the going gets Bhutanese. Luckily the landscape doesn’t give
a damn about my ups and downs and always IS. I had a good day letting my
negative thoughts float away like a red balloon rising to the sky. Sensing my
frustration Meena (from BCF) reminded me to be courteous and patient and I
reminded myself to smile throughout any difficult tasks.
I
enjoyed reading Reidi’s article for her hometown newspaper as she is an
exceptional writer. You can find the piece on the BCF blog page. I echo many of
her sentiments about the travails and triumphs of teaching in Bhutan and
believe we had similar boarding schools and experiences. I would have liked to
get to know Reidi better but in Bhutan we are all spread out so far. She is a
remarkable woman who strived to find success for her students in the classroom
each day. Kudos Reidi for a job well done and I wish you Tashi Delek in your
next adventure! Speaking on behalf of my colleagues we all enjoyed personal and
professional growth this year, and for some of us it was our first year in the
classroom and/or traveling abroad. Those 2013 teachers who might follow Tiger
through the neurotic jungles of my mind may think Bhutan is a harsh place. I am
melodramatic and outrageous in my complaining and each journey into Bhutan will
be different. I hope all go in with fresh eyes and take this blog with a grain
of salt. On the other hand I hope my rants have been informative in some way. The
truth is I am thin skinned for such endeavors but have learned something of
myself throughout this academic year. If any 2012 teachers are reading this
THANK YOU for all your help and inspiration…And Vicky sorry for spilling the
beans early about Africa J
Back
at Zongtopelri the miracles of the elements unfold in a configuration we call
life. Rinchen Wangmo grinds chilies into powder while kids play at her bare
feet. Pine needles fall to the ground as a raven shows off its aeronautical
prowess. I sit on a rock with the blues missing things I don’t really need. But
the panoramic view provides solace and for a moment I forget who I am, eyes
cast down to a carpet of russet needles bathed in bullion light. One moment
free from thought sparks an expansion of consciousness same as death. WHY BE
AFRAID OF SOMETHING BILLIONS OF LIFEFORMS HAVE EXPEREINCED BEFORE? I crack my
billionth Coke in paradise and take a swig of the real thing. I am like an
advertisement for the stuff and even Becky and Vicky have consumed more of it
around me. Upon descending little babes who can barely speak yell Mr. Tim
before cackling and retreating. I poach a free meal of pork at the mess and
recall Becky’s tale of a Brokpa dragging half a cow carcass up a muddy trail.
NOONE EVER ADMITS SLAUGHTERING THE BEAST SINCE THAT WOULD BE NON BUDDHIST!
Darkness finds us early as the winter solstice creeps nearer and night can be
lonely and cold. THE HUMAN CONDITION IS LONELY ISN”T IT? Yes it is but that’s
okay too as I am left to sort through my bag of karma. For instance what is the
penalty for destroying one love and abandoning another? And what is the toll of
fear, anger, jealousy, and hate? AIN”T NO TIME TO HATE BARELY TIME TO WAIT.
Negativity spins its own psychic wheels with their own propulsion and momentum.
When we spin the prayer wheels we reverse course taking a moment for reverence.
WHAT ARE YOU THANKFUL FOR? I am thankful for all of YOU reading this nonsense
and for being placed at Tsenkharla.
Ten Things I’ve learned in Bhutan (if not put into
practice)
1.
Be patient with culture, students, and self
2.
When you fail don’t get discouraged and try again
3.
The kids (although shy at first) are the best in the world
4.
Be polite and graceful with the locals/ Don’t destroy the culture
5
Laugh at yourself whenever you can
6.
Don’t rock the boat, work from within
7.
Always inform your principal La where you’re going
8.
Love Emadatsi
9.
Make a good friend at orientation, your gonna need them
10.
Enjoy the ride!
Part 3: RATBOY
REVIEW
“Storyteller makes no choice,
soon you will not hear his voice, his job is to shed light, not to master”
Terrapin
Time might be on my side, but it’s running
out on this academic year. I am sifting through computer issues and slowly
knocking out the drab task of entering grades. I still have hours of paperwork
and entering data before the task is done. Exams in Bhutan are tedious and take
up half your calendar. I am also trying to clean up and pack for vacation and still
have not set a date for departure and am facing some logistical complications. You
will just have to take my word that I finished my first year teaching and am successfully
on my way towards Paro to meet my family. Clouds have recaptured the mountains
and the forest continues to shed its leaves. The trails are unusually quiet
with little harvesting or foot traffic. Even the birds have migrated somewhere
except the presence of a vocal raven on a pine bow. Class Ten students remain
engaged in two weeks of examinations that will dictate the rest of their life.
A few will go on to free college while most will return to villages or enter
the workforce. The ones who don’t pass the standard can attend private school
for a hefty price that most families can’t afford. Boys study outside my window
on the sill at 4 A.M with blankets wrapped around them and three Indian
teachers from Mongar, here for invigilation, are sleeping in my home classroom.
The flowers have died except a few hearty roses and geraniums and the nights
are hazy with no stars in sight for the foreseeable future. It’s time to move
on. There is not much going on in the village but I enjoy sitting around Sonam’s
shop eating rice with Dooktoe and the village children. In these easy silences
I feel a part of something and not such an outsider.
Back in Marin Bobby graciously recorded a
video message to me from TRI. My bro’s phone cut out after five seconds but I
did get, “Oh. Hey. hi Tim, I hope you’re enjoying Bhutan…He was very animated
with a cool wave, and his eyes lit up and he smiled when
mentioning Bhutan! Here’s my brothers account,
Bobby saying Hi to you and hopes your
enjoying Bhutan.
the
BRUTAL part is that my phone died RIGHT after that (5 seconds long), but i
pretended to keep filming as he went on to tell me that he has always
wanted to go to india and bhutan and that he hopes you are finding lots of
adventure there. I told him that you want him to bring scaring the
children there and he laughed.
off
camera i also told him that we call you ratboy, and when i asked if he wouldn't
mind saying hi to you in a video, he asked if he should call you ratboy?
i said no, Tim.
I am deeply grateful to both my brother and
Bobby for the message that filled my heart with joy. I am also satisfied that I
am fulfilling my hero’s aspiration and now must go to India.
SEE YA!
Here is a poem I have resurrected from June
and combined with “Tawny Moon.” I can’t believe some of the “raw” poetic material
I have posted most of which should never see the light of day. Let’s call them
works in progress…
Wasteland
The
four winds blow
on
an erect white flag
carrying
a scrap of Sanskrit
down
tawny terraces
over
the Dagme Chu,
where
the Guru’s hinterland
reveals
a bare lotus
with
exposed folds
pulling
on the surface
of a russet shaft
now spurts the silver river
meandering
creamy liquid
sloshes pyrite sand
MOVING
through a wasteland
pondering
palisades on crags,
and the ring of mountains
crowned by clouds
(Note to
self if selected for BM double space as a means to create airiness between the
lines)
Tim, beyond awesome that you got a message from the Bob-Star! Your posts are a pleasure to read and often contain, for me, as timely and awesome a message as yours from Bobby. Thank you so much for the effort you make in keeping up your blog. It rocks!
ReplyDeleteJulie