The Hero with a Thousand Faces

Greetings,

"Artists are magical helpers. Evoking symbols and motifs that connect us to our deeper selves, they can help us along the heroic journey of our own lives. 

"The artist is meant to put the objects of this world together in such a way that through them you will experience that light, that radiance which is the light of our consciousness and which all things both hide and, when properly looked upon, reveal. The hero journey is one of the universal patterns through which that radiance shows brightly.

"What I think is that a good life is one hero journey after another. Over and over again, you are called to the realm of adventure, you are called to new horizons. Each time, there is the same problem: do I dare? And then if you do dare, the dangers are there, and the help also, and the fulfillment or the fiasco. There's always the possibility of a fiasco. But there's also the possibility of bliss." - Joseph Campbell

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Metta.

A memory travel story

Greetings,

A Cambodian orphan said the NYT was looking for stories from readers about their worst travel experience in 2010. The kid suggested I send them a memory. Here it is.

This year was all about first class travel. While climbing into a volcano in Iceland it blew up.

I was blasted into the stratosphere where, fortunately, my cargo pants offered me ballast. The jet stream meandered over Europe in incredibly clear skies because there were no planes. Then, south of Yemen, the air pressure dropped and I drifted toward the Mediterranean. Using my polarity navigation device I located a highjacked Russian cargo ship loaded with weapons and landed among Somali pirates. They were very cordial.

We sailed the seven seas. Eventually they transferred me to a Turkish boat heading for Israel. We were forced to divert to an unnamed northern port where I hitched a ride with a camel caravan going to China. We visited markets in Bukhara, Samerkand and eventually reached Kashgar on the Silk Road where we traded with local merchants.

Over butter tea and tsampa (a hard rock cheese) Tibetan traders invited me to Lhasa, so we drove yaks to Shigatse, and then Lhasa.

From there I walked to Yunnan before crossing into North Vietnam to help Black H'mong friends in Sapa harvest rice. Laos was next door and the northern rivers connected with the Mekong, so I sailed south into Cambodia where I volunteered at an orphanage.

I told the kids this story and they were amazed to learn about volcanic activity.

Metta.

Elevations

Greetings,

From the HatSa river zone to Phongsali at 1430 metres is a twisting 20K dirt road ride. It is cold and delicious with splendid mountains. It reminds me of Dali and Lijiang in Yunnan and Tibetan landscapes.

At 5 a.m. loudspeakers blare a mantra from a bare tree. "Welcome to a new day in your eternal mindfulness..." This continues forever. 

Mountains and valleys are shrouded in early clouds. The old town rocky paths feature Tibetan and Chinese red wooden homes made from bamboo, straw, packed dirt, wood and cement plaster. "Modern" homes are cinder block. 

This is the simple complete rhythm in a northern tribal zone of human energies peaceful laughter inside language music.

In the market village women lay fresh green veggies on banana leaf mats.

• A woman chops chillies, a mother hauls water.
• A woman puts on her bright yellow socks.
• A woman tears lettuce leaves for her steaming noodle soup.
• A woman sells crabs wrapped in banana leaves.
• A woman unloads her heavy head yoked woven basket filled with greens.
• A woman carries her world on her back.

In slow motion I meet many children. We draw the chalk alphabet on cinderblock walls. We sing and dance. They sing, You are fool whether you dance or not so you may as well dance. 

Metta.

Flowing North

Greetings,

I take a long slow boat north tomorrow to Nong Khiaw and overnight. 

The next day another slow boat north floats to Muang Khua. Then a five hour bus to Pongsaly. In this area are diverse ethnic people. I will trek, explore villages and meet the Lao Sung people before returning south by river in early December.

I imagine there are similar yet distinct ethnic qualities and traditions with the Hmong people I met in Sapa, Vietnam last year. Nomads are nomads. 

Live Forever!

Laos...read more>

Metta.

The Pitch

Greetings,

The buzzer buzzed. Yes? Your 11 o'clock is here, said a voice. Send them in. 

The door opened. My secretary entered. This is Mr. Red Shirt and Mr. Yellow Shirt, she said. Thank you that'll be all, I said. I shook hands with the men. Welcome. I am Mr. Chandler. Have a seat please. Mr. Red looked at Mr. Yellow with distrust and suspicion. It's ok, I said. They put their machetes away and sat down.

You have five minutes, I said. Give me your pitch. Neither spoke. They were waiting for the other one to open his mouth. You have four and 1/2 minutes, I said. They stared at each other. You first, said Mr. Red. No, you first, said Mr. Yellow. I waited. 

You have four minutes, I said. Mr. Red Shirt broke the silence. Ok, he said, here's the pitch. It's a split fingered fastball over the inside of the plate. That's a metaphor. We propose a weekly...NO! screamed Mr. Yellow Shirt, not a weekly, a daily soap opera drama.

Ok, said Mr. Red Shirt, a daily drama. Whatever. It's a series about money, power, control, greed, corruption, love, betrayal, and political and social issues in a country with a king. The king is very old. Younger people behind the scenes with everything to lose and nothing to gain run the show.

Yes, said Mr. Yellow Shirt, that's good, so far. It's a docudrama about the conflict between rich and poor people. Stupidity vs reason.

I listened. You have two minutes. Mr. Red Shirt said, Yes. It's about a Red Shirt hero who works for an ambulance company. He rescues a Yellow Shirt woman who's been attacked by a group of Red Shirts in an urban jungle war zone.

Yes, and then? I asked. Mr. Yellow Shirt said, She comes from a very wealthy and influential family. She has a change of heart because of the violence. Through the daily drama she comes to empathize with the plight of her hero. They fall in love. This creates new conflicts.

You have one minute. Wrap it up, I said. You go first, said Mr. Yellow Shirt. No, you go first, said Mr. Red Shirt.

You have thirty seconds, I said. One said, It's a struggle for equality. We've got the girl, the hero, soldiers, politicians, the Red Cross, millions of extras and direct distribution of television and film rights for Asia.

Good. Anything else? I said. Mr. Red Shirt and Mr. Yellow shirt looked at each other. Just one question, they said, When can we start shooting?

Our people will call your people. Thanks for coming in, I said. After arguing who'd take the first step they left.

The buzzer buzzed. Your 11:10 is here. Show them in. 

Metta.