hominid

Namaste,

The following conversation is, are was, were conducted by little people. Everywhere.

Hi, I'm a hominid. Really? You're taller than Lucy.

Yeah, I evolved. I learned how to stand up. Yeah, ya gotta stand up. Before you can walk you have to crawl. Yeah. Before you can run you have to walk.

She was a midget. Barely three feet. Didn't last long. Poor thing.

I'm hungry. Have some fruit. Delicious. Seen any wild animals around here? Yeah, grunt grunt. Big teeth. Hungry.

Find a tree. Climb fast. Keep your mouth shut.

It's a jungle out there. Eat or be eaten.

I eat to survive. Oh yeah. I survive to eat. 

That's life.

Metta.

Learning Curve

Namaste,

Being a student is a tough assignment. 6th and 7th grade. English, religions of the world, history.

He walks through the monsoon now, sooner or later.

I am not your mother, father or nanny.

Pay attention. Stay on task.

Focus on student production. Request feedback.

It's not how long you are here, it's the amount of work you do. 

Coming down.

Welcome to the tropics. Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller.

..."One walks the streets knowing that he is mad, possessed, because it is only too obvious that these cold, indifferent faces are the visages of one's keepers. Here all boundaries fade away and the world reveals itself for the mad slaughterhouse that it is. The treadmill stretches away to infinitude, the hatches are closed down tight, logic runs rampant, with bloody cleaver flashing."

Student ideas. What do you want to learn? How will you improve your English and general education?

Learn how to feed yourself.

Metta.

Transition

Namaste,

He received an offer to be a student in a private school in Laos. 82 days after applying from Nepal. High to low elevations.

She spoke specifics. Grade 7 history. Grade 6 social studies. They need to understand more of the world.

He said, it's a small world. Let's paint it. She said, bring your palette. We provide paints. Students need to understand more of themselves, our small significant way in the world. Yes, we do. Thank you. 

He shifted from Cambodia to Laos. A prop jet in clouds.

He sits near the Mekong. Deep, wide and fast. Ride a bike through mud. Delicious. Follow your bliss.

Engage, study, activate.

Metta.

Animist

Namaste,

The chunchiet animist people of Ratanakiri in remote northeast Cambodia bury their dead in the jungle. Life is a sacred jungle.

Animists believe in the universal inherent power of nature in the natural world. The Tompoun and Jarai, among many animist tribal people in the world have sacred burial sites. 

This is the Kachon village cemetery one hour by boat on the Tonle Srepok river from Voen Sai. The River of Darkness.

It is deep in the jungle along the river. You need a local guide and a translator speaking the local dialect.

The departed stays in the family home for five days before burial. Once a month family members make ritual sacrifices at the site.

The village shaman dreams the departed will go to hell. In their spirit story dream the shaman meets LOTH, Leader of the Hell who asks for an animal sacrifice. The animist belief says sacrificing a buffalo and making statues of the departed will satisfy LOTH.  It will renew the spirit and return it to the family.

After a year family members remove old structures, add two carved effigies, carve wooden elephant tusks, create new decorated roofs and sacrifice a buffalo at the grave during a festive week long celebration with food and rice wine for the entire village. 

Metta.

 

Calibrate

Namaste,

Years earlier I meditated on my equilibrium one hot humid Asian day standing in disparate lines waiting for my visa to be validated by a boy soldier armed with an M-60 in the third world.

He had ammunition to spare and the 90-day firearm waiting period was not in effect. His background check bounces. If he is lucky he eats rice three times a day.

If I am lucky I will get through this transformation, derivation, metamorphosis alive. I will emerge on the other side chanting my mantra, ‘Om Gate Gate Paragate Parasamgate Bodhi Svaha.’ 

His bloodshot eyes checked me out as he rifles luggage. He found a mirror. He saw his destiny. Death by starvation. He slipped it into his pocket giving me a sullen, apathetic, malnourished stare. He needs it. My supply is infinite. 

He pointed at my battered typewriter, “What’s that?” 

I smiled, handing him shredded greenbacks.

He opened my passport to a visa page from the Hanford nuclear reactor in Washington State.

It reads, “Passport - Total Exposure System. Radiation Work Permit.”

I am allowed access to non-radioactive areas with an approved dosage of 10 mrem/hr in general areas. My stay time is 500. Radiological conditions allow me 1K of Beta Gamma and 2 mrem of Alpha. I wear a dosimeter badge to monitor my dosage in high/high-high radiation areas, contaminated areas and airborne radioactive areas or particle control areas. 

His well oiled weapon waves me on.

Metta.