Yes, that is a star in the branches. ---- to your notes on Gratitude. ---- Getting up, starting that day, this day, thinking about that -- what more to be thank full for? What more, to be given to me -- that richness of things -- that does that, says that. "Here, it's for you." But I note, actually, that a lot of your writing is walking around this -- it's in the patterning of your speech, transcribed. Here are some thoughts on that. Speaking of patterning. Gratitude, the word, ends here:...

Indian Journal How beauty, full -- the people. i ask you: really, what could be better than watching -- and photographing, the people? There's nothing more fascinating for me -- than the people. And in India, and surely in Bhutan, there's something to the character of who these people are -- what vitality they have -- what they bring to the most onerous and difficult tasks -- the hardest ways of living. And living well, in the context of those challenges -- living enthusiastically, in...

Indian Journal It works. Somehow. It does. I've wondered about that idea about the collapse of some civilizational virtues; it all falls apart. But being in India -- and at points, Bhutan, you see in a way how it works, even with power shedding, collapsed plumbing, wiring breakdowns. Somehow, it's still working. I wondered about that -- being out there, and seeing technology being so minimally effective. It works sometimes, then it doesn't. With or without, either you make it work, or it...

Beginning now. Just after 4.00am, here in Delhi. Haven't picked up a new mail in several days -- due to the annoying habit of this computer / emailing system wanting to rebuild every single mail from the last month. But, in about 24 hours, I'll be back. warmest, all -- t | delhi | india

Indian Journal In a way, these two images say something of what the opening of Delhi felt like for me -- physically, emotionally. Hot, disconnected, out of focus -- slightly poisonous. Dizzying and entirely disorienting. India(ns) 11.03 The character of Delhi is: heated mirage wavering, rippling human meshed labyrinthine buoyant crying exuberant begging foetid enthusiastic con ridden fragrant dust bounded silent and clear(for a moment) terrifying. Meanwhile, great birds -- raptors -- wheel and...

She | 11.2 | Paro Dzongdrakha Gompa  We see things, those remote places, and decide it's worth climbing to them, exploring them. And if you look out there, to virtually any vista, there's something tucked up there, attached in some precariously sited temple or monastery. What I find particularly compelling, in this sparse setting - of people - is that you find them in the oddest places. That they will come, these people, sauntering out of the woods in the most remote settings. You'll be out...

Blessings | His Holiness Je Khenpo On the day of our departing, there was a massive blessing ceremony by the one person whose relationship to the King of Bhutan is on an equal. This is His Holiness Je Khenpo. Arising early that morning, prepping to head out, there was a series of bellows coming from across the valley that either were some bull roaring conquests, or...alternatively, Bhutanese prayer chanting, that deep bi-chordal sound that the monks make in their deepest intonations. I'd asked...

We'd gone to a massive ceremony celebrating the presence of His Holiness Je Khenpo, this, actually, being at the end of the trip, the end of a day so long and filled with experiences and adventure, that I'd thought really -- both: "why not?" "But, how can I?" There was something awry to our connections there -- Tsewang, the guide, had negotiated with the leadership guarding the entryway into the sacred space where HH Je Khenpo was intoning his lines of  prayer; and there was an entire litany...

Bhutan Journal I've been thinking about the concept of the stair. You go up. You go down. There are the two ways; there's not much else. One path, ascension. One path, descent. I'm finding myself being focused on that, the movements of the steps -- in either way, up, or down. It's all a part of that notion of procession. I proceed upwards, or downwards, there's some kind of magic to it. There's some kind of mystery to it. Every step. And there have been so many, in the last while -- the last...

Bhutan Journal The Treasure Revealer at 7 Years of Age. His Holiness | Terton Drukda Dorji What length, these days. What breadth, in experience. Beginning at 4.30am, climbing to Taksang, being the first there (on the most spectacularly auspicious day), summiting above that edifice, coming all the way back down after 7 hours -- and then driving high (again) into the mountains once more, to explore this other place, a monastery long closed to the public for the day, now -- working and studying,...