Asian Nomad

The True Nature of Freedom

"Whenever government becomes destructive of these ends (life, liberty, pursuit of happiness), it is the right of the people to alter or abolish it, and to institute a new government."
Declaration of Independence of the American Colonies, 1776

Even among people who identify themselves as 'anarchists' there is disagreement about what 'anarchy' means. This disagreement comes about because 'anarchists' are 'free thinkers' with a diversity of opinions. From their conversations, an outsider would at least conclude that they were talking about 'freedom' in one sense of the word or another. Thus, there are misconceptions about the meaning of 'anarchy'. The word is used in both positive and negative contexts. Some people hold the image of an 'anarchist' in their mind as identical to the image of a 'terrorist'. In today's world of Orwellian 'double-speak', it is important for the 'anarchist' to define his beliefs carefully less he be labeled a terrorist who wants violent overthrow of government. Yet, 'anarchy' is the most common political philosophy when it means 'freedom' FROM labels, conformity, coercion, authority or domination. Most people in their right minds want the absence of these 'negatives'. Since this essay has to at least talk about government, (the gorilla in our living room) we will apply the definition first proposed for 'anarchy' in the 1910 Encyclopedia Britannica:

"the name given to a principle or theory of life and conduct under which society is conceived without government - harmony in such a society being obtained, not by submission to law, or by obedience to any authority, but by free agreements concluded between the various groups..."

I don't want the gorilla whose name is 'Government' in my living room. I certainly don't want that gorilla morphing into King Kong raping my sister on the couch. I clearly remember the image of King Kong climbing around on one of the Twin Towers in one of the many 'nightmare' movies Hollywood has fed us. The 'conditioning' of our society appears to have been 'total'itarian. As the gorilla has grown, I also want to expand on my basic definition of 'anarchy' from the 20th century and flesh it out for the 21st century:

"The basic tenet of anarchism is that hierarchical authority -- be it state, church, patriarchy or economic elite -- is not only unnecessary, but is inherently detrimental to the maximization of human potential. Anarchists generally believe that human beings are capable of managing their own affairs on the basis of creativity, cooperation, and mutual respect. It is believed that power is inherently corrupting, and that authorities are inevitably more concerned with self-perpetuation and increasing their own power than they are with doing what is best for their constituents. Anarchists generally maintain that ethics are a personal matter, and should be based upon concern for others and the well being of society, rather than upon laws imposed by a legal or religious authority (including revered laws such as the U.S. Constitution). Most anarchist philosophies hold that individuals are responsible for their own behavior. Paternalistic authorities foster a dehumanized mindset in which people expect elites to make decisions for them and meet their needs, rather than thinking and acting for themselves. When an authority arrogates to itself the right to overrule the most fundamental personal moral decisions, such as what is worth killing or dying for (as in military conscription or abortion), human freedom is immeasurably diminished."

Critics of this definition would quickly point out that there is no agreement between people anywhere in the world -- and there are now almost 7 billion of them. How could they ever agree about anything? Those people obviously need 'elite' leaders who can make the decisions for them! Those who accept this definition would quickly respond to the critics that government has done a good job of 'dividing and conquering groups of people' and that at no time in history has this been more true than now. Looking at modern society, I could not agree more. Our so-called 'elite' leaders have done nothing more than create a system of government that serves their own elite interests. We, the people, are in a sickly, truncated, stunted, state of mind (some would say mind control) so that we are slaves to 'belief systems' -- our own and those of others (how the elites want us to believe in their authority). Especially in the U.S.A., The State of Mind that governs us imposes constant negativity and mistrust while demanding obedience to an authority that has become dictatorial and power-mad. Its economic masters have conditioned us to accept a 'dog eat dog' world where other people can only be our competitors and where our very bodies are poisoned by the food and environment we live in. Yet, the people (or correctly, the herd of sheeple they have become) have come to 'believe' the shackles that bind them actually sustain them. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Mahatma Gandhi was a successful 'anarchist'. His non-violent challenge to British imperialist government is an example of the promise of 'anarchy' when 'anarchists' cooperate. Of course, governments would have us believe that 'anarchy' is a recipe for chaos. They may be right when the people in question behave like a herd of sheeple ready to run here and there at the first sign of danger. It is easy to use 'wolves in sheep's clothing' to frighten the masses into accepting more and more authority to protect them from their real, imagined, and manufactured fears. This 'terrorization of the masses' is a government PSYOPS program that has come out in the open since the 9-11 event. Understanding Orwellian double-speak, of course, the government calls it a 'War on Terrorism'. Actually, it is a 'War on the Consciousness' of the masses. It is a program that has been used in the U.S.A. covertly since the country's inception and overtly in recent times.

"We cannot be charitable when the state takes our 'surplus' (through an illegal tax system). We cannot share when the state steals from us to give to someone else (our government's export of jobs to other countries). We cannot be peaceable when the state prevents us from protecting our own lives (through its use of FEMA, the Blackwater private army and local Gestapo thugs to ethnically cleanse cities). We cannot learn how to interact with each other when the 'law' gets in the way (where our rulers are above the same laws used to suppress us). In short, the state and any other force wielding organization cannot deliver what they promise. This much should be obvious to all. We can be more generous, sharing, and caring by being allowed to do so. Until everyone realizes that, we will never have the prosperity, peace and freedom that we could have."

Successful 'anarchy' didn't begin in the last century with that 1910 definition in the Britannia Encyclopedia. Its roots go much deeper. As a system NOT based on lawlessness but on self-governance through observance of natural laws of cooperation, its beginnings can be traced back to The Ancient Way of Taoism. The philosophy of Taoism and Anarchy share a central premise. That is: "Only, natural, uncoerced, voluntary action is acceptable." I can think of a good example -- the Quaker life of voluntary simplicity. I graduated from undergraduate and graduate institutions -- both founded by Quakers and if there is any form of Christianity in my life that I still respect, it is this simple lifestyle of living within one's means and sharing with others. Produce and consume no more than you or your family need. Any restriction upon natural and voluntary action causes disorder and chaos. It is the result of government intervention and intrusion upon people's natural behavior -- Fascism by any other name! However, this force carries the seeds of its own destruction. These seeds have grown to ripened fruit ready to be harvested in the U.S.A.

A second premise shared by Anarchy and Taoism is that everyone has a right to defend one's ability to live. Life is only 'free' to the degree that one is free to act. Government's restriction of this right is not acting in a natural way. The self-rightenousness of our government's recent laws restricting 'freedom' is a perverse morality enshrined with dictatorial power. The government wants to give itself the 'freedom' to be above all laws while making slaves of the rest of us to these same laws. Nowhere is this more evident than in the U.S.A.'s growth into a Fourth Reich. It is a modern-day rule of the Pharisees.

A third premise of 'anarchism' and 'taoism' is that all governmental 'constructs' are shabby replacements for what would happen if we the people were free to act in our own behalf. Instead, the people who join the government become its servants -- they exist to perpetuate The State of Mind Control over the rest of us. Politics itself is UNNATURAL. It is a process whereby we give up our power of self-governance to an appointed 'nobody'. The State swallows these 'nobodies' up and converts them to 'corrupt' Little Men (Petty Tyrants) who rule over the rest of us. We have no one but ourselves to blame for swallowing this 'scam' and allowing them to feed off the rest of us as a leech does upon its host. The very definition of the word, 'politician', in its original Latin is revealing: "many blood-sucking creatures".

We MUST NOT fight back with violence. That is what the U.S.A. State of Mind wants. It is what they are conditioning we the people for. Our slaughter would be their harvest of our blood! They are certainly prepared for this -- read here. A protest march doesn't work. Maybe a nation-wide strike would. For those who do not want to hurt other people yet become free, the last avenue left to us appears to be a Gandhian struggle. We need to follow the example of people living in Vermont who want to secede from the so-called union. If this can be done peacefully, then it is a road well worth walking down. It didn't work the first time around but it's always worth another try! One can remain 'American' yet free oneself from government at the federal level. At least, it is one small step in the right direction. Sheeple are not bred to fight back but are just led to the slaughter by those 'wolves' among us in sheep's clothing. Don't let them decide your future.

Weapons are meant for destruction, and thus are avoided by the wise. Only as a last resort will a wise person use a deadly weapon. If peace is the true objective how can one rejoice in the victory of war? Those who rejoice in victory take pleasure in murder. Those who resort to violence will never bring peace to the world. Therefore the wise person says:

I do nothing, and people become good by themselves.

I seek peace, and people take care of their own problems.

I do not meddle in their personal lives,

and the people become prosperous.

I let go of all my desire to control them,

and the people return to their natural ways.

Balance

"Balance is a state of being, a state of calmness and extreme stillness amidst the chaos and turmoil that passes itself off as being the ‘true’ reality in which we live. Like a tornado, which weaves its chaotic magic by creating destruction, devastation and imbalance with and within everything it touches, so too does man. Like a tornado has its inner peace - the eye of the storm - so too has Man. The centre of every storm is absolute peace, pure stillness and utter calm - complete balance amongst all the surrounding chaos. The centre of Man is no different. We need to find this inner centre, this inner balance, our own area of absolute stillness to avoid living in our own and everybody else’s chaos. A storm is only one example of how Nature shows us where and how we can find this balance, this space and inner peace of pure tranquillity."

People meditate in various ways -- there are as many techniques as there are spiritual disciplines. They all promise the practitioner this state of inner peace. I find it is harder to reach the harder you try, or the more 'serious' you take yourself as a meditator. For me, personally, life is about 'state of play'. I 'd rather meditate upon the state of flight of a butterfly -- call me a dilletante, I won't mind. We shouldn't get 'hung up' on methodology -- whatever works for each individual is OK. However, we should realize the goal of meditation. If we don't know what we intend then what is the rationale of disciplining the mind to achieve it. And, if we don't recognize it when we experience it, then all of our meditation has been for nought. For myself, I accept the above described goal -- call it balance. Given this goal and understanding it as inner peace and tranquility, it should be obvious that we'll never realize it by becoming caught up in the 'whirlwind' of worldly affairs -- the rat race of the modern lifestyle. It's easier to define what balance is not than what it is. Our own planet is not balanced -- our axis is tilted over at more than 23 degrees. Is it any wonder that we feel unbalanced ourselves? I find the idea of balance easiest to understand on a bicycle. I have owned at least two dozen mountain bikes, many of them self-designed and put together in a do-it-yourself Chinese bike shop, and I've ridden them up and down hills, across streams and fields, through the mud and rain, on and off the road, and, around the countryside near Mae Sot in Thailand. I often followed the Moei River, the border between Burma and Thailand, as the river does its 'snake dance' -- sometimes near the road, sometimes not. I practiced 'balance' this way and got some exercise, fresh air, and sunshine as well. I don't think I could manage to find 'balance' at the top of an occult mountain, or pyramid, of occult bullshit! I think I can handle a 'simple mantra' -- but not that 'secret' stuff! It sounds like someone just wanting to play 'hide and seek' with bags of garbage to me.

Reflection

Some of us may not be able to meditate and may find it does not serve us as well as it serves others. Each of us should determine what it is that works for us; be it meditation, listening to music, painting, writing, poetry, walking the dog, being in nature, or whatever it takes to allow us the opportunity to 'switch off' and reach that 'daydream' state of contemplation that may allow our 'inner tuition' to find its voice and be heard. The more we try to go inwards the harder the journey becomes. The natural path is the opposite of the way we have been taught to succeed in life. We are constantly taught to try harder, in sport, in the classroom, and in performing. Going within is all about 'not trying' and this is alien to our upbringing. Trying is the way of the ego and intellect -- it prevents us from finding out more of our heritage and worth. The more we try and meditate to go inwards, the more we block the process, which is why we need to find what allows us to reach that state of contemplation for ourselves. Anything which can manage to switch off the influence of the mind, ego, or intellect, will allow our inner self to communicate better with our conscious mind unopposed. Our inner being is constantly communicating with us, but because of the chatter and noise created by the mind and the intellect and the outside reality, we tend not to hear the message. It is a question of tuning out the mind and the external noise and tuning instead into the inner voice. This takes time and perseverance and it may take a while before we find what works best for us. For me, dream yoga works -- though, I find myself startled into wakefulness at all times of the night. Dreams can also become polluted with the 'seep-through' sewage of other peoples' minds. Those messages from the so-called subconscious, or undifferentiated sea of unconsciousness made up of 'what other people around the world may be thinking' while we are not focused on our day 'dream' can be just plain confusing. Sometimes, if they are out of balance themselves, or just plain crazy, we may find their 'thoughts' disturbing. Well, there it is -- that tornado, or 'whirlwind'. It is on the inside of us at times as well. We should try our best not to get caught up in it wherever we encounter it! Peace is in our heart when we are relaxed and home in our own immediate environment. Get realized and grounded in your own 'being' -- that is where it's at!

First, I've already lived out of the U.S.A. for 27 of my 56 years, almost half of my life. So, I have been slowly growing out of my birth nation-matrix for some time and, for me, 9-11 was not so much of a surprise but more of a symbolic warning of major changes for the Western world on the horizon. I unconsciously managed to be 'home' for it, having returned to the U.S.A. with a Nepalese wife. Readjusting to life in the U.S.A. after more than 15 years gone was more of a shock for me than 9-11 itself. Shortly after the event, I returned to Asia, which my heart identifies with more, but followed by a reawakened sympathy for my American siblings. The sympathy only goes so far, though, as I've spent a lot of time on the internet backtracking the events which contributed to 9-11 happening.

Plenty of people have done this and the ' bullshit' we believe about American culture is slowly being scraped off of the painful 'truth' of our society. I suppose it is beneficial in some ways, kind of like a colon-cleansing for a nation -- but, none too pleasant to observe! Yet, there are Americans still not ready for a 'cleansing' who continue to play the 'blame game' -- they are probably in line for further shocks to their belief structure in the future.

"Hierarchical civilization is based on just this (the idea that someone gets hurt, but it's not us), something so simple, hurt, power, the repression of meaning (truth) and the evasion of consequences. The Latin root of 'evade' means to 'walk out' on." (An Indigenous Perspective by Juan Santos, July 31, 2006)

So, I ask myself whether or not I am another 'walk out' on the situation -- isn't that what an ex-patriate is? I answer: both -- yes and no. I started out in my youth as just another 'dumbed-down' American patriot -- I enlisted of my own choice in 1972 in the U.S. Navy and served as a communications technician in the U.S. Naval Security Group. I was very impressed upon the completion of my schooling to be sent to Washington, D.C. and remember my oath-taking for a security clearance in an N.S.A. office overlooking the Pentagon. Pledging to keep the nation's secrets has been an initiation for many fools into the illusion that we actually have a government. That illusion of being one of the initiated into a special group takes a lot of us in hook, line and sinker! Waking up from that one has taken some work. I was on a U.S. Naval frigate in 1973 in the Red Sea -- reminescent of the USS Liberty in the Mediterranean Sea five or so years before. The story of what happened that day when the USS Liberty was bombed and almost sunk has never been investigated by the U.S. Congress even after repeated requests by high-ranking military officers. When push comes to shove, it's usually the politician who has his knife in someone's back -- almost always someone supposedly expendable. I don't plan to become 'cannon fodder' for such as the likes of our country's 'puppet show' leaders.

Many people have criticized George Bush for remarking that the 'Constitution is ONLY a piece of paper' and some have reacted in the same way as people who've been offended by flag-burning protests. (Here) I remember all those little American flags on cars shortly after 9-11. People are really attached to those little pieces of plastic! While in Thailand, on the border with Burma, I've witnessed the local police burning the rags of homeless/parentless street children. Their reaction is like mine -- none! They live without shoes and only have the clothes on their back. They are not attached to possessions or the lifestyle of an American materialist. A flag is 'ONLY a piece of cloth'. The piece of cloth can never be a living contract between people and those they designate to manage some of their affairs. I think our present government is, in reality, just another corporate entity. The law on this, of course, is hard to find. It's like a maze of string hopelessly tangled into a ball of monstrous lies and deception. You can pull a piece of string out of it this way or that but never get to the original agreement. Actually, in hindsight, George Bush is probably right.

"The Constitution has no inherent authority or obligation. It has no authority or obligation at all, unless as a contract between man and man . And it does not so much as even purport to be a contract between persons now existing. ... Furthermore, we know, historically, that only a small portion even of the people then existing were consulted on the subject, or asked, or permitted to express either their consent or dissent in any formal matter. Those persons, if any who did give their consent formally, are all dead now. They had no natural power or right to make it obligatory upon their children."

I've pulled on this legal ball of string and come away with a few pieces -- Social Security and the IRS are probably both scams to steal our money and we've probably been under marshal law for most of our lives. I've lived in two countries under marshal law and now know how to recognize it when I see it.

Of course, since 9-11 happened, everyone has had to play the 'blame game' -- was it our own government, was it a Zionist conspiracy or part of the Illuminati's One World Order plan? And, of course, we won't know until we can 'follow the money' trail or examine the evidence not divulged by our government. Take your pick! I find it is a puzzle not so all-consuming as it was at first. I have worked as a 'mystery shopper' and once for a security company belonging to the ex-Chief of Police in New Orleans but I am neither Sherlock Holmes nor Dr. Watson. I can only conclude it is ALL part of the same 'ball of string' -- pull on it any way you choose and you'll come up with another piece of string. It's kind of like the new super-string theory model of the universe. Even Stephen Hawkins, who recently asked the question 'How can the human race survive the next hundred years' admits he doesn't know the answer.

"Few realize the extent to which society is manipulated and controlled by unseen forces. So much of what we know is programmed and indoctrinated into us by unseen forces .... at an early age, that many people do not give any thought to why they believe some of the things that they believe." (From the Introduction to Jewish Persecution: Tool of the International Zionists' Plan for World Dominion, by Jackie Patru)

So, we could consume the time left to us by trying to discover who the hidden manipulators are or we can get on with our lives. It is each individual's choice -- unless you're a reborn Sherlock Holmes or a professional colon cleansing therapist, I'd suggest you observe the world's evil in small doses. I am reminded of this daily as I am a teacher in contact with the reality that children live in. It is a challenge not to further indoctrinate them into the system that wants to consume them. I am lucky that I have lived in a simple farm house with Burmese children -- it keeps my perspective honest. I have more to learn from children than the English language I teach them. They are not yet programmed with the Western mindset's search for id-entity (the entity people identify with their basic being and its nurturance). They just are. Society is an idea completely foreign to a child's experience of life. As a teacher, how could I ever approach my students with the horrors of Western civilization that I'm growing out of?

"No teacher openly tells a room of school children, 'success means destruction, ... and in our culture (western) means death.' (Yet) the most conscious elements of humanity (get) this deeper message -- often at great personal cost: not only that the Bomb is evil, or that slavery, conquest and genocide are evil, but that this way we live is a way of death, in its entirety." (An Indigenous Perspective by Juan Santos, July 31, 2006)

So, to finally answer my own question -- am I just another 'walk out' on the situation? Considering that I was never given the 'truth' and asked to sign a contract with the corporate entity now masking itself as the government of the U.S.A., I don't consider myself so much as a 'walk out' but as a 'walk on' as in 'keep on truckin'! I choose not to participate in a society that is intent on dying instead of living . I don't accept the rules of the games I was taught to play during my upbringing -- I have new peaks to climb and can't afford to let the 'bullshit' weigh me down too much! If others still want to become mesmerized by the sideshow of American politics or the lies fed daily to the 'sheeple' still consuming them, so be it. I finally don't feel responsible for relating to them indefinitely. If that makes me an ex-patriate, OK!

"In tribal times, there were the medicine-men. In the Middle Ages, there were the Priests. Today there are the lawyers (our modern day Pharisees). For every age, a group of bright boys, learned in their trade and jealous of their learning, who blend technical competence with plain and fancy hocus-pocus to make themselves masters of their fellow men. For every age, a pseudo-intellectual autocracy, guarding the tricks of its trade from the unitiated, and running after its own pattern, the civilization of its day." (Woe Unto You Lawyers (2d edition 1957) by Fred Rodell, pg. 7)

I've worked as a lawyer's personal assistant and as a court reporter, including transcribing proceedings of Grand Jury hearings, and observed our 'great' legal system from its bowels -- more colon-cleansing needs to go on there, for sure! Not even the world's brightest lawyer could be cognizant of the some 60,000,000 statutes now on the books -- even if he or she spent their entire life studying them. Yet, ignorance of the law is supposedly no excuse in the court -- what a sad joke! The only way I would become a patriot again is with a 'real' contract between myself and those I would delegate authority to for the management of the affairs of government. I don't think that will happen in my lifetime unless there is a genuine American war for independence against the world's banking system, usury and the people who would 'own' the collective soul of my birth nation-matrix. The cult of 'national secrecy' would have to be destroyed totally for this to be possible. The American people would have to eradicate the corporate entity that masquerades as our government. With my present understanding, I would only identify a 'true' American as a native American Indian -- the rest of us are 'interlopers' at best, and genocidal marauders, at worst. I have no stomach for the destruction of the cancer that the American government is. I have studied alternative medicine and work to prevent disease, not react to it with death-dealing drugs or radiation instead of a healing therapy. I was never born to be a surgeon -- and emergency room trauma surgeons are the only ones equipped to do the job. However, it is possible to build a new society from the ground up, as a new Phoneix arises from the ashes of the old. That's our most probable future, sobering though it is.

"In the most coherent and morally consistent of the indigenous prophecies -- that of the Hopi nation -- it is said that during the Time of the Purification, a brave person will stand up and demand of the rulers, 'you profit at the expense of all life. Come and pay your debt'!"

I am not a debt-collector. Yet, the American government's public debt will become unmanageable before George Bush leaves office. The government has already pledged half of our country's land -- mostly in western states -- as collateral for this debt. The debt-collector has his eyes on this land (see map above). If you live there, you might want to do some research on land titles. When the debt-collector comes knocking on the U.S.A.'s front door, I don't plan to be there. The debt collector looks like a Fascist to me. Good luck!

"A true patriot defends the country in which he immediately lives and works in. This country is spelled with a little "c", as in countryside. Taking care of one's friends, families, and neighbors, as well as the land they all share that supports them, is the highest of all patriot duties. If the land area that you live on is free, happy and prosperous, then you have done your duty to the world, and no more is required of you." (True Patriots, Are There Any to be Counted? by Patrick Mooney)

Kathmandu to Kanyakumari

I remember well the year my father died around 20 years ago. I was studying in India and staying at the Prem Nagar Ashram in Haridwar, U.P. (north India). I was out of touch with my family so a letter from my mother informing me of his death didn't arrive until a month after he had been buried. I am still surprised at how calmly I dealt with it at the time. I suppose I knew all too well that 'death' is not the end of experience. It is just a door to the next one we get to have. There had just been a cremation at the ashram and I had witnessed several up close and personal deaths of friends in a south Indian village. I finally learned how to deal with from the Indian youth who befriended me in that village. Death held no great surprises or mystery for me. I am surprised by people's antics to avoid dealing with this experience. Some of us even erect a 'cult' around it (in worship of it?) as though any one of us can avoid it by practicing a ritual. I guess most people are stupid enough to fall into the delusion that we need to 'obsess' about anything. It's like riding a roller coaster and trying to stop it at the top of that highest point before it goes on -- in delay of the end of the ride (not that 'death' IS the end of the ride). I don't know. Many people compare a sexual orgasm to death -- even calling it 'the little death'. I believe there is more satisfying experience to be had there (read here). The way my father died could make me superstitious, I suppose. My grandfather died from a hit and run driver while out for a walk. My father died while on duty as a paramedic in his community's ambulance service. I don't want to be the third generation that dies in a similar fashion so I don't drive anymore and ride bicycles. This is no guarantee of survival but we miss too much of life when we go too fast. I finally visited the graves of my father and grandfather -- but not until at least 10 years after they were buried not far from Thomas Jefferson's grave. That's not bad company -- may they rest in peace upon the hill of Monticello just above Charlottesville, Virginia.

This trip began the year after my father's death and was a result of my own relationship with a Nepalese family that had also lost its father. When I first settled in Nepal and was staying at another ashram, I asked the people there to put me in touch with any needy family they knew about. I was directed to help one family with five children. It was a good time to help others. My father's insurance money had been released and my share of it was used to help this family for a year. I made several trips to India but this story is about the one I made together with Upendra (the middle born son of four) to visit the village, T. Andipatti, in southern India where I had studied for my B.A. I thought we could visit the southernmost tip of India and also the beach at the village of a Tamil friend. We also managed side trips to Calcutta (visiting another ashram) and Puttaparti in Andra Pradesh (visiting Sai Baba's ashram) with my school's Indian center director. We stopped in Bangalore on the way, spent some time in Patna, Bihar and finally returned to Nepal across the Bihar-Nepalese border.

I had spent a lot of time with Upendra. His older brother went with me on the first trip to India up to the Valley of Flowers called Hemkhund. He wasn't able to go to the top, though. The heights gave him nose bleeds and I only spent one night at 15,000 feet before coming back down. Upendra and I later trekked to Gosainkund (that story here) and also through Langtang Valley up to the border with Tibet. But, this was Upendra's first trip with me -- he was around ten years old then and is a young man now. He spends his time sculpting statues of Hindu gods and the Buddha, for sale in Kathmandu. His younger brother, Rajendra, was one of my best students and now directs his own N.G.O. (online here). I remember a lot of treks from Nepal -- after all, I lived there for 9 years. This was Upendra's first and only trip away from home and he was very excited after listening to the stories of his brother. Of course, there is no train from Kathmandu. Perhaps, there will be one day but travelers must either fly in to the capital or travel by bus to the Indian border. I don't remember where we crossed the border on the way south but I do remember the return crossing in Bihar. We would have had to catch a train somewhere. But, we did travel to Rajgir in Bihar. We visited a local nature cure center where I had earlier studied and took a ride on the local cable car that overlooks the surrounding hills. Pilgrims go to Rajgir -- mostly Buddhists and Hindus, and most of the Buddhists are Japanese. Upendra and I walked to a small hotel for Japanese tourists. Of course, it had a private bath house attached. Indian pilgrims went to local springs for their holy baths before visiting the temple.

From Rajgir, we would have had to take a bus to the nearest town with trains heading for the south. I don't think we went through New Delhi but our next stop would have been Bangalore where I wanted to visit with my friend, the director of my school's Indian center. From there, we traveled to Andra Pradesh and visited the ashram of Sai Baba. This was my second trip there and my first with Upendra. Sai Bab's ashram is also an educational institution for teachers. So, you could think of him as a teacher's guru. Many words about him have been written but you have to make your own visit for your own experience. Back in Kathmandu, when I worked at a local Nepalese boarding school, I was surrounded by a family of devotees -- some of Sai Baba, some of my guru, some of his brother. It helps make a strong sense of family. If any one place in Asia is close to being the 'Heart of Asia' I could nominate Kathmandu -- at least some of the time. It may be that this 'heart' moves around a lot depending on where one's attention to devotion to the truth wanders. That has been my experience, anyway. Sai Baba, though, remains centered in one place and doesn't travel much. I find I can't do that -- it doesn't work for me but I respect his ability to stay in one place and teach those who visit him for that. That is not my guru's path. He travels around the world at the invitation of his students and flies his own jet. A lot of his messages are nowadays delivered via the television. I am not sure the use of technology to teach a spiritual lesson is going to remain the way to go much longer. The truth is that each one of us finds our best teacher in our own way -- it can be whatever you want to identify it as. You just have to remember that the ONLY source of this experience is YOU -- the experiencer. Don't get lost in external illusions!

From Bangalore, we went south. We stopped at my old home in the village and went on to Madurai -- temple hopping, so to speak. A side trip to Nagercoil from there led us to the beach where we spent a lot of time in the water. There is not much people write about being by the sea. One either worships the waves or not. I would like to make my home living on the sea if it were possible. I have even looked at jobs teaching on cruise ships. Too much hedonism in that, though, and what would I learn from the experience? So, I keep returning to lonelier places -- I'm retreating from the world. I hunger for an inner solitude that is not polluted by the whirlwind of wordly events. Why let yourself get caught up in all the garbage that gets swirled around (to understand what I mean, read this article). I remember telling my students about the islands of plastic garbage that spread across the Pacific Ocean. It didn't stop them, though, from littering our school grounds with the plastic containers of the junk food they're still attached to. The best vegetarian food I ever ate was at Sai Baba's ashram. When I return to Chengdu in 2009, the second best food I've ever eaten, cooked by Buddhist nuns, waits for me in a temple there. I look forward to eating there again. Just now, I am fasting and don't want to think about food too much.

Kanyukamari is the southernmost town in India. It is on the tip of the country and not far from Sri Lanka. A small island with a temple devoted to Vivekananda sits there.

I haven't had a better experience of the power of that experience of inner solitude that I mentioned above than in a single chamber of this temple. It is called a meditation room. The visitor may stay there a few moments alone and feel an energy that is truly 'spiritual'. I'd like to live within that space but the pull of the world is like a giant whirlpool in the ocean just outside the temple doors. It is time for people to start realizing the temple I am speaking of is the human body itself. Too many of us are living lifestyles that pollute that temple. It's hard to imagine the 'disrespect' for our natural being in all that modern culture would have us do. Maybe, it is time for someone to pull the plug on that whirlpool and let all the garbage drain out of the ocean's basin -- or at least, that is one way of visualizing it.
Dhane, January 7, 2009

Part Three -- Chinese Trains

I began my love affair with train trips as a very young child. I was born in New Orleans, Louisiana and lived most of the first three years of my life there. However, my father, who was only in New Orleans to complete Baptist seminary school, soon returned to his home in Virginia and took his young family with him. His father, my grandfather, was a train engineer born in Charleston, West Virginia and he spent most of his life aboard locomotives pulling trains across the state of Virginia. My grandfather in New Orleans, on the other hand, was a lifelong bus driver. I reserve Part Four of this story to be dedicated to him -- my favorite person when I was a small child.

After my family moved to Virginia, I would travel by train to and from New Orleans each summer with my mother. It still amazes me that American trains have not become more developed. Of course, locomotive technology has changed little over the years. I remember seeing many American locomotives when I was growing up that are almost the same as China uses today. There are few American super trains like there are in China, Japan, or Europe. Americans continue to travel by car and pay higher and higher prices for their gasoline. A train trip across China, however has become a convenient form of travel -- cheaper than flying and, at least in theory, more comfortable than being crammed into a cylinder that speeds through the air. Returning to Thailand, I decided to try the train trip and compare it with the flights I took when coming to China.

I left Yanji, the capital of the Yanbian Korean Autonomous Prefecture in Jilin Province, on Friday, April 25th -- bound for Beijing. My train left at 1245 and arrived the next day in Beijing central railway station at 1130 for a trip of almost 24 hours. As I waited for the train to arrive in Yanji with other passengers I looked out of the train station window at the main road running through the city. I couldn't say I was going to miss the 'browns' and 'grays' of the city -- a mixture of ground colors not yet become 'green' with spring and a sooty, overcast sky. Yanji is not a big city by Chinese standards with a population of around 350,000. The city heats its apartments individually -- each with its own coal-burning furnace to centrally power the system of radiators built into the tall and imposing tower blocks spread across the city. There is a 'glut' of housing empty on the market yet new apartment complexes seem to be the city's only growth industry. I won't wonder too much about the future of the Chinese housing market. The collapse of the same in the U.S.A. may be the future for China if they ever run out of enough population to fill all those empty apartments. Apparently, that doesn't seem to be happening at present. Because of this over-supply of empty apartments in Yanji, rents are probably the most reasonable in China. An apartment is still expensive to buy and most peasants, or farmers, living within city areas containing original housing do not receive enough money from the government when their land is appropriated for more buildings to ever dream of owning an apartment.

Traveling by train in China could be a comfortable way to travel. I had bought what is called a 'hard sleeper' ticket. This means each compartment of a train car has six beds -- three each to a side. The beds come provided with a pillow and cotton quilt so sleeping on one was comfortable enough for a good night's rest. The only difficulty is in getting up into that top berth. Yes, there are hand-holds and foot rests built into the compartment but you can't avoid stepping on someone else's bed to get to your own. Once you have managed to squirm your way like an eel into that sleeping space, it is 'comfy' indeed. Just, don't plan to climb up and down too many times during the night to visit the car's toilet. Yes, it is a typical Chinese 'squat' toilet, and, no, toilet paper is not provided. You must furnish your own supply. Toilets are only allowed to be flushed between stations because the excreta ends up on the railway bed between the rails. I don't want to imagine the train tracks across China -- an ever-lengthening brown trail of residue. It does make one wonder if any poor farmers collect it for use on their fields. It is, after all, the most common human resource that goes neglected around most of the world. So much for social taboos!

The next experience on the train trip not to be avoided nor forgotten is feeding oneself. Most Chinese travelers who know about the food cooked on the train and its cost opt out for bringing their own food. Each rail car has its own constant supply of hot water so many people bring along their container of instant noodles and soup. It is a constant 'slurping' of noodles with chopsticks that one hears as the traveler makes his or her way through the car. There is at least one dining car on most trains that have sleeper cars. Eating there is more expensive than taking a meal from the cart that winds its way through the cars -- selling a meal of rice, several vegetable and meat dishes, and an assortment of drinks. Most simple meals sell for 15 Yuan, or about $2. I ate once in the dining car, ordering from the Chinese menu without knowing what I was going to get. I ordered the most expensive item on the menu, figuring it would be good food. I ended up with a gigantic baked fish -- head attached -- that could have fed three people. I was able to pick at it and I must compliment the cook. It wasn't that bad if you like sweet sauces. However, if you are a smoker, you are allowed to smoke in the dining car. Unfortunately, for me, this was my biggest complaint of the whole trip.

The kitchen in the dining car is a good example of an economy of work among the railway staff, cooking food for hundreds of people, and loading it up on carts for delivery throughout the train. At least, the food beats most airline industry food -- unless you fly Business or First Class. You can drink yourself to death on a Chinese train, too, if you want to. And, I noticed not a few Chinese passengers working on that goal. The other -- not a few -- Chinese seemed hell-bent on smoking themselves to death. Yes, there is a no-smoking sign in the railway cars. Smokers must go to the end of each railway car -- hypothetically in the closed-off area around the toilets and between the cars. The problem is that this area is hypothetically closed-off. The doors between the railway cars' interior sleeping compartments and these areas around the toilets stay open. There is a constant stream of passengers going back and forth between cars -- some to the toilets, some to other cars or the dining car -- and the doors never stay closed. They have open ventilation grates in them anyway! All of the windows and doors are constantly locked and can not be opened for any fresh air. This is to prevent littering of the countryside through windows and, hopefully, to prevent travelers from jumping off the train. However, the result is that second-hand smoke soon makes its way throughout most of the compartments and there is no respite from having to share the 'dirty air', so to speak. Yes, I know that smoking bans have been recently enforced in public spaces in and around Beijing to create a favorable impression for the Olympics. I heard that reported on C.N.N. when I was back in Thailand -- nice news but not true! This ban doesn't seem to apply to trains across China, though.

On the good side of this report is the behavior and work attitudes of the railway staff. There are at least two staff for each car, including a conductor. He or she collects everyone's tickets and provides each traveler with a plastic card for their berth. Your ticket is returned at the end of the journey to be collected at your destination. The train staff were polite, helpful, and very patient with an assortment of impatient or rude passengers that I saw. They periodically clean the cars, sweeping and mopping the floors, and probably spend most of the nights awake in their tiny cubicles where they can sit but never sleep. They were awake at all hours of the night, locking the toilet doors as the train stopped at each local station, unlocking the doors for boarding or departing passengers, and generally being very efficient at their work. I don't envy them their job. I can imagine the scenes at local railway stations this past winter when many people were traveling through the Chinese New Year's holiday. Trains have to run on schedule and on time. Many trains traveling in opposite directions have to use the same stretch of track between destinations. A lot of the larger stations closer to Beijing had many parallel tracks in stations and some stretches of track had more than one set of parallel rails. I understand the closed doors and windows policy. For any passenger brave enough to stick an arm or head out of the window, a train passing in the opposite direction through a station could easily snatch off a human appendage. What a messy situation that could become! So, passengers are stuck with breathing the dirty air from smokers -- probably as a safety issue, an irony in itself considering what second-hand tobacco smoke can do to a set of healthy lungs. I only recovered from a rough smoker's cough after being in Thailand for a couple of days.

In Beijing, I got a break from the closed compartment of the Yanji train and its slow haul into the capital city. The train arrived at Beijing's central railway station. From there, it was a forty-five minute taxi ride through big city traffic to Beijing's western railway station, the city's largest. I was impressed by the greenery of Beijing and welcomed it as a sight for sore eyes -- literally. Mine were bloodshot from cigarette smoke. I hung my head out of the taxi window and took pictures of the passing scenery. I had read stories of illegal taxi drivers on the internet and was 'on my guard' for the trip across Beijing. It was OK. I joined the taxi queu, checked out the driver's identification on the dashboard, his computerized meter and receipt print out -- everything was hunky dory! The taxi fare was reasonable compared to Western prices. And, at last after waiting in a train station hall for a few hours, there was my train on platform 7, ready to begin the trip to Kunming.

I could write more about the details of that train ride. It was just a repetition of the previous journey from Yanji to Beijing. Only this time, the train had an electric locomotive instead of a diesel, and the countryside passing by outside the window was greener. The window was dirtier, though, and I couldn't get many clear photos. I was also ready to spend more time in my sleeper berth, reading, nodding off for short naps, and talking with a few passengers who could chat in English. My compartment had children and even though the cries of this one little boy kept me awake, I will miss him. I had to remonstrate with his mother for smacking him on the face to keep him quiet -- he was only two and didn't know how to behave on a train. My Chinese companion with a little English explained to his mother that I had been a kindergarten teacher in Chengdu and couldn't stand to watch her slapping her son. Smiles and laughs all around -- I don't know if they were making fun of the foreigner's strange beliefs or what they were thinking. The boy's father just drank some more harsh Chinese liquor and went back to sleep. I gave the little boy a deck of playing cards I had bought in Beijing and he was happy for hours playing with them. Peace and quiet reigned for a little while longer. I was reminded again of the harsh life that faces most Chinese poor people who can't afford to fly. Only their children seemed to smile. It reminded me of the gentle nature of my Chinese kindergarten students. I also remembered with fondness the kindness of my own grandfather. Perhaps I never forgave my father for taking me away from New Orleans and sticking me up in the hills of Virginia. Memories are a strange thing. This was one train trip that refreshed mine of when I was a little boy. If only I could have been that little Chinese boy's grandfather -- what a strange thing to take home with me as an impression of a country!

Part Four -- International Bus from Kunming to Vientiane

As I mentioned in Part Three of this story, my favorite grandfather -- when I was a little child -- was a bus driver all his life in New Orleans, Louisiana. I will always remember him, with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, a beer can in one hand, and the other picking over boiled crabs and shrimps in the back garden of his home. That home of such fond memories was destroyed when Hurricane Katrina passed through New Orleans, along with my aunt's home across the back garden fence. That is all 'well and truly' in the past -- water long since passed under the bridge. Any resemblance between my grandfather as a bus driver and the Chinese bus driver of the service between Kunming and Vientiane is cursory in the extreme. They both smoked -- I'll leave it at that! One I could love -- the other I came to pity by the time the bus had finished the journey. I can't imagine a harder life for a driver than this bus trip -- repeated over and over again like a broken record.

The journey from Kunming begins at the city's south bus station, situated alongside the Kunming train station. So, I arrived in Kunming early in the morning of April 28th and took a short taxi ride to the Cloudland Hostel. I had previously stayed here on the journey north -- it's a decent and popular place to stay among the backpacking crow. You can find them online here. As Chinese cities go, Kunming is not a bad place to be at all. It's a bit run down around the edges but there are places in some American cities you couldn't pay me enough to visit, much less walk through. Yunnan Province is in the south of China and shares a border with Myanmar, Laos, and, I believe, Vietnam. Because of this, of course, most of the bus passengers are Chinese. I had taken the bus north on my way into China in March and shared that ride with five other foreigners. On this trip, I was the only foreign white face among the crowd. I was able to refresh myself after two nights on the train from Beijing at the Cloudland Hostel where there is always hot water for a shower. Not a bad deal at 5 Yuan for a shower. After booking my ticket, I had the rest of the day to kill before the bus departed at 5 p.m.

I eventually took another taxi to the bus station -- only 15 Yuan, about $2 for the ride across town. There, I set my bag down in the long distance coach station's express bus waiting room. I plopped down on a chair in front of the big screen t.v. and started aimlessly watching a program about bad drivers in China. It was not exactly the best way to still my mind for the upcoming journey. After watching several examples of reckless drivers running over hapless pedestrians, bike riders, and scooter passengers in the middle of busy Chinese intersections, I was in no mood to get on a bus. Both my father and grandfather were killed by reckless drivers. I have always wondered if I am number three in the unlucky string of family deaths. The story on t.v. was a heart-wrenching depiction of the life of an adorable looking Chinese boy -- about five -- who now ekes out a living as a street beggar. He has no legs -- he obviously lost them one day when bicycling in the street and he met one of those ruthless drivers the show was about. I had had enough of looking at dead bodies on the roadside and pictures of mangled cars and wrecks. My memory flashed back to the beginning of my journey to China in Thailand. I remembered the pickup truck that lost its backside right outside the front gate of my home near Mae Sot. I'm not superstitious but I do want to live to become a grandfather myself some day. The program finally ended and I wandered to another seat in the waiting room.

A kind-hearted Chinese grandmother with her grandson sat down beside me. The boy was completely adorable. His face was a 'spitting' image of one of my students at the kindergarten in Chengdu. His name was Oliver -- one of two of them in my class. He also had the same thin body structure and delicate features. He helped me remember the finer days I had spent in China and the innocence we are all born with.

The bus finally pulled up into the loading bay about half an hour before its scheduled departure time. As the other passengers and I crawled on board, I discovered that my berth was at the extreme rear of the bus. My head rested upon a pillow leaning against the back window. From my perch at the rear, I took this photo of the inside of the bus. I was sleeping cheek to cheek with four other men at the back of the bus. In such intimate enclosures, the small niceties of travel disappear. One is left with the bare facts of bus transport -- only very poor people travel this way. I didn't mind joining them although after two days in the bus, one discovers that the olfactory sense is something that can be turned on and off at will. Only so much odor of dirty socks and unwashed bodies can assault the nose before it becomes deadened to further stimulation! If you are considering this bus trip as a cheap option to flying, I would recommend you think seriously. The traveler on this bus faces a 'torture rack' of the most intricate design. Imagine trying to sleep on a bed that may turn you over and lift you in the air at any moment to crash your forehead into the bus roof. The Chinese side of the trip is manageable -- just. The roads on the Laos side of the trip will especially try your patience.

I met another adorable little baby on this trip. He forms an important part of this story as we traveled south through Yunnan Province in China and up into the mountains to Mengla, the town closest to the border. This baby was very quiet and with his mother who was traveling with a group of about four or five friends. As we boarded the bus, she was very busy directing her traveling companions to their berths scattered about the bus. We had stopped for a rest about an hour short of the border when I took this picture of the baby. His mother had temporarily left him alone. As the picture shows clearly, he can't be more than a year old and like all children of that age, is a perfectly innocent bystander to life. Children that age can not yet participate to a great deal in the goings on around them but they soak up events like a wet sponge. This chain of children popping up throughout my story and this trip are like 'sign posts' along the road. They all point in the direction of the 'Heart of Asia' -- or anywhere, for that matter. It is in an individual's outlook upon life that one's 'heart' can be found. Some people are truly at home in their heart and small children more so than any other humans among us. They are the best teachers on our 'road trip' through life's hardships and unexpected events.

We reached the Chinese-Laos border about 8 a.m. in the morning of April 29th -- half an hour before the Chinese immigration post opened. We witnessed the immigration staff raising the Chinese flag and then they were open for the day's business. Several buses of travelers waited patiently in line to be stamped through the post as having departed China. At last, we were outside the bus, breathing pure air -- not the polluted stuff that passes for air in most Chinese cities. I was still recovering from my deadly exposure to second-hand smoke on board the trains and had developed a nasty smoker's cough as well as a scratchy throat and a touch of laryngitis. People looked at me strangely as I tried to talk but only 'squawking' sounds issued from my mouth. I felt like a zillion frogs were caught in my throat and I had returned to fasting to help get over the foul food I had eaten on the train. I had also fasted for five days in Yanji and visited many a steam room in the bath houses in an effort to clean out my lungs from all the coal soot in the air there. It looked like I was going to have to start all over again. I had been reading about the side effects of M.S.G. used in so much of Chinese cooking and I finally had a clean body to test my reaction to it. I have sworn off eating anything containing the stuff for the rest of my life. Most people don't know about M.S.G. or its addictive properties -- just like a drug. However, this is a supposedly 'legal' food additive that the international food industry has used to get its customers hooked on 'junk' food. It is a serious health issue that never gets the attention it deserves!

Instead of supposedly 'legal' drugs added to our food, we continue our story of the bus trip. Anyone traveling through Laos and at least a little familiar with recent history will remember what this area was once famous for -- those 'illegal' drugs that have been legislated against by most governments. We had crossed the border into Laos and spent the next four hours clearing customs. Our bus driver was determined to have his 'brunch' break no matter how long it took. We passengers at his mercy quietly gathered in the local shops and little roadside restaurants to wait for him to finish his game of cards and meal with friends. The customs officials and he were apparently old buddies of one sort or another. Finally, it appeared we could board the bus and continue with our journey towards Laos. We had another night on board the bus to look forward to. I, for one, didn't anticipate an easy night's sleep as the road only gets worse on the Laos side of the border. At least, a few passengers had disembarked from the bus at the border and my perch at the back of the bus wasn't so crowded anymore. About an hour down the road from the customs checkpoint, we were unexpectedly stopped by yet another customs official. This one boarded the bus and carefully searched all the passengers' bags. He found something he didn't like under the driver's seat, confiscated that, and his co-worker confiscated other smuggled goods from a Chinese passenger's bags. Then, the lady with that adorable baby had her bags pulled off the bus. As you can tell from the picture, the customs officer wasn't happy with what he found in the lady's bags. So, off she went in the custom officer's truck with her baby and bags to 'God knows where'! The rest of us got back on the bus and gratefully headed for Vientiane. Most of us breathed a sigh of relief at what we imagined could have been placed in our bags or found by customs officials. For myself, I wondered at what that baby 'has soaked up' from this experience. What's in his future?

The next morning, we arrived in Vientiane and the bus trip was over. As I got off the bus and into a tuk-tuk for the city center, I breathed a sigh of relief. In a repeat of my arrival in Kunming, I visited a local guest house briefly for a shower and a change of clothes. Refreshed and reclothed for a suddenly warmer climate, I hopped on the bus to the border of Thailand. Soon, I was through the immigration posts on both sides of the Friendship Bridge across the Mekong River and back in the 'Land of Smiles'. The clear, blue sky over Nong Khai was a welcome relief from the gray, overcast dome above most of China. I felt like I was entering through the gates of Heaven. Many people have surmised that the 'Kingdom of Heaven' is all around us on Earth but we don't have the 'eyes' to see it. I would only add that people usually make their own 'heaven' or 'hell' on Earth through their own actions. I had finished my six day journey out of China -- from April 25th to 30th -- overland and through all the ups and downs of the journey. It is only now, on May Day, 2008, that I can speak again in a normal tone of voice. My back still aches from the bus ride but I imagine a Thai massage will soon take care of that. I must now return for a visit to Mae Sot, in Tak Province, before beginning life anew as a teacher in Thailand. Now, at the end of 2008, I have left Thailand again -- this time returning to Chengdu and a mystery there that beckons me on. Only time will tell what truths I discover.