In Nepal, first and foremost, I felt the energy of joy—it is everywhere, it is accessible. In the bustle of Durbar Square, where crowds of tourists walk around the temples—some praying, but many taking photos and listening to guided tours. In the chanting of monks. In the unhurried manner of street vendors. In the grandeur of temple structures. In this hum, this constant hum of human voices. Flocks of pigeons coo and wait to be fed. Sometimes the pigeons take off all at once and settle on the roofs of the many temples. Old men sit on the temple porches and on huge stone steps. They just sit. In the bustle, in the noise of Durbar Square. And what of it? It is joyful here. The energy of joy pulses here.
Joy filled me as well in Boudhanath, where crowds of people walk around the enormous temple called a stupa and recite mantras. There is such a feeling of unity—we all, strangers to one another, are connected by a single spiritual impulse: to walk around a temple that holds a thousand images of the Buddha and to speak sacred words! Om mani padme hum, om mani padme hum—“oh, the precious jewel in the lotus.” The jewel in the lotus of my spiritual heart.
How interesting it is to arrive in a new place where you have no bearings. A new country, a new language; even the traffic flows on the opposite side of the road from what I’m used to. Total disorientation. What to eat? What to drink? Where to go? Where not to go? Where is it safe? Where is it unsafe? All these basic needs, the body searches for them in space. The mind comes to the rescue and starts reading guidebooks and maps. You can hire a guide who will orient you, tell you where it’s a “yes” and where it’s a “no.” Or you can rely on intuition and trust life. Go with the flow. When external orientation, the familiar, is lost, in conditions of complete uncertainty and novelty, some inner compass switches on. That is how I met people in Nepal.
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