Equanimity of Mind

National Geographic

doulayogi — Sat, 17 Nov 2012 22:28:14 +0000

National Geographic

I subscribe to National Geographic

For kids who don’t exist yet

They sit on my bookshelf

Above Ina May

And below Collins and Piercy

Waiting to be chosen

They long for their spines to be felt

By little fingers

Heads slightly cocked to read the vertical words

African Masks

Tibet’s Golden Worm

Whale Sharks

What few words will spark the questions

To pull the magazine from the shelf

To stare at the photos of

Solar Storms and barren Amazon land

All perfectly bound in sunshine yellow

And printed in black ink

Northern Lao

doulayogi — Thu, 19 Jul 2012 04:15:16 +0000

We’ve spent the better part of the past week in Northern Laos trekking, sleeping in huts and without electricity. No electricity, except for 7-10pm when the generator would be turned on, providing light for dinner and Beerlao tricks. Of course, Laos is beautiful – the earth a rich red that stains our legs orange, the mountains and karsts covered in thick green with the occasional bamboo hut and the the clouds resting low, white and clean. The Mekong, brown, winding its way through it all.
The last village we stayed in is accessible only by boat, so after driving North from Luang Prabang for 3 1/2 hrs we climbed aboard the long, skinny colorful boat for an hour’s ride further upstream. The driver balancing each side perfectly by having people switch that are only 10 lbs difference. We shared the boat with a broad selection of other Westerners and four middle aged Lao men taking a fishing trip up North. For the most part the Mekong is calm, though mighty as it meanders its way South. There are sections that are rough and scattered with sink holes that try to pull you in to the strength of the whirl pool they’ve created. A motor is essential for navigating these areas, less you be sucked into the bottom of the whirlpool. There were moments when it felt like we were in a tug of war, the river pulling us into its center, feeling like we weren’t even moving, our tailend inching closer to the center as are frontend ever so slightly fought to escape. The only noise was of river and the engine as it pumped and sputtered. And then it stopped. Just as we moved into calm waters, the engine stopped. One of the Lao men looked at me, breaking the silence and said “This is good. This is very good luck.”
Come to find out, the engine was giving before it gave out. Our captain’s hands shaking as he simultaneously steered and covered a hole to the water flowing into the boat. He pushed the boat over to a rock near the bank using a long piece of bamboo. Water beginning to fill the bottom of the boat before we even could exit. It was quite incredible how the conscensious of the entire group was immediately one of joyful acceptance. Mostly because we had all just escaped a terribly nasty situation, but there was no complaining. No one trying to change that which can not be changed. Within minutes guitars and ukalalies were being tuned, food was shared as we all found a seat on the rock. The Lao men, who had started drinking beerlao on the boat, borrowed a swiss army knife to turn one of their empty cans into a makeshift shot glass for everyone to toast vodka too – Lao style. Turns out Laos, Aussies, Eastern Europeans and Texans are quite similar in this department. Im not sure how long we were stranded, but just as we started to wade towards the bank from rising waters due to rain and thunder in the distance, we were rescued.
As I lay in bed that night, the air still and sticky – no fan, no electricity, no breeze – I could feel the distance between us for the first time. There is something quite frightening and liberating about not knowing really where you are and not having the ability to leave. It leaves you with yourself staring back at you.
It was only that morning that we had woken pre-dawn to watch the monks gather alms from devotees on their morning walk. The monks dressed in their orange and saffron robes, baskets in hand to collect sticky rice, walk single file from oldest to youngest down the main street. There was nothing overwhelmingly beautiful about the event. Life still took place around this silent procession. It is like the passing of a day. It happens all the time, but unless we are present to sit and be with the moments – to acknowledge what is in front of us, the moments becomes lost.

We have made the two day journey South to Vientienne. We will be here till we leave for Hanoi – completing our circle. Again, photos do not upload in this part of the world. I will send them out when I return for those of you who may be interested.

I Shall Be Released

doulayogi — Wed, 11 Jul 2012 14:42:01 +0000

You’re pushin’ it. You’re pushin’ it. Don’t put nothin’ in it, unless you feel it. ~ Nina Simone

When I left you last, we were still in Vietnam. We’ve spent the past week or so in Cambodia. Cambodia is everything you might imagine it to be. It is South East Asia in all of its beauty, grime and ways. The national dish is Amok, made with basil, lemongrass, coriander, galangal, chili and coconut milk. These are the flavors that pervade not only in the food, but thru the people as well- fresh, young, sweet, balanced, enjoyable, wholesome, a tad spicy, but subtle.
Of course, we visited temples, but these moments were had and fleeted as they should be. Angkor Wat at sunrise, the hidden coves of silent jungle – climbing stairs to ascend and finding courage from a young boy when it came time to descend one of the steeper, narrower ones slick with rain. “One step at a time.” He said as he watched me trying to take the first step. And this was the true joy of Cambodia, the moments between the moments.
I will always remember finding Virak on the corner after breakfast, or River as he became known to us. He was sitting in his tuk-tuk, his long legs propped up on the seat in front of him. He was wearing a long sleeved black and white stripped tshirt and stone washed blue jeans. He is maybe 21.
“I have a question” I said.
“Yes?” he replied, quickly exiting his tuk-tuk, ready for business. His long, thin body at attention.
We wanted to go to the land mine museum and after agreeing on a price we headed out of town – not knowing that over the course of the next few days our hearts would open to one another like a parent to a child, like a teacher to a student.
“Rainy season is very difficult for a tuk-tuk driver” he said one afternoon as we all hurried to lower the canvas sides of the tuk-tuk. He already had his dark blue poncho on, swallowing his body beneath. The three of us found shelter from the rain and wind in a home off the side of the road – a Muslim family from Malaysia. The father bathed in the pouring rain and then sat with his granddaughter on his lap, beside us on the porch.
When the rain began to subside I asked River “Do you think it’s ok for us to go?”
“Hold on, let me check.” He walked over to peer up at the sky.
“Is it ok? Yes? Ok! It is ok.” He turns and says, “The sky says it is ok.”
The next day the canvas sides were rolled meticulously back into place and the roof where water had leaked thru was patched.
A couple of days later we stopped into a village market between visiting temples. This happened to be where River’s father sold shoes and where he would fish during time off. He walked with us thru the stalls of vegetables and clothes, stopping to talk with the fish cheese lady and the potato lady. Later that day we stopped by a temple in town we had visited earlier in the week while on a cooking lesson. It is customary for birds to be caught and then sold outside the temple for people to buy and then release – releasing their prayers and worries with the bird. I wanted to buy them all and set them all free. In a different moment, I would have. We set four free and probably would have kept going but a policeman made us move the tuk-tuk.
“Do you believe in this?” River asked as we were driving away.
“I believe in setting the birds free,” I said. “It makes me happy to release them back into their home where they belong.”
“Yes, me too,” he replied. “When I let them go they take away any problems I have. They release me of sadness or whatever. They take it with them.”
Nina sang into my ears this morning as I ran along the river one last time. I had been thinking about the ancient travel truth of wherever you go, there you are. It’s easy to believe that when we change our environment, we change ourselves. While this may be true to a small extent, ultimately it’s still the same person, with the same issues and nuances that we wake up to each morning. There is no magic moment when we become everything it is we are wishing to be. It’s a process. It’s a constant journey of staring the uglies in the face. It’s one step at a time – one bird at a time.

I see my light come shining from the West unto the East. Any day now, any day now, I shall be released. ~ Bob Dylan

Hoi An to Saigon

doulayogi — Sun, 01 Jul 2012 10:59:00 +0000

If I lived in Hoi An, I would own a bicycle painted blue and green. The tires would be purple and the kick stand on the right side instead of the left. Of course, there would be a basket on the handle bars to carry food home from the market and the bell would cling easily with the flick of my thumb. The city of Hoi An sits on the Thu Bon River and is a 20 minute ride thru rice paddies to the ocean. The town itself is classic and comfortably elegant. Vivid colors in the buildings, the boats, the food, the clothes. There was an immediate sense of being home, of simply being able to be. There was no urge to capture it and own it, but rather the feeling of being a part of it in an eternal way. It was easy. A place where I could spend the rest of my days, a place that I could never go back to or always return.
We rode to the beach one afternoon. It appeared around a bend and laid out in front of us like the back drop for cheesy portraits taken at Sears. Two dollars secures a colorful bamboo mat 10 feet from the water and a Saigon bia brought to you by a friendly face. Families played in the surf, some fully clothed, as if they had been walking by and spontaneously decided to check out from the daily routine and instead frolic with one another.
We landed in Saigon on Friday. For $10 more and 17hrs less we opted to forego
the train. We did think about it, but ultimately time in Saigon won. We were caught in another downpour. I guess I shouldn’t say “caught”, give we choose to walk outside when it was already raining. It ultimately wasn’t really a downpour either – more in the company of a typhoon. Our mission was to mail a few items at the landmark post office – practical, productive sightseeing. When the sting of the rain became too much we stopped under an eave that happened to be a hotel. The valet insisted we take at least one umbrella, which was useless in keeping us dry (that was a lost cause), but it did keep the rain from pounding our eyeballs. We also learned we were only a block from our destination. When we arrived, the post office was filled with dry tourists waiting out the weather. We headed to the back. The post office worker wouldn’t help us until we dried off with a towel he found and even then he made us fill out two shipping forms because the first was “too wet, too wet.”
According to Lonely Planet, one of the top 5 things to do in Saigon is have a drink at the rooftop bar of the hotel we were staying in. Ironically, a salsa band from Cuba was playing and we shut down the place after much cha-cha and merengue. The second nigt was equally fun – Brazilian Night. Tequilla vs. Rum.
Saigon was a nice reprieve from the heat. It was still close to 100, but there was a breeze, I think. Maybe we’re just acclimating. It was uninspiring for photographs though. It is like any large Western City. However, we met some wonderful people, laughed harder and more often than either of can remember in a long time and just when the streets become familiar, we move on.
We are now on Phu Quoc Island – 10 degrees North of the equator. The horizon is different here. It’s closer. The wide open feeling looking out over the ocean is gone – it feels like we are smooshed. Like most of this trip has played out, our lodging location found us. The universe delivering. I don’t know how long we will be here. I’m sure when it’s time to move on, we’ll know.

Hue – a dream and a prayer

doulayogi — Wed, 27 Jun 2012 12:39:20 +0000

“And Matilda asked the sailors, Are those dreams or are those prayers?”
~Tom Waits

We arrived in Hue yesterday morning after a 16 hour train ride. We spent the first few hours in the restaurant car at the head of the train. This was mostly just a prep area for the food to be carried out to the passengers by stainless steel carts. We were fed tofu, bean sprouts and rice – cinnamon peanuts and sweet popcorn. We drank bia 333 and watched the country roll by as the train pushed South. Our $40 ticket bought us an air conditioned sleeping berth that we shared with a family from Da Nang. The night was long – waking at 1am to when we thought we were suppose to arrive. Rough translations with the train worker in our car at the back of the train said we still had 270km more to go, whatever that meant in time. At 6am, we made our way back up to the restaurant car, passing through the 2nd and 3rd class cars with no AC, where most had slept on the floor under the seats. We drank coffee and watched the sunrise with still no clear idea of when Hue would come, only that it hadn’t yet. We had been sitting at a station for a little too long when we asked the kitchen staff our whereabouts. Their faces lit up with hurried recognition when they realized our stop had finally arrived. Navigating backwards through the packed cars we were swimming upstream. So, pulling a classic travel move, we exited the train and sprinted along side as the whistle blew. Jumping back on, our family rose with the same excited faces “Hue, Hue!”
“Yes! Hue!”
We waved goodbye from the platform.
The shower that proceeded checking in was glorious and 3 days overdue. The front desk showed us to our room before any money was exchanged saying only “First you shower.”
Hue – the city America destroyed in order to save it during the American War. Much of the Citadel was destroyed and 10,000 people killed, mostly civilians. We rented bicycles from a young girl who laughed and said “Have fun, let me know how it goes.” It was much like crossing the streets on foot, same principals, just faster. Sometimes it is necessary to turn into on-coming traffic to avoid being hit by buses.
We rode to the Citadel, former Emperor’s residence and site of the 1968 bombings. Charred stone walls still remain at this World Heritage Site.
It was while drinking coffee at a cafe later in the day that I realized I had erased every photo from my camera. Every photo. It turns out navigating traffic from a bicycle and taking photographs at the same time requires more coordination than I thought. The photos of our train friends, of the hidden neighborhoods we rode through, the little boy waving, the man who watched our bikes for us, the women washing morning glories on the street – all released like some ephemeral dream. The moments that were previously collected in my camera are now collected in my mind, immediately being imprinted when the thought that those moments should ever be lost. Reminding me that it’s all transitory. That this existence we try to record and shape and pin down will one day be erased.
The pictures below were taken after, and like all photos, exist beyond the moment they were taken. They attempt to capture the moments we want to always remember, we want to share. I will continue to attempt to share these moments with you as I continue to imprint them on my mind, being in the present finding the moments that will carry us to the next day, to the next town, to the next moment.
We are headed south to Hoi An by bus. Rain Dogs in my headphones. I can’t seem to let it play past Clap Hands, but I know Time and Blind Love lay ahead, so eventually I will. The rice paddies are giving way to ocean.

The Cloudcroft of Hanoi – with bigger bugs.

doulayogi — Mon, 25 Jun 2012 05:18:57 +0000

We are heading down the mountain from Ba Vi, a French hill station that is now a National Park. It is the Cloudcroft of Hanoi. We arrived yesterday mid-day leaving the chaos and heat behind. We spent Saturday walking the streets of Hanoi, stopping occasionally for cà phê (coffee) or random items like plug adaptors. Thankfully, Erin was not hurt badly when she fell down the stone stairs after morning coffee and I was unscathed after falling into a random pit of electrical wires on the sidewalk that was covered by a piece of cardboard (Note: cardboard disintegrates in 100% humidity). There were many highlights in Hanoi – running around Hoan Kiem Lake at 6am, watching elders practice Tai Chi and younger Vietnamese practice a version of jazzercize and eating bun (noodles) and drinking bia hoy on a street in the old quarter as the afternoon light began to glow. The moment I will always remember was sitting in the courtyard of The Temple of Literature, eating from the kilo of lychees Erin bought at the morning market and laughing hysterically at how wet and dirty we were. We had just received a second comment about the sweat we were covered in and as we looked around it became clear that it was worth commenting about.
We decided to travel to Ba Vi spontaneously after learning all trains to Hue were full until Monday afternoon. Ba Vi is 65km west of Hanoi and far enough removed that no one spoke English. After a lunch of bia and morning glories we hiked 12k up the mountain. Everything is larger here – the lantana, pink and yellow like in my front yard are 9ft trees. The insects are massive and the locusts look like small rodents. We actually were woken up by locusts in the middle of the night that resembled a car alarm. Finding a mosquito net in our room after the bug that shall not be named flew onto our table at dinner was like seeing an old friend after years.
We spent the morning drinking cà phê súa nóng (coffee with condensed milk) and learning Vietnamese from one of the park rangers. I’ve decided that all coffee should be drunk thick and strong with condensed milk. We are now headed back to Hanoi to catch the 2:30 train to Hue. Our driver is falling asleep or on drugs. He is swerving more than usual and slamming on his breaks to avoid things only he sees. We’ve pulled over once for him to splash water on his face and stretch. I should probably just keep my eyes off the road, but that’s a matter of opinion. I’ll watch – continuing to let go.

Letting Go to Hanoi

doulayogi — Fri, 22 Jun 2012 22:14:13 +0000

We had a couple of set backs when first starting, causing our departure from the US to be delayed by 2 days. This turned out to be a strategic play by the greater hand at play. Upon learning that we would not be leaving the country on Monday, there were no feelings of remorse or anger, just an overwhelming notion that this is what was suppose to be. We let go, walked out of LAX without any plan or resolution and at that moment everything began to fall into place. A friend explains it as “You can’t see the Mac truck that never hits you.” Ultimately, we may never know why the delay took place, but it’s also not necessary to know.
The entire time spent in LA was joyous and soul opening. Much of this is owed to Edgar and Judith. If you haven’t seen the Film “The Intouchables” yet – do it.
When we walked back into the airport on Wednesday the insane lines from Monday were completely gone. We accomplished more in 10mins than in the entire 2 1/2 hours on Monday. My fear of flying was gone and instead I felt protection. The travel shoes slipped right back on and instantly it was like finding the lost puzzle piece, like coming home.
Arriving in Hanoi we successfully averted a cab/hotel scheme to the hotel managers disappointment. We spent the afternoon walking the streets, visiting museums, getting lost and getting soaked in the afternoon rain pour. I love crossing the street. You step into the street and don’t stop. The cars and motorbikes flow around you. If you hesitate the entire dance is thrown off.

The photos appear to be out of focus, but it’s really just that humid.

Feel Fear

doulayogi — Mon, 18 Jun 2012 22:31:51 +0000

The bags are packed, the medical kit complete with needles and syringes tucked away between the moisture wicking clothes and an old pair of running shoes. We are ready, just as those who have gone before us and just as those that will go after us.

The concept of fear has been in my thoughts over the past month. Now, more than ever before, people have expressed fear and concern when learning about the upcoming travel to South East Asia. Perhaps, I was too naïve to notice the concern before when travelling, but Vietnam is certainly safer than Bangladesh. Perhaps, it is because when traveling to China I was in the hands of the company I was working for and in India I had family contacts in country. But, I think it is more than that. I think people’s general perception of the world around them has become more fearful. We live in a country where over the past decade political tactics have been to scare constituents into submission. Americans, once fearless and daring, have become trepadatious and untrusting. I am not ignorant to America’s position in the world – to the fact that other countries hate the idea of us. This is nothing new. We have always been disdained and criticized for having a sense of entitlement wherever we may be. Well-wishers have advised me to claim Canadian citizenship when abroad. I refuse to say I am from Canada. I am American and part of what makes me so is moving forward in the face of fear. This choice is what makes me human.

Last week, clients of Mentis had an opportunity to participate in a creative writing workshop. Within an hour the participants wrote poetry and then read aloud. The clients of Mentis are all on a road to recovery from a TBI – they are all healing physically and emotionally. They are trying to find a purpose and meaning on what is often a different path from what was expected. The words that they shared were intense and personal. It was not easy for any of them to read aloud – bearing their innermost details of their journey. But, they did it. It was admirable and inspiring. They each took a risk. They each stepped into the realm of being uncomfortable and vulnerable and did it. Daily, the clients of Mentis have to choose to keep moving forward and to keep making strides in their journey. It’s when we let fear have the final word that we stop growing. The lead boots grow heavier and the path that is our teacher must wait for us to start moving again. I challenge you to be afraid – feel the fear and then find the strength to overcome. Fear must exist in order for courage to be present.

I’m leaving my home in about 20 minutes. I’m scared of flying, but I can’t move forward without getting on that plane.

Peace from Within

doulayogi — Tue, 03 Aug 2004 05:38:14 +0000

I was searching. I was trying to discover a Peace from the world around me. When I joined Peace Corps in 2004, it was to be uncomfortable. I wanted to be as far away as possible from what I knew. I wanted the facets of my personality to be cut by the experiences of the unfamiliar. I was successful. The time spent in Bangladesh was one of the most formidable experiences of my life. Although daily life was challenging, from washing clothes filled with sweat and dirt and pollution on the bathroom floor to the constant electrical outages thru day and night, it was one of the most beautiful lives I’ve lived. I was at home in a world that couldn’t have been more different from the world I had left behind. I left to find Peace and discovered that I always had it – that Peace comes from within. When the lights would go black because the government was overselling electricity and the fans would stop circulating the hot, muggy air and the box television playing old Tom & Jerry or Popeye episodes would turn off without warning, my host mother would light a candle and we’d sit in a circle on the living room floor and entertain each other. We’d take turns singing or dancing or telling stories. There was no pattern to when the lights would go out, only that they would. There was a constant surrendering to what we could not control. Finding true Joy in the middle of a third-world jungle was easier than in the comforts of a first-world life.

So, the challenge became maintaining the Peace I had come to know once I returned to the life I had known.