Belly of the Whale

How truth tends to hide in the impossible, as the unlikeliest teacher has the most to offer, and the people you judge are those who will surprise you - I always underestimate this dictum. I can say nothing of the validity of these truisms in other's lives, but in mine, they represent a playful subplot, a running joke between me and myself. I learned this lesson my second year at Sewanee; I was surprised by two of the least likely people, people I have judged adversely (which, even then was uncommon for me). Since then I have been wary to make the same mistakes. The joke is that I always come within a hairs width of doing so; I get to the very edge of disaster and then am saved, only later learning the proximety of my doom. I laugh at myself when I realize.

To make this more real, today I wrote a long, very long email, concernig my placement, changes I had made, and requests that I expected answered. I had been patient and was sure of what I believed to be the truth of the matter. It was clear that Satish had been dishonest and unconcerned with my situation in Thamel. So today I wrote this email but I didn't finish it. Also, as an afterthought, I wanted to give Satish a chance to retract his statements before I sent a rather scathing report back to the States. To me the facts seemed obvious and rather undisputable. So I met with Satish and a conversation insued and it went around in a way that I never could have expected. He was intently compassionate and welcoming. His explications of my concerns were clear and unmistakable. In short - he surprised the hell out of me. He is paying me for my new lodgings and giving my a stipend for my meals - he offered even before I asked. It was amazing and beautiful.

The whole time I was sitting, thinking of the email that was sitting in my inbox waiting to be sent. That I remembered to take that extra step, that I remembered not to be too sure, even when every shred of the possible lay on my side, supporting my case. Reason does not have the vision to see all ends; and sometimes, every now and then, we get surprised, we get blown away by what is possible. That was my day today, and I am so thankful that I didn't take that stubborn inadvertant step, hitting the "send" buttom without giving Satish his chance. That our meeting was almost an after-thought - that is the joke, that is what never ceases to make me laugh, that I think that I know something. This to me is very funny. It is a sort of sick joke, a cyclic encounter with the mystery of life and its absurdity. It is absurd and that makes it sick, or so to speak. Truly, I love it that way. I love being taken to the precipice, pushed to the edge, toes dangling as the wind relents just then, just as reality manifests itself into my comprehention. I don't know what else to call this feeling other than exaltation, maybe - sublimity. The chasm is failure. Having the fortune to live to the fullness, to the very bounds of the possible is spiritual and dramatic. Reason was no guide, it was the siren in the breakers. Only a whimsical adherence to instinict and experience held me.

I fear I have degenerated into jargon or doggeral. Forgive me. It is just that I am still reveling in it, so unexpected. It will be sad to leave Thamel. I love the people here so. But the peace of Bouda is what I am here for. There are spiritual men who stay in my hostel. As I read on the roof last night, a man came up and chanted mantras for some time. I have the sort of roof that you can sit on the ledge of, and dangle your toes five stories about the muddy road. There are no cabs, no horns, no rap songs. There are dogs, loud barking dogs - it is always something. In Missoula it was always the trains (but I love trains - barking dogs, I dream of various sneaky ways to eliminate them).

So I will end. Jamie Blyth climbed the Salathe Wall on El Capitan for her birthday. Not bad Jamie (Unbelievable!). Wendy. . . .