Landscapes of Mind and Mountains

They say Nepal is the navel of the world. The Tibetans built temples on sites where the bodies of deities lie on the Earth, holding the deities down like the Lilliputians in Gulliver's Travels. The navel is a place of power, the Himalayas hold the bellybutton that receives spiritual life blood through the umbilical chord to Heaven.

"Leave the past behind; abandon all thoughts of the future, and let go of the present. You are ready to cross to the other shore."
- from the Dhammapada, quoted in Ian Baker, The Heart of the World.

On arrival in Pokhara, I exited the goat-infested bus, and headed straight to Sadhana-Yoga, a short taxi ride and then a walk up a stone road. I was so relieved to reach a peaceful destination! I dreamed the first night that the creators of Sadhana Yoga, Asanga and Durga had set up a protective barrier around the Centre. The next five days were days of nourishment, cleansing, and meditation. The Nepalese food was so so delicious and healthy, the lake and wooded hills beautiful (especially just as the sun rose), the Neti pot and Pranayama energizing, and the company pleasant.

As the days went on my thoughts turned away from petty worries about life and more towards thoughts on yoga, Buddhism, enlightenment, a spiritual reckoning of nature. I immersed myself in a book about trekking and about Tibetan Buddhist beliefs about sacred geography, and how the environment is both a physical and a spiritual landscape. Through yoga and meditation, I aimed to align myself with the natural environment, with the present moment... With each day I could feel myself healing....

Despite wanting to stay at the peaceful and nourishing Sadhana-Yoga forever, I decided I needed to get out and see more of Nepal in the short two weeks I had before flying to France. I made reservations for a two day rafting trip and left my heavy backpack in Pokhara, favoring a smaller bag for the adventures to come. In the morning I hopped aboard the rafting van, which was loaded with rafters, guides, supplies, and the deflated rafts. I got my first full view of the Himalayas as we drove on the bumpy road out of Pokhara: snowy shards of blue, vast and still, calm monsters of the sky.

After a short drive the guides pumped up the raft, we put on our uniforms of helmets and life vests and headed down the Seti River towards Chitwan National Park. My shipmates included three Hungarians, two Tazmanians, an American, and a British fellow. We soaked up the sun, cried out together in the shock of cold water as we barrelled through whitewater, and occasionally sang.

The landscape was gorgeous: the river is turquoise from glacier run-off and the jungled green hills rise steeply from the water. Occasionally there I saw mud and palm houses with terraced fields along the hillsides. It takes the villagers five hours walking to reach a road. Suspension bridges yawn the expanse of the river. Children watched us raft underneath and waved down. I closed my eyes as we floated and my mind floated too, with the orchestra of water sounds. I thought of how physical motion can help us link ourselves to the sacro-physical environment, the energies of a place.