No Words to Express My Grief.

First, a link: http://intentious.com/2012/02/17/kayapo-damned-brazil-government-oks-hydro-plant-condemns-40000-lives/

The date the article was written: February 17, 2012. 

The first license to start the construction of the dam: February 2010.

The first report filed by staff members of FUNAI, Fundação Nacional do Índio, (National Indian Foundation): January 14, 2011.

Today's date and the day part of this article made its way to me on Facebook : January 29, 2013. 

Years later and people are finally hearing about this. 

In case you don't actually want to read the entire article, I'll summarize it for you. The world's third largest hydroelectric dam is being built in the Amazon. The lives of 40,000 humans in the Kayapo community will be destroyed. That's not including the other plants and animals in this region. The dam will flood 400,000 hectares of forest. (One hectare is 10,000 square meters, 2.471 acres). Naturally, the government and government-funded environmental agencies (just wrong. the government and the environment are not compatible) are claiming that this will not displace the people, and actually, they will benefit from the building of the dam! Tell me how the following quote from Roberto Messias, head of Ibama, the government-funded environmental agency, makes any sense at all:

“Many of them currently live in wooden riverside shacks. They are likely to benefit from the dam’s constructions.”

It doesn't. How are those sentences related? 

And what about this: 

"Minister Of Environment Carlos Minc told Brazilian TV stations, “There is not going to be an environmental disaster. Not a single Indian will be displaced. They will be indirectly affected, but they will not have to leave indigenous lands.”

That's what they always say. I've seen this happen. TI'm sure I mentioned the dam in the Nile. Same reason--hydroelectric power. They said it wouldn't effect anything. I was there and I have pictures. And no, I have no idea how to use photoshop. It was flooding. Rapids were turned into lakes. Little shacks by the banks, gone. Little islands in the middle of the river, also gone. 

Everything we do has an environmental impact. Maybe we should stop thinking about power and energy and go back to how we started. We're not living sustainably or constructively. We, my friends, are killing ourselves. And maybe that's the only way to do it. Maybe we have to destroy the majority of the world we know in order for us to begin again. I'd like to think there's more to us than that, though. 

Update: After reading comments from others on Facebook and doing some of my own research, the cause of the chief's tears is debatable, which brings up other interesting points. We are such visual creatures. We need pictures to help motivate us to do things, whether it's working out more, or donating to a "feed the hungry" organization, or trying to protect the environment. And then, we are so easily manipulated into believing incorrect information. 

Why are the facts not enough? Why are people no longer inspired by words alone?

The Epitome Project

All right, the Epitome Project still needs your help. They have another chance to win money to help build a platform on which these bands can perform. Please vote. The deadline is tomorrow. 


Even at home I'm still connected to Nepal. One of Sattya's latest projects is called The Epitome Project which is all about creating original Nepali music. Basically, three bands will be given the opportunity to perform twice a month for the next three months and they have to write one original song per month. (Lots of numbers, I know, but hang with me.) But, this will only happen if they get your help. This time all you have to do to help them is vote. Just click a little button and BAM! you're helping Nepali culture grow. Please take the time to check out this site. They really deserve the funds. 


For VOTING:


http://outdoors.maker.good.is/projects/theepitomeproject


For more info:


http://goodsummer.maker.good.is/projects/themusicfoundry

Spirituality

This is something I wrote over the course of the last two days at Kopan Monastery. This period of the meditation retreat was filled with a mandatory silence from all participants. I had been silence for the majority of our ten-day stay, but having everyone silent all the time was definitely different. To help us cope (or maybe just to remind us to think about why we were there) our leaders gave us the choice of two different prompts. This is the one I chose:

Drawing from your experiences in Nepal and particularly from your time at Kopan Monastery, reflect upon how your spiritual, or religious, beliefs have evolved or developed. 

Even from the time I was little I would call myself a spiritual person. I would find Jesus in heavy metal songs, heaven in the clouds when the sun shone through and I would tell my mom that if I died before her I wanted Mary to come down to take me to heaven. 

The almost obsession with Christianity ended when I got the the age where they actually start teaching you about the bible more in depth instead of just reading you stories here and there. I felt like they were trying to force it on me. I wanted to just believe by myself. 

Before this trip I would call myself a Quaker Buddhist. What wasn't to love about the Society of Friends and a generally open, loving, compassionate, wisdom cherishing group of people? Now, the real interesting thing about that is that there actually are other people who call themselves Quaker Buddhists, too. After doing some research I came to the conclusion that, no, I'm not enough of a Quaker to be a Quaker Buddhist. Only one god just doesn't work for me. Still sticking to the peace and friendship bit, though. And, after spending time in Kopan Monastery I don't think I'm enough of a Buddhist to be a Quaker Buddhist. Now, instead of trying to fit myself in a box I've learned that, for me, spirituality is too personal and far too complex to fit in one little box. 

I believe in love and compassion and kindness and wisdom and I believe that if whenever I get angry I just stop for a second and think I'll avoid many negative situations. I believe in the power of positive thoughts. I believe in the power of laughter and smiles and hugs. I believe that the closest thing to a god for me lives in the trees and flowers and rivers and streams. I believe in the power of multiple bracelets and necklaces to get me through a rough day. I believe in the healing power of the ocean. I believe in the power of sounds. I believe in the power of voices together. I believe music and chanting can bring people together and make them feel something. I believe in the power of light. I believe in the power of the sun and moon. 

I believe that the world is only my perception, and, because of that, I have the power to make it what I want. Naturally, there are things I cannot control--as there should be. I wouldn't want all the power. But, I also believe in myself. I am me. I exist. I live, think, breathe, feel, love, smile, laugh, hope, dream, fear, hurt, dance. I can do anything. I'm not saying other people can't do those things, too. Everyone can and everyone does. But, no one does them exactly like me, and I don't believe anyone will. 

I don't believe I am the center of the universe. In fact, I think I'm the farthest thing from it. I do believe that I am part of a bigger picture. There is so much more than just us. If enlightenment shows people that, great. If belief in God and heaven does, great, too. If belief in allah does, also great. If belief in science does, great. Yes, we are all part of one world--one universe--but my time at Kopan has shown me that I truly do believe we are all unique. We are all individuals and we all think and believe in different ways. There is no one right way to believe. 

I think, deep down, I knew all this about myself. My heart knew what I believed; it could just feel it. My brain, on the other hand, needed convincing. It just needed someone to present it with a few basic concepts it likes and a few specific ones it didn't to realize: Oh! I DO know what I think. Who knew?

So, my spiritual views haven't changed that drastically. They were just made a little stronger and little more definite. Instead of an outline they're now a short essay with a few footnotes. 

[Reading back over this shows me that spirituality isn't constant for me. It's always changing. As it should be. I still agree with a lot of this, but there are subtle things I would change. Thought it best to just show my thoughts from Kopan essentially unedited, though.]

Adaptation

Upon my return to Bowling Green I haven't written anything. My grandmother asked me if I had forgotten how to write and my response was, why, yes, I do believe I HAVE. It's definitely not that there isn't anything to write about here. That is completely not true. I'm inspired by something every day and there have been more than a few times where I say to myself "Ellie, you need to remember to write that down." 

But I haven't. And for that, I apologize. 

I'm will try to capture the mindset I had in Nepal and apply it to America. It was a better one. It's so much more fun to experience everything right in the moment--to see everything with wide open eyes--just absorbing it all as if it's the first and last time, then, after absorption, truly thinking about it.  


It's funny how life just keeps on going. Even if part of your brain is stuck in a time five weeks past, life around you (along with the other parts of your brain) keeps going. You meet people, you travel, you catch up with old friends and make new ones, you start getting your chai lattes iced because the seasons have changed. Heck, you start paying four bucks for a tea when a few months ago you could get one for less than fifteen cents. 


It's also funny how I totally stand out in Nepal and Eastern Africa. Without even considering culturally I stand out physically. When I'm as tan as I should be I still glow in comparison. Yet in America, I blend in pretty well physically; it's just the emotional and mental part that does't fit in. It's much harder to cope that way, I think. If people didn't know you before they won't notice the change. You might feel like they should notice because it was a big moment for you. But, I've learned that you can't force anything on anyone. It's not even that important that anyone else knows how your experiences have shaped you. They'll experience it for themselves when they're good a ready and then you'll both just know. 


You will always meet people who have had similar experiences and feel the same way. You stumble upon them randomly and when you do you realize that we're all connected. We shall share something. Sometimes you just have to feel it, but it's there. 


Something I kept telling myself in Nepal, and what I should tell myself here and for the rest of my life, as well, is to embrace everything. Live in that moment.


embraceverb1 hug, take/hold in one's arms, entwine oneself around2 welcome, welcome with open arms, accept, take up, take to one's heart, adopt, support.3 include, take in, comprise, contain, incorporate, encompass, cover, involve, embody, subsume, comprehend.noun: bear hug.


Exactly. 

Kathgirldu--Alone In The City

Before I go into a description of my monastery stay I wanted to update you on what I am currently doing and how you can be a part of it. 

I now have a new home, a new schedule, new friends. New everything. 

I'm staying in Patan, a part of Kathmandu, but on the opposite side of town from where I stayed before so it's an entirely new adventure. But not only that: the rest of my group is trekking. I'm basically figuring everything out for myself. 

My latest project is with Sattya Media Arts Colletive (sattya.org), a creative hub and resource network for artists and the community in Kathmandu. It has definitely become one of my new comfort spots. Everyone here is incredibly passionate, creative and welcoming. It's my second day here and I already feel like part of the team. Not only will I be doing logistical stuff for them, I'll also be able to participate in workshops they have to help improve my creative writing and photography skills, painting murals with local school children and learning more about gardening and sustainability. 

Before I jump into that, though, I have one main task. We're currently launching a new project on arts and sustainable design called Hariyo Chowk (green courtyard).The project aims to turn a small plot of unused land into a community green space which will be free and open to the public, able to support gatherings of people wanting to share art and knowledge about sustainable living, or anyone looking for a beautiful local space to get away from the chaos of the city. All are desperately needed. It combines two of my favorite things: art and the environment. 

If you could take time to donate, it would be so greatly appreciated. Every little bit helps. The link below provides both more information and is the place to donate. This organization really is radical for Nepal and I will do anything I can to make sure it prospers. They deserve it. 

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/sattya/hariyo-chowk

Wait, When Did I Get To Uganda?

My Chaukati homestay started out a little different than I expected. I was homesick.

But not homesick for America. I was homesick for Southern Uganda.

The hills, the terraces, the houses, the people, the random goats and chickens wandering about and everything else I saw reminded me of my experiences in Eastern Africa and it made me miss it like I hadn't in a while.

After the first few days of adjusting to the slower paced village life my thoughts grew less and less self indulgent and I realized how truly amazing the similarities were. Nepal and Uganda are not actually that close to each other. How is it that they developed so congruently?

Then I thought a little more and realized that it's not just people in Nepal and Eastern Africa who live like this. Agricultural societies have developed all over the world completely independent from each other. On every habitable continent there were and are people who lived directly off and with the land. It's almost like it's the way we're supposed to live. Some people might say it's a little too relaxed, but, although it may look that way, I feel like the people really are always doing something. Whether it's cooking or washing or walking (trekking) up to their barn to get food for the animals or gathering firewood or checking for lice or simply wandering the countryside, they were always doing something. Maybe that's the difference. In the village there's a verb for simply wandering about aimlessly. It's a different perspective than that of most people in bigger cities.

Don't get me wrong. I adore the cites. I loved every minute of the bustling craziness of Kathmandu while I was there and I always love exploring cities in other parts of the world. I definitely think I'll live in one at some point during my life. But, that's not where my soul feels truly at home. It's sitting out there surrounded by green and brown and natural--surrounded by goats and buffalo and chicken--surrounded by flowers and bees and fleas--surrounded by people who feel the exact same way I do, that truly makes me feel at home.

I think one of the reasons why this discovery made me feel so conflicted was because I thought it made my future much more difficult. Where on earth am I going to live? I'm happy everywhere. I'll have to pick one place?

But then I realized (lots of realizations in Chaukati) that my being adaptable and comfortable in multiple places around the world was an extraordinary blessing. Anywhere I go I can find a quiet village like that one. Anywhere I go I can feel at home.

Another reason I think I was so baffled and almost annoyed by how similar it was was because my idea of these Eastern African villages were in my Eastern Africa box. I didn't understand why elements from my Eastern Africa box were suddenly popping up in my Nepal box.

Why do I have boxes? Part of this journey is about removing boxes, generalizations and stereotypes.

And that's when it hit me: we really are all the same. Sure, we're separated by oceans and deserts and cultures and languages, but deep down, we all came from the same thing. And instinctually, we would probably all live in pretty similar ways. Families are families and I'm now part of probably more than I can count. Nature is nature and we're all directly dependent on it in some way. We all need food, water and shelter. We all need love.

What am I realizing now? 

I'm homesick for Chaukati.  

I miss the clean air and my bed on the balcony. I miss the light thunderstorms that would come almost without fail around 1 PM. I miss the giant boulders that are just part of the landscape and are perfect chatting or resting spots. I miss looking out into the mountains that might be clouded by a light fog but a fog of actual clouds and not pollution. My stomach has expanded enough to the point that it misses the lord knows how much rice it was eating (looked like it could fit in about 3 Nalgenes to me). I miss my family--my aapaa, mami, didi, baini, bhaai, and countless other random family members who came in and out of the house periodically. I miss my hajur aamaa trying to communicate with me through hand gestures. I miss my bhaai's fascination with my headlamp. I miss my baini's friends making fun of me. I miss my aapaa asking "where did you wander today?" every evening. I miss playing games in Nepali and not really knowing what was going on until everyone just starts tickling each other. I miss learning how to make mats out of corn husks and baskets out of bamboo. I miss washing my hair in the public taps. I miss hearing the rain on the roof and, however terrifying it was at the time, the rats scurrying across my legs as they try to get out of said rain. I miss the lizard randomly falling from the sky/ceiling only my lap as I sat journaling in bed. I miss my mouth burning at every meal.


I miss everything. 


But, it's all part of the adventure. We meet people and become a family and then we move on. Tomorrow I'll be in a Tibetan Buddhist monastery committing myself to silence for the next ten days and I know that my time in the village has prepared me exactly for that. Each day I become more and more me. Each day I learn something.

My Language

First things first. Devnagari is derived from Sanskrit. There are 36 consonants and 12 vowels. But also a few more that don't make the actual alphabet but occasionally show up like श्र (shra) and ऋ (ri). And there are also things called double letters like त्त (tta, kind of). There are double letter for all of the consonants, I think. Or at least most of them. And half letters (ex. instead of ka sound it's just k), where if there's a leg or line on the full letter you take it away or if there's nothing to take you add a halanta (ट् it's the little line underneath). I absolutely adore this language. Learning the devnagari has really helped my nepali get better, too, which is certainly a plus. I'm thinking about picking up a newspaper tomorrow morning. 

Ok, here we go. 

Consonants:

क  ख  ग  घ  _      
च  छ  ज  _  ञा
ट  ठ  ड  ढ  ण
त  थ  द  ध  न
प  फ  ब  भ  म
य  र  ल  व  श
ष  स  ह  क्ष  त्र  ज्ञ

ka  kha  ga  gha  ngá
cha  chha  ja  jha  yá
Ta  Tha  Da  Dha  ana
ta  tha  da  dha  na
pa  pha  ba  bha  ma
ya  ra  la  wa  sha
sha  sa  ha  ksha  tra  gyá

Essentially.

The second two lines look oddly similar with out alphabet, huh? The sound completely different. With the Ta line your tongue is supposed to hit the soft palate--the top of your mouth, basically. With the ta line, conversely, your tongue should hit the back of your teeth. ka and kha also sound very different. The first is a more aspirate sound whereas the second isn't. It really does just sound like there's an "h" in there.

 
Vowels:

अ  
आ  
इ  
ई  
उ 
ऊ  
ए  
ऐ  
ओ  
औ  
उं  
उँ 

a
aa
i
i (longer. like eee)
u
u (longer. like oooo)
e
ai
o
au
un (nasal)
ung (even more nasal)


There are also different symbols that you use when writing the word ko for example. 
Here are the vowels again with क


क
का
कि
की
कु
कू
के
कै
को
कौ
कं
कँ

It's seems like a lot. It is. But it's also some of the most fun I've ever had writing. It's like drawing, but there are actually sounds and meanings that go along with the lines and swirls. I love being able to look at the signs on the side of the road and read the words. Granted, I don't always know what they mean, but I can read them all the same. I hope this gives you some idea of what I'm seeing. Just imagine tons of letters in countless different fonts and you'll know my initial confusion. 


Know what I say to multiple fonts now?


I'm making my own.

My name in devnagari:

आशा 

aasha

hope.