Gifts from the Other Side of the World
On Election Day, I boarded an international flight on my way to Kathmandu, Nepal. I had signed up for a writing retreat with a friend rather spontaneously and frankly had done minimal advance research on my destination – leaving me with little idea of what to expect. I heard the election results somewhere over the Atlantic, thanks to the plane’s Wi-Fi, and the news felt devastating to this lifelong liberal Democrat (much to my parents’ chagrin). But spending the last two weeks in this complicated fascinating country of Nepal, I gleaned a few lessons I hope to carry home to our divided and troubled country.
1. Say (or think) “namaste.” Nepalis greet each other with a quick bow of the head, hands in prayer at the chest, and one word: namaste. In the United States, that word sometimes signals the end of a yoga class, but in Nepal it means “the divine in me recognizes the divine in you.” Imagine if our politicians on both sides of the aisle greeted each other with this sentiment. Or if we paused momentarily with this thought each time we met someone new, or sat down next to a stranger on the bus, or passed a homeless mentally ill person on the street. How would that change the way we show up in the world?
2. Find happiness within. Nepal is the second most impoverished country in Asia (following only Afghanistan) and has been designated by the United Nations as one of the least developed countries in the world. Nepalis do not take luxurious vacations, they eat the same food for most meals (dal bhat, which is lentil soup with rice), and they live in challenging conditions with air pollution, dirty water, and very limited services and infrastructure. Electrical wires look like tangled balls of black yarn. Nepal is a country where just managing daily life could justify a selfish hoarding of limited resources including time and good will. Nonetheless, in no other place have I felt such warmth and generosity from strangers. We visited a beggars’ camp where a family of seven shared a tiny one-room home but still insisted on serving us masala milk tea and cookies and we sat cross-legged on the thin mats where they sleep. Nepalis cannot afford the external sources of pleasure we Americans take for granted – the average income in rupees equates to just a few hundred dollars a month – but the people we encountered would smile easily, minimize their hardships, and talk about their lives with apparent contentment.
Nepal certainly has seen its share of political drama in the last few decades, including a decade-long civil war and even murder of the royal family! But, now a parliamentary democracy, the political scene sounds relatively stable, and Nepalis seem to take in stride the many aspects of life they cannot control: a maddening bureaucracy that might require multiple trips across town to collect simple paperwork, unexpected power outages that garner a simple reaction of lighting some candles, standstill traffic as one police officer attempts to direct vehicles through an intersection more congested than I-5 at rush hour. Yet I never witnessed road rage, and never heard anyone expressing anger or self-pity, even when facing challenges far greater than unwanted election results. We became friends with a 19-year-old girl who spoke openly about raising her younger sister, the two of them living alone since they were 10 and 7. She dreams of studying fashion design abroad, but never once complained about her situation, as unfair and traumatizing as it appears. Even at the site of cremation pyres along the river, adjacent to the Hindu Pashupatinath Temple, we heard only singing and chanting while family members tended to the bodies of lost loved ones with ceremony and respect. Nepal definitely provided a reality check for my post-election doomsday fears. I certainly don’t intend to minimize the impact a corrupt or authoritarian government can have in any country (and many thousands died during the civil war in Nepal), but my time there provided a wider lens through which we can view our day-to-day suffering and the path to contentment, even when we wish for different circumstances.
3. Take care of each other. Largely a Hindu and Buddhist population, Nepal has extremely low crime rates, and I felt completely safe even walking alone at night. Petty theft rates also are low, despite the poverty we assume drives those statistics. Instead, people tend to the common good by decorating neighborhood shrines, offering tea to visiting strangers, sweeping public walkways, and giving rupees to beggars and refugees (who, according to our local host, largely live in communal camps, not on the street). Multiple generations of family often live together to pool limited resources and provide a safety net for all.
The animals are cared for, too. Women sell grain to feed the pigeons, street dogs are vaccinated by non-profit groups and welcomed into shops or monasteries for naps. And the congested traffic – with busses and mopeds alike frequently crossing the center line to dodge other vehicles, with not a stoplight or traffic sign in sight – will come to a standstill for a cow crossing a six-lane road. Care for others, rather than getting ahead as individuals, seems to be prioritized in some concrete and visible ways.
4. Send prayers. You can’t go anywhere in Nepal without noticing signs of prayer: colorful prayer flags strung from trees, temples, even across moped handlebars; prayer wheels that people spin as they pass to send blessings into the world; monks chanting mantras wishing peace and happiness for all sentient beings. During our trip we visited with a wise Buddhist nun, and one of our travel companions asked how we could face a new government at home when we feel so angry and disillusioned about the election results. Her advice: send more prayers and loving kindness to Donald Trump. A couple of days later, we had the opportunity to write the names of departed loved ones or people needing extra blessings on prayer flags to be hung from the Boudhanath Stupa (the birthplace of Tibetan Buddhism and a sacred pilgrimage site). More than one of us (though not me) wrote the name of our president-elect, despite vehemently opposing his values and feeling grief-stricken over his return to the White House. Intentionally sending more good wishes, peace, and kindness into our country (and the world) surely would be a more positive use of our energy than spreading (or exposing ourselves to) more of the hatred, vitriol, and divisiveness plaguing our headlines and social media feeds. My post-election resolution is to cancel my Washington Post and New York Times subscriptions, instead using my free time to intentionally focus on things that bring more peace and joy.
5. Add beauty to the world. In addition to the red, yellow, green, blue and white prayer flags decorating everything from shrines to modest homes, Nepalis also hang garlands of marigold flowers everywhere: not only from temple rooflines but along the awning of the car repair shop and above the café door, around the necks of visitors and sometimes even dogs. They also add a ruby red “tika” (a mark made using the ring finger dipped into a red paste made from sandalwood or vermillion) to the foreheads of anyone they wish to bless or honor – also sometimes including dogs!
Nepalis dress in rich vibrant colors, layering shimmering fabrics with bright stripes. They light candles everywhere, with vendors tending low tables full of glimmering butter candles in brass cups that you can buy to place at a temple for a few rupees. Even some hotel rooms come stocked with candles, and you can’t escape the herbal smell of incense even in polluted public squares. Nepalis pay attention to so many small details that add cheery color and warm light to this sometimes-dark world.
6. Cultivate your best self, with practice every day. Nepalis practice so many rituals focused on spiritual and self-improvement – many rooted in Hindu and Buddhist traditions – and nearly everything holds meaning and symbolism, from colors to animals, ancient stories to images of gods and goddesses. Daily life includes many acts focused on this higher realm of life: giving rupees to monks in the monastery, meditating to provide calm and awareness, saying silent prayers or mantras focused on compassion and equanimity and altruism.
Nepalis keep small statutes in their homes for encouragement (like Ganesh, the elephant, remover of obstacles), and use imagery to strive for goodness (like the lotus flower, blooming despite its muck-bound roots). They believe in karma: universal justice that provides consequences for good and evil, and I met many Nepalis who openly talked about their daily practices to be better humans (my words, not theirs). In our Judeo-Christian country, many people might go to church on Sundays, but I wonder how many spend time throughout each day to re-center themselves on the goals of being generous to those less fortunate, brave in the face of challenges, forgiving to those who hurt them, and kind to their neighbors (regardless of political allegiances). Maybe we need more daily public rituals to bring us all back to what matters most.
I cannot pretend to know a place as complex as Nepal after barely scratching the surface in just two weeks. In fact, our workshop hosts who probably know the country as well as any Americans could – one has lived in Kathmandu for 20 years and another has visited annually since the 1970s – talk about the nuanced cultural layers they continue to discover. Nepalis face a variety of serious problems, of course; it’s no Shangri-la. People struggle with addiction, domestic violence is tolerated, global warming causes disasters like flooding during monsoon season, the poor air quality causes sickness, and the limited infrastructure appears haphazard at best. I’m sure Nepalis could learn much from our country’s progress on some of those issues. But they also have some lessons to offer us Americans if we can step away from defining success by economics and power.
Now on my last flight home, I’m bracing myself for the American headlines I would rather avoid even as I walk through the airport. But I’m also hoping to hang on to my Nepali souvenirs that are less tangible than the singing bowls and cashmere scarves packed in my checked luggage. Perhaps our wealthy privileged country could benefit greatly from some of the exported gems Nepalis have to offer – with no tariffs imposed.
Namaste,
Leigh