Yoga & Pilates

A few nice meditation pillow images I found:

Village Trek


Image by idea_hamster
Our short trek out to Nga Lhakang village began at the end of the Bumthang Valley. After a bit of hiking to get out into the countryside, we were met by a small contingent from Nga Lhakang who offered tea, chang (the local beer) and arra (the Bhutanese counterpart to moonshine) for good fortune on our trip. One of the villagers also offered some saffron rice to accompany our drinks — a fellow who would make another appearance later on. Then we began our hike in earnest, following the river northwest along a footpath that until recently was the only way to and from nga lhakang. While the path is reportedly "flat" and "smooth" by Bhutan standards, this was no simple walk, since it included crossing a number of springs, climbing through some narrow, rocky parts and at one point required following a stream bed — in the stream bed! A short distance from the village, we stopped for a rest and for some of us to change into Bhutanese garb: a gho for the men and a kira for the women.

By the early afternoon, we reached our camp site, a superlatively organized area with "his" and "hers" bathroom tents, shower tents and a "parlor tent" with a table and mirror. We were met by the Village Head Man and a small entourage who welcomed us to the area. We were given an opportunity to meditate in the local temple, which was just as well appointed and ornate as those found in much wealthier and more densely populated areas. Bob decided on a teaching and meditation from the Book of the Dead, reviewing some of the aspects of meditating on the subject of death and of the nature of the "bardo," the state between lives. After dinner, we had an evening to recover from the hike with tea and drinks around a fire to ward off the chill that began to encroach once the sun set. As an excellent surprise, the staff prepared our tents with not only down sleeping bags, fleece liners, pillows and air mattresses, but also a delicious hot water bottle to pre-heat the beds! Indeed, this was camping in the best of all possible worlds.

That night was, in fact, a cold one and when dawn broke, the warmer mists rose only partly up the valley and our entire camp was coated in frost. Even the poor dog that had taken up residence near our campsite was not spared a dusting of ice. Despite the temperature, we could hear the monks’ horns from the nearby temple getting ready for a ceremony that would take place later that day. After breakfast, the sun was high enough to reach the camp directly and warmed and dried the area, quickly making it very comfortable for our reception in the town. When we made our way back down to the village we had another ceremonial chang reception and then a number of masked dances, folk songs performed by young ladies and songs and dances children from the area.

After the performance, we had lunch and the children lined up for butter tea, a savory broth-like mix of black tea, butter and salt. Then we had a tour of the home of the Village Headman where we got to see his own personal temple room, his family’s treadle loom, the kitchen and main room, complete with a classic chiminey-less hearth. Life in his house didn’t stop for our tour, so there was vegetable cutting, soup boiling and meat drying all going on around us.

That afternoon, many of us chose to relax at the camp, taking warm showers with the pump-canisters full of hot water in the two shower tents. Another group ventured up to a nearby ridge where there are ruins of an old military outpost. Unlike nearly every other relic in Bhutan, this area does not show up on any historical map and no one seems to know when it was built or by whom. The purpose, however, was likely to guard against the Tibetans, since the location holds a commanding position overlooking both sections of this L-shaped valley, the northern part of which leads to TIbet. Unfortunately, time has taken such a toll that the fort is nearly indescernable from the forest. A few sections of wall still stand where tree roots bind them together.

Our second evening would be our last, so the villagers were invited up to our camp to send us off. The drinks flowed and spirits were high after dinner as the villagers performed more folk songs around the fire. The visitors’ part was held up well, thanks to rousing renditions of Amazing Grace, Respect, Hey Jude, Like a Rolling Stone and a heart-felt exposition of the Hokey Pokey — all to the great amusement of everyone present.

That night, the weather smiled on us, and warming clouds and mist covered our camp. We awoke to thick fog and a cool but not frosty morning. After tea and breakfast, we held our own thank-you ceremony for the hard work of the villagers who had made our stay so enjoyable. As the morning fire burned down, we had a last chance to shop for local goods, including some textiles woven by Sonam, the Village Headman’s daughter.

For our hike back we followed the new tractor path installed by the government just last year. A longer route, it took us past a number of high pasture areas above the river and a small stone buckwheat mill. Run by the power of a small stream, the mill was operating unattended when we went by, with raw buckwheat in a woven bamboo funnel being fed into the spinning stone grinder below. We were back in Bumthang by mid-afternoon to get ready for tomorrow’s travel leg heading back west.

Roger Dean Build


Image by ceoln
My latest build, 400m or so above my old home land in Hughes Rise. Inspired by Roger Dean’s Floating Islands, and suggested by v good friend Ava.

Hard to capture in a single picture, and this one gets the perspective kind of odd. That’s boy Dale one of on the meditation balls on the main island with the tree and the pillow. The smaller island has more sitting places and a small pond and little plants and a couple of books, the floating debris includes another book and a sheet of metal, and the showy green and magenta particle-flowers are something that I found sitting copyable on Jessica island a long time ago.