Out of the wild and in to the wilderness
I have spent a few days now wondering around Lhasa looking at the beautiful temples listening to the monks chant in the mornings. Although at first I felt it very hard to breathe, the beauty of the area, the silence of the monasteries is literally suffocating. Yes literally I dont mean some metaphorical silence is like a chokehold on my mind or suffocating sense of scenery deprivation, I mean I cant freaking breath and if I dont sit down from exhaustion and being lightheaded every once in a while and simply focus on my breathing I fear Ill pass out. Its no wonder so many meditation techniques are based around simply focusing on your breathing, theres not enough oxygen in the air at this altitude. Coming from the depths of a valley covered in the smog and decadence blown over from the cost to settle and thrive in the valley of Vegas to now being on the roof top of the world its a wonder its not more than altitude sickness thats been my biggest concern. I thought for sure the culture shock would kill me. Its weird though its not totally alien Ive seen a few monks with Nikes on, kid with a bjork t-shirt not to mention the tourist are even easier to spot than in a down town casino at 3am. The first few nights I slept on the streets but found a hostel where I get a bunk in kind of a barracks type room for only $4 a night and I need a shower too so I took it. Im afraid all Ive done is knocked my self further down Mazlows hierarchy of needs, now rather than running in an endless 9-5 rat maze cycle of work so I have food and a place to sleep so I can go to work again and being unsatisfied. Hoping and striving for some relationship, some social connection to build a family and friends, which I continually fail at always, hurting the ones I love unable to sustain any lasting connection with out losing myself and sabotaging the situation with some self defeating, destructive behavior to now just striving for food and a place to sleep. Ive come half way around the world to find myself and I find most of my time is spent trying to stay warm. Im so preoccupied with my own comfort, to come from sleeping on scientifically engineered space foam from NASA with a ergonomic shaped pillow between my thighs and the heater, or more often the air conditioner blasting and reading some semi-obscure passage in a book so I can try and impress the cute girl at the office tomorrow which is unlikely because shes more interested in the casino executive she met last weekend at the club and getting her hair done than any sudo-intellectual statements I could make, to now sleeping on a damp rock in below freezing temperatures with nothing to eat in the past 3 days other than the survivalist bars I packed and some yaks milk the monks handed out last morning. They say the only thing worst than a warm cup of yak milk in the morning is the second one, a truer statement could not be made. Ive come here to find enlightenment and some point, some purpose, to escape the struggle not simply be consumed by another.
I saw a child in the street crying today. I cried when I would hear a story on the news or some other forum where the guy jumped in front of a moving car to save the disable women, or ran in to a burning build the save the kids. I remember a few years back a guy had fallen on to the subway tracks in New York in some sort of epileptic seizer or something and the train was coming, every one just stood there but one person. This one guy jumped down on the track and lay over the guy on the tracks pinning him down until the train passed saving his life. The life saver guy was doing interviews and even on Letterman and I would cry. It took me really thinking about why these types of stories affected me like that to figure it out as it wasnt sad no one died. I mean Im not going to say I never cry like Im some mister tough guy but youll rarely ever see me cry at a movie or something so trivial well not trivial but something so far removed from myself. Although I have been known cry at a film once or twice and that time at free wilily doesnt count I was trying to detox cold turkey from Zoloft. I was forced to take and any one whos ever just simply quite taking some anti-depressant after youve been on one for a short time its definitely causes a chemical imbalance to say the least. Anyway its not that one person is a hero and how sad they gave their life for another, or at least risked it, its not that Im so happy this person I dont know has been saved from some horrible demise. I cry because Im jealous and not simply for the obvious reason of being labeled a courageous person and a hero or simply having the respect of others but because that person found a point, a purpose in the quick moment in that flash of time that person found a reason for their birth no matter what happens from that point on they can always look back and go well maybe thats why I was put here to do that one act. For most of us though we spend a life time if were lucky looking for that moment and for most its not just a moment either. For most of us its that struggle of finding the point that is the purpose, it is in the search and its a life time of struggle.
I have spent a few days now wondering around Lhasa looking at the beautiful temples listening to the monks chant in the mornings. Although at first I felt it very hard to breathe, the beauty of the area, the silence of the monasteries is literally suffocating. Yes literally I dont mean some metaphorical silence is like a chokehold on my mind or suffocating sense of scenery deprivation, I mean I cant freaking breath and if I dont sit down from exhaustion and being lightheaded every once in a while and simply focus on my breathing I fear Ill pass out. Its no wonder so many meditation techniques are based around simply focusing on your breathing, theres not enough oxygen in the air at this altitude. Coming from the depths of a valley covered in the smog and decadence blown over from the cost to settle and thrive in the valley of Vegas to now being on the roof top of the world its a wonder its not more than altitude sickness thats been my biggest concern. I thought for sure the culture shock would kill me. Its weird though its not totally alien Ive seen a few monks with Nikes on, kid with a bjork t-shirt not to mention the tourist are even easier to spot than in a down town casino at 3am. The first few nights I slept on the streets but found a hostel where I get a bunk in kind of a barracks type room for only $4 a night and I need a shower too so I took it. Im afraid all Ive done is knocked my self further down Mazlows hierarchy of needs, now rather than running in an endless 9-5 rat maze cycle of work so I have food and a place to sleep so I can go to work again and being unsatisfied. Hoping and striving for some relationship, some social connection to build a family and friends, which I continually fail at always, hurting the ones I love unable to sustain any lasting connection with out losing myself and sabotaging the situation with some self defeating, destructive behavior to now just striving for food and a place to sleep. Ive come half way around the world to find myself and I find most of my time is spent trying to stay warm. Im so preoccupied with my own comfort, to come from sleeping on scientifically engineered space foam from NASA with a ergonomic shaped pillow between my thighs and the heater, or more often the air conditioner blasting and reading some semi-obscure passage in a book so I can try and impress the cute girl at the office tomorrow which is unlikely because shes more interested in the casino executive she met last weekend at the club and getting her hair done than any sudo-intellectual statements I could make, to now sleeping on a damp rock in below freezing temperatures with nothing to eat in the past 3 days other than the survivalist bars I packed and some yaks milk the monks handed out last morning. They say the only thing worst than a warm cup of yak milk in the morning is the second one, a truer statement could not be made. Ive come here to find enlightenment and some point, some purpose, to escape the struggle not simply be consumed by another.
I saw a child in the street crying today. I cried when I would hear a story on the news or some other forum where the guy jumped in front of a moving car to save the disable women, or ran in to a burning build the save the kids. I remember a few years back a guy had fallen on to the subway tracks in New York in some sort of epileptic seizer or something and the train was coming, every one just stood there but one person. This one guy jumped down on the track and lay over the guy on the tracks pinning him down until the train passed saving his life. The life saver guy was doing interviews and even on Letterman and I would cry. It took me really thinking about why these types of stories affected me like that to figure it out as it wasnt sad no one died. I mean Im not going to say I never cry like Im some mister tough guy but youll rarely ever see me cry at a movie or something so trivial well not trivial but something so far removed from myself. Although I have been known cry at a film once or twice and that time at free wilily doesnt count I was trying to detox cold turkey from Zoloft. I was forced to take and any one whos ever just simply quite taking some anti-depressant after youve been on one for a short time its definitely causes a chemical imbalance to say the least. Anyway its not that one person is a hero and how sad they gave their life for another, or at least risked it, its not that Im so happy this person I dont know has been saved from some horrible demise. I cry because Im jealous and not simply for the obvious reason of being labeled a courageous person and a hero or simply having the respect of others but because that person found a point, a purpose in the quick moment in that flash of time that person found a reason for their birth no matter what happens from that point on they can always look back and go well maybe thats why I was put here to do that one act. For most of us though we spend a life time if were lucky looking for that moment and for most its not just a moment either. For most of us its that struggle of finding the point that is the purpose, it is in the search and its a life time of struggle.