Absence makes the heart grow fond?
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Dont stop!
Absence makes the heart grow fond?
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Afternoon pages poolside Anna Maria Island 7.26.09
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
This Precious Life
Monday, September 28, 2009
Back In the Studio
How many lifetimes minutes in just this day week month year has it taken just to get to this pointThursday, September 17, 2009
The Eye: Older Blog Still Open
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Afghan 'Indiana Jones' hunts lost Bamiyan statue
Afghan 'Indiana Jones' hunts lost Bamiyan statue | |||||
Lyse Doucet meets the man on the trail of the legendary lost Buddha
Dr Zemaryalai Tarzi is an Afghan with a big dream. To be exact, this archaeologist dreams of a giant - a 1,000ft (300 metre) sleeping Buddha. Try to imagine a stone statue reclining across the length of three football fields.
But it is more than a dream. Dr Tarzi is trying to make it a reality. "At first, people told me I must be mad," he recounted, barely concealing a smile, as we stood at his excavation in the midst of potato fields in the ancient Afghan city of Bamiyan. "An archaeologist needs proof. We need to keep searching." Dr Tarzi, who has been mapping the landscape of Bamiyan for 40 years, is renowned world-wide for his knowledge of the Buddhist civilisation that flourished centuries ago in the central highlands of Afghanistan. Bamiyan was a storied destination for travellers journeying on the Silk Road between East and West. Ancient text In the 7th Century, a Chinese pilgrim, Xuan Zang, marvelled at a colossal reclining statue: "To the east of the city there is a monastery in which there is a figure of Buddha lying in a sleeping position, as when he attained nirvana. The figure is in length about 1,000 feet."
His detailed journal piqued Dr Tarzi's curiosity. It read like tantalising proof because Xuan Zang also wrote with passion, and precision, of two magnificent stone Buddhas which stood guard over the valley. The Taliban smashed those statues, the world's largest standing Buddhas, in 2001, denouncing them as un-Islamic idols. That gave further fuel to Dr Tarzi's drive to find the third Buddha. It was an archaeologist's revenge. "A country's history cannot be destroyed," he fumed. I first visited Dr Tarzi in 2005, during the summer months he spends at the dig. It was hard not to find myself willing him to succeed. He confessed, his voice breaking, he still could not bear to look at the gaping niches in the stone cliffs towering over the place where he was working. Stunning finds He is still there, looking for all the world like an Afghan Indiana Jones of the epic films, with his chino apparel, floppy hat, and air of scholarly adventure.
The earthen cavities are hives of activity. Afghan archaeologists trained by Dr Tarzi and French colleagues from Strasbourg University gently tap picks and trowels in the dust and dirt, backed up by a small legion of labourers. His team's diligent search for hidden treasures has yielded a stunning array of stone remnants from the remains of Buddhist monasteries - small feet from statues, chiselled folds of monastic robes, sacred stupas. Then, last November, a cry of excitement rang out across this verdant valley. At last, a sleeping Buddha had surfaced. But it was not the fabled giant. Their persistent digging had uncovered fragments of a reclining figure estimated to be 62 feet (19 metres) long. One hand protruded visibly, without a thumb. The head was destroyed. Bigger prize It was still hard for a novice to visualise. Dr Tarzi gave it his best, stretching himself sideways along a flat hard surface, one hand tucked neatly under his head. Indiana Jones could have done no better. I ask whether this smaller statue may be all there is. It is, after all, a wonderful find.
"I will persist," the sprightly 70-year-old declared with a firm shake of his head. He guided us to another area running along the foot of the sandstone cliffs where he believes a much bigger Buddha still lies sleeping. Dr Tarzi does not want this remarkable history to be forgotten. In the middle of the day, when a hot sun blazes in the sky, he teaches a master class for young Afghans training to be tour guides at an eco-tourism centre set up with the help of the Aga Khan Foundation. Bamiyan is one of the few places in Afghanistan now safe enough to dream of tourists too. Playing the role of a would be tourist, I asked enthusiastic students to convince me to visit. "Welcome to Bamiyan, historical place, safe for tourists," was the practised but heartfelt reply of an earnest bespectacled woman. An older male student shouted from the back row, "Bamiyan is exceptional in Afghanistan". All the students nodded in agreement. When darkness descended, Dr Tarzi was honoured at a musical evening attended by a gathering of Bamiyan residents who wish him every success. A trio of musicians sang of destroyed Buddhas that are still very much alive. The legend of a giant still lives in Bamiyan. He has slept through centuries of conquest, a quarter century of war, and the end of Taliban rule. If he ever wakes, it would be a dream come true for Dr Tarzi, and countless other Afghans with their own dreams of a lost past and a brighter better future. Watch Lyse Doucet's film in full on Newsnight on Thursday 10 September 2009 at 10.30pm on BBC Two, then afterward on the BBC iPlayer and Newsnight website. | |||||
Letter to a friend about Travel in Nepal













Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Where is the Love?

Where is the love?
Friday, September 4, 2009
With Explosions of Color, Tibetan Art Flourishes
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/30/world/asia/30sengeshong.html
SENGESHONG, China — Sitting on the floor of his monastic chamber, Lobsang Lungtok pointed to the canvas with the thousand-faced goddess.
It had taken him three months to finish the painting. Her many faces, all gold, were stacked atop one another in a pyramid. A thousand arms fanned out in a radiant circle.
There are rules, he said, that have been handed down from one Tibetan painter to another through the centuries: The head and body must be perfectly proportioned; the gold paint goes on after the pencil outline; this particular deity has a thousand faces and a thousand arms — no more, no less.
Out of that had emerged Chenresig, the bodhisattva of compassion.
“Why do we draw this god?” said Lobsang, 33, who, like many Tibetans, goes by his given name. “If we don’t, in the future how will people know what the gods look like?”
The monasteries in this mountain valley are some of the most important centers of art in the Tibetan world, famed for the creation of painted and cloth scrolls called thangkas that depict Tibetan gods and other religious iconography. In 1999, artists in the area finished the 675-yard-long Great Thangka, which Guinness World Records certified as the biggest thangka in the world.
The artists here practice the Rebkong style of thangka painting that has flourished since the 17th century. Thangkas from this part of northwestern Qinghai Province are commissioned by monasteries as far away as Lhasa, the Tibetan capital. In recent years, thangkas have gained a following among some ethnic Han Chinese, and individual collectors from Chinese cities and foreign countries have driven up the prices. (For his painting of Chenresig, Lobsang was asking 3,600 yuan, or about $530, a fortune for most Tibetans.)
The commercialization will “drive thangkas far from their origins, from their use as religious objects,” said Zhang Yasha, a teacher of fine arts at the Minzu University of China who specializes in Tibet. “We see more young people learning the art because it’s lucrative.”
The paintings hanging in the back room of Lobsang’s chamber show the range of traditional thangka subjects: Gods like Padmasambhava and White Tara and Green Tara, and the circle of life with people reclining in heaven and roasting in hell.
The thangkas are explosions of color. The paint powder comes from grinding materials like coral, agate, sapphire, pearl and gold.
Of the monks in the two monasteries in Sengeshong, about 60 can paint with some skill, said Lobsang, a compact, cheerful, Red Bull-drinking man who entered the monastery at age 7 and began studying thangka painting seven years later.
“There are only a few good ones, and a lot of ordinary ones,” he said of the painters.
This valley outside the town of Rebkong, known in Chinese as Tongren, offers the kind of isolation that artists often crave. The upper monastery is set against snow-covered hills. The sweet smell of juniper incense drifts through the air. On a recent afternoon, a steady drumbeat emanated from the dark recesses of the main temple, while dozens of monks sat on the temple steps wiping brass yak butter lamps.
Lobsang’s chamber is plush compared to rooms at other Tibetan monasteries. The carpeted living area has a central stove and a framed portrait of the Dalai Lama, the exiled spiritual leader of the Tibetans. There is a photograph of Lobsang standing in his red robes in front of the Shanghai skyline; he lived for five years in Shanghai and Beijing painting thangkas for a businessman.
A safe in the rear room contains some of Lobsang’s more expensive thangkas. The front wall of the foyer has wide glass windows, and it is in this sun-drenched space that Lobsang paints during the winter.
Skilled thangka and mural painters are valued across Tibet, with artists sometimes traveling thousands of miles to do commissions for prominent monasteries. Many monasteries and temples were destroyed or sacked during the Cultural Revolution, and those that have begun rebuilding are in need of painters.
“That’s meant the painters of Rebkong are wealthy compared to other groups in Tibetan society,” said Mark Stevenson, a senior lecturer in Asian studies at Victoria University in Melbourne, Australia, who has studied the painting community here.
Painting thangkas is simply one component of an array of artistic skills among monks, Dr. Stevenson said.
“Every monk has a need for artistic talent,” he said. “They make and assemble tormas, which are offering cakes. Many may have to work on mandalas as well. This is part of being a monk. Every monk needs some manual skill dexterity in designing ritual objects.”
The first monastery in the Rebkong area was founded at the start of the 14th century, when the Mongols ruled China and turned to Tibetan religious leaders to guide their practice of Buddhism. But the distinctive Rebkong school of painting, with its brighter colors and finer lines, did not emerge until the 17th century, when the Gelugpa sect became dominant. The Dalai Lama, believed to be the reincarnation of the thousand-faced Chenresig, belongs to this sect.
Rebkong achieved fame in modern times because it was home to several notable artists, in particular a monk named Shawu Tsering.
“Watching him paint was remarkable, as if the lines were already there, and he was just moving his hand to bring them forward,” Dr. Stevenson said. “It was just so effortless, and the skill and memory were there to allow him to do that.”
The art tradition here suffered a break from 1958 to 1978, when Chinese authorities shut down the monasteries, first during the suppression of a rebellion, then during the Cultural Revolution. Monks were persecuted. Shawu Tsering, for example, was forced to wear a dunce’s cap.
In the 1980s, the government opened up an art research institute in the town of Rebkong, eventually converting it into a gallery. The gallery supported local artists. After the revival of thangka painting, monks took up the art in large numbers again.
In warm weather, Lobsang sits in his front yard with a brush in hand, working 10 to 12 hours a day.
It is an art that he now teaches to others, some of them laypeople from nearby villages.
“We want them to transmit Buddhism,” he said. “We want them to teach people that the gods are kind.”
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Scope!
I have tuned in to your yearning for resolution, O Seeker. I know that your heart fervently wants the riddles to run their course, the mysteries to be revealed, the uncertainties to be quelled. And I have ransacked my imagination in search of what consolation I might provide to appease your quest for neat, simple truths. But what I have concluded, O In-Between One, is that any solutions I might try to offer you would not only be fake, but also counterproductive. What you actually need, I suspect, are not answers to your urgent questions, but rather, better questions; more precisely formulated questions; more ruthlessly honest questions. Dig deeper, please. Open wider. Think fatter.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
The Decades Roll

The decades roll
Monday, August 24, 2009
Epic Writing Excerpts II-Moral Climax of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn


3. It was a close place. I took . . . up [the letter I’d written to Miss Watson], and held it in my hand. I was a-trembling, because I’d got to decide, forever, betwixt two things, and I knowed it. I studied a minute, sort of holding my breath, and then says to myself: “All right then, I’ll go to hell”—and tore it up. It was awful thoughts and awful words, but they was said. And I let them stay said; and never thought no more about reforming.
These lines from Chapter XXXI describe the moral climax of the novel. The duke and the dauphin have sold Jim, who is being held in the Phelpses’ shed pending his return to his rightful owner. Thinking that life at home in St. Petersburg—even if it means Jim will still be a slave and Huck will be a captive of the Widow— would be better than his current state of peril far from home, Huck composes a letter to Miss Watson, telling her where Jim is. When Huck thinks of his friendship with Jim, however, and realizes that Jim will be sold down the river anyway, he decides to tear up the letter. The logical consequences of Huck’s action, rather than the lessons society has taught him, drive Huck. He decides that going to “hell,” if it means following his gut and not society’s hypocritical and cruel principles, is a better option than going to everyone else’s heaven. This moment of decision represents Huck’s true break with the world around him. At this point, Huck decides to help Jim escape slavery once and for all. Huck also realizes that he does not want to reenter the “sivilized” world: after all his experiences and moral development on the river, he wants to move on to the freedom of the West instead.
Epic Words-A Timeline of Great Writing. I. Gilgamesh

I thought this would be an interesting jumping off point for the exploration of Epic Writing. To compare and
contrast with later ones.Try to imagine the world that this was created out ofin 2000 BC approximately.
the address below will connect you with the extended text and commentary.
http://infomotions.com/etexts/gutenberg/dirs/1/1/0/0/11000/11000-8.htmand http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/gilgamesh/quotes.html for quotes below.Plot Overview
The epic’s prelude offers a general introduction to Gilgamesh, king of Uruk, who was two-thirds god and one-third man. He built magnificent ziggurats, or temple towers, surrounded his city with high walls, and laid out its orchards and fields. He was physically beautiful, immensely strong, and very wise. Although Gilgamesh was godlike in body and mind, he began his kingship as a cruel despot. He lorded over his subjects, raping any woman who struck his fancy, whether she was the wife of one of his warriors or the daughter of a nobleman. He accomplished his building projects with forced labor, and his exhausted subjects groaned under his oppression. The gods heard his subjects’ pleas and decided to keep Gilgamesh in check by creating a wild man named Enkidu, who was as magnificent as Gilgamesh. Enkidu became Gilgamesh’s great friend, and Gilgamesh’s heart was shattered when Enkidu died of an illness inflicted by the gods. Gilgamesh then traveled to the edge of the world and learned about the days before the deluge and other secrets of the gods, and he recorded them on stone tablets.
Important Quotations Explained
2. What could I offer
the queen of love in return, who lacks nothing at all?
Balm for the body? The food and drink of the gods?
I have nothing to give to her who lacks nothing at all.
You are the door through which the cold gets in.
You are the fire that goes out. You are the pitch
that sticks to the hands of the one who carries the bucket.
You are the house that falls down. You are the shoe
that pinches the foot of the wearer. The ill-made wall
that buckles when time has gone by. The leaky
water skin soaking the water skin carrier.
—Tablet VI
Make merry day and night.
Of each day make a feast of rejoicing.
Day and night dance and play!
Let your garments be sparkling fresh,
Your head be washed; bathe in water.
Pay heed to a little one that holds on to your hand,
Let a spouse delight in your bosom.
—Tablet X
5. And so they traveled until they reached Uruk.
There Gilgamesh the king said to the boatman:
“Study the brickwork, study the fortification;
climb the ancient staircase to the terrace;
study how it is made; from the terrace see
the planted and fallow fields, the ponds and orchards.
One league is the inner city, another league
is orchards; still another the fields beyond;
over there is the precinct of the temple. . . . ,
Three leagues and the temple precinct of Ishtar.”
Measure Uruk, the city of Gilgamesh
—Tablet XI
Sunday, August 23, 2009
morning pages 8.23.09

Time and time again
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
"Just a little person" theme song lyrics from Synechdoche NYC

I'm just a little person,








