Allow me to steal a theme in the form of a metaphor from a film I saw a while ago: Lost in Translation. Some of you may have seen it. To be honest I don't remember the plot, I don't think I was cognitive to understand the concepts and depth of the film.

But the few things I remember from the film were the constantly changing predictable camera shots. The shots had Bill Murray situated in a moment of random Japanese social interaction. He is blasse about everything. The camera is focused on him while the viewers eyes are distracted by what is going on around him craziness, this evidently being the "lost." This further reminds me of the protagonist from Camu's "The Stranger," impartial to all happenings; existing preceding essence (but that last statement is not what this blog is about, I'm just trying to sound cool).

I will give you one more example of my current situation. For all of you who remember "Garden State," remember the crazy drug/party scene at the beginning of the film. Zach Braff takes an ecstasy pill and enters a world of total chaos while the world spins around him, with his friends running in circles. He sits movement less, starring into space he too is lost in translation. I think I am as well.

I'm in Bangkok. I can appreciate this city. It's great. Even though I believe it is a good way to begin the transition back to what my day calls "reality," I am having a hard time finding solace in anything I see or do. Well that's not entirely true; I can't say that while sitting in the beautiful Lumphini Par, Bangkok's central park. But to be honest, here, things are JUST as they seem.

Thousands of Thai's on the metro are thousand's of Thai's on the metro. A tuk-tuk driver who scams you, is a tuk-tuk driver who scams you. An Indian fashion designer who has an add in a magazine with an invitation to buy 3 suits (Italian), 3 extra pants, 3 shirts, and 3 ties (Thai silk), no not priceless, for only $129 but forgets to mention to the $400 "stitching" charge when being sized is an Indian fashion designer who has an... Not to mention the eternal frat party of Khao San Road and all the individuals (I will admit I like Khao San, but not for very long) it brings.

Maybe reality can just be that boring or maybe because we have given too much significance to what I believe is purposeless, soulless. Don't get me wrong I think material wealth is somewhat valuable, cities are wonderful, cleanliness breeds personal dignity, and dressing nice is fun, but when it exceeds it's balance and the constant bombardment of a new sale of bargain is slapped in your face every minute, that's what things become insignificant, that's when I think you need to "check yo self befo you reck yo self."

I want to make it clear that I am not demeaning anything about Bangkok (this is not influenced by the excessive materialism I see) or the Thai people, they have their thing going on and so do I, that's the beauty of this world, our differences. I also want to clarify that I am not coming back home a hemp wearing demeanor of materialism, but I am questiong the validity of some things our society deems important. Take commercial for example. A commerical's sole purpose is to advertise something so someone buys it. I understand that won't change. To me they are mind seducers. Occupants of our mind, transformers that target our natural thought process. Commercials will continue costing hundreds of thousands of dollars, I will continue watching them, although now more conscious, and my friends in the slums of India, a family of 9, will continue living in a house smaller than my dorm room made from garbage. I understand that is called reality and standards of living and business principles. When we allow our lives to be over run by inconsequential things such as: whatever that make-up store is called that sells ONLY make up out of a store that is probably larger than my house, by a brand name which means hundreds of more dollars, a different sweat shop and a quality somewhat better than those of non-brands, or by the stupid songs that sing about "super manning hoes" "Van's" or "I love my x-box," that's when our lives are overrun by the unnatural and don't have much substance. It's important to live in reality or society and to adhere to a certain degree, we all need acceptance, of what society preaches, but never forget what is natural and important to our internal clarification and our general understanding of the journey to the true successful road of our life; our personal legend. Why? If we don't pay attention to what the universe needs from us, if we forget that we live in a world creating by us not created for us, then we continue to damage it more and ourselves equally. I'm not saying that people need to go out and try to save the world, but what is meaningful in your life? It can be simple, but what's the point of searching after something that has no true inherent personality?

I think my days in Bangkok are relevant and important to a safe and healthy return. I get to ride an ubber-clean sky way and metro, walk the streets with Starbucks looming me, constant cleaning, but still with the traditional nasally, "SA-WAAA-DI-KAAAAAAAAA." Although not the west, yet, it does resemble it, but the touches of S.E. Asian culture makes my decent from what was, to what will be, less of a jump off a cliff, and more of along slide, with a platform in the middle for rest, and then continuation to the bottom where I will eventually get up on my feet and begin walking on solid ground again. That's a good metaphor...

My pilgrimage has been a hike up and infinite hill, just as the road of my personal legend is. The climb is difficult, more at some places than others, flat and ten vertical, even slopes down at times, but the entire climb leads to a top. Eventually I reach a peak which will act as the end of my journey for now. I'm tired my legs are tired. The exhaustion is what I have learned. As I make my decent by way of cliff jumping, by sliding, by an elevator, or by rolling (the latter two have not been part of this journey) I will reach the bottom. I have to pick myself up eventually and begin walking. My legs may feel wobbly and jell-o like at first, but after some rest I feel the new strength in them. This will allow me to walk life, in this case with compassion, humility, and grace. I will walk until I find the next mountain.

back to transitioning. It feels good to not understand the language in a city that resembles mine. It feels good to feel at home, but ever better when reminded by a hott Thai woman advertising a Thai massage that I am not quite yet back. This way I am lost in my thoughts, more concerned about getting off at the right stop than a "finals" grade. It's nice still having to be cognitive of what is going on around me, being excited by new things, at home I often forget I am living, and thinking my pilgrimage is not quite yet over. I'm still sliding, no matter how tired my legs or how sore my ass.

I will admit that I am some what embarrassed by my physical appearance (and this is where social implications have influenced my thoughts, but I don't care because in a way I believe material worth can reproduce in personal dignity). I'm wearing: linen pants that I've worn for the past 3 months. My shirt has lost it's color because of the copious amounts of hand washes, and I think permanently smells, of, well, me, a once brown hat that has served it's purpose, what ever purpose that is, but it now has a new motley colored look with a white sweat line encircling the brim which I haven't seen since little league. I think I just plain smell bad, nuff said. My hair in the back, is beginning to lock in a dread and I hope I can make it to my first pedicure before the dirt under my toe nails begin to rot (haha sorry). My silly wrist and ankle additions will eventually be cut off as will my pathetic excuse for a beard (bad genes, I think I found the indigenous blood in me). It makes sense hwy everyone looks at me and takes a step back when they get too close. "Sorry guys, I'm still translating!" I would say if I could translate from English to Thai.

Now, I'm not sure how to answer the question I'm sure I will be hearing forever: How was your trip to India?" "Good." "Fine." "Great." "Hella-A Great." I don't know, it's a stupid question. But something I do know is that the respect and humility with which I will try to answer, will be driven by the alterations to inherent qualities which have been ignited.

Amidst all the messages I received in my discernment process, I received one which initially seemed dark, but at the same time guided by the moonlight. "Destruction creates creation," writes Sara in response to my statement from a previous blog "my job is to burn people." I agree. It's not a common way to appreciate a change, but it's true and I can appreciate it. In my reflections on India, I have realized I experienced a complete destruction of my long lasting pride, of my inherent immaturity. I'm not saying they are entirely gone, after all destruction leaves some: may it be ashes, a foundation of a building, or any sort of remnants. And it's from these remanats that we rebuild on top of, with, through, by, in reflection of, the remnants. Point being recreation will always remember previous qualities, or previous teachings, maybe not as strong or as dignified, but a change.

I know it will be hard to obtain anything as soul fully challenging as I have experienced. But by not looking for more soul challenges, I know I will find. Just the challenge of being back home and living my new found glory will be a test of my soul's new found teachings.

When one's soul, or whatever you want to call it, inner-being, true character, self, intuition, experiences what I believe I have the translation of the experience to a new reality will take time. MY father is an interpreter. When I was young I would sit outside his room when he was translating via telephone because I loved listening to his native tounge, k'ich'e. What he translated was sad, immigration cases, but the lesson which I will apply to this matter is, through translation an outcome, a new lightwill be, will manifest itself in the person who is being translate for: in this case, me. It's what I of the translation that will really define me, not my experience.

I'm looking forward to this next step. It was much easier to say goodbye to Kalighat, to Calcutta than I thought it would be. And in no way am I, or will I fear coming home. It will be difficult sure, and by these difficulties I will live a new life. I have my men at Kalighat to drive me with every stop I take, graceful steps I want to add. I also have entire communities in all of my homes to acquire help from. Thank you. I'm ready to keep on living, I'm ready for a new challenge. I feel more alive and aware of myself than I ever have. I'm finally driving my own show, truly "living life...bro." A life of curiosity, of discovery, questioning, discernment, reflection, and translation. My life or light truly has a new value. I'm happy.

At times I may feel and even be thoroughly alone, especially in the way I see the world, but in no way will that steer me away from what I believe is just of what I believe deserves to be sought after. After all it's our differences that makes this world diverse. Nothing is black and white unless you make it so.

So with the moonlight guiding an ominous statement initiated by a wonderful thinker, Sara, I am looking to live a new life as the same person only with a new perspective. I have destroyed so much of myself in this pilgrimage, much of what I never would have expected. I fought so hard to murder trivial things and after my battle, leaving scars, wounds, and destruction, I believe I have succeededas an addition to Coelho's silent army of "Warriors of Light." I hope one day I can live my life by sheer soul intuition of what I have experienced and not by my mental capacity. I am looking forward to seeing, talking, and hugging you. I can't wait to finish my translation process. But to get to the end, I have to begin. At 10 am Tuesday, I will disembark off a plane, returning me to my reality, for now. I will be disembarking from a pilgrimage through emotions, discernment, much death and life. I will continue translating what was and what is, so that it will be.

Sure, I did burn people for my job. I destroyed, or cremated people to create ash. As I did to them, they did to me; by doing, seeing, and touching what I did, they destroyed so much of me, creating ash of what was, from which I will and have created. I am looking forward to coming home.

-=Namaste=-

It's hard to figure out how to write this. Discernment is not easy for me. I don't make decisions. I decide on impulse, but impulse is often over shadowed by ego, by intuition, by mere action. I will be honest and say I have never made a real decision in my life. I'm not sure that many young people have. My life, my world has been perfect, I have struggles just like everyone, but things in all forms have been given to me, granted by whatever God you may believe in, whatever cosmos exist, whatever words might first come to mind, luck. And when any type of real decision needed to be made, I relied on the opinion of others, I manipulated conversation to know what others thought was right. I was afraid of making decisions. I was not living my own life, but one decided by others (this may be a little dramatic, but still honest).

The past two weeks I struggled with a decision which perpetuated my emotions, thoughts, questions that tore at my core. It made me want to cry at times and others I was just plain frustrated. A decision which will greatly affect one's life has to be considered with all honesty, equally balanced by both mind and heart. There are times when one out weighs the other in making this decision, but not in this one: balance.

I had many conversations different people discussing returning home for the holidays and winter quarter or extending my pilgrimage in India. I made a habitual slash predictable attempt to get the answer from other people through posting a blog on "should I stay." It just shows how much I was struggling with the choices. This was stupid. These were my choices. True, I did want others to understand the struggles of my emotions, but at the same time, it was a gasp for air in the drowning of the blogged emotions. I got what I deserved. Very unbiased, for the most part, questions, through statements, of how they saw my struggle and their advice of how to swim straight in emotions.

The blog was biased, let's be real, still there were no sides taken, at least for the first days. Then I received a facebook message from someone who read between the lines of my blog. This person heard every breathe, sigh, and tear uttered beyond the words of the computer screen. this person deserves more of my time, not because I owe him anything, but because he loves me. I can learn from him. For real. I did not know how much he really loves me. But with his incredible no bull shit, read between the lines answer to "should I stay," I realized his wisdom and genuine desire for me to continue pilgrimaging (?) ah, a better word, searching. He told me to stay.

I remembered smiling to myself and thinking, this is going to be a lot harder than I thought.

As the days got closer and closer to this moment, I received more and more messages. People love me. Not that I didn't know this before, but when I read the thoughts and understood the emotions written for me, I cried with joy, because I knew I had the support of whatever I decided.

I want to thank everyone of you who helped me in my decision, who walked with me hand in hand as you wrote and I read your email, for those moments we were connected and remain so. I remember you when I acknowledge my happiness. For everyone who didn't have the time or who didn't know if it was their place to write me, and for everyone who did it anyways, for those of you who read that blog, who are reading this blog, thank you for thinking, being cognitive and helping me in the most draining experience I have ever been through. I have made my decision.

The more thoughts I had coming in I realized I was not thinking deep enough. I was only considering very trivial yet consequential things. Many were stupid. If I stay I can write a book of my experiences! If I go I get to eat tamales for Xmas! If I stay I will be proud (egotistically proud) to say I have lived in India! If I go I get to give all my presents I bought! If I stay I can grow my "beard" even longer! Well of course these are not the only things considered, they were some what deeper, but I was just not thinking deep enough.

People told me to listen to my heart. So I did, it was tell me to stay, but it always will. Part of the reason I came to India was to find part of my soul I knew existed, but didn't know how to represent. So when my soul was asked if it wanted to stay, of course it said yes. Our souls are constantly in flux with finding their depths, but that doesn't mean it had to be found on this trip, it' snot possible, I mean it takes a lifetime maybe even longer. But then i would argue with my head and say stop influencing my hear, stop being rational and live "on the wild side" and just do it, see what happens. So I decided to stay.

But then I woke up after a nights sleep in the Himalayas, after I asked the cosmos for a guiding dream, after that dream I decided to come home. Oh shit! I just don't know what to do!

I decided to take some advice from Paul Coelho and decided to do something relaxing prior to making my decision. I decided to trek in the Himalayas. 7 hours a day, straight up hill then straight down hill, is necessarily relaxing, but the honesty of being in nature, the place of all inspiration, I found my soul relaxed in it's nature of origin. In it's partner. Being above sunrises, seeing the tallest mountains in the world silences all thoughts and only gives sensations, feelings, emotions, non-applicable to words or writing.

After some time of watching the sunrise I looked to the tallest peak I could see, said a wish or a prayer for the conflicted worlds, and asked that peak to look down on all of us and grant us the humility we all genuinely need. I smiled to myself and thought, I can finally begin to really think about my decision.

When I returned from the trek I was convinced I was staying. I called two different people who inspired new thoughts, these thoughts were defining then affirming an almost final decision.

One of the conversations was with my sister. Although we are initially different, dissimilar in so many ways, we see the world in the same way. We are searching for the same things in life, although searching after them in different ways. Something my sister said, which I never would expect her to say, was "sometimes you need to be rational and listen more to your head than to your heart." Although my decision has made with both my heart and mind, I listened to my head predominately, although guided by my heart.

I came to Calcutta, I cam on my pilgrimage with a few questions, with a destination. That destination resided in my heart. Only with an absolute challenge of my aptitude could I reach it. I did. I answered all the questions I had initially asked. I can feel my perspective changed, not me, but my perspective. I have noticed the application of what I have learned to my interactions. But I could stay longer and learn more, no? One last thing which my sister asked with honesty, truth, and which had a real "check yo self befo you reck yo self" attitude to it was: "Is this really the only place you will be able to grow like this? Yes it is. In this way it is. I have been living and working with extremities the past few months which have resolved to deep spirit growth. Ultimately that's what I don't want to loose; the struggle I have endured with my spirit. I can't, I know I won't. Where ever I may be, stay or go, I know my spirit will be in constant curiosity for the next run. Although Kalighat and Calcutta may be the only places where my spirit is challenged to this degree, it's important to experience other degrees, I'm searching for a holistic character. I may find this new degree of soul exploration in the challenge of being back home, but who knows, either way I will find something more about my self.

I came to Calcutta to develop qualities and characteristics I knew I had. I cam to Calcutta to take these new lessons back with me. For the US is my reality, is my world, at least now. I must develop my comfort there, it's my base, my foundation. Just like my comfort in India and Calcutta, I want to feel the same joy in my heart at home, at least my original home.

I don't want any of you who were vouching or blatantly encouraging one particular decision to feel bad for being honest with how you felt, when my decision may be different than what you gave. But know that in every word you wrote I was challenged to think harder, challenged to feel and cry harder. After all there are many factors which led to this decision, and only I will know all of them, but each and every one of you contributors created those factors. Thank you.

It was naive of me to think that I could make the final decision away from Calcutta. It took 36 hours of travel from Nepal to the city of complexities, joyous complexities. During the travel I argued both sides. My mind came to it's decision, but knew that my heart would finalize everything by how it felt in Calcutta, with what the city was telling me. I felt it immediately upon arrival. Throughout the past few days the energy has grown more profound, my decision was being deepened.

The energy in Calcutta is different than it was for me. From new volunteers, to strange new suttle differences in the inter cafe, to new food stands, and changes of season, I feel my time, my pilgrimage is ending. Calcutta is telling me that my journey needs to end. That it's someone else's turn now to live with their emotions in this city. Maybe you?

I came to Calcutta looking for very few things and found more than I anticipated. I want to thank you for your emails, your comments, your conversations, thoughts prayers, encouragements, and after all for reading this. I can't wait to share my experiences with you when I return home for Christmas and for winter quarter.

-=Namaste=-

PS Don't worry, the next pilgrimage is in the works!

Should I stay?

This decision is going to be difficult. Both arguments are confusing, convoluted in one another, and seemingly selfish. And with selfish I will begin.

This pilgrimage of mine has has been selfish, no doubt. I have left my education for the moment, said goodbye to friends and family, spending all I have saved to "broaden my horizons" for perspective, to understand my inherent qualities; the ones that never surface until fully challenged and questioned. So yes, this has been a selfish journey and has the potential to become further selfish. I would deepen the sadness in my parents hears, it would draw me further away from my friends at school, but at the same time would deepen the me in me.

The word selfish maintains too much of a negative connotation. For me, the word is only negative, and a selfish someone is only "bad" and "hurtful" if he absorption of their future actions are never converted into thoughts or future actions of goodness. So what I may be doing is selfish, I will come home, one day, and I will live what I have learned. The question is when will I come home?

I sat in an Internet cafe in Varanasi, one of the oldest cities in the world, crying with my mom on the other end of the .02 cent skype call. We both cried because of the honesty in my words. The thoughts of staying has been in my mind for the past few weeks, but I never verbalized them to anyone, no even myself. The moment I heard my words I realized I had changed. The honest in them scared me, just like the possibility of staying. I spoke about the new realization of myself, the awareness of my "Three Words." I want to deepen these new sensations.

My experience in India opened a door. A door to a world where I experienced emotions and sentiments perpetuated by the inherent qualities I found, but have never experienced anywhere else. Now, in this new room, I see another door, quickly approaching with the final days in India. This door has has three words written on it. It says: two more months. I can choose to walk through his door and change my life one way, or I can turn and walk back through the door that originally led me to India, to this second door, and close it. Leaving this experience and the potential of the second door, changing my life to a different degree. I have a feeling about the second door. On the other side of the door, I think there stands a sort of spiritual quelling. A quelling that may help create he confidence I need to continue with the rest of my life. A confidence also created by missing xmas, new years, and my birthday. But the spiritual understanding that has been cultivated these past months has the potential to continue growing and form deeper in its self. But that is not to say that it won't deepen if I return home and share my experiences with all of my communities.

This is the most emotional suffering I have ever felt, more than the emotions I had to deal with after losing my grandmother, or ending an intimate relationship with my high school girlfriend. My soul feels pierced by a large sword. This large sword is challenging me to suffer. The interesting reality is that I pierced my soul, I'm doing it on purpose. The moment I draw the sword out of my soul, I will have made the right decision, that will be the symbolism. The problem is there will be a wound, and although the drawing of the sword, the right decision will have been made, my soul's wound will persist. My soul will cry, it will bleed, I will cry because I know I will have made the right decision. I just want to know which decision will make my soul bleed and cry least.

With this decision comes the new challenge. The challenge that the decision has created. I think I am mature enough to realize that with whatever decision I will make I will have to live with it. There is no going back on it, there is no turning around and crying for the other. I have to live through my decision with all vitality and life that I would the other, for my decision will be the right one. If I come home, the old me would create even more suffering by telling people how sad I am because of being home. I would act more sad than I really am, creating more sadness. But me, the now me, wants the mental discipline to tell myself that I have made a decision the right one, and to be it. I am afraid of becoming complaisant if I return without being deep enough in what I have been taught, thus becoming my old self again.

This is where what I have learned is really put to the test. But first, a question I have to ask is, have I found what I came looking for? Yes, and more. I have answered ever question I asked prior to coming to India. That counts for something. Does it count for coming back home now? Now, are the teachings I have learned and valued so deeply profound enough to carry me through to my real reality of life back home? Or maybe, was I a good enough pupil, did I take it to heart enough, or do I need more time? At what point does teachings of the same lecture become repetitive and pointless? That's not to say that I will learn the same things if I return, India is always teaching new lessons, but my head can only be taught so much before I forget the basics, what I came to India originally for and don't know how to put them into practice. I feel the change in my heart, but also in my confidence. I don't know if this is just travelers confidence, or a true, real self-esteem confidence worth deepening by staying longer.

I want to stay to deepen sensations I have. But there is the possibility I would be able to deepen the same ones by putting them into practice back home. I will keep asking, have I been a good enough pilgrim to learn from my teachings to be able to be a disciple, teacher, or prophet of what I have learned when I return? I think to a certain extent I would ask myself that question no matter how long I would stay. So I don't know...

I had a very bull-shit angering conversation with someone about my decision process. he asked me: "will this decision matter at all in 100 years?" Hell ya it will matter! I have decided that I wan to leave something tangible on this earth. At least an idea, a something that changes something for the better, a difference, and this decision can have a direct effect on just that. Have I absorbed enough to be a disciple of Kalighat, the Kalighat that I have learned?

In order to make my decision I believe I will have to experience Calcuta and Kalighat again. I plan to return on the 9th of December to let my soul asses the situation. It may hit me the moment I arrive in Calcutta, or the decision may no be made until the 13th, the day before I leave for BKK. Right now I really don't know what to do. I have so many arguments for both decisions. This blog was an attempt to spill all of them, but I realize it is much more difficult than just one blog. I would love any feedback, any encouragements or thoughts either way as long as they are honest and helpful.

Right now I am gearing up for a 3 day trek in the Himalayas. I think the fresh air and mountains will help me decide, I don't necessarily think I will have the answer upon descent from the mountains, but I am hoping for some clarification. For those of you who deeply care, I am sorry for putting you through his angst and uncertainty, but know that ultimately if I do stay two more months, in the long run, that is nothing compared to the length of my life.

I am afraid of making this decision.

NO Title

I want to apologize to all of my faithful readers for not writing a blog recently, or one with any substance. The past few weeks has been quite the time taker. The last days in Calcutta went fast, Katie my traveling partner, was sick and spent 10 days in the hospital. Our traveling plans changed as she decided to head home early for a safe recovery. She is back home now and is doing well.

I took off from Calcutta and headed to Agra, as mentioned in the post below. Then over to Pushkar where I meet 8 other volunteers for the world's largest livestock fair! The annual Pushkar Camel Fair was ridiculous. Dancing camels, beauty contests (yes with camels), family circuses, sales, concerts in the desert. Pushkar was magical and such a relief. Being in the desert was fantastic after Calcutta. Beautiful sunsets and sunrises. After 3 days in Pushkar the group moved to Jaisalmer, the Golden city. We spent one night there and on the first morning we were off on a two day one night camel trek in the Great Thar Desert! Being alone in the desert with 8 other friends, camels, and the sand was magical. Such a great experience.

After the camel trek the group split ways, and Dan, from Denver, and I spent the day in the Jaisalmer fort. The best way to describe it: the film Aladdin. We walked around slowly being invited into many homes for free chai and conversation. Wonderful!

Dan and I headed south to Jodhpur for another fort and a city with all blue houses, narrow alley ways full of cows, and happy people.

From Jodhpur we traveled to Udaipur, where we are now. Udaipur is wonderful. Peaceful, calm, relaxing and home to part of James Bond's "Octopussy." We walked around this afternoon and were invited into more shops for conversation and Chai. I really think we are going to set a record for most free chai's in India. This eveing we are going to see the movie on a rooftop overlooking the lake palace where the movie was filmed.

Tomorrow we are heading north to Rishikesh. Yoga capital of the world. We are going to meet Hemly and Lee, both volunteers. We plan on settling down for around 7 days then heading into Nepal.

I apologize for not a more detailed description of the adventures, but I don't think a synopsis of my days would be very interesting, so as the author, I am going to focus on certain themes I have found throughout my trip.

One of the most important to me is honesty in friendship. Here is something I wrote in the Great Thar Desert when we were on the camel trek:

It's hard to describe where I am. I'm in the desert may be an appropriate way of starting out, but to follow I cannot use words, my photos won't do any justice either. Maybe you should visit? But I am sitting on a dune, higher than anything around me. I can only see dunes and desert for miles around.

This morning the sun woke up shortly after I did and casually lit our camp ground with it's daylight. A sunrise in the Great Thar Desert is more than magical, it's honest to the day. But before the sunrise was the full moon, and before the full moon was the most perfect sunset.

It was a sunset which gave life to the desert. A sunset which loves the viewer just as much as the viewer loves it. I fell in love with those colors that night. Or maybe I fell in love with my situation.

Dunes extending to all horizons. Clean air. Almost white sand. Shepard-less cows and instinctual goat grazing. Songs from the came drivers as they cooked dinner.

For the moment everyone was silent. All six of us. All of our similarities and differences, too. There nothing more than the extension of the sun's arms reaching for one last hug from any viewer saying "until I wake you up!"

We stood up to head down to camp. As we turned, guess who was smiling down on us: Senora Luna. It's not often one witnesses to beauties on either side of ourselves, capable of being visualized with our peripheries. We all smiled at each other thinking the same thing, actually that is not true, but our smiles were communicating the same words.

We made a campfire which immediately illuminated all details on our faces, details the full moon could not touch. We laughed, smiled, and shared the type of love many people don't believe in.

A very important conversation was held that night. One of reasons, expectations, experiences, and affirmations. Each traveler shared the reasons, motivations for leaving home, work, friends and family. Almost all are looking for something deeper than their situation they left. But what excited me was my age, I'm 19. The travelers I was with were 25-35. You figure out my excitement. I am content with my questions, my aspirations, and my current situation.

Then came questions and affirmations. The questions where to help guide one another, the affirmations to perpetuate the positivity with which illuminated everyone's actions.

When my turn came, less questions and more affirmations came. I think I had had the "why are you here" conversation with all the other's plenty of times for them to know the answers to most of their questions. So what they gave was gold, they gave affirmations. They spoke to my confidence I do not often see, to my love I only have recently learned exists, to the generosity I never considered, my abilities, and potential. Words of "thank you my brother" or " it has been a pleasure" or with your power, you can do anything" or "I love you." With these affirmations I was shocked. Words that tore deep inside of me, to a place of my soul I rarely have to visit: fear of ones self. If this is how people see me, is this who I really am? Do I really have any power?

It's not often that I fear myself. Actually, rarely am I scared of myself. I always am scared I lack something, or that I am not adequate enough, or fear my future, but never feeling like I am a person who can hold power, as mentioned. These months are the most honest I have been with myself and the most honest in terms of sharing with the world. These months I can justify almost every action and know why I did them and what emotion was cultivating and carrying out the action. But it's easy to be that when there are no expectations, and for some reason always graved with the presence of exceptionally beautiful people.

But if this is who I am when there are no expectations, which to me are pressures, then this is who I am at my core. I want to be this when I am here, home, with her, with him, with expectations. I can be this. I came to India particularly looking for this. I found it in the Great Thar Desert under a full moon, after a beautiful sunset and before a beautiful sunrise.

This is how I saw last night: six souls sitting under a full moon. Six souls sharing honesty and affirmations that really is. I know the affirmations where honest because in the desert far away from everything, all expectations, all material things, all make-up of different kinds, away from all skins we wear, we are who we truly are, who we truly are at our cores. When away from everything you don't see much but goodness and beauty, truth and reality. Nothing negative and dishonest was brought with us into the desert. All we were that night were perfectly reflecting mirrors for each other. A mirror with words. There was no bullshit, it was the most legit shit, EVER!
So what is this? What is this power? I have explained it in past blogs in many ways. In many actions, and in three words in particular: compassion, grace, and humility. All three words were affirmed that night in the desert. The last advice or at least suggestion I as given was to "you can conquer the world." This came from Dan, a 23 year-old student of life, traveler, compassion-ite, someone who I respect more than, well I don't know who, but I respect him with all my heart. The desert came make people delirious, hallucinate (with lack of water) and now, seemingly pretentious. But in those moments I found that it also makes people honest.

We slept in a line of 6 on the beds which turn into camel saddels by day. It's was hard to sleep after all that honest excitement. But also hard to sleep with camels farting in the distance, and a moon with all her companions, the stars, shinning brighter than any night light has or will. I feel asleep...

...I woke up as the sun casually broke over the dunes. I smiled because I had changed since last night, since I left Kalighat, since I left home on September 18th. I'm happy with my life. And with this much happiness in my heart I need to give thanks. So I want to thank all of you who have been a part of my life in any way shape, form, or feel. I want to thank all of you who are with me always, yes you, you know I am talking about you ;) I am thanking you for helping me get here to India, to The Great Thar Desert in whatever way you have. I thank you for reading this. The camels farts are getting closer so it's time to get going, back to the humps.

As we say every time we begin riding the camels "Chelo Pakistan" or "off to Pakistan!" Don't worry, Dad, we aren't really going to Pakistan. We are going to live fully in this day, with this day, through, until tomorrow, where we will do the same.

-=Namaste=-

;)

The Adventure Continues

This is going to be a short blog, I am way too tired to be putting much thought into coherent sentances, but I thought I should check in and let you all know where I am headed.

I officially lived a dream of mine; I saw the Taj Mahal. It was beautiful. The experience was not so great. Too many tourists with HUGE cameras and pushy attitudes. It was for sure a major culture shock, I can't imagine what returning to the states will be like.

I have left Calcutta, obviously, and it was hard. Leaving my work then leaving an amazing community of volunteers was something that put tears in my eyes when I was on the train to Agra. The train was crazy, crazy uncomfortable. I slept for only 5 hours of the 22 hour journey. But I met a great Bangladesh family who was also headed to the Taj.

Agra is okay. Not much different from Calcutta except for the lack of honking, which is a great change.

Okay, break out a map of India!

Tonight I head out for Pushkar where two other travelers and I will meet up with 10 other volunteers for the annual Pushkar Camel Fair! The experience should produce a good camel fair, so stay posted.

From Pushkar the volunteer groups plans to travel further west to Jaisalmer, Jodhpur, then Udaipur. From Udaipur a good friend of mine and myself, will travel far north to Rishikesh and stay around a week doing some meditation and yoga. Around the first week of December I will meet up with some more friends and travel into Nepal for trekking. I'm not sure how long I will stay but I plan on being back in Calcutta on the 11th of December.

What a Halloween!

Yes I celebrated Halloween, and what a Halloween it was! Oh my oh my. Thursday evening, Traci and I decided to grab some ice cream at a place, appropriately titled scoop. After paying waaaaaaaaaay too much for chocolate ice cream, the owner of the place came over to ask us about his decorations. To our surprise, as we were paying no attention to the men decorating, the restaurant was adorned in cob webs, giant spiders and Halloween ornaments! "As Americans, do you approve?" "OF COURSE!" The manager returned with two lamented party fliers announcing a grand Halloween party at the club next door. The invitation was quite hilarious, my flier had a over sized Britney Spears and Traci's Michael Jackson (current state). The manager invited us next door to see the club a day early. Lead by one proud manager, being able to convince two americans to check out his club, we walked next door into one hell of a club. Dressed in more appropriate Halloween attire, giant hanging eye balls and more cob webs, the bar tenders approached us and told us how "HORROR-able" it would be, growling and holding bear claws. The manager invited us to bring a few friends "the more the merrier, right?" (Side note, remember the MORE part). Promised free entry, we promised to come and wished him a goodnight.

We went back to the hotel, well went back to the street vendor right outside our hotel (tirupati, the place where we eat all of our dinner's, where all of the volunteers eat their dinners.) I mentioned to a few friends eating dinner that we were invited to a Halloween party not too far away. They shrugged their shoulders without much interest and said maybe. Okay, maybe I thought to myself.

The following day I did my work, went to Kalighat both morning and afternoon and felt great. Came home to some confirmations on the Halloween party. We had a total of about 8 people going to the party. Two friend one from Malta, James, and the other from Chile, Carolina, decided to go to the market to pick up so face paint, we had to be appropriately dressed!

We all met on the terrace. The weather was perfect, the sky, smoggy but nice. We laughed and enjoyed each other's company as we painted face with a blood red die, which did not come off for until today!

All eight faces were painted and we took group pictures with all eight cameras. We were so excited. We paraded down through the floors, yelling and screaming "Happy Halloween!" We walked by the men at the reception desk who laughed and liked us for once!

I did not know what was coming next. I thought only eight people were going to the club. Walking out the front door of Hotel Maria, 35 more people with the same question, actually more of a demand, "We are ready for the party!!!!!!!!" The word had gotten out! I told all of them they could come, on one condition, that James paints all of their faces.

So, finally after 30 more minutes 43 excited volunteers from all around the world, Argentina, Malta, Spain, England, New Zealand, Korea, Japan, Switzerland, Holland, USA, France, Germany, Poland, Mexico, Canada were on their way to some random invite to a club so American boy had told them about.

To be honest I was super concerned that we would be turned away, or that it would not live up to everyone's expectations, but I was wrong. We walked through the streets of Calcutta, being cheered on by all the street people. They loved us for that one night, or maybe they were just super scared of us. Either way, I was happy. We finally arrived at the club, I went in the front door with 42 people behind me and was told to "Pay 100 rupees." I laughed and said, "Haha, NO!" "YES!" "NO, bring me your manager." After a few minutes a young woman came out of the club and gave me a big smile and hug and said, "We have been waiting for you!" She was working at the restaurant the previous night and was told by her manager to expect me and "some friends."

The young girl yelled something in Bengali at the bouncer, he sheepishly apologized to me in broken english, "Sawwy." We let all the volunteers in and the club owner was never happier. I introduced myself to the young club owner, "Hello my name is Joseph, you remember me from last night?" "Of course! My name is Joanna!" "That's my sister's name!" "That's a lame pickup line, Joseph..." Of course I was not trying anything, I was being honest. But it was all in great humor. She invited me in and and we started talking. We talked all about her club, restaurant (apparently she owns scoop) education, and well everything. She was great, spoke great english and wanted to know all about American music and American Halloween. The club was crazy with many of Calcutta's wealthy youth. I met many of them and upon saying I was american, had a new friend. I danced, partied and had a great time. I stepped outside with Joanna and met more people. There was a line of people trying to get in, and Joanna introduced me to many more of her friends in the line. She said, "This is the man that made this night great!" Man oh man was I happy.

After the club hours were over, at two, she kicked everyone out except for the Volunteers. We stayed until 330 dancing, and enjoying the great company. At around 345 Joanna invited all of us to go out to more clubs with her. About half of us went to two more clubs and were introduced to all of her friends, the entire club. I feel like I know half of Calcutta! I had a million new friend requests on facebook, haha, great!

Joanna drove us around in her private car from place to place and for those who did not fit, she payed cabs to follow her around with the rest of the volunteers. We had a trail of taxi's driving behind her car. Finally around 5, an hour before we had to be up for breakfast, and the hour some had to be up for mass, we were dropped off at home.

We I was getting out Joanna thanked us a million times for making her night. We did the same and parted ways. This morning after a day of sleeping, most of Saturday, I was talking to a new volunteer. He asked me about Halloween and what I had done, I began to tell him about a crazy part I went to.

Jokingly he said, "Oh, THE infamous party?!?!"

I smiled.

Living in A Miracle

I feel I am beginning to understand myself. Well actually, that's not true at all, but I fell I am beginning to understand what India is teaching me: grace, humility, and compassion. I wrote a previous entry about humility and grace, but now I understand more what each word means on a personal level.

I spoke with a woman tonight who is staying at my guest house. She is actually from San Francisco, touring India with interest in volunteering with the MC's. We began talking about my purpose in Calcutta. It turned into an interview meets therapy conversation with questions of why I do what I do, and how it makes me feel. But as therapy does, it makes me listen to me words and the intention behind them. I heard a lot of honesty in what I had to say.

She asked me why I chose Kalighat, a place where I knew I would experience suffering and death. I feel I learn the most about life, thus the most about myself through intensity. My daily work is not intense in the sense that one million things happen per second, but intense in the sense that what I am experiencing is well beyond, what Aristotle would consider rational (the fact that I really don't know what the hell I am doing). The spectrum of the work that I do fluctuates higher than anything I have ever done. To be honest I am concerned with returning back to school in fear of more monotony and repetitive nature.

Through this intensity I have learned grace. I believe grace is a word which encompasses other word, predominantly: elegance and beauty and love. Elegance has primarily been taught to bme by my grandmother, who carried herself with a divine serenity, communicating that our bodies speak a language. But I have also learned that it's important to act with elegance in one's daily life in order to remain healthy and sane in a place like Calcutta. I have felt more confident in myself when I stand or sit up straight. I am more sure of myself, I trust myself more. Those three trusts of "myselfs" are ways of being which help me do my work with beauty, graciousness, "balance and harmony." All of these are synonymous with elegance and grace. I don't consider elegance as shoulders back head held high in ignorance and arrogance. But I consider it a silent language or movements transcending our words. Elegance helps with my concentration, I walk joyfully with out "fear of stumbling." Paulo Coelho wrote, " Elegance is the right posture to make our every gesture perfect, our steps firm, and to give due respect to our fellow men and women." EXACTLY!!!!!!!! With grace, physical and silent, I communicate my peace, humility, grace and compassion.

Humility is often never obtained. I find that many of my peers and I, all the time, forget to be humble. But why would we need to be if we are never tested, if we are never reminded that we are not the only ones. I am arrogant and snobby with my actions and my words. I act superior to others and forget that a soul is a soul and needs genuine respect. Souls are easily forgotten because they are hidden inside a body, hidden under gender and nice or not so nice clothes. Hidden behind social conditionings, social implications, thoughts and ideas, differences, and disagreements. But when broken down to bare desires, a soul is a soul and wants to be loved. If I remembered that my soul is no different than yours, and that yours always has something to teach mine, than I remain humble. If we give in to our judgments, which we all do, and disregard the depth which does exist with in every being, then we are arrogant and miss out on a lot of life. Well at least this is what I think. The men of Kalighat have taught me this. I hope I never forget. I realize I will have lapses and judge another, after all it is what humans do, but at the end of my road spiritual perfection, when it is all said and done, I hope to know how to be humble and recognize and listen to another soul, yearning for learning.

My experiences at Kalighat have put a lot of my life into perspective. I am alive and I have a strong functioning body, therefore I am happy. I have education, I live in a great country, what else should I ask for? Nothing! I have it all. It's what I make of what I have that will grow my happiness to great heights, or will keep it minimal and pathetic. Our lives are very well off and need to be reconsidered, I can make this argument because YOU are READING this on a COMPUTER. What I have seen has instilled humility. Knowing that a soul is a soul which can teach mine, depending on my allowing, I am humbled and excited for happiness. I hope I never forget this.

Compassion is an action which I very much am trying to understand. Something I have been very interested in since I went to Seattle's super cheesy yet super educating "Seeds of Compassion" day in spring of this past year. We all are compassionate, it's human nature to ask "what's wrong?" when someone is down or to help when someone is sick, or when someone needs a smile. But the challenge is to what degree we give from our heart that matters and that makes the situation better. If we give from our soul as much as we can to that person who is ailing then the result will be tremendous on both ends. The sick will be healed and the healer will be glowing. This is how I feel after a day at work.

That is the direction the conversation went. It was good. She was planning on staying in Calcutta for two days as a connection to Darjeeling. But she said, "You know, after hearing you speak, I will start work on Wednesday!" I told her that this was my experience, that this was my elegance, grace, humility, and compassion. I told her to remember that she needs to create her own understanding of the work that us volunteers do. She said, "I will, I promise, and I will tell you all about it."

The heat has come way down. It dropped to a freezing 70 degrees with 64 % humidity, and as Katie put it, "We are practically living in water right now, we are always wet." So I am wet. Well more cold, I busted out the thick socks, Patagonia wear, and fleece which were all intended for Nepal, but it's freezing. I really afraid to return to school where it will be REALLY COLD!

I have a weird sore throat and I can tell it is from the shitty Calcutta smog. When I wake up from sleeping I have a horrible sore throat but wash it away with water. I can feel the dirt lining my poor throat. I don't think it helps that I sleep with my mouth open.

I have one week until the next part of my trip commences, TRAVEL! I am feeling ready to get out of this crazy city, but definitely not ready to leave my guys at Kalighat. I have been doing the evening shift so I go two times a day now. Something draws me back in the evening where there are less volunteers, less energy, and more one on one time. I get much energy spending time with faces whom I know will pass soon. I give them what I can. A smile, a wink, massage, happiness in whatever form I can create. I will cry when I leave. I know I will. It's hard for me to leave a place that is a miracle.

I was thinking to myself the other day, in vain I was thinking, I would love to see a miracle here. I asked myself, how, where would I see one, what would it look like? I laughed at myself, Joseph, this is the miracle, Kalighat is the miracle. The fact that Kalighat and the MC's exist in a city like Calcutta is a miracle.

I work and am part of a moving miracle every day. What a realization, what a JOY!!!!

What the f!

I carried five bodies to the crematorium today. Something most people probably don't do on any given Tuesday morning. One of the men was my friend. I bathed him yesterday.

When I first arrived at Kalighat, four weeks ago he seemed well and healthy. He like me. We had conversations. He slowly get more sick. His body seemed to get harder and tighter. A reverse sponge effect. Hardening and loosing moisture. He would not eat yesterday. He could not swallow. In my ignorance I did not realized this, I did not say by to him.

I came in the morning happier that usual. I went from bed to bed greeting my friends. I went to number 44, let's call him Bobby (it seems appropriate) His eyes were open and he rested in the curled position he always did. In my ignorance I waived my hands over his face to bring the goodmorning. "Hello, Hello, Hello, Namaste!" I usually get eye movement. "Brother, he's no more, gone, dead." "Dead?" "Dead." This was a blow to my spirit. I felt if everything had hit me all at once. Everything about Calcutta. All her beauty, he hate, love smells, sounds, sights, poverty, romance this all hit me and was laughing at me. "You fool, don't fall for me, I will steal your soul, hahaha!"I had to sit down. I wanted to hold him. I wanted to remeber our laughs.

"Brother..." I knew how was speaking to me, the undertaker. This is how he calls me. I know what it means. It means come to the cold room, then to the ambulance with "silent company" it means the Beautiful orange color illuminates their end, it means the curtains close.

We loaded the five bodies, Bobby included. I was not ready. I hadn't said goodbye. It was Bobby's body that we put in last. As his curtains went down I wanted to cry. Not out of saddness, but because he was my friends and that is what you do when you burn your friends as they go on, you cry, right?

He left this world in a way I will never forget, with his legs folded over his hips. I wanted to bring him back. But then I would be Jesus, not Joseph. Joseph dealt with Jesus' death, so I would follow in his footsteps and deal with it.

I had carried him to the showers the day before. I held his head as I washed. Blood came out of his penis, around the inersted tube for his urine bag. I winced in pain for him, he made no gesture. I scrubbed in happiness and sang "Iloveyouloveyouloveyou...frommyheart..." He was so light as I carried him back to the changgin area. I dresed him lik I did many times before, but this would be the last time. He wouldn't need it anymore, I'm crying now, for you, Bobby. I think I just realized what I do for work, I burn people.

I loved his smile. He had a cute face. A man you would picutre when somone says "A cute old man..." He had a sunken mouth with no teeth. His lips curled in where orthodontic work would have done so well. His skin was so smooth. His nose was this and useful. His eyes seemed much too young for the rest of his body, so playful and hopeful for tomorrow. His hair was my favorite! It wanted to slick back, but had a hard time doing so, so instead, it stuck straight up.

Bobby always enjoyed a good head massage, who doesn't? But I got satisfaction out of massaging his head, more than anyone else (maybe it's because I loved his hair so much!). He would close his eyes and try to smile. He was Beautiful. I would have been proud to have called him "Grandfather."

His last days he seemed to know. How did I not. He is gone now, nothing physical remains and all soul does. I know I will miss him tomorrow as I do now and will the day after tomorrow and whenever I think of Kalighat and Calcutta. Today was just another Tuesday for the world, a tuesday where I carried five bodies to the crematorium and one of them was Bobby. On Tuesday October twenty-first I burned my friend to make him now, no more, and forever eternal.

So Beautiful

She is so Beautiful. I've read her story multiple times. She has been described so many ways, she has so much history she is so fine. I've been told of her seductive charm and unforgiving stare.

The first times I was in her presence, we were at a grand ball. She is desired by all at the party, even for a simple conversation. Men watch from afar at those with her, only wishing he could be he. She charms those she's with, makes them laugh and want her. Every woman wants her too, that's how perfect she is. Everyone wants to know her, wants to lay with her, kiss her and touch her in the most intimate ways, but she is so intimidating.

That moment where we make eye contact everything pauses, it's like a shampoo commercial. As she wips her head from front to back her soft hair draws he head around. Her face is perfectly proportioned, structured, and young. I want it. She smiles at me saying she wants to get to know me, but I break that wave-length, and shy away with my eyes saying "NO" ;). Her white eyes are too strong for my moral soul. Oh how bad I want to know her. i watch her the whole night, hoping that she might escape the crowds and head for the beautiful gardens outside the ballroom. I would follow her and tell her the truth of how I feel, if we were alone. I can tell she doesn't like all the attention, she wants to be left alone, to rest, but never, there are just too many silly men and women who want her to heard their thoughtless and thoughtful ideas, she will never be alone, I will never be alone with her.

Will I ever find out who she is?

And this is only the ball, I see her in the streets too. I briefly forget about her existence and do my thing. But when I am happy, I realize it is beacuase of her. This makes me think I am beginning to understand her, this makes me even happpier. It's like waking up and really being a part of that love dream.

Another day comes and i again won't think of her. But then, I will get mad, sad, disconcerted, something will make me the opposite of the previous day and inevitably it is her fault. Or maybe my mine, for I am in her, she is everwhere. I am happy because I think I know her but then something honest will happen, something that only happens in her, because I am in her she is everyone's reality. I will never know her, I know this, I doubt anyone really understands why she is so perfect and how she can hold so much life in her, but then at the same moment crush so much, so much life, so much hope. So many people live in her, by her, with her. Many are just curios to see her, try and experience her, wanting to brief her Beauty, as do I, but she is just too much woman for anyone of us to handle.

I get mad beacuse she won't be mine, which means I will never understand her. I am mad that I will never be able to love her, I will never be able to hear her secrets, watch the sunrise with her. I won't lay with her, tickle her or make her giggle. But that is how it' s supposed to be. I come to live in her for a short while, to be charmed and enchanted, by her romantic Beauty. To be hardened and hate her. She gives me a full body "blue balls" sensation. It's with everone I meet, everything I do and experience that will let me get that degree closer to knowing her. I never will know her. I am okay with that. I will never be hers.

Calcutta is a Beautiful woman, enchanting and unforgiving who makes me bi-polar: thankful but mad.

Prem Dan Slums

I was convinced by some Spanish volunteers to take a day break from my normal routine at Kalighat and work with them in the Prem Dan slums. One of the volunteers, Arturo, has a bunch of friends living in the slums, I didn't really catch the story of how he knew the families, but went anyways.

Natalia, Elenda, Jorge, Arturo y yo all washed the head of many slum children. Our purpose was to wash all the lice out of their heads. We spent the morning massaging the children's heads with special shampoo, washed with more special shampoo, then combed the hair with fine combs. The lice was super gross. I remeber in elementray school when a child would get lice, the whole school would go up in a riot, sending home letters to the parents warning them to check their kids heads. Remembering the over paranoia of Ameria made me laugh when compared with ever so prominent lice in heads in slums.

The morning project finally was complete, it took forever! I kept suggesting we just cut all their hair off, but the girls with hair down to their waist protested adamantly, I don't know why. Once all the heads were shampooed and combed Arturo brought out the alpahbet books. All the children practiced their handwriting and colored silly picutres. While we had them self-entertained, we took a walk through the slum. Intense, somthing I really don't think I have ever seen before. It was just like one of the advertisements for the "For only a dollar a day..." campaigs. The huts were made of everything, newspaper and thatch, old plastic and bamboo. But what impressed me was the absence of begging. In the streets of Calcutta, the beginning is oh so in your face. But in the slums, there is much more acceptance of their situation and therefore much more happiness. We even saw a pet mongoose!

I fell in love with I think every child. Some of the children had laughter louder than the train station. Their happiness gave me so much hope, reminded me so much that kids are kids everywhere. Many of the girls had incredibly beautiful eyes, which help so much peace and so much struggle. I told all of the kids their eyes were beautiful, "be-u-fll" is what they heard. Many of the girls blushed and ran away. We laughed tons, one kid laughed so hard he fell over and started crying, I thought he was having a seizure, but apparently it happens quite often, a laughing seizure.

I made a great decision in giving my camera to the children, who ran around the slums taking pictures from their point of view (now posted on flickr).

The day eneded with a meal in the one of the homes. We were some what apprehensive to accept the meal, but the family pushed with all smiles to make us eat. So we did, I was reminded of Guatemala and generosity of which the people share.

The slums have a different vibe to them, a completely different movement. It encourages family unity and laughter, two things I have not seen for a while. It felt great to be appreciated and have a return gift for what we had given. The food was very little, but we knew it came from the depths of the families hearts.

The visit to the slums came at a much needed time. I have been feeling the true difficulties of Kalighat. I believe that part of the reason I was sick, was I was giving so much and not recharging my own battery. When I returned to work the first time, I realized how much energy my work takes. When I didn't much I felt it take what I did have.

I have been well. A lot of my work has been taking bodies to the crematorium. It has been a lot harder than I thought. I go just about everyday, I know the security guards there now and usually don't laugh at my floral print apron I wear. The other day there were eight different families at the crematorium. We had to wait with out two bodies as all eight families had small ceremonies with their bodies first. It was quite interesting witnessing a Hindu funeral with 80 people in such a confined area. The smell of incense and burning flesh is very difficult to describe but does not mix well with sweat and tears.

The medical work back at Kalighat continues. It's quite routine now, but has been exiting and full of rotting feet, protruding bones, lots of burned flesh, magots maggots maggots and nasty smells. I have been there helping as much as I can.

The sisters at Kalighat have learned my name and all have a joke. "Joseph, where is Maria?" It's funny the first time, and maybe the second, but hearing it 12 times a day, everyday, it get a little old. But it shows that they like me, yes!

My time is winding down, I have two weeks and two days left of work. Then my travels through northern India and Nepal will start! (More to come later.)

This wednesday after work, I believe Katie, Traci, and I are going to a small beach town to relieve ourselves from crazy calcutta. I believe it will be great! I have not been out of the city yet to at least hear myself. I think it will help me understand a lot of emotions I am trying to deal with right now.

I hope all of you are well and planning your Halloween costumes, I haven't decided what I am going to be yet.

Missing you all.

Not Sure

I'm really not sure what to write. But for all of you who are wondering, I am well. I have just got over a 3 day flu. I got a shave at a barber shop. I am missing eggs benedict and my mama's french toast.

But for some visuals got to flickr.com/photos/joepoz

Nabo Jobin (I think this is the name of the home) and other thoughts

This was supposed to be posted yesterday, but the power went out right as I sat down to write. I figured it was a sign that I was supposed to go to bed. So this is an experience from Sunday. What follows is one experience I had today, Monday:

"What does it mean to be happy and honest at the same time?"

With arms wider open than most hugs I have received, ever, she ran from the open gates to me. It was as if she hadn't seen me in forever, she hadn't. So as she jumped into my arms screaming, "Uncle," I appropriately said, "I haven't seen you for so long, how are you?" I'm not really sure why I said this, but felt obligated to. I did not know her, she was a street child.

Our purpose at Nabo Jibon was to simply wash and play and feed the street kids of the surrounding slums. This is a Sunday activity which I thought I might experience as to take a break from my daily routine at Kalighat. The showers took less than 7 minutes, as the greatly anticipated futbol field preoccupied their minds. I forgot the joy of hope in the youth. Working with souls who seem elusive to lief have take a toll on my expectations for personal happiness. A toothless smile has been much of a consolation. A man who makes it to the squat toilet without shitting on me is another joy, but the real joys are very soft and are more subjective than objective. But what is almost entirely and genuinely objective are children's smiles, laughs, and innocence.

He stood on my shoulders. Taller than he had ever been before. A full three feet and nine or so inches tall with another 5 feet and 10 or so inches added as his base. He was tall. I was afraid he would fall off, but connected at the hands I held him as tight as I could. He stood peering down on everything. We danced to the Bengali music, he laughed, which made me giggle. His small hands made me feel smaller than ever, only because our friendship was trivial and inconsequential ;) and pointless, also reminding me of the prominent street child epidemic. I was briefly sad, but when his spit landed on me, I was immediately brought back to the Bengali music, I continued to dance. This made me happy.

Majority of the day I had a young friend on my shoulders, and another pegged to my chest. He was so colse to me that I would wipe my face sweat on his shirt, only fair considering I was their toy, I was their mountain.

If these moments are what it is like to be a mountain with happy climbers ascending, then what a joy to be a mountain. I will give more respect to them. I was more than jubilant to have happiness on my highest peak, oh what a joy to be a tall mountain, supporting curiosity and exhaultation.

But it was difficult. I leaned over to Katie at one point and asked, "Lord of the Flies?" Sadly, that is what it was, a complete free for all. We took a break to serve biscuits. Two lines were supposed to be formed. Logically the child at the front of the line would be served first the next, right? It took three times as long as it should have because the concept of a functioning line was pointless to the street kids. I mean, I guess a free for all in the streets is more logical than waiting behind someone else. It was quite the juxtaposition.

Biscuits were served and I again served as a climbing structure. The kids would run to me, grab my hands, launch their feet forward, climb up my legs, to my chest and flip themselves around. This was spectacular! Fun! Until...one of the kids who was obviously too large for climbing me, but who would not take no for an answer, found another, in climbing terms I believe it would be called a "foothold" and in average vernacular would be called my PRIVATE PARTS! I keeled over in agonizing pain. Over dramatically I fell to the dirt ground, groaning in pain (this was not over dramatic, I promise!) The kids loved this, laughed, poked me, and yelled, "Uncle, Uncle, Uncle!" I gathered myself and stood up. There was already a sorta-line formed for more body climbing. The fun just never ends in the hearts and minds of the children, so why should it in mine? So they kept climbing.

The interest shorty shifted to futbol. I wanted to be cool like my new friends so I took my sandals off and played in the dirt without my shoes! Spectacular fun! I wanted for my father see me, he would have been so proud! Since he was not there, I said to Traci, "Look, I'm not playing with shoes on!" "Great Joe!" (seemingly not to care) I realized that must have sounded quite adolescent, but hey, after all look who I was playing with. It must have quite a show watching me hobble on the playing field, "Ouch!" wincing "Ouch!" wincing "Ouch!" wincing "Ouch!" in pain. My feet like you and me are very well privileged.

There was more body-climbing and mountaineering but not before some got jealous and wanted to climb the mountain. There was just not enough room! So what did I do? Made more. Like Wilbur, I was radiant! I walked around with three and sometime four kids clinging to me. We looked like a rice crispy treat. but pegged together with sweat and love, not sweet.

Lunch had arrived. This was pure chaos. "Uncles" and "Aunties" were demanded for more rice and dahl. More "Panni, Panni, Panni!" Everyone felt entitled to their own, no please or thank you. Was I wrong to expect? Plates were left on the ground as the children ran back through the gate to their home, the streets. No thank-you's, no good-byes. It was weird, no I guess just different.

I had romantic ideas of the children not wanting to leave, of enormous hugs, as that commencement hug to finalize everything, but nothing. It was just different. Sure I could have been upset with the lack of discipline, or their lack of manners, or I could have been disconcerted with the entire situation. But what would be the point in that? That was "My head was speaking louder than my heart" ;)! My hear was glowing. I was not there was not to teach these kids, I was there to instill anything, or to make lifelong friends, I was there to make someone smile, laugh and laugh and smile myself. And that is what resulted. It's like a satisfying meal. You eat the flavors, enjoy, and share the joy. It ends eventually and will leave your body sooner or later (in my case, meals leave sooner ;) ). You can always revisit the meal in your imagination or even the restaurant and even have the same meal, but nothing about it will really be the same as the original. That is authentic joy, as this joy was. I can revisit it in my hear, but it will never be tangible as it was that day. (Yes I just compared my day to a meal at a restaurant!) I have learned from them, probably more than they will ever know, or care to know, but to an extent isn't that almost like most of our encounters with others?

As blasse and unforgiving as that may sound, as often self-serving individuals we can easily forget to care about our actions and words and how they genuinely effect people, or maybe it is just me.

I left satisfied. I left realizing a few things. One of them being: many of my experiences in Calcutta and interactions with people may mean nothing to them, but for me I will grow big and strong from what they have taught me. Maybe that is part of their "Personal Legend."

A man I met inspired me to challenge myself to do a simple yet difficult reflection before I fall asleep every night. "Where you present to everyone with whom you interacted today?" OR did your mind wander to "meditate" on something or someone else ;)? Why? Mother Teresa apparently made the person she was with "the most important person in the world." Why not? They should be, they are in your present, they will soon be your, and inevitable will help create your future. I believe that when someone speaks to me they deserve my full attention. I am working on this. I have not been good at this in the past, but I am young and full or revitalizing energy. Even the flight attendants on the plane, I know what tehy will say and cold probably do their whole routine for them, but they deserve their dignity, as I do mine and you do yours. So as a man challenged me: Were you present to all with whom you spoke with today? Even think of one interaction, and if you weren't why not?

I have realized this has strayed from the street child day, but I don't care, your paying attention, right!?!?!


And now for an experience from today:

I cut out a rotting tendon today! The nurse is not an octopus and has only two arms. When she was positioned how she was and could not move, she said "cut", in her Italian-English, so I cut.

Another Journal Entry

After rereading this journal entry, I realize that it makes almost no sense. But I guess it makes sense to me and to anyone who is willing to understand, or has had a similar "aha" moment in life. I feel know a lot of pointless things that are valuable to my life, pointless in the sense that many people don't value them, or to an sad extent don't believe in them. But, I, nonetheless, have faith that what I write and what I believe is a minor and major part of a humans life. Maybe one day I will inspire someone to believe something they never knew was there, maybe one day...

So I begin

Monday September 6th 2008:
For the first time I finally feel like I am moving. That I am thinking clear. I had the idea, when I first began working, that I could do it all, that it was all (meaning the work at Kalighat) about will and making it happen. What I have realized is that only through true love, true soulful selfless love, can one withstand a full days work at Kalighat. Dishes and laundry can be done with thoughtless, repetitive, action, don't get me wrong are very important (actually important. I spoke with a wonderful man on the bus yesterday, an older man, who mentioned that Mother Teresa spent the most time washing the clothes. It was the most important action for her) but when spending time with the patients in the ward and being present to and with them, that is difficult and that is where i Learn.

I sit with patients. Knowing there is no way for us to communicate. That I will not cure him, that I will not save him in any way. But what I can hope for, is a recognition from him, a gesture
which allows me to realize he is greatful. Here are some examples of thanksgiving:
The weird sideways Indian headnod (unless you have traveled to India, you most likely will never understand what this means) a toothless smile, hands shaking in a "so-so" gesture (another Indian movement), genuine staring not in a care free way, but in a way that passes life giving energy (something you may not ever experience, unless you really try and pay attention, and my favorite, the appropriate "namaste" with hands paralleled and bowing motion.

I am finally feeling able to move. I was initially paralyzed. Believing that I could do anything out of brain power was in vain. Actions are done from the heart. My father says, "Do it with your whole heart, or don't do it at all, it's just not worth it." This finally makes sense. This is true. Eventually when you realize that your soul is satisfies, whatever your conception of the soul is or in whatever way your soul speaks to you, you will realize that what you have done is a true act of love. Stop at this time and be greatful, be happy, remember this moment when you have a chance to reflect on the day. Actions from soulful love out of genuine caring makes things easier and more beautiful.

Realizing this I am moving once again, but moving happily. After exhausting myself with the original mindset, I noted I had to use emotion from somewhere ever less-understood than the brain and easily very Americanly taboo, from: The Soul. I was and am humbled. I felt paralyzed with humility, as I could not move. But realizing the power of the heart and soul, I can move once again, but this time I am moving out of humility and grace. It's beautiful to listen to your. Try it.

Sometimes I feel I know A LOT of silly little things.

The results: Waterfalls and Firecrackers!

It's pretty late over here, well, certainly past my bed time, it's 10:59 pm! I don't have work tomorrow, thursdays are the volunteers day off, so I thought I would write a new post (not to mention I have a wonderful functioning keyboard, no really!)

Well, a friend of mine, whom I volunteer with, is staying with a family in Calcutta. He invited some fellow volunteers and myself to his families house for a traditional Indian family dinner. WOW! What we got was way too swanky for our own good.

We took a 30 minute taxi ride through the crowded streets of Calcutta and found ourselves in a quite neighborhood of 5 storied apartment buildings, nice ones. This was the first time that I had heard silence in over 2.5 weeks, let me tell you it was bizzare.

The first thing that was unfamiliar to and dissimilar to my eyes was, as one of my friends described, "a gate." The apartment building had a gate. This was an interesting start. We entered an elevator which took us up to the top floor of the building. Since I have spent SO much time in the poshed up houses, I knew that the top floor of big apartment buildings mean one thing: penthouses! And that is what it was.

We walked through the front door and were struck by cool a/c air, a first since Bangkok. The house was swankier than many houses I have seen anywhere. We sat and drank in a living room, which was raised off the main floor a few inches, making the sitting experience, on very nice tassel lined furniture, that much more swanky. Gold god's and goddesses were situated on coffee tables and beautiful eastern asian cabinet ware. We met the hosts, he was a man named Arjay, an architect and she was Sonia, a very talented painter. Arjay has designed 27 churches in Eastern Inida and Sonia has works in many galleries in Europe. The two have traveled to many countries, countries which only accept very deep pockets.

The party was moved to the rooftop, I mean the rooftop garden. There was a full lawn, "large enough to play croquet on" said Arjay. A small fountain and multiple sitting areas. We got a further tour of the rooftop and discovered the "part room" a beautiful room with lights and a glass floor. There were 3 more terraces. One of the terraces was quite romantic, leveled above the rooftop garden.

We sat, ate, drank, talked, it was gluttonous, I mean glorious! The conversation was very varied. Everything from traditional Thai tattoos to how my parents met. From bombings in India to SOUTH BEACH Florida and ghost stories. The couple was very well educated which 4 children living abroad. The servants served the food on silver trays. A portable a/c machine was brought out to cool the guests. There were 9 appetizer dishes. Trendy hindi house music played in the background, oh how I wanted to dance. It was wonderful! I was just about on overload from all the appetizers: small sandwiches, three small pizzas, tons of fried chicken, fried river fish, cuban tostones, chips, vegetables, ham, and an Indian dish.

I was ready to go home, certainly satisfied, but that was not all. We were moved from the rooftop to the dinning room where the main dinner would be served! I was so stuffed I had no idea how I would be able to eat anymore. There were about 12 different traditional Indian dishes. I would name then but have no idea what they were, accept good! The conversation continued to get more and more humorous, pictures of the family and Sonia's artwork were brought out. We were also invited to the wedding of the daughter at the end of December!

The family also had a dog. More of a bear than a dog. Remember the movie Beethoven? Well same dog, but named Mozart. The beast was huge! It weighed more than me and demanded more attention that me, too! It was brilliant!

I sort of went into a food coma and was immobile for about an hour. The servants were Nepalese. After that hour we all finally, grabbing our over loaded bellies, said our thanks to the family and headed home.

The taxi ride took 10 minutes coming home. That's how dense the city is during city hours. I got home and discussed the night with Katie. This past morning she laughed at me, "you were so drunk! Drunk on food, that is!"

I truly was, it was sensational. What a wonderful night of partying on beautiful rooftops with a/c, wonderful people, conversation and food!

Going from budget meals, about $1.20 a meal, to endless amounts of food for a night, yea of course I ate a lot!

The results this morning and all 11 trips to the bathroom today: Waterfalls and firecrackers.

My mind is blank.

Hello everyone.

I am not too sure what this post is going to be about. I have been thinking about the next theme for a new post, but nothing quite fathoms. Work has been intense. Getting up at 6 and returning at 1pm is quite tiresome.

The work that I do works with care for the destitute and dying. kailghat patients from the streets and cares for them until they are able to return to the streets, often they have infections, or wounds that can be take care of by the one certified nurse at Kalighat. She is a beautiful Italian woman I tend to call mama. She has been a nurse for 40 years and has spent the past 10 years in Calcutta, sensational.

Some patients who are not able to make it back into the streets receive love for the last days or hours of which they are on the earth. That is where the volunteers come in. We massage, bath, feed any patient who needs help. Often we assist the nurse in medical procedures, way cool!

I have been debating weather or not to share this live, but I asked the permission of his soul to share, so I hope it is okay. Last night a man passed away. He was put in the small morgue which Kalighat has. His final stop is the crematorium. I carried him there. Along with another Indian worker, we took him there. It was more than surreal. I am still afraid of sharing the details online (We can chat about the experience via email or when I return if you would like). The whole trip over I had a small memorial for the gentleman, as I sat in the back of the ambulance with him. I named him Carl and thought of what his life must have been like. As we passed through the streets of Calcutta I looked at the different age groups which he was once a part of. I imagined him playing cricket, walking alongside friends, laughing with individuals, and loving others. I said what prayers I knew and sang my new favorite song, which we learned at the mother house (it is a song used for volunteers who are having their last day of service, it's a playful way to say thank you.) We love we love we love you/ we love we love we love you/ we love we love we love you/ from our heart... I added my own verbs in the song which I found most appropriate.

The assistant and I carried Carl to the area of "departure," I guess the furnace? The assistant told me to wait with Carl. He left the building and hopped back into the ambulance and drove off. The building emptied out, I was alone in a crematorium with Carl. It was so surreal. I had many thoughts, I had a hard time making sense of the whole situation, but to be honest I don't even know what that means right now. Basically a man died and he had to be cremated, what more is it than that? I guess...

I sat in the Crematorium. I sat by the furnace. There were two. They were hot. There was a lobby, sort of, it had many marble-esque seats. The place was not inviting, hence why there were not people hanging out in the lobby. I don't know why anyone would hang out in the lobby of a crematorium in the first place, so maybe that was a stupid statement, the previous. There were 6 huge fans propelling war air around the room. Carl and I sat, I sang, he listened. I listened for any further wishes he wanted me to share with the world. Selfishly I couldn't get past my own thoughts, I was not capable of listening to hearts. I was scared.

The assistant came back carrying a wooden stretcher. We transfered Carl to the wooden stretcher. We placed the stretcher on a metal plank that was attached to a conveyer belt which moved things into the furnace. I pushed my friend into a beautiful new life of many oranges, yellows, and reds. He was moving on. I smiled and said my good bye. I know something more now. Only a little though.

Blessings on all of you. I am having a good time in the city. I visited the only place in Calcutta where one would see Indian couples affectionately touching. It was actually more than affectionately, it was somewhat intense. The couples groped under umbrellas. We walked, giggled, and took pictures. Last night I went to a bollywood movie with some of the Volunteers I work with. It was a blast! We attempted to go to a bar before the movie, but were kicked out of the first one, men only? The second one was super dimly lit and one could only see about an arms length infront of them, it was so smoky. I got an orange juice.

The movie made no sense but it was in a great theater. Tonight I am heading to a traditional Indian dinner at the house of one of the volunteers who is staying with an Indian family.

I am finding my place here. :)