Guilt, the Joy Killer

As I was walking from my living room into my bedroom to retire for the evening, I shut off the lights and uttered the words, "thank you" from a genuine place of deep gratitude for this day; for life; for being alive.  I was grateful to have been able to spend most of the day with people: my neighbors down the hill; the boys that came to my house for English class; the neighbors and their kids right next door (with whom I took up coloring using the colored pencils and coloring books that I gifted them); and Qadrubullo, the caretaker of the land.  As far as accomplishing anything towards my bigger goals, i.e., towards the business, towards some form of financial freedom, towards marking anything off the long list of things to do - I failed spectacularly. But there are days when who you sit with - including the children - is far more important than another task crossed off the list.  

Or is it?

When the feeling occurred, it emanated from a true place of joy, but as I wrote the above, guilt crept in and I started questioning whether I was simply justifying not having accomplished anything?  Am I singing the "life is too short" song to try to exonerate myself?  And where is this coming from?  When I was employed, I never achieved the work/life balance.  Ever.  I came closer to it in the winter when I would spend the weekends at buzkashi matches.  But the rest of the week and the rest of the year, outside of winter, was spent laboring in the harsh, driving madness of work.  

So ...

Am I wasting time and just making excuses?  Or am I, in the longer term, accomplishing the work/life balance?  Or am I now in the struggle to accomplish the life/work balance?  You see, it isn't that today was the ONLY day that I have spent with people.  Today just happened to be a day when I truly felt the joy of it and gratitude for it.  And when I was finally able to feel the joy of that, as soon as I wrote it down, I started feeling guilty.  

What is wrong with this picture?  Have I been conditioned so effectively to an eight-hour workday (more like 11-14), where achieving or accomplishing is of more import than just enjoying a day being alive and being with people? I’m not sure I like that.  

Guilt is a joy-killer.  A true, pathological, serial, joy killer.

Shifting Tunes

Melancholy is a tune in a minor key
The notes in the minor keys vaporize inside my chest
Through the vapor the mountains crescendo
Can I scale them
And sing a song of triumph

In a major key?

Seven-Story Mountain, by Railroad Earth

Here I offer lyrics to one of my all-time favorite and deeply appreciated songs by Railroad Earth, called Seven Story Mountain.  17 minutes and 17 seconds of wonderful bluegrass, fiddles, drumming, and crescendos, with poignant and timely lyrics, given my current wintry introspection:  
... to see a light, but fail in strength to follow ... got to find a light and fill my heart again.  Yes. Yes.  A resounding YES!

Oh Lord to see a light, but fail in strength to follow
Sometimes it's hard to let it go
Oh Lord, to fail in heart and each day grow more hollow
Sometimes I just don't want to know


But the road that led me here
Is begun to disappear
Sometimes I wonder where I am


Oh Lord, to hear a voice but let it fade and wallow
Sometimes its hard to let it go
Oh Lord to find the words but keep them in and swallow
One day the top is gonna blow


But the road that left me here
Is begun to disappear
Sometimes I wonder who I am


Oh Lord to stumble blind for years without knowin'
Sunrise has burned my eyes again
Oh Lord to crumble quiet watching from the silence
Sunrise has burned my eyes again


It's a seven-story mountain
It's a long, long life we live
Got to find a light and fill my heart again


It's a seven-story mountain
It's a long, long life ahead
Got to find a voice and fill my throat again

My version is on the album Railroad Earth Live Sampler.  There is also a nice audio version here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EAsGbdqdYk0

Leaping off the Great Edge

Leaping off the Great Edge, where will I find myself?  
Where will I lose myself?  
Like the caged bird, I must die to be set free.  
Dying to myself is a welcome proposition.  But what will follow?  
Who will be The One to Come After? And from where will she come?  
I pray she be stronger, fearless, more disciplined, more deeply compassionate, an expanded visionary.  
It already IS.  
She already is.  
But where?  
Where is She? 

Solitary, but not Alone

Sitting on the Roof of the World, thinking to myself that it's a damn fine view. I did not grow up in the mountains so I can't put my finger on why they magnetized me so, but sometimes all I can think about is being up in them; walking, riding, sitting, and gazing at the magnificence and perfection. Seriously, it borders on obsession.  That might not be such a bad thing.


This extended journey provided stupendous weather as we traveled through the high pasture lands in the eastern region of Tajikistan.  The pasture lands - called ailoq in Tajik and jailu in Kyrgyz - are nestled up in the mountains anywhere from 2,500 to 4000 meters (8,200 to 13,000 feet).  In this district it is the women that are the primary occupants, mostly living in yurts and caring for the livestock of their village.  A young man will take the flocks of sheep and goats during the day to graze, but the cows and their calves are driven away from the homestead in separate directions, only to return in the evening on their own.  That is the advantage of bovines - the mothers and their young will return to each other in the evenings, whereas the pesky goats will lead the sheep over hill and dale and never return, if they had their way. 


On this particular day Quvatbek and I enjoyed a leisurely walk, past all of the yurts and up to the 4,600 meter-high peaks (> 15,000 feet). Tajikistan lays geographical claim to one half of those peaks, while Kyrgyzstan claims the other half.  I wanted to walk up to this (seemingly theoretical) borderline and put my toe over it, claiming proudly (if not tongue-in-cheek) that I walked to Kyrgyzstan.  Granted, I did make the climb (or most of it), but it was not treacherous and exhausting (like last year's three-day trek over snow-ladden mountains); however a gala, or herd of horses with one jealous stallion prevented our final claim to fame by protecting his mares aggressively.  Our young stallion would have been no match for him, so while Quvatbek and his horse kept their distance, I took up a place on a rock closer to the herd, sitting very still with my camera taking photos and videos of them.  True to their nature, they slowly and curiously came in close, interested in me and the camera, and then, curiosity satisfied, meandered off to continue grazing.  I felt so blessed to be surrounded by these semi-wild, spirited creatures in this wondrously and palpably spiritual landscape.  To be here by yourself is not to be alone. If you look, listen, and hear - not with your tactile senses, but with your heart, you surely understand that you are not alone.

Life above 3000

Life above 3000 meters, or nearly 11,000 feet can be harsh, driving, spiteful even, but in this setting, the beauty can overtake you and bring you to tears at the feel of the closeness of God.

One lone yurt sits at the base of a 7-year old avalanche of glacial ice. Yakub and his wife weather the elements, the bears, and the wolves and watch over their village's cattle for the summer months. Not many reach this remote place and when we showed up bearing rice, carrots, and onions, they lit up, beaming with excitement at the prospect of something more diverse than bread and the endless supply of dairy products they consume. "If only all guests were like this" they said, laughing. My hats off to them ... or, as they say in Tajik, my hands up. Ofarin!

Caught Between Worlds

I have a theory that I was a fish in a past life and that I'll be a bird in a future life. I sometimes feel an awkwardness in my body, like I'm caught in between the two other worlds and contained by a life on land.