My Preaching

Arriving in Bodh Gaya we come to the place where the Sidhartha Gautama became the Buddha (the enlightened one). I have many, many thoughts, and no thoughts as well. Just experiences.

On a train, on the way to Bodh Gaya, the place where the Buddha was enlightened.

I am back home in Boudhanath. Funny how quickly a place can become home. I have been gone a week, but it felt much longer. It is good to be back and see my family and friends here.

On the way back from Pokhara, Greg and I stop to visit his friend. Maila Praja is his name. He is Chepang.

In the back of a monastery behind the main shrine room in a Tibetan refugee camp in Chorepatan, Nepal, an old woman attends the butter lamps.

Most of Nepal is still very rural, and village life seems to dominates the collective imagination, even of those who now live in large cities such as Kathmandu.

Dashain is the time in Nepal for families to come together, sharing food, and gifts, and all sorts of traditional activities. One of these is swinging on huge bamboo swings.

Though I have been here for only a month, it seemed time for a road trip.

An old motorcycle, a good traveling companion, and an open road... freedom.

Most of the rice is now heavy with grain, almost ready to harvest, but not quite. Much of it needs a bit more time to finish growing. But this last little bit of time has its own problems.

Today is the first day of the rice harvest, with the first field I have seen being harvested right outside my back door. As one would expect, everything is done by hand.

A patchwork of small farms cling to the hillsides in Lamatar on the edge of the Kathmandu valley.