A Day in the Life of a VSO Volunteer

Wake up
I am in Nepal
Landscapes of thikkas, mangoes, mantras, saturated colors, the unexpected, contemplated government overthrows.

If you have not eaten rice today you have not eaten.

I came here to do.
To act, to change, to learn, to ask, to help transform, to be transformed.

I am sitting in silence, however.
Watching surreptitious looks over newspapers. Unanswered questions. Wondering.

We are trying so hard to understand one another.
But my western assumptions are colliding with your eastern patience.
No matter. Learning happens through discomfort.

And anyways, I have found there is a lot that happens in the silent spaces.
Silence happens right before creation.
But I will not lie. It is unsettling to me against the din of my former life.

As unsettling as clumps of chickens hanging from bicycle handles and the
woman in the village who looks at me pleadingly.
Her husband has her under her thumb, she says. Her children don't have food to eat.
What can I do to help?

Lissim grabs my arm and smiles at me afterwards.
She also doesn't know what to do or say.
With her touch I am momentarily calmed.

I don't know where we go from here.
But I know we begin with listening, honoring suffering.
Then gathering forces.
Lissim's hand on my arm tells me she's invited me onto her team.

My thoughts about stillness, change, silence and action are interrupted.

Laundry needs to be washed.
Food needs to be bought and carefully prepared.
My dusty floors needs to be swept.
I could have visitors at any time.

Thich Nhat Hahn says that these tasks are also our spiritual work.
To be done well, consciously. As meditation.

I have been considering this.
I have plenty of time and opportunity to consider this.
Indeed, the water I wash my clothes with relaxes my mind easily and quickly.
For this I am grateful.

But I can't help but think that sometimes the laundry, floors, and washing of lentils can also be a diversion. I should be careful of diversions.

Tonight I will sleep early so I can be awake for the noises of the morning.
I have given up my natural rhythm of going to be late and sleeping in late not without a fight.
But have learned - in the spirit of following the path of least resistance - to welcome the sounds of people starting their day.

Chanting, chopping, washing, playing, spitting, cleansing, cleansing, ringing, praying, working. Working.
These noises come early, quickly, and loudly here.

The rest is welcome,
the moon in the night sky is calling me to her.
I secretly hope for thunder and rain and puddles on the floor tonight as I fall asleep.

I need all the rest I can get anyways.
I have to be prepared for whatever will come tomorrow...

Sitting silent, watching, learning, planning my next move.
Thinking about how to balance flexibility with consistency of action and purpose.
It takes all the energy and focus I have.
And this must be what I came for.