In Search of Magic

As I write these blog posts a month after these events happen, I find myself following along an interesting line of thought. I’m seeing that my recall, interpretation, and narrative voice are being affected by the books I’m reading and thoughts I’m having now, a month later. In each post I almost feel as though I’m writing two posts. I’m telling you explicitly about the events that occurred and I’m telling you implicitly or perhaps subconsciously about what I’m thinking or feeling now.

For example, when I wrote the “Ghosts in the Night” post, I was reading Bram Stoker’s Dracula. And I could feel as I wrote that a different frame was being applied to the thoughts and ideas I was expressing. My style was more journalistic, more pensive, more mysterious. And as I wrote my lastest post about being in Pokhara, I struggled to relate the feelings I was having then because I’ve since had changes in my thinking and attitude that are relevant to the topics I was writing about.

All narrative is, of course, colored not just by the writer’s changing viewpoint but also that of the reader. But I wonder now, as this fact manifests itself to me so vividly in my writing, how often we read narratives and descriptions and take them as being fixed, as being objective? Prior to starting this blog, I had already thought about this topic. I had thought about the meaning of authenticity and the inherent unreliability of all narrative. And yet I was still surprised at how strongly I had this sensation when I was writing! If people who think about these things can still be surprised by their force, what does that imply for people who have never been exposed to these ideas at all?

Yesterday we flew into Pokhara and it is absolutely stunning. In a small valley, surrounded by mountains, every direction shows us beautiful green hills and the lake reflects this beauty threefold. Nature stretches and flexes and lets her magic course through this place. We spent the first day here just becoming acclimated. Simply laying and sitting around in cafes reading and looking out over the view. A sort of lethargy settles upon us. In these places of intense natural beauty and power, the magic in the air seems to interfere with normal thought patterns, and it takes some time to adjust. And that doesn’t even take into account that after months of working nonstop, we finally have a moment to breathe. And in that moment, stillness and inaction rule. Tomorrow we can pursue action. Tomorrow we can continue our journey.

The next day begins our exploration. We’re looking for places of special power . We’re looking for magical experiences. There are multiple notable geological sites here in Pokhara and we decide to go visit them. Following google maps leads us unexpectedly through farmland, through an even quieter area than the main town of Pokhara. The sun beats down on us in this open field, and by the time we reach our first destination, we’re already exhausted.

Paying a small fee, we enter Devi’s Falls. The story behind these waterfalls, and the reason they’re gated up and fenced off, is that a Swiss woman named Davi, swimming in the river near the falls, got caught in the current and drowned. The falls crash dangerously down into a cave and become an underground river. Cliffs hang over both sides of the waterfall; once you fall down there, there’s no way back up. With all the spirits and creatures I’ve been seeing and reading about, this is a sobering reminder of the power of nature itself.

The second site we visit is actually just across the street from the falls. There is a temple built around an entrance to the cave system into which the falls crash. I am once again reminded of how much closer to nature the religion and spirituality of these people lies as compared to the west. It seems that nowadays we in the west want to completely separate nature and man. And in the west, this makes sense. Man has wrought such destruction on the earth that it often seems best to force him apart from it. But here, the temple is built into the natural entrance to the cave. And it doesn’t destroy the cave, but instead augments it. It uses the cave as a structure around which to place artistic images and create meaning.

After a delicious, but ultimately ill-advised lunch, we decide to set out for the World Peace Pagoda. At the top of one of the hills looking over the valley is an enormous Buddhist Pagoda. Many people ride taxis up there, but we decide to hike it. Our maps told us that it would only take around an hour to get up there, so how bad could it be? Ha. The heat bore down on us the whole way. Within 10 minutes I was entirely drenched in sweat, and our umbrella did little to shield us from the sun. Imps hiding in the bushes and kobolds hiding in the rocks on the side of the road snickered at us from their places of shade. I wonder how many travelers they see making this mistake?

But for me, the exertion proves ultimately to be positive. I find that whenever I do very strenuous exercise, it puts my mind in a calmer state. All unnecessary thoughts are wiped away and I am filled with a sense of peace and clarity akin to what I feel when meditating. This, as it turns out, was the perfect way to approach the World Peace Pagoda. The clarity allowed me to approach with an open mind and really feel the beauty and joy of this place. And it made me want to meditate more and learn more of the Buddha’s teachings. I could finally see a way forward through my pain and through my curse. I did not see a solution, but I saw that the will and resolve I would need to make it past these trials was already inside me. I’m going to need to explore these ideas and this state of mind more as my journey continues.

The nights are filled with strange occurrences. Only two nights ago I awoke to the sound of drums beating and crowds cheering, but upon waking Robin the sound ceased. Looking out my window cast no light on the source of the sound which stopped so suddenly. I can only attribute the sound to the spirits in this place.   Far more spirits roam the streets of Kathmandu at night than in San Francisco. Or at least, they act more openly. Last night, on our walk back to our lodging we were confronted by an angry dog standing on the balcony of the third floor of a house. At first it appeared to be just a dog, but upon taking a second look, I was frightened. The dog had the face of a man! What demon or creature can possess an animal in this way? I must make a note to do some research.

Last night also saw another strange occurrence, for Robin and I both woke up at almost exactly the same moment from nightmares. I couldn’t be sure in my groggy state, but I thought I saw some shadow escape through the window.

Other strange things have been happening, too. While I recognize why high humidity might stop my sweaty shirts from drying over night (it’s been very warm), can it make them get wetter? Or can it make dry shirts I haven’t worn wet? I’ve never heard of such a thing, but it seems to be happening. Perhaps this is just a normal thing that I’ve never experienced since I’ve been living in dry climates my whole life… Or, it could be the creature a student we met told us about. According to her, she watched a bug climb up the outside of her window, then leap into her room and begin flying. It then landed on the ground, but in the place where the bug should have been only a puddle remained! How can one account for that? Perhaps these odd creatures have been dampening my shirts at night?

I have been reading a book about Kathmandu, and it seems the locals also tell of spirits in this place, though many much more sinister sounding. For example, the Kitchkandi are spirits in the form of beautiful women that try to lure men to their doom, whose only tell is that their feet point backwards. However, the locals have noted that since more electric streetlights have been put in, it seems fewer spirits roam the streets. This might explain the disparity between Kathmandu and San Francisco. I will need to research this further and see if I can shed some light on why electric lights might do this.

In any case, I will be on the lookout, as any of these spirits could be the key to lifting my curse.

Pashupatinath: one of the largest and most sacred Hindu temple complexes in Nepal. In the courtyard, we were greeted by some meandering cows. We wandered through the entry area, not exactly sure how we should go about seeing the temple. Eventually, we came across a sign that said entrance. Unfortunately, being escorted by Robin’s Nepali cousin didn’t shield us from the entry fee or a tour guide. On the plus side, the tour guide shared quite a bit of interesting information with us.

“Ah yes, so you see how it is, Hindus believe that the soul only lasts 24 hours in the body after death and so people must be cremated within 24 hours of death so that their souls can be freed and washed down the river. Buddhists believe it lasts 48 hours, so it’s less of a rush. You can see a pyre being built down there right now.” One pyre was already burning and another was being prepared. I could envision the spirit being released from the vessel that had contained it for many years. I could understand the desire to want the best possible afterlife for your family. To do anything that might help those you loved.

“So, is this temple devoted to any god in particular?”, I asked “I see idols representing multiple gods.” In truth, I’d already done some research, but I wanted to hear about it from our tour guide as he was knowledgeable about the temple and could probably provide more information than Wikipedia.

“Ah yes, this temple is devoted to Shiva. But many temples have shrines to multiple gods. For example, in the Hindu religion, Ganesh must always be worshipped first. So you see how it is that Pashupati is an incarnation of Shiva, so this temple is devoted to Shiva. Except these caves over here.” He gestured across the river. “These caves are a holy site for the Buddhists. You see, The Buddha is an incarnation of Vishnu, and the monks in these caves are mediating all the time on the teachings of Buddha. They are almost always smoking marijuana to reach even deeper states of meditation. It’s illegal here, but these monks have a religious exception. The Lord Shiva also loves marijuana, you know.” I later read that it was only illegal because of pressure from the US, and in reality no one cared at all and they didn’t even pretend to enforce the laws. Marijuana has a long history of recreational use in Nepal and trying to enforce those laws would be kind of ridiculous.

At this point, we started walking to a higher vantage point, and a dog started following us. And I could see that it wasn’t just a dog, but a spirit of this place. It belonged to this place as much as this place belonged to nature and to the gods. And it knew. It knew that I knew and could see it for what it was.

Noticing the dog following us, the tour guide told us a little about the animals. ” The dogs are fine, they’re just hoping you’ll give them food. But the monkeys… well, you see how it is, the monkeys have their hearts in their back, and any animal that has it’s heart in it’s back will think it’s a challenge if you look them in the eyes. So don’t look them in the eyes if you don’t want trouble. And be careful with your mobile phones. I’ve seen the monkeys snatch them before.”

I found the monkeys fascinating. And all the animals for that matter. So natural that they should coexist with humans, and yet, in Western cities, the only wild animals you see are birds and squirrels that are treated as pests: only around because they’re impossible to get rid of. In Nepal, the dogs would lay around in the street, on shop fronts, in temples, everywhere. It struck me that they were treated much like homeless people are treated in the US. They were mostly ignored, sometimes given pity from a few individuals, and treated warily if they were being aggressive. This comparison really drove home in my mind the terrible state of our society such that humans receive no more compassion than wild dogs on the street.

And the cows… well, as Robin put it, “the cows are just friends.”

“So you see, how it is: The cow has all 330 million Hindu gods contained within its body. This is why the cow is a holy animal.” I already knew the cow was holy, but this added an interesting new dynamic to it. The cows wandering the streets, laying on the sidewalks, and lounging in the courtyard. They were all gods?

“This shrine here is very old. It’s a tantric shrine. So you see, the reason it has these sex acts on it is that the goddess Kali will come down once a year to destroy humanity, but when she sees the sexual acts on these tantric shrines and temples and people practicing these acts, she gets embarrassed and flies back to heaven.”

Well, this all was a lot to take in. So naturally, we stopped at a small shop in the temple complex for some tea. And again, I realized just how different the pace of life was here. The tour guide sat down with us and waited for us to finish our tea. Would that ever happen in the US? Wouldn’t he have another tour he had to get to in 15 minutes? Didn’t he have somewhere else he needed to be?

Eventually we moved on and came to the main gate to the main temple. “Only people born Hindu with both parents Hindu can enter this part of the temple. Anyone can see the rest of the temple, but this section is too important, too holy. These goats here at the entrance, you see how it is: someone has given them to Shiva as a living offering. They belong to Shiva now and no one can claim them or slaughter them.”

Of course there are magics I will never know. Beautiful sights I will never see. Temples I can never enter. But now, more than ever, I realize that I must seek out the magic within my grasp and learn to harness it. How can I know this power exists and sit around in an office? Now, all I need to do is figure out how to find it.

I could see that this place was coursing with magic as soon as I got in the taxi. Each collision we narrowly avoided was a new miracle, and our driver could only have been navigating with magic since there wasn’t a street sign in sight. Cars turned, stopped, passed, and avoided motorcycles and pedestrians with almost no structure to the roads. Traffic lines were suggestions and any rules that might have existed were clearly only guidelines.

And yet, in each moment, I could feel my own life energy surging. A pure joy at being alive not evoked by the mundane, rules-based traffic of the US. Improbably, we reached the Shakya House where we were staying for at least some part of our journey. Shakya was the clan of Siddhartha Gautama, so this house seemed like a fitting place from which to base my own mystical journey. I’ve learned quickly that coincidences like this are not an accident, but stem from a confluence of the magic in the world and the magic proceeding from ourselves.

Of course, we were terribly jet lagged. It took all of my effort not to immediately slump into bed, but Robin was insistent that we go to her family’s restaurant on that first day. On the walk we passed many temples and shrines that seemed to be in active use. I thought I could already see what might be meant by “gods living in the street.”

Unfortunately, when we eventually got to the restaurant, her family wasn’t there. But still, we were asked to sit and brought tea while we waited for Robin’s cousin to come meet us. Maybe it was the jet lag, but time seemed to be working differently here. Everything seemed slowed down. Sitting, waiting, talking, drinking tea. There was no rush to any of this. It was especially strange interacting with people who didn’t speak English. I wished I had a spell to translate what people were saying, but alas, I had to make due with reading body language and gestures.

After eating some momos, we went back to our hotel and slept for a long time.

I know not for how long this shade has hung over my head. I only know that I can see it now and can feel it’s weight. I see other things, too, that I never saw before. Magical energies and supernatural creatures underlying everyday events. A parallel world superimposed upon the ‘scientific’ world which interacts in subtle ways and which we can effect likewise.

It all started at the Cacao Ceremony. This maybe warrants some explanation… see I began hanging out with a number of cooperative living communities in San Francisco: a mish-mash of artists, socialists, techies, community-oriented folks. And there’s a lot of overlap between these groups and a lot of astral chart/tarot card/palm reading sorts. So I inevitably ended up at an event to celebrate the transition of the sun into Gemini.

In order to strengthen our minds and bodies and our connections with mother nature, the eternal spirit, the oneness, and so forth, the hosts led us in a Cacao Ceremony.

“Cacao is a gift to us from the ancient gods. The Mayans knew the power of cacao, and scientists have recently discovered that cacao has all of the vitamins and minerals necessary for a healthy heart.” Damn. “I’ve been doing these cacao ceremonies every morning for the past six months and I can really say my health has improved. I feel, just, so much more open. So, before we begin, let’s do a group meditation to connect into spirit of the earth to allow the power of the cacao to fully heal us.”

And so followed a fifteen minute meditation in which we envisioned ourselves as a tree casting roots into the ground, into the very heart of the earth. And you know what, it was a pretty damn good meditation. What with all the build up, I thought there must be some serious drugs in this cacao. So, when I started seeing flittering lights through the air, it didn’t surprise me. But I was a little confused: it wasn’t like anything I’d experienced before. I didn’t really feel any different; I was just seeing things. Energies around tarot cards and astral charts. Lines of light connecting artists to their artwork. And I could feel a darkness, a barrier between me and these energies.

But then, no one else was acting like anything strange was going on, so I played it cool and decided to sleep it off. But it wasn’t gone the next morning, so I did what any self-respecting techie millenial would do and started googling. And well, it was sort of a mixed bag. I was either suddenly seeing the spirit energies connecting all matter and energy in the universe together or I was having a psychotic break. But the more I read, the more I became convinced that what I was experiencing was an awakening to the actual magical energies around us all the time. It’s called the Sight.

Well, as you can imagine, it was really distracting. It became very difficult to sit around at my desk all day in an office. Sure, I could see aura’s around my coworkers and imps flitting around causing bugs in our code, but it was nothing compared to the whorl of energies out on the streets and in nature. How could I continue sitting there when I could see just how much more was going on around me?

Thankfully, I ran into the woman of light. I was running through Golden Gate Park soaking up the magic of the place when I had the inspiration to keep running from my apartment on the east end of the park all the way to the ocean on the west end. The trails, however, were especially tortuous that day and I ended up in a part of the park I’d never been. I was surrounded by trees and could only vaguely hear the sound of cars in the distance. Then, off to the side of the path, I saw a small hut made out of sticks and leaves and such. I was thinking it was probably the shelter of a homeless person living in the park, when a woman made of light called out to me from within. She was like a hologram, only projected from some other dimension. I could see the projection lines, but not the source.

“Go first where the gods still live in the streets. There, the everyday magic may loosen the bonds that constrain you.”

“Who is that?” I called, walking towards the hut.

“Once the bonds are loosened you will face your pain and must make a decision. Will you go back to how you were or will you seek out the magic that will bring you back to strength?” The image of the woman flickered and before I could ask another question, she nodded at me and said, “We will meet again.” Then she slowly shrank to nothing, fading into memory.

I puzzled over the meaning of the words. Where do the gods live in the streets? What did she mean “bring me back” to strength? Was I once strong?

I’m embarrassed to say that it only clicked for me a week or so later when watching Dr. Strange. I can’t explain it exactly, but I knew. Dr. Strange found his magic in Nepal. My partner was already suggesting we visit Nepal where she’d studied for six months four years ago.   These two things couldn’t be coincidence.

So, I got a leave of absence from my job and got ready to take a trip.