Messing About in Boats
One of my husband’s favorite passages in all of literature is this from Kenneth Grahame’s children’s classic The Wind in the Willows:
“Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing — absolutely nothing — half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. Simply messing about in boats — or with boats. In or out of ’em, it doesn’t matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that’s the charm of it. Whether you get away, or whether you don’t; whether you arrive at your destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get anywhere at all, you’re always busy, and you never do anything in particular; and when you’ve done it there’s always something else to do, and you can do it if you like, but you’d much better not.”
The traditional houseboat, called a “dounga.”
We spent yesterday messing about on the lake. To be specific, we helped our landlord move his houseboat to a new mooring. His boat is a smallish, traditional-style houseboat of the type that many families in past generations called home. The houseboat was his home until two years ago, when he moved with his family to the village house where we now rent the upstairs. My husband is always eager to be on the water, so we went down to help him with the move.
It was a long and complicated process, involving lots of problem-solving, as well as messing about. The electricity and plumbing had to be detached, along with the mooring lines. The wooden gangplank from the shore had to be taken apart and its supporting posts pulled up from the lake bed. A “professional” houseboat-mover named Mahmoud used his large canoe to tow us to the new site. As we approached the mooring, it became frustratingly clear that our houseboat couldn’t quite squeeze through the gap between two larger houseboats. One of the large boats had to be pulled in toward shore before we could pass. It was almost sunset by the time we got tied up at the new spot.
From the front deck, I watched Mahmoud (on the right) at work.
What I will remember most about the whole process was watching Mahmoud the boatman at work. He showed up with his big canoe and knew what to do to prepare the houseboat and get it moving. He must have been at least 65, but stepped back and forth along the edge of his canoe with perfect balance, using a long, heavy pole to move us forward through the water. He seemed to have the strength and agility of someone half his age, although he had to take several breaks to smoke the hookah he kept on his boat! He’s obviously spent his whole life on the water, and has a kind of cheerful and intimate knowledge of the ways of the lake. What’s “messing about” for us is his livelihood, but it doesn’t seem to have lost its charm.
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged houseboat by Lisa
Learning How to Pray
“You need to learn how to pray!” This was our language helper’s surprising but welcome comment a few weeks ago as we began our daily lesson. From the beginning, we had started off each meeting with prayer, mainly because we have felt so desperately our need for divine help in learning this challenging language! 
Our prayer times have broadened to include the needs of her family members and ours, and thanksgiving for blessings received. At first it was just my husband and I taking turns, praying in English, but after a while we invited Minou to take a turn from time to time. I started writing down the prayer phrases she used in our vocabulary notebook.
We pray in a way that is similar to what Minou is used to—she and I cover our heads and extend our hands out. But having been raised in a Muslim environment, Minou was used to memorized prayers from the Koran, recited in Arabic, a language she doesn’t speak. Since becoming our language helper, she has become comfortable expressing herself to God in her native language, like we do. But not exactly like we do…Some of the phrases she uses translate into English like this:
“Keep us walking on the straight path.”
“Keep Satan away from us.”
“Turn your gaze toward us.”
For several weeks we wrote down her phrases and talked about them afterwards. Then Minou announced that it was time for us to start using them ourselves. When I asked her if she thought our language was good enough for God to understand, she said, “Of course! God understands what comes from our hearts.” In the context of our language lessons, she has learned something wonderful about God that most Muslims don’t yet know.
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged prayer by Lisa
Time for a Picnic!
It’s spring, and our community seems to have gone picnic-crazy. We joined in the craziness last Sunday with an outing to a lovely local park. 
We had been planning this outing with our landlord and his family in honor of their 16-year-old daughter’s completion of a major set of exams. She had studied almost non-stop for several months, and was ready to see the outdoors again. The weather was perfect, and the huge chinar trees had burst out in bright new foliage. Our landlord’s wife had made rice and chicken, we brought fruit and banana bread, and enjoyed mango popsicles for dessert!
We’ve learned that picnics are a serious Indian pastime. Historical texts from many centuries ago describe the picnics that wealthy merchants and nobles would take, getting out of the city and into the woods with a caravan of servants bearing a portable banquet. The Mogul emperors created beautiful gardens wherever they went, taking care to lay out terraces to maximize lake and mountain views for their grand picnics. The British, also fond of dining al fresco, found in India exotic new venues for enjoying their afternoon tea.
Sunday the park was crowded with families, who came toting blankets, tiffins of rice and dahl, and thermoses of chai.
The women were dressed in their brightest spring outfits and snappy sandals. Children chased balls while teenaged girls posed for group selfies next to the roses, with groups of teenaged boys watching from an almost-respectful distance. The Moguls wouldn’t have recognized the mobile phones and selfies, but the pleasure of warm sun and fresh air after a long, cold winter is a constant through the centuries. And doesn’t food always taste better outdoors? If you haven’t had a picnic lately, now’s the time!
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged picnic by Lisa
Earthquake in a Not-so-distant Land
I had almost finished writing a post about picnics, but nature intervened and I’m saving that draft for another time. Nature threw me a new subject in the form of an earthquake. We didn’t feel it here, but as a California native I know what they feel like well enough and I pay attention. We were just in Nepal last month. 
One requirement of our Indian visas is that we exit the country every six months and then re-enter and have our passports stamped, so we flew from Delhi to Kathmandu and then returned the next day. We didn’t take many photos there, but this shrine in an old part of town was striking. I doubt those watchful eyes have been much comfort to the suffering Nepalis.
I was reminded of another one of Mary Oliver’s poems, called “Beyond the Snow Belt.” I’ll put a link to the whole poem at the end of my post. Here’s how it starts:
Over the local stations, one by one,
Announcers list disasters like dark poems
That always happen in the skull of winter.
But once again the storm has passed us by…
She goes on to describe how the storm is far enough away that it doesn’t affect peoples’ daily lives, so they stop thinking about it and go back to their normal routines. The poem ends like this:
I only say, except as we have loved,
All news arrives as from a distant land.
The disaster may be on the other side of the world or it may be in the next county—if our hearts are touched, it seems close by. 
We weren’t in Nepal long enough to make any real friends, but I remember the small woman in the shop who sold me yak wool scarves—a narrow shop on the ground floor of an old brick building. I think of the manager of the hotel we stayed in, who had been part of an expedition to Mt. Everest. And of the young waiter who helped us decide what to order for lunch, in that restaurant on the second floor of a tall, cement-block building. One consequence of living the kind of globe-trotting life we have is that there are now people we love in so many parts of the world that news from almost anywhere touches our hearts. Shortly after we heard news of the earthquake, my cousin wrote to ask if we were safe, and I replied that we were far away from the quake zone and weren’t affected. But Kathmandu isn’t quite such a “distant land” to my heart… what about yours?
Beyond the Snow Belt:
http://www.best-poems.net/mary_oliver/poem12165.html
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged earthquake by Lisa
Know Your Paisley
Among the countless things I’ve learned in the past year, here’s an unexpected one: the origin of the paisley pattern!
According to my local sources, the story of paisley starts right here in our valley, where for many centuries local artisans were known for weaving soft, warm shawls from the wool of mountain sheep. The shawls, traditional winter wear for both men and women, attracted the attention of early European travelers and became fashionable in Europe in the eighteenth century.
The shawls were distinctive both for the quality of the wool, which became known as cashmere, and for the design motif called badam, or almond. Take a look– it isn’t hard to recognize the stylized almond design. Almond orchards abound in this region and we’ve just enjoyed watching them bloom. 
To continue the story, some enterprising British had the idea of copying the shawls on their own soil, rather than importing them from India, in order to maximize profits. The first shawl factory was set up in Scotland in the town of… Paisley!
Thus the almond motif was plucked from its Indian roots and transplanted for the benefit of chilly European consumers.
Here’s a challenge: Where in your home does the paisley pattern show up? Sofa cushions? Bath towels? A skirt, blouse, or necktie? Use that as a reminder to pray… for the mountain shepherds, the shawl weavers, and the shopkeepers like the one who sold me this shawl. And for me, as I head out the door, my shoulders draped in almonds.
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged almond, paisley by Lisa
One Year of Blogging
It’s now been a year since I started blogging! I’ve posted on this page almost every week since our arrival in N. India last March. I wondered then if I would be able to find something interesting to write about (interesting to me, anyway) each week. As it turns out, that was the easy part. Finding the time to reflect and compose my thoughts has been more challenging, as has connecting to reliable internet!
When I chose a title for my blog, I used a line from the last part of the poem “Starfish” by Mary Daniels:
What good does it do/ to lie all day in the sun/ loving what is easy?
It never grew easy,/ but at last I grew peaceful:
all summer/ my fear diminished
as they bloomed through the water
like flowers, like flecks/ of an uncertain dream,
while I lay on the rocks, reaching/ into the darkness, learning
little by little to love our only world.
My hope was that writing this blog would help me see more clearly and appreciate the beauty around me through sharing it. I have discovered many kinds of beauty in the last year: natural beauty, cultural beauty, and the beauty of new relationships. Writing about them in this blog pushes me toward taking more time, paying closer attention, and reflecting more deeply on the new things I am learning to love. 
But it hasn’t always been easy, and I’ve often felt far from peaceful. This photo was taken at the lake near our home. We drank our afternoon chai here enjoying the view between rain showers. It’s a calm scene now, but the place where I’m standing was under 10 feet of water during last September’s flood. Natural disasters aside, this area has been known for conflict from its earliest history to the present day; most of the “darkness” has its origin in human hearts. I’ve learned that much of the beauty around us lies beyond “what is easy” and our love has to stretch far. Writing this blog helps me see the darkness for what it is, even as I keep reaching.
Posted in Uncategorized by Lisa
Easter Hope
Easter, the celebration of life and love overcoming death, has come and gone. Our celebration was modest, as it was a day like any other for our Muslim neighbors. Part of our Easter observance was a walk in the Almond Gardens about 20 minutes from our home. The almond trees put on an extravagant demonstration of the power of life and beauty to burst out of dead-looking gray wood.
But I had an even more beautiful Easter experience: I received an apology from a friend. It came in the form of an email message, quite unexpectedly, asking forgiveness for a past offense. It was a joy to respond. What a sign of hope: our relationship is given new life!
Near our home, this old man was planting trees along the border of his field. As I watched him I was reminded that before a tree can bear leaves, blossoms, and fruit, it has to be planted and put down roots. New hope, love, and life don’t appear magically just because it’s Easter. Forgiveness is costly; the resurrection only happened because Someone was willing to die. I’ll be keeping my eyes open for barren spots, barren hearts, where the work of planting forgiveness and hope can start.
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged Easter by Lisa
Surprising Spring
Spring is here! We have now officially made it through our first freezing cold winter, and are collecting our reward: the small but spectacular signs of nature’s rebirth all around us. It seemed to come so suddenly: one morning we walked out of our house and realized the sun felt warm on our faces. We looked up and our neighbor’s tree had exploded into blossoms. The next day, walking along the stream, we noticed that the trees had sprouted new green leaves, and the field beyond was carpeted with velvety grass.
This time of year seems almost magical after months of grey chill. The bright leaves and flowers came out of nowhere, suddenly covering what had been bare brown branches.
The grey dirt of the field seemed dead, and now life is pushing up from every square millimeter. Spring comes as an annual reminder that appearances can be deceiving; just because something looks dead doesn’t mean it is. Life has a way of breaking through and taking us by surprise.
Isn’t that what we call resurrection? As if to get me in the mood for Easter, these boats on the lake lined up like so many colored eggs under the warm spring sun. 
The boatmen are getting them ready for the tourists who will soon be flocking to the lake, along with the migratory birds. Perhaps the nicest signs of spring are the smiles on the faces of the boatmen, their families, and the rest of our neighbors, who feel the sun’s touch of warmth not just on their faces, but in their hearts. And may that warm touch bring new hope to life as well.
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged spring by Lisa
Snow Play
What do you get when you expect the unexpected?
Here’s one thing: Muslims playing in the snow! 
When most people think of Islam, they think of a desert religion. There’s good reason: it’s a tradition that was born in the sands of Arabia and extended its reach on the backs of camels. The most common images of Muslims that come our way include hot sun, tents, and turbans. But here we are, living among Muslims in the foothills of the Himalayas, and there’s a lot more snow around than sand!
After a dry winter, March has brought late, heavy snow. Last Sunday we took our landlord and his family along for a day in the mountains to enjoy some snow play. We drove about an hour and a half up to a summer resort area where there was a good two feet of fresh, clean powder on the ground. Our landlord managed to connect with an old friend who lives there, and he found someone to rent us a sled. My husband took our landlord’s 3-year-old son for short but thrilling sled rides down a hillside. The rest of us couldn’t tell which of the two “boys” enjoyed it more! 
The snow was falling around us in slow, fat flakes. Other people were building snowmen and having snowball fights. We ended our visit with lunch and tea back at the home of our landlord’s friend.
Our day out in the snow was a nice change for all of us from the usual routine of study and housework. Does it surprise you that Muslims get excited about snowball fights and sledding? That they laugh when they roll off the sled at the bottom of the hill, and need help knocking the snow out of their boots? When we reach out and love people who seem so different than we are, we often find that they’re more like us than we expected.
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged sledding, snow by Lisa
The Ladies’ Coach
We just got back from a short trip to Delhi, where we renewed our passports, saw some friends, and did a little shopping and sightseeing. In an effort to save money on taxis (and avoid Indian road rage) we tried riding the Delhi Metro around town. And I made a fun discovery: the Ladies’ Coach!
A flowery pink sign at each station designates the waiting area for the “women only” metro car; on most lines, it’s the first car. When riding with my husband, I felt fine in any of the other cars, where the riders were mostly men, or couples or families riding together. But I wanted to try the Ladies’ Coach, so on a return trip we separated and I waited under the pink sign. There weren’t many women in the car I rode in, although quite a few got on at the stop near the mall! I spotted several mother-daughter pairs. 
Two women across from me seemed to be planning a dinner party; I overheard snatches of conversation about guests, chairs, and quantities of food. One young woman got on pulling a large, bright-pink suitcase; I wondered if she was headed off on a trip, or maybe returning home.
My stop was at the end of the line, and as I exited the car I asked the women behind me if they always rode the Ladies’ Coach. They nodded, and said that they probably wouldn’t ride the metro if there wasn’t a women-only car. If you’re interested in the kinds of conversations women have on the Delhi Metro, see this BBC article, “Overheard on the Ladies’ Coach”:
http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-30657144
OK, LA Metro, how about it?
Posted in Uncategorized and tagged metro by Lisa