Flashback Dimensions

(Flashback to Nepal January 2014)

Kathmandu was a sweet surrender of a mother fucker. Reeling from the beautiful brutal Beirut I wandered the streets with a repelling sadness. Ready to combust and turn to dust. Walking past people in a haze replaying unchangeable moments. 

Out of the noise and chaos in my head and in the street a voice asked, “Are you American?” I walked past for a spilt second and stopped. His voice resonated in me. His tone, his certainty. I turned around and looked at him almost getting knocked over by others passing by. He pulled me up onto his store front platform out of the rain and looked into my eyes, “I can feel your sadness.” I took a deep breath to hold it all in but the tears streamed down. I hated myself for being weak and vulnerable and letting my guard down instantly in front of this stranger while at the same time it felt so good to finally release. He felt familiar and safe. 

He brought me out a milk tea. We chatted more and got me crack a chuckle. He was from India and lives in Kathmandu for part of the year.  The man reminded me of my uncle Paul who recently passed from cancer and also lived in Kathmandu part of the year.

He gave me an intuitive reading as I’ve given others in the past. “Why don’t you value yourself? You wear your heart on your sleeve and people take advantage of that. You have an open heart, maybe too open in that you forget to protect and stand up for yourself in response to the benefit of others.” All of this made sense and was true. My past relationships are examples of this but didn’t want to explain.

 “Yeah it’s complicated.” -Me

“Well uncomplicated it. Be happy. You can be.”-He

We went to dinner and he shared his story of tragedy and heart break. The woman he loved and was engaged to accused him of rape to get out of their marriage agreement. He was imprisoned and banned from his home town. He truly believed this woman loved him and that her family had more to do with the accusations. He retained a calm dignity as he spoke. I could feel his sadness. 

While he released, I couldn’t stop staring at his nose. I had seen that nose before. It was beautiful, smooth, and from another time. We sat in soothing silence while eating by the gentle glow of lanterns and candle light grieving past sufferings knowing it gets better.

He offered me a place to stay if I ever needed one. He showed me the room. It was dark. I knew I wouldn’t remember which ally  to go down because all the streets look the same especially at dark. Candles were lit. We sat cross legged and talked about yoga and meditation. He stated he didn’t practice either and would like to find a good teacher. “If you feel comfortable you could use this space to practice and do so.” I wanted to feel comfortable and I did on some level but then societal constructs kicked in. A white woman living with an Indian man in Kathmandu means one thing: whore and I was in no emotional or mental state to try and combat social norms at this point in time. 

The man was very respectful and there was no indication that he wanted sex or something more than friendship. He would charge me $65 a month for the room. He wanted platonic companionship above all else. Before I could say anything he said, “It’s getting late let’s get you home.” We embraced both arms in the dark where no one could see. We walked back to his shop and he pointed me to the main road to the hostel and told me to stop by the store again and that the offer stands. I told him I wouldn’t remember where this is. He replied, “If its meant to be it will be. If not we are two people who shared a meal meeting along the way."

I went back to the hostel and reflected on the evening. I came to Nepal for yoga and to get out and away from a the same gross relationship I find myself in with every man with neither I nor the man value me. 

Making a decision to go to Matatirtha for yoga or stay in Kathmandu was not easy. Decided on the yoga center. Before I left I wanted to stop by the shop to say goodbye and see if we could meet again in a month. I walked all over and couldn’t find it. It was a gem and jewelry shop, but there are many gem and jewelry shops in Kathmandu.  I asked myself if last night really happened. After a while I gave up searching and left for Matatirtha. 

I had a moment of silence and wished him well. Maybe we would meet again maybe not.

If it’s meant to be it will be. If not we are two people who shared a meal meeting along the way.

It wasn't till I reached the yoga center in Matatirtha that book was passed to me. The man's face of the cover caught my attention without reading the title.

I stared at the image on the cover and couldn't stop. Someone asked if I was okay. Quickly answered and went to my room. That nose. I know that nose. I traced my finger over the nose the, eyes, the lips. I saw that man. That was the man I met back in Kathmandu only with shorter hair.

Sitting on my bed as if all time stopped, not knowing what to do, closed my eyes, heard a knock on the door, took a deep inhale and equally powerful exhale, then headed back outside with the others to explained how I needed use the toilet.