What a chat...

Ahh the mountains.

Around twenty four hours of solo travel and two hours of sleep achieved and I made it to Kasardevi, a village just up from Almora, which is just near the Western border of Nepal. Like all the shantiest, most beautiful, quietest and cheapest places in India it has become an Israeli colony.

In an exhausted but excitable state I marched around in the hot sun up the dusty streets determined to find a cheap place, to myself. An Indian guy tried to help me on my quest by offering his place, and he duly walked me five km to his house in the middle of nowhere. It really fitted the bill perfectly. It is truly miles from any tourists and or civilization, has an amazing view of the Himalayas and he told me I could eat homecooked food all day long.

Just one problem – the place was overrun with flies. I couldn’t possibly sit and jam all day while swatting flies.

With a heavy, unslept and hungry heart, I rejected his place and took a nice room above a chai shop. And tomorrow I move to an even more remote place. There’s not even a toilet. Ahh, nature.

I was up at the crack of 6am to watch the sun rise through the trees and illuminate the seemingly-floating white peaks of Himalayas.

I’ve almost caught up on sleep, my guitar fingers are fully functioning and the air here is breathable. Plus I’m doing a really good job of avoiding people. They can’t possibly understand that I’m busy.

Oh, and I imported a jar full of bhang from Varanasi so I can get herbally as well as naturally high. Imagine combining the two. That’s high.

I started reading Neale Donald Walsch’s Conversations with God, which was handed to me by Tal a few weeks ago. As English is his second language, he found it too much like hard work and said “here, you read it.”

Despite the cheesy cover and the exclamation from the Mail on Sunday “I couldn’t put it down!” I began reading it in a connecting train station at 2am yesterday morning. Well, what can I say. It speaks truths. I’m open to it. What, I’m sure, a few months ago may have irritated me (simply, I would have disagreed with it) I’m actually finding myself rather open to it.

I’m not going to be a disciple of this book, but I would suggest you read it. At the very least it is interesting.

I know that much of what he discusses is clearer to me because of my travels. So many people I have met along the way have tried to explain what he explains in a way that books often manage: in nice, ordered digestible book form. And so many times I am hearing these things come from myself also. I’m sure it helps to be reading this book whilst simultaneously staring at a mountain. But it is more about having had the opportunity and time to really think. To observe myself and others. To practice what I’m learning.

Walsch talks of finding God in ourselves in that we are all creators – creators of our own reality. And the meaning of life? To figure out exactly who we are and affirm and re-create it every day. So practice. Every day – it’s much more possible here. I can meet new people every day and practice being the person it is I want to be.

He also discusses the idea that God is not some vengeful and insecure character to fear – not someone who will judge. We are not born with sin, and nor is sin possible. This I already knew. But he develops the idea of us exercising free will – hence not having to get involved. I.e. God as creator and giver or love and not someone who punishes or rewards.

And something about love. God as love. Love as highest form of energy. Giving love to all. All you need is love.

But maybe I’ll save it.

Is that a vague and intriguing enough? Do I sound like a cliché-ridden, found myself in India type?

Well I guess the meaning of finding yourself begins with meeting yourself. Going into yourself. And hopefully coming out of it with more clarity about who you are and what you need to be doing. If this is the case then yes, I am finding myself.

It is about not being bored when you’re alone, but being creative. In my case it is a to-the-face (to coin a Jewish phrase) acceptance of music as my, er, calling. If I wanna get spiritual about it (and I dunno, recently that’s not so much a problem) I feel it’s what I was made for.

But it is only the start, and it won’t all involve such airy fairy, digging my brains out while jaunting around the mountains with a belly full of bhang and a big hair. Things get tough. I need to feel ready to return to England. I need to be truly full power. Especially if I’m gonna have the strength to be skillful enough to avoid ever having to get a job (i.e. one that isn’t the one I need to do).

So please, everyone, stop asking me when I’m coming back. I come back when I’m ready. When notebook number six is full of songs and drawings and nonsense.

And when I’ve run out of money.

So, love to all. I gotta go eat a sandwich I think. The food here is nice.