pscheuring

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Diving diving diving. Though I am starting to notice that two of the three places I have thusfar entered involve a bunch of dead people on site. Either this appeals to the Buddhist in me, and the idea that I need to contemplate death, or maybe I’m just a morbid SOB…

Aircraft carriers and battleships sunk by a nuclear bomb? C’mon! Of course!

Exceeded my expectations. As exotic as the world comes, in my humble opinion. Saw the funeral pyres, vibed it up with the cycle of life along the river and ghats: cremations, ablutions, con jobs, prayers, monkey shit, cow shit, human shit…it’s all in-your-face as so many previous travelers have said. Life, with all the filters stripped away. The sublime, the base, the shameful, the inspiring, all in one place. That was Varanasi for me.

To sit with the dead around the funeral pyres beside the Ganges. To see the truth in death and fully apprehend the Buddhist concept of anicca, or impermanence. Monks back in the day used to sit in the charnel grounds surrounded by decaying bodies to fully understand what becomes of every one of us. A macabre reflection, but from what I understand, ultimately enlightening…and one that allows one to better appreciate the days that otherwise fly by uncelebrated.

And that’s the aim of all of this. To truly live. To understand the stakes. And to be grateful for the fragile, sublime dream we negotiate daily…