One Thousand Buddhas - But Who’s Counting

Prologue

#995

It was 112 degrees and sunny, blindingly sunny. The dust, coupled with the dry desert air, was almost as lethal as the bombs. The shelling had gone on sporadically for three days now. In the silence in between, you could hear the wails of parents grieving for their children and the sobs of orphans wandering through the debris. Those that could, walked the streets calling out for anyone trapped in the rubble, listening intently for any reply.

Amid the wreckage, a young woman cradles her small son. He is bleeding and barely conscious. This is not Jihad, she thought. This is not God's will. This is slaughter and power-grabbing, the injury made all the worse because they claim the holy high ground as they aim the next rocket and let loose the next round of rifle fire.

She began singing the Janazah, the prayer for the dead, for her child, rocking with his body, back and forth to the rhythm of the chant.

In a cave deep in the Himalayas, a Buddhist monk stirs from his meditation. Opening his eyes, he gazes at the marks on the wall opposite him. Slowly rising from his cushion. He walks across the stone floor, picks up a piece of charcoal and uses it to cross a line through one of the hash marks. He bows his head, says a silent prayer, then slowly returns to his seat of straw and resumes his prayerful state, chanting first, then slipping back into meditation.

Chapter 1

#997

Nathan Morrison trudged along the rocky path through the Himalayan mountains in Nepal. The trail through the Annapurna Conservation Area was well above the tree line and fully exposed to the elements. Historically, it was a caravan route that connected the Kali Gandake River to the western interior. Today, the road stopped just past Manang, turning into a foot trail that almost faded completely into the rocky landscape, eventually connecting up to Kaisang.

With his hood sheltering him from the unremitting sun, he dragged Lucy, his less-than-cooperative pack mule, over the gravel path. He had dismissed the Sherpa yesterday in search of the true solitary experience. He planned to pick up another guide at the end of the pass, but for the next three days it was just he, Lucy, and the great Annapurna Wilderness.

Both Buddhists and Hindus considered the Himalayas to be sacred mountains. Judging from the view as he flew into Katmandu, he could see why. They were expansive beyond anything he could have imagined. Snow-covered all year, the highest summits were rarely seen from the valley, disappearing into the clouds and inspiring a sense of mystery and majesty. Men had sought their peaks since the beginning of civilization. The tallest of all, Mt. Everest, was finally conquered in 1953 by Tenzig Norgay from Nepal, and Edmond Hillary from New Zealand.

Many came here on a spiritual journey. Nathan had no such grandiose goals. He'd given up on any great spiritual awakening after wasting $5,000 for a week-long workshop in Cabo, where overpaid scientists claimed that reality was just an illusion. True or not, it didn’t make much difference day to day. Life went right on ahead, with bills to pay and decisions to make. All he was hoping for now was that some solitude would clear his head. He needed to figure out what he was going to say to Kate.

The trail was safe enough. No rocky cliffs or wild animals. He’d come in November, despite it being the busy season, because that’s what fit into his jammed-up schedule. Usually, he traveled in the off season to avoid huge crowds. He chose this trail specifically because it wasn’t that popular. Not only would he avoid other hikers, but the chance of encountering any of the marauders that frequented the more touristy routes was as remote as the trail itself. He just needed to be alone, really alone. He needed to rid his mind of the chaos, stress and distractions of Chicago, to get clear about his future with Kate. Mostly, this trip was a stall tactic. She had laid down the ultimatum earlier this summer. Get in or get out of this relationship. In an effort to buy himself a few weeks, he concocted this life changing journey through sacred mountains to help him get his priorities straight. He’d seen the trip on a travel brochure in his dentist’s office and it seemed as good an excuse as any and, who knows, it might work. So far, though, there had been no great insights.

After only a few hours without his guide, he was already feeling the discomfort of being alone with himself. Automatically, he reached for his cell phone in its usual place, on his side, attached to his belt. It wasn't there. He knew that. The reflex was purely habit. Whenever he felt disconnected or indecisive, all he had to do was log on and see what other people thought. It steadied him, gave him focus, clarified things.

Solitary life wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Nonetheless, he had three more days until he reached the next village so he resigned himself to make the best of it and focused his attention on the journey. That would be the Buddhist way, after all, focusing on the present moment.

It was late in the day and he was looking for a good spot to shelter for the night, somewhere out of the wind, somewhere level, maybe with a little cover in case afternoon rain clouds crept over the ridge. A small alcove in the massive walls of sandstone perhaps. It had worked for him the previous night.

The trail was visible for several miles as it wove its way through the barren mountainside. Beyond a couple of switchbacks, he could see the shadow of what appeared to be a small cave. Although it looked reasonably close, he knew from experience it would take at least two hours to get there, just in time for dinner. After conferring briefly with Lucy and meeting no resistance, he pressed on.

The sun was closing in on the horizon as he approached the alcove. The late afternoon stillness was comforting and he was looking forward to making camp. As he neared the entrance, he noticed a hint of fragrance in the air. It was a familiar smell. He recognized it from the various villages and temples he had been visiting along the route. It was Nag Champa, the incense of choice for most Buddhist practices. It had a distinct aroma. He looked around, curious about its source since he was miles from nowhere. The closer he got to the cave, the stronger the smell. He was beginning to wonder if his campsite was already occupied. It wouldn't be completely unheard of for some monk to be squirreled away up here, meditating, seeking enlightenment, but knowing how far they were from any village, it seemed unlikely. He cautiously approached the opening, leaving Lucy tethered just outside the entrance.

The scent was definitely coming from the cave. He poked his head in. As his eyes adjusted to the reduced light, he saw a typical cave with stone walls and dirt floor. No sign of habitation by man or beast. After stepping inside, scrapings on the back wall and ceiling became visible, indicating it had been expanded to sleep two or three travelers comfortably, with the ceiling raised to allow standing full-height for most people. A fire ring near the entrance indicated past use but there were no other signs of recent occupancy. Then he spotted a small portal in the rear wall that seemed to go further into the mountain. Walking toward the back, he picked up a slight humming sound. As he ventured further, it became a very distinct O-O-O-O-O-O-M-M-M-M-M-M. He recognized it immediately. It was an ancient Buddhist chant that, according to Eastern philosophy, aligned with the primordial sound of the universe. The sound just before the big bang. The sound before sound. He wasn't sure how much he bought into any of the eastern thought. At the moment he wasn't sure about anything except that so far, it had all seemed like a load of crap. Religion “is the opium of the people,” Marx had claimed. He could believe that. Nonetheless, he had to admit that the steady hum of the chant was soothing and the possibility of human contact was appealing, even if it meant interrupting a holy man.

A faint light in the back drew him further into the cave. He followed the glimmer around a bend to discover a small chamber lit by a candle perched on a small stone ledge. Here he found the source of the chanting. In the dark red robes of the local temples, a monk sat perfectly still, chanting OM softly with each breath. Surely the monk had heard him. He wasn't exactly stealthy, tripping over boulders and crunching on the gravelly path, and yet the monk seemed undisturbed.

Nathan took the opportunity to look around the inner sanctum. It was about the same size as the outer room with similar scarring on the walls. On the dirt floor below the candle, was a small cache of dried food, a jug of water and a few blankets. To the right, the monk sat on some sort of a cushion, back to the wall and legs folded up like a pretzel. Opposite him, the left wall was entirely covered with hash marks as if the monk was keeping count of something. His gaze turned back to the man seated on the floor. He was old, very old. As Nathan considered this, the monk’s eyes opened, startling him. They stared at each other for a long moment. Awkwardly, Nathan cleared his throat.

“Um, excuse me,” he stammered, not sure if the monk even understood English. “I'm sorry to bother you.”

The monk continued to look at him.

Thinking he didn't understand, Nathan went on, adding exaggerated hand gestures. “I'm s-o-r-r-y,” he dragged out the words, waving hands of apology as he started to back out of the inner chamber.

“No problem,” the monk replied in clear English. “Please stay.”

“Oh,” Nathan replied, aborting his retreat, “Yeah, sure.”

After a moment the monk asked, “Why are you here?”

“Well, I was looking for a place to spend the night but-,”

“Why are you here in Nepal,” the monk interrupted.

“Well, ah, not a simple question, really, but the short answer is that I'm hiking to Kaisang.”

“Not where are you going. Why are you here?”

“I'm running away from my life.”

“Not where have you come from,” the monk replied patiently.

Frustrated, Nathan searched for the answer. “I'm confused, directionless, burnt out. I need clarity.”

The monk nodded his acceptance. “You will find it here,” he replied.

Nathan let out a noise that was almost a scoff. “That would be nice.”

“You doubt me.” The monk nodded his head. “Therein lies the problem. You doubt everything. Even your own judgment.”

“No disrespect, sir, but it's complicated.”

“It is not complicated. You make it so to avoid doing what you know is right.”

Nathan considered this. It felt comfortingly true. He’d tried to dodge things but if he got honest with himself, he had known all along. He knew it when he got on the plane to find himself. He knew it standing in his boss's office the day the promotion was offered. He knew it when Kate laid out the ultimatum – marriage and family or move on. He knew the answers, he just didn't like them. This quest was more about looking for answers he liked.

Nathan looked down. “Maybe true,” he conceded.

“Stay. We have much to discuss, Nathan Morrison.”

A tiny ripple of fear ran through Nathan's body. He tried desperately to remember if he'd introduced himself when he entered the cave. He didn't think so, but the alternative was that he was expected. No, he must have told the monk his name. He just didn't recall it. Awkward self-doubt started to bubble through his external bravado. “But I've disturbed your peace,” he almost stammered, “I can find another spot.” He was back-peddling now.

“You can stay in the outer alcove. Settle yourself and attend to your animal,” the monk directed him. “Then return.”

Not seeing any graceful way out, he acquiesced. “Sure. Thank you.” He bowed awkwardly as he left.