P E T E R M AT T H I E S S E N leopard. And soon we drift apart like grazing animals, in si- lence, as we do almost every day along the trail. GS pursues three blue sheep that move diagonally up the slope, while I climb to the base of a huge rock pile on the sky. ln a niche oflichens, out 0f the cold wind, I contemplate the still white mountains to the south. The effect of sun and light here is SO marked that south slopes with north exposure are locked in snow right down to the river, 、 vhile on this north side, facing south, the slopes are open. Thus, one bank of the saure IS a sheet Of white, while across the torrent, a few yards away, the warm grass swarms with grasshoppers and skinks. Overhead, pale griffons turn on the deep blue. How silent vultures are! From this aerre, no sound can be heard but the rush Of the Saure torrent far below. Traversing the slope to its north ridge, I scan the valley that leads north to the Jang, then return slowly down the mountain. Phu-Tsering gwes me warm chapatis, and hot water for a wash in the COld sun. He is wearing his amulets outside his shirt, but tucks them away, embarrassed, when I ask about them; they were given him by his lama, he murmurs, feeling much better when I show him that l, t00 , wear an "amulet," a talisman glven tO me by the Zen master Soen Roshi, "my lama ln Japan. ' He admires this smooth plum pit on which a whole ten-phrase sutra iS lnscribed in minute characters, and is awed when I tell him that the sutra honors the most revered of all those mythical embodiments of Buddhahood called Bo- dhisattvas, the one known to Phu-Tsering as 。。 Chen-resigs" (lit- erally, 5 ~ ア 4 〃 ras gzigs), who is the Divine Protector of Tibet and iS invoked by OM MANI PADME HUM. ln the Japanese sutra lnscribed upon this plum pit, this Bodhisattva is Kanzeon, or Kannon ()n China, Kuan Yin; in southeast Asia, Quon (m). To Hindus He is Padmapani, and in Sanskrit, He is Avalokita lsh- vara, the Lord Wh0 L00ks Down ()n compassion). Like all Bodhisattvas, Avalokita represents "the divine within" sought by mystics of all faiths, and has been called the Lord Who ls Seen Within. 7 Like most good Buddhists, Phu-Tsering chants OM MANI PADME HUM each day, and in tlme Of stress; he also clings t0

P E T E R M ATT H I E S S E N The s ビれれ / れ are a favorite subJect of the great Zen painters, and sometimes their dance Of life is staged against a landscape copied from these paintings, as if t0 suggest that such free be- lngs percelve a master 、 in all Of nature. Kanzan IS studying a scroll while Jitt0ku leans easily on a broom; when the paint- ing comes tO life, the se 〃れ begin the steps Of a strange dance. Soon Kanzan pauses, stands apart, gazing away intO infinity,. Jitt0ku, much moved, lifts his hands in an attitude of prayer and circles Kanzan with simple ceremony, kneeling beside him and lifting his gaze ln reverent expectancy. Becoming aware of him, Kanzan inclines hiS head in acquiescence and kneels with dignity beside Jittoku. Together they open the scroll and hold it before them; the audience cannot see what is wrltten, can only watch as the se れれ一〃 read silently together. Now the two are struck by a perfect phrase, and they pause in the same instant tO regard each Other; the power Of the revelation lifts them tO their feet as they read on, eagerly nodding. Soon they finish, sigh, and turn away intO the dance; for a moment, the scroll's face comes intO view. lt is pure white, VOid, without the small- est mark. Kanzan r011S it with great attention as Jittoku, smil- ing tO himself, retrieves the broom. Now Jittoku brings wine, but in his transport, he is holding the flagon upside down; the wine is gone. Not caring he refills it from the stream, and the 5 〃れ〃 are soon intoxicated on this pure water Of high mountains. Kanzan must be supported in the dance, and for a time it seems that the two might sink away in drunken sleep. But they are summoned by the sublime song of a bird, and complete the dance by resuming the attitudes seen in the painting. Kanzan seems tO smile, while Jittoku, re- garding the audience for the first time, laughs silently, with all his heart. Before the audience can grasp what this might mean, the screen is drawn ln a swift rush; there is only silence and the empty curtaln. ln early afternoon, when the downpour ends and the sound of the brook is audible under the oaks, the pony man appears, sniffing the weather; he has decided t0 return to Yamarkhar with his five animals. Sheepishly he says goodbye, and from his 2

62 P E T E R M A T T H I E S S E N existence in this way is to be the Buddha. Even the brilliant "white light" that may accompany mystical experience (the lnner light" attested to by Eskimo shamans) might be per- ceived as a primordial memory Of Creation. is the mat- ter Of the cosmos, contemplating itself," a modern astronomer has said ・ 27 another points out that each breath we take con- tains hundreds Of thousands Of the inert, pervasive argon atoms that were actually breathed in his lifetime by the Bud- dha, and indeed contain parts of the "snorts, sighs, bellows, shrieks"28 Of all creatures that ever existed, or 、 Mill ever exist. These atoms flow backward and forward in such useful but ar- tificial constructs as time and space, in the same universal rhythms, umversal breath as the tides and stars, joming both the living and the dead in that energy which animates the unlverse. What is changeless and immortal iS not individual body-mind but, rather, that Mind which is shared with all of exlstence, that stillness, that inciplence which never ceases be- cause it never becomes but simply IS. This teaching, still manl- fest in the Hindu and Buddhist religions, goes back at least as far as the doctrine Of Maya that emerges in the Vedic civiliza- t10ns and may ℃Ⅱ derive from much 1 れ ore anclent cultures; Maya is Time, the illusion of the ego, the stuff of individual ex1Stence, the dream that separates us from a true perception Of the whole. lt is often likened to a sealed glass vessel that sepa- rates the air within from the clear and unconfined air all around, or water from the all-encompassing sea. Yet the vessel itself is not different from the sea, and tO shatter or dissolve it brings about the reunion with all universal life that mystics seek, the homegoing, the return tO the lost paradise Of our true nature. Today science is telling us what the Vedas have taught mankind for three thousand years, that we dO not see the unl- verse as it is. What we see is Maya, or lllusion, the "magic show" Of Nature, a collective hallucination of that part of our consclousness WhiCh iS shared With all Of our 0 、 kind, and which gives a C01 れ mon ground, a continuity, tO the life experl- ence. According t0 Buddhists (but not Hindus), this world per- ceived by the senses, this relative but not absolute reality, this

P E T E R M AT T H I E S S E N たビれ s あ 0 or sa 右 0 ) is what sets it apart from Other religlons and philosophies. I remind GS 0f the Christian mystics such as Meister Eck- hardt and Saint Francis, Saint Augustine, and Saint Catherine Of Siena, whO spent three years in silent meditation: the way tO Heaven is Heaven," saint Catherine said, and that is the very breath of Zen, which does not elevate divinity above the common miracles of every day. GS counters by saying that all these people lived before the scientific revolution had changed the very nature Of ・ Western thought, which Of course is true, but lt is alSO true that in recent years, ・ Western SC1entists have turned with new respect toward the intuitlve sciences Of the East. Einstein repeatedly expressed suspiclon Of the restrlctions of linear thought, concluding that propositions arrived at by purely logical means were completely empty 0f reality even if one could properly explain what "reality" means; it was intu- ition, he declared, that had been crucial to his thinking. And there are close parallels in the theory of relativity to the Bud- dhist concept of the identity of time and space, which, like Hindu cosmology, derives from the ancrent teachings Of the Vedas. Somewhere, Einstein remarks that his theory could be readily explained to lndians of the Ut0-Aztecan languages, which include the Pueblo and the Hopi. ("The Hopi does not say 'the light flashed' but merely アわ , ' without subject or time element; time cannot 1 れ ove because lt iS alSO space. The tWO are never separated; there are no words or expresslons referring tO time or space as separate fror 蝨 each Other. ThiS iS close tO the 'field' concept of modern physics. Furthermore, there is no temporal future; it is already 、 us, eventuatlng or 'manifest- ing. What are in English differences 0f time are in Hopi differ- ences of 〃市り . ' ) 21 The progress of the sciences toward theories Of fundamental unity, cosmic symmetry ()s in the unified field theory)—how do such theories differ, in the end, from that unity which Plato called "unspeakable" and "indiscribable," the holistic knowl- edge shared by so many peoples 0f the earth, Christians in- cluded, before the advent of the industrial revolution made new barbarians of the peoples 0f the West?ln the United States,

240 P E T E R M A T T H I E S S E N me," he calls by way of greeting. "Turned up the valley just be- 10W the trip line, then over the ridge, not one hundred yards from where I was lying, and down onto the path again—typical. " He shifts his binoculars to the Tsakang herd, which has now been joined by the smaller bands 0f the west slope. "l've lost the trail now, but that leopard is right here right this minute, watching us. " His words are borne out by the sheep, which break into short skittish runs as the wind makes its midmorning shift, then flee the rock and thorn of this bare ridge, plunging across deep crusted snow with hollow booming blows, in flight to a point high up on the Crystal Mountain. BIue sheep do not run from man like that even when driven. The snow leopard is a strong presence; lts vertical pupils and small stilled breaths are no more than a snow cock's glide away. GS murmurs, "Unless it moves, we are not going tO see lt, not even on the sno 、 v—these creatures are really something. " ・ With our binoculars, we study the barren ridge face, foot by foot. Then he says, y"You know something? We've seen so much, maybe it's better if there are some things that 、 ve dO 〃 ' オ see. " He seems startled by his own remark, and I wonder if he means this as I take it—that we have been spared the desolation Of success, the doubt: is this ea 〃ア what we came SO far tO see? When I say, "That was the haiku-writer speaking," he knows Just what I mean, and we both laugh. GS strikes me as much less dogmatic, more open tO the unexplained than he was two months ago. ln Kathmandu, he might have been suspiclous of this haiku, written on our J0urney by himself: Cloud-men beneath loads. A dark line of tracks in snow. S uddenly nothing. Because his sheep, spooked by the leopard, have fled to the high snows, GS accompanies me on my last viS1t tO Tsakang. There we are met by Jang-bu, whO has come as an interpreter, and by Tukten, who alone among the Sherpas has curiosity enough t0 cross the river and climb up t0 Tsakang 0f his own accord. Even that "gay and lovable fellow," as GS once said of

236 P E T E R M ATT H I E S S E N lnance position in the herd; these tri@l confrontations and ap- proaches are almost never between mismatched pairs. NibbIing the snow patches and pawing up dust before set- tling gracefully, bent foreknees first, in the warm sun 0f a h01- 10W , out Of the wind, the animals have let me come SO close that I can admire their orange eyes and the delicate techniques Of horn-tip scratching, as well as the bizarre activitles centered upon the hindquarters 0f b0th sexes: at this early stage in the progress Of the rut, the recipients Of rump-rub and urine-check pay little heed or none t0 their admirers. Meanwhile, the year- lings scamper prettily t0 stay out 0f the reach 0f itching adults. There has been no real fighting or advanced sexual display of the sort that is beginning tO be seen in the western herds, al- though occasionally a male will approach a female slowly, his extended neck held 10W , in what GS calls "low-stretch" behav- 10r , an overture tO copulation. Since the SomdO herd has grown SO used tO me that I can observe it comfortably, without binoc- ulars, it is a pity that I must leave before full rut. Toward noon there comes cold wind from the southeast, qulte disagreeable on this bare scree slope without cover, and getting chilled, I ease the herd downhill and to the westward, simply by crowding it a little, on the 100k0ut for a rock or tus- sock shelter,. The herd pauses for an hour or more on a flat ridge while I lie back snugly against my rucksack in a dense clump 0f honeysuckle, just above: directly below lies the Crys- tal Monastery, with the home mountains all around, the sky, and as the sheep browse, I chew dry bread, in this wonderful 11 れ mersron lll pure sheep-ness. ln midafternoon, III a series Of exciting flurries, I move the sheep farther downhill again t0 where GS, on his return from the Tsakang slopes, might study them without making a long climb. Then Old Sonam, out hunting dung, scares the herd back toward the east. The animals are flighty now, and so I stalk them with more care, rounding the mountarn and crawl- ing upwind tO a tussock within sixty yards Of the small rise where they stand at attention, staring the wrong way. 、・ OW and then, a head turns in my direction; I stay motionless, and they dO not flare. The creatures are SO very tense that even the heavy

222 P E T E R M A TT H I E S S E N the horizon, under the snows. After two hours of hard climb- ing, I am higher than Black Pond, and the whole canyon of the Black River, ascending toward the Kang pass, lies exposed to view. Beyond the Kang soars a resplendent wall of white that dominates the sky tO the south 、 vest; it is the great ice wall of KanJiroba, a rampart Of crystalline escarpments and white- winged cornlces, well over 20 , 000 feet in height. Here there iS only a light air from the east, but the high wind on Kanjiroba is blowing clouds of a fine snow from points and pinnacles that turn intO transparency agalnst the blue. Two black specks of life twitch on the whiteness. The wool traders are nearing the BIack Pond and by early afternoon might reach the pass; perhaps they will sleep tonight at Cave Camp and be safe at Ring-mo late tomorrow. For some reason, the sight 0f the two figures on the waste brings to mind Ongdi the Trader, then the Kathmandu of my first visit in 1961 , in winter, when the 01d bazaars were thronged with mountain folk come down to trade. That year, the refugee Tibetans were numerous in the Nepal Valley, bartering their precious religious objects in order tO survlve: most 、 vere indistinguishable from Bhotes like Ongdi, down out of the hills in beads and braids to trade their W001 and salt for knives and tea. ln the Asan Bazaar I found the green bronze Akshobhya Buddha that became the center 0f a small altar in D's last room; Akshobhya is the "lm- perturbable," being that aspect of Sakyamun1's nature that re- sisted the temptation Of the demons under the わ od あ / tree at Gaya. The Buddha was placed on a throne of pine bark, a red berry in his lap and over his head a わ od ん tree made from a bunch of pearly everlasting, very like this everlasting here on the slopes of Shey. These days are luminous, as in those far October days in Tichu-Rong. There is no wisp of cloud clear, clear, clear, clear. Although the shade is very cold throughout the day, and wind persists, the sun is hot—imagine a striped and shiny lizard above 15 , 000 feet, in deep November! For the first time in my life, I apprehend the pure heat of our star, piercing the frigid at- mospheres Of SO many million miles Of outer space. Rock, and snow peaks all around, the sky, and great birds

302 P E T E R M AT T H I E S S E N Tonight we are camped on a birch island in the Zuwa River, S1nce the canyon sides are much t00 steep tO permlt pitching a tent on the river shore; the air is dank and bitter cold, and the flOOd'S roar is oppressive, drowning the V()1ce and rushing it away. Earlier, I resisted Tukten's good advice that we make camp in open valley, some miles back; thiS river makes me rest- less, and I snapped at him that we would never reach Jumla by tO Ⅱ 10rr0 、 evening if we made camp ln early afternoon. (On other days I have complained when we make camp after dark lnstead Of arrivlng in good light, in tlme tO wash; the poor man must think I have gone crazy. ) But at twilight it was plain that we would not make the huts at Muni, at the far end of zuwa Gorge, which narrowed and grew dark as we went along: the island, reached by a fallen tree, was a last refuge. Moving around trying to keep warm until a fire can be made, we wrest faggots from the frozen earth. I feel bad, all the more so because the Sherpas' clothing is inadequate, and Tukten's especially: what little he had was stolen at Ring-mo on his way back from JumIa. He is happy to wear whatever I can spare him, though not once has he asked for it: Tukten never seems t0 suffer—a true 印 4. At the fire, I make a special effort to be friendly, to acknowledge my stupidity in not deferring to his Judgment—after all, he has been over this same route in the past month. But with this Tukten, all such effort is absurd; how can he forgive me, when he hadn't bothered with resentment in the first place? Over supper, we discuss the yeti. Still under the sway of the sophisticated Jang-bu, Dawa giggles in embarrassment at talk of yeti, and the older Sherpa shifts upon his heels to 100k at him. Tukten says quietly, "I have heard the yetl," and cries out suddenly, "Kak-kak-kak KAI-ee! "—a wild laughing yelp, quite unlike anything I have ever heard, which echoes eerily off the walls of the cold canyon. Stirring the embers, Tukten is silent for a while. Dawa stares at him, more startled than myself. According to Tukten, the yetl IS an animal, but 。 1 れ ore man-creature than monkey-creature. He has never seen one, but intends to turn quickly when he does

292 P E T E R M AT T H I E S S E N mosses, stumps, and straying leaves, and the whispering small birds of winter. But farther down the valley, the abandoned ⅵ 1- lage, so empty-eyed and still in early autumn' has been brought tO life by voices Of man, dog, and rooster, for its slopes are win- ter pasture now for the yak herds from the north. From the village, a southward path quits the main trail, de- scending through rocks and shining olives t0 a bridge on the green river. The portals 0f the bridge are carved in grotesque figures, yellow and red. Awaiting the others, I stand on the h0t planks in the noon sun, overtaken by a vague despair. ln this river runs the Kang La stream, by way 0f Ph0ksumd0 River and the lake, and also the torrent down from Bugu La, and the branch that falls from the B'on village at Pung-mo; the Suli car- ries turquoise from Ph0ksumd0, and crystals 0f diamond blue down from Kang La. Another hour passes; no one comes. Beside myself, I go on across the bridge and climb the bluff. A half mile below, the jade water Of the snow peaks disappears int0 the gray roil 0f the Bheri River, which will bear it southward into lowland muds. The track follows the Bheri westward in a long, gradual climb tO the horizon, arriving at a village in a forest. ln the cedars Of Roman, a fitful wind whips the mean rags on the shrines, and phallic spouts jut from red effigies at the village fountains, and west of the village stand wild cairns and tall red poles. From fields below, a troupe of curltailed monkey demons gazes up- ward, heads afire in the dying light. Then the sun is gone be- hind the mountains. I have a headache, and feel very strange. The whole day has been muddied by a raging in my head caused by the tardiness Of my compamons, whO were tWO hours behind me at the bridge—an echo 0f that grotesque rage at Murwa, where for want Of unfrozen air in 、 Mhich tO bathe, I vilified the sun that dOdged my tent. I seem tO have lOSt all resilience, not tO mention sense of humor—can this be dread of the return to lowland life? Walking along the Bheri hills this afternoon, I remembered hOW careful one must be not tO talk t00 much, or move abruptly, after a silent week 0f Zen retreat, and also the precar- IOus coming down from highs on the hallucinogens; lt is crucial

P E T E R M AT T H I E S S E N 、 have avoided Da 、 dread disease until thiS moment iS a mystery, srnce camp procedure is casual, tO say the least. I have long since avoided looking at the way our food is handled, and the hands that handle it, since my own would be no better; lronically, until his morale disintegrated, Dawa was much the cleanest 0f the Sherpas, and the only one I ever saw t0 bathe. From the maps Of the mountaineering expedition, and from Anu, its head Sherpa (a neighbor and friend of Tukten, from SoIu Khumbu, near Namche Bazaar), I learn that the peak of Kanjiroba with the precipitous glacier face like a huge ice waterfall—the one I admired from Cave Camp and again from the summit of Somd0 mountain, behind Shey—is called Kang Jeralba, the Snows of Jeralba, which is another way of saying Kanjiroba; the true Kanjiroba is farther west, up the Ph0ksumdo River. AIthough theirs is the second climb of Kanjiroba, which IS more than 23 , 000 feet high, the route Of ascent was a new one, and therefore they may claim that they have conquered it. As tO names and locations Of the passes 、 ve have crossed, the map is vague. Where the 。。 Namd0 Pass ' should be is a pass called Lang-mu Shey, or "Long Pass in Shey Region"—a good descrip- tion of the pass between Shey and Saldang. Yesterday's pass is located correctly and is known as Bugu La; it is 16 , 575 feet in altitude. According to Anu Sherpa, "Bugu" refers to a struggle that took place between a mountain god—Nurpu, perhaps?— and a demon who wished to kill him: at Murwa, the god van- quished the demon, who perished ⅲ this torrent beneath the falls. I am grateful tO the mountalneers, but the bright tents and foreign faces, like the mail at Shey, are an intrusion, and the high spirits of the upper Murwa die away. Sunlight will not come until late morning and will be gone not long thereafter: the world is dark. Two hours ago, it might have struck me as quite wonderful that the sun will never touch this tent, where its worshiper awaits its warmth, tO wash; now I allOW this tO be- come a source Of anger, and such foolishness annoys me all the more—have I learned れ 0 舫 g ~ lmperturbable, Tukten observes me; I glare coldly. That crazy joy, that transport, which made me feel as I ran down the mountain that I might jump out of my skin, leap free of gravity, as I d0 so often these days in my