Yesterday three of us (one other volunteer and another traveler) ventured outside of Kathmandu to a town called Bhaktapur ("The Town of Devotees"). Bhaktapur was once the capital of Nepal and houses a 15th century ancient kingdom. En route, I dazed in and out of sleep. I had a vivid dream.
The time may have been hundreds, maybe thousands of years ago. I was an onlooker (although I felt as though the person was me) of a man with a long cloak. His master had asked him to fetch water from the well. As he was pulling the water up from the well walls, two sages (for lack of a better word) sat watching and as he turned to walk away, they reminded him that it's not the act of retrieving the water, it is in the return of the task that counts. It's in the return he should be conscious of.
As we entered the the city walls of Bhaktapur, I see women retrieving water from a large well. Never had I seen this as a source of water for the people in Nepal!
Tomorrow I leave Nepal. I've been thinking about my Nepali family. The rain comes and then leaves as fast as it came. I pray that the wells of the sky provide the nourishment of the monsoon that is needed for their virgin crops.
I find that I am more hesitant to ask the universe to provide me with abundance. It has already provided me with what I need!
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