013 MANYWHERE, 1973 “GS refuses to believe that the Western mind can truly absorb nonlinear Eastern perceptions; he shared the view of many in the West that Eastern thought “evades” reality and therefore lacks courage of existence. But the courage-to-be right here and now and NOWHERE else, is precisely what Zen, at least, demands: eat when you eat, sleep when you sleep!” — Peter Matthiessen (The Snow Leopard, 1978). During their emotional odyssey from the Nepalese hills of Pokhara to Crystal Mountain, on the Tibetan Himalayas, the fine writer Peter Matthiessen and his travel mate, the field biologist George Schaller (GS) were in search of two different and yet very relatable creatures. PM was determined to spot the seldom seen white predator he would devote his acclaimed essay to: the snow leopard. GS had a more prosaic mission: to document the life of the blue sheep, a favourite prey of the white beauty that PM had his eye on, and an animal much easier to come across. They were eminences in their fields and perfect opposites when it came down to religion, politics, history, philosophy or animals. At times, the demented ascending brought them to the brink of murdering each other. PUSH! “GS remarks, ‘This is the first really interesting stretch of trail we’ve had so far.’ How easy it would be to push him over.” Peter Matthiessen. The Snow Leopard. PM and GS had been deserted by their porters not far from to the infamous Tingri, the same ground that Sambhava had purified. On a particularly wet and starless night of October, both worn out and freezing by the bonfire, Matthiessen was trying to explain to GS the fundamentals of the linear sense of time and space in Eastern philosophies, and its connection with his Zen practice. “Snow mountains, more then sea or sky, serve as a mirror to one’s own true being, utterly still, utterly clear, a void, an Emptiness without life or sound that carries in itself all life, all sound.” GS thought it was “amusing gibberish lacking scientific evidence.” George would never get angry, although he found it hard to understand what his travel companion was doing: how could he have embarked on such a deadly journey leaving his motherless daughter behind? The fire was dead and PM, the same man who had co-founded the iconic magazine The Paris Review and had been a one time CIA agent twenty years before, kept on talking about the notion of being “right HERE right NOW; NOWHERE!” GS could not take it any longer: “Chances are that in your delusional journey you will find the Yeti before the damned Snow Leopard.” Only then they heard the roar. It sounded like a thousand predators abusing Beethoven. They looked up. GS saw the Himalayan fangs before the massive uvula, and thought that he had become a prophet, perhaps the chosen one, for the first and last time. PM blinked and forgave for the last time. The rest is (their) silence. ROLLING STONE —Tibet, 1921. It is a freezing morning of June 1921. Oliver Wheeler is climbing the hills above the ground where Sambhava had found the spherical stone, although he is oblivious to the story. Wheeler knows that this could be the end. He has been stranded for weeks under furious, devastating winds and blizzards, the only gleam of hope living in Mallory’s smile every time he closes his eyes. God. George is hot. And you want to be warm around here, although it is impossible. Oliver survives another night curled in Mallory’s smile with his eyes closed. THE MAP AND THE TERRITORY Next morning, he is sitting alone with his tools: scale, compass, triangle and a self-made mid format camera. His limbs are blue, his lips cracked. He is undernourished and exhausted but far from defeated. Today, for the first time in weeks, the sun is shining and Wheeler is smiling: he can see his whereabouts with such clarity that once he leaves the tent he can’t stop climbing up and down for miles. He measures, touches, photographs, kisses, and discovers: birds, butterflies, flowers, the garden of Sambhava fully blooming for miles, while he walks, jumps, runs and lies on the ground beyond euphoric. THIS IS EXHILARATION!
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