I found that the Ladakhis had an abundance of time. They worked at a gentle pace and had a surprising amount of leisure. Even during harvest season, when the work lasts long hours, it is done at a relaxed pace that allows an eighty-year-old as well as a young child to join in and help. People work hard, but at their own rate, accompanied by laughter and song. The distinction between work and play is not rigidly defined.
Wild winter winds depart
in a final, dying howl.
Blackbird returns, a red-winged
oracle of spring,
announcing new life and renewed light,
shimmering with possibilities
of ever-circling Hope.
~ from “Red-Winged Blackbird” in POEMS OF OTHER WORLDS by Richard Bachtold
When you see the world as part of yourself, you will take care of it. When you see yourself as part of the world, you will be cared for.
In the shining secret garden, the solitary sign of the crocus speaks once more through blackened snow. The poet's word has revived with the resurrected flower, echoing the refrain of the One Song.
Winter mysteries whispered into invisible doorways
to holy blackness,
They silently fled over white landscapes
Like a dancing child cloud drifting with music.
Poetry awakened while snowflakes played in the
fearful twilight,
White notes striking the deepening silence graced all,
Yet dead ears forgot the path to song.
Now, light and dark embrace in our homeland
Where sacred silence sings ...
