By A. K. Hellum
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Additional resources for A Painter’s Year in the Forests of Bhutan
They stopped when they saw me, peered over my work and pointed to the man to come closer to see the flower in my painting. But he was not interested because he was carrying a heavy sack of root vegetables to market. And the children, not wanting to be left behind, scampered after him down the trail. They were on their way to the Thimphu market, the big event of the week. And there was money to be made for next week's staples. The sack bent the man as he walked, and Thimphu was maybe seven kilometers away.
When it comes, then stay flexible enough to find a solution. There usually is one if you look again, carefully. If it is a water problem, it might be a frog stuck in the water-line, which did happen •where I lived, or sediment, or a piece of plastic covering the intake, which also happened when the headman of the village did not put the money my landlord had paid him into the general village fund. It could be almost anything. In time I was able to become a little more flexible and phlegmatic, but it wasn't easy.
I went to check and found a patch of thorn apples. The seed heads on these datura plants rattle in the wind. Rattle, rattle, rattle and then quiet, and then more rattling. It sounded like tiny castanets, soft and high-pitched. But because the wind was gusty, there was no syncopation or rhythm to the sounds. " I thought, then, about why the Bhutanese often ring bells. They do this to open up a way for their prayers. These datura pods were like bells of nature and I was being reminded of the need to be centred rather than dispersed in my mind.
A Painter’s Year in the Forests of Bhutan by A. K. Hellum