Messages to Humanity — A Dispatch on Numerous Important Subjects for Evolving Earthlings

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Nepal: A Country Of Holy Cows, Tibetan Refugees and Spiritual Mountains: Part Two

The jaunt to the mystical Langtang mountains of Nepal had left me feeling in better spirits and all too soon we are back on the bus to Kathmandu. I was back being my adventuresome self once more. It was 1996 and I had decided I was not going to die in Nepal. 

Back at the Kathmandu Guest House it is soaking up local culture again as we embarked on numerous sightseeing expeditions. First on the agenda was the Hanuman Dhoka—the Old Palace—spread over an area of five impressive acres. It was a popular square of complexes, palaces, temples and courtyards much of it built in the 12th Century. In Durbar Square statues of gods, men, demons and exotic sexual looking images greeted me. A half lion Vishnu statue created uneasy emotions; it was altogether an astonishing and overwhelming trip through images and often erotic art that is inspired by religion here. I felt confounded and baffled, not to fail to mention astonished and perplexed. Was it my strict Mennonite upbringing that caused me to feel bewildered seeing these images? I decided to sleep on it.

The houses in the old parts of Kathmandu were tall and made of wood that was now weathered looking and we often wandered about there, and in and out the bustling market stalls. Our eyes were treated to newly died skeins of colorful yarn hanging on huge wooden racks on side streets. Grains lay drying on paper sacks beside the streets and always the sun beamed down and warmed our hearts and souls.

Fabric stalls and women knitting sweaters or sewing garments in dingy little crevice shoppes appeared beside the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker. I rounded a corner and in the doorway of her hovel home a young mother bathed her six month or so old baby in a small tub. She then massaged him with sweet smelling oils as he giggled and purred, and who would not, I ask myself? I stand for a time admiring and nostalgically thinking how I wished I had thought of massaging my babies with sweet smelling oils.

I have brought my large leather with real snake embellishments bag with me to Nepal. It is from the Belgium Congo -- now the Democratic Republic of the Congo - - via my Aunt Mary who was a missionary there. The stitching has ripped open and when I see a man in crevice shop sewing leather, I pop in to see if he can fix it. He shakes his head in the affirmative and says, “A few minutes please!” Great, why in heavens name I brought that bag with me is a mystery, what I really needed was a small back pack. Oh yes, it is my first ever hosteling it trip.

 I stepped outside his shop and sat watching the Nepalese world go by. When the workman began sewing on my bag, the one my mother received as a gift from my teacher missionary aunt, I had to chuckle. The Congo witch doctors bag, that my mother never knew was a medicine mans bag, me, malodorous Kathmandu and this fellow in the dirty crevice shop with leather goods piled high and laying about sewing my mom’s bag was altogether too captivating and amusing!

 Bhaktapur was next on the carte du jour; an ancient city dating to the fourth Century. It is situated slightly east of Kathmandu and my husband and I decided to explore. We taxied there and our first night was spent in a guesthouse, shivering, quivering all night long trying to sleep on the board beds with no mattresses in our upstairs room. Cracks in the boarded walls of this house allowed cold breezes in and the noise of our landlord’s children playing in the courtyard below permitted us to be awake most of the night.

 The next morning we awakened to clamoring vehicles sliding into place arriving in the town square close to our bed and breakfast. After a quick breakfast of delicious potato dahl with beans and creamy goat yogurt, we stepped out to see what was going on. It was still shivery cold because the sun had not yet emerged from behind the mountains, but I had thrown a serape over my freezing bones and stood shaking and wondering what was going on. Suddenly I was approached and asked to be a participant in the film that was being shot here this morning. I was to walk across the square looking up to the mountains. I was part of a movie, I do not recall the title of ( 1996 produced films like ‘The English Patient’ and ‘Scream’) but I played my 'walking the square' part as well as I could as striking black and white holy cows were herded in and out of the town square then led to a stable nearby a large wooden temple.

What an amazing experience, not to fail to mention that by and large we froze our asses off in Bhak. I try always to think outside the box, go beyond my past programming and remember that I am creating my reality and knowing there is always an opportunity in all things that I see and do. I needed to remind myself of this time and again in Nepal. After three days exploring and meditating at the old sites, it was goodbye Bhaktapur and back to poor Kathmandu, to rumble and warm up, although it was cold at night in our apartment there also. I had a second blanket for my twin bed and the manager found me an electric heater, but the cold cement walls held in the dampness.

I was curious to see what other exploration we could get into in this baffling yet exotic Himalayan country. Perusing my guide book, a bus trip to Chitwan National Park, a once Royals only park of alluvial grasslands and subtropical humid deciduous forests sounded exciting, so in a few days we were on a bus again heading off to explore the national park near the India border. After the most hairiest bus ride yet with a betel juice tobacco chewing driver for a whole day again, we were delighted to find “Tiger Camp” nestled in the forest. We had our choice of a set of fabulous cabins built on stilts with thatched roofs and ladders to the landing and decks. Our only neighbors were three gentlemen from Australia.

Tigers, white rhinos and sloth bear searches were the order of the day for the next two weeks and we rode giant elephants into the forest each day silently stealing through in search of these rare beasts. We came upon a white rhino charging through the thick undergrowth one morning and our second day saw a sloth bear foraging in the thicket near our laid-back lunch spot. For lunch we needed to disembark from our elephant couriers. I kept a watch out for snakes that I thought may be lurking in the thick rough growth or hanging on to the trees but I decided that it was mottling on the large trees in the forest that looked snake-like.

Each evening after dinner we gathered around the campfire after dark and were entertained by local amusing warrior dancers. The ‘stick dance’, was a favorite and prevalent one and represented the dance in the forest to scare away tigers. When I was asked to participate, I did, shouting affirmations and with glee slapping my thighs with stunted sticks like the Nepali dancers did in the darkness of the cold night. I would keep them tigers scared off if they dared sneak up on me.

 Every morning we headed into the forest that nearby bordered India to the south and each day smoke greeted us before the suns strength and breezes dispelled the thick smoke. Huge stretches of forest were being cleared and on top of that it was burning of the grasslands in the dry season time. The monsoon season was coming in April. My husband and I gifted the local raggedy clad children with a soccer ball whose only other toys were sticks and stones. We played kick the ball with them most afternoons and I was certain we loved it as much as they did.

 I had caught a cold so almost every eve I indulged in Alu Tama, a delicious potato and bamboo dish that was served with pungent spices and mouth watering mango chutney. Sometimes I preceded this with Gundruk, a fermented leaf dish that I preferred made into soup. My husband also insisted that I sip whiskey. It seemed to help with the cold, although I was nervous because I had just gone through a five month cancer healing phase and trusted that I was well enough to survive all the germs I was encountering in Nepal!

Two weeks flew by and soon we were headed back to Kathmandu on another terrifying bus ride, swerving around bends in the road and lurching to sudden stops to let holy cows pass. On the ride we heard about Pokhara in the Annapurna Mountains. I mentioned to the chap from Germany who was sitting on the bus beside me that I was a Reiki Master and he said I would love it in Pokhara as several German Reiki practitioners had set up a salon there.

So next and last it was a trek (bus trip) to Pokhara in the Annapurna Mountains and it was a place of bewitching beauty. It is a small city nestled beside a beautiful spiritual lake. I felt grounded there, connected to the earth, finally fully enjoying my extraordinary experience in Nepal. I was wondering if there was a planetary conjunction of sorts occurring as I was experiencing jolts of electrical energy occasionally and feeling more multidimensional there. Something or someone was triggering the light-encoded filaments in my body and I constantly felt higher vibrational.

Pagodas and temples abounded and soon I was spending time at what I have termed the "Smiling Tibetan Village". There were thousands of Tibetan refugees living in shanties in Pokhara and my heart delighted in their openness; they were so congenial and pleasant. Cooking was mostly outdoors and it was a pleasure to watch the old and young women in exchange deciding on how to cook food, and they were always smiling! I knew at some point in my many earthly lifetimes I had been Tibetan. In a psychic reading a few years ago I was told that I had experienced life as a Tibetan monk, 900 years ago. I have not seen that life because it was an inconsequential one. 

Here in Pokhara I could watch the old wrinkled faced Tibetan women of the refugee camps in colorful traditional clothing make potato and veggie Momos. It was totally a thrill for a Canadian potato aficionado and travel writer to spend time with these women and children and I decided that when I produced another edition of my potato book, I should include this recipe.  The recipe was included in a revised edition of The Original Incredible Potato - A Cookbook and History. (2000)

Lapis lazuli jewelry, which means atunement to the intuition and ones psychic aspects, I purchased from Dechen, a pleasant middle aged Tibetan street vendor. She told me her name meant health and happiness and began calling me Pema, which means lotus flower. We quickly became friends, meeting for tea some afternoons in her village shack while my hubby caught up on his sleep and her husband worked in the shoe repair shoppe. With all the trekkers here, these guys had plenty of business.

On the way to dinner at my pleasant Tibetan friends cafe one eve a parade of fine looking cows meandered down the street, a young lad and older bearded fellow dressed in traditional Gurung clothing prodding them gently along. Car horns tooted and bicyclers rode swiftly or shakily by, but the cows and cow people paid little attention. They were religiously intent on moving their holy cows down along the wide potholed street.

We spent our days paddling on beautiful peaceful Pokhara Lake or on various day hikes in the area. After one steep strenuous climb I knew why all the street vendors sold ‘Tiger Balm’. I could not stand up the next morning without extreme leg pain and screamed for my husband to get me some of that Tiger Balm!

Mount Machupuchare is locally known as Fish Tail Mountain and it is a sacred mountain, portal, power point, beauty bar none here in the snow topped range of the Annapurna Mountains. It can be seen from all directions. Dechen tells me this area attracts many European trekkers who find their Shangri-La here. The place was stimulating my intuition and was a peaceful beautiful place to end my Nepal journey.

I generally do visualizations in bed upon awakening and while residing in Nepal this winter had been no exception, but on our last day in Pokhara, a Saturday, I awoke at daybreak feeling extremely joyful. I had never felt so joyful before! What was this amazing joyful feeling that had welled up inside me and seemed to be all around me? I lay back in my soft bed enjoying the vibrations when suddenly I received a mandala, a sacred symbol through my third eye. I grabbed a piece of paper and drew it for future reference. It was then that I knew this area was a huge portal to the stars where there was a Light Centre, an ascended master school here beyond the physical realm. I recalled the dream I had when I first arrived in Nepal of clairvoyantly seeing one This day someone opened the portal and was pouring beautiful, loving, higher vibrational energy into the Pokhara valley. The ‘joy beams’ as I kept referring to them lasted all day. I was reminded of a new blueprint, a new ideal coming through this powerful gateway. I felt weightless as if moving through huge energy waves and was a bliss ninny all day long.

When we returned to laid back colorful Kathmandu I placed a call to the former, while we lived in Jerusalem’s UNTSO chief, Krishna Thapa. He was a cousin of King Birendra. King Birendra as well as many family members were assassinated in 2001. Krishna’s wife returned my call. She remembered me as we had a few interesting spiritual conversations at various balls and social events at UNTSO headquarters in Jerusalem a few years ago when I lived there. We were invited to the palace for dinner! Glory be. Given I was backpacking in Nepal I only had sneakers, tee-shirts and sweat pants in my pack. Thoughts of having nothing to wear surfaced and reminded me of the beautiful extended wardrobes I once had. I had discarded them upon retreating to the mountains. Whatever could I find in my back pack to wear to the palace?

I was in high spirits for now though and headed off to joyfully dance around in what I had come to call the Hindu/Buddha Square in the Kathmandu Guesthouse garden. I sang and danced: "We are going to the palace! Om Nama Shivaya! Praise to God in the name of Shiva who is Lord of the Dance! Om Nama Shivaya.”

That evening I paused to reflect on religion. I determined if there was any religion that I could set apart, have fun and uplifting moments with, enjoy, at that point of time in my life, I decided it could be Vedic Hinduism. It appeared to be a joyous religion. I would even take the erotic attention-grabbing inimitable phallus images of Shiva and indefatigable Vishnu to heart, but unquestionably disregard the ritual of blood smearing on monuments.




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National best-selling author, Advanced Reiki Master, Fire Priestess, Conference Speaker, Metaphysician Master, Agnes Toews-Andrews, has been researching the Goddess, the paranormal and metaphysical at home in Canada and at sacred sites around the world since 1987. It was while working with energy/Reiki that her clairsentient and clairaudient abilities began to awaken. A world traveler, she is the author of 8 non-fiction spiritual books and 1 book of paranormal fiction. At home in the question mark, Agnes has known since the age of 14 while watching a sunset in rural British Columbia that she was to be an 'Activator' of humanity and in 1989 made a commitment to be a Lightworker. Also a co-creative Devic gardner, macrobiotic consultant, she is the proud mother of two amazing kids and grandmother of five even more amazing grand kids. She currently resides in the Selkirk Mountains in the West Kootenays, British Columbia, Canada.  


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