Whirled Cup

When I was growing up in England, recess meant playground soccer wars. And it was always some Cheetos-cheeked 3rd-grader named Harry or Miles or Nigel who'd kick our only ball over the fence. But while that was our only ball ball, we had plenty of backup balls.......including pencil sharpeners, cherry coke cans.....semi-sucked Ring Pops.

You see - it took almost nothing to enjoy a sport that to much of the world, meant everything. And though I wasn't from one of the many countries who claimed the World Cup as Ecstasy, I thirsted to comprehend the phenomenon. 

It was that thirst that sucked* me into my first World Cup in 2006. (*#plasticstraws4eva) Since then, I've gone for refills at 3 of the past 4 World Cups. And while figuring out why the drink's so delicious is an unquenchable quest, let me give you some sips of my suspicion: 

THE MAGIC OF THE WORLD CUP

1) Since most spectators are from abroad, most fans' phones don't work in the host country.  So with the only reason to reach for your phone being to be the hero whose phone case replaces a lost ball, undistracted strangers unite to trade stories, defend doctrines, hug butts.....with other undistracted strangers.

(from Instagram: Mexico and Colombia fans lift a disabled Egyptian fan so he can see the screen more clearly) 

2) In reality, most strangers at the World Cup don't even speak the same language.  The only common language is Song and Dance, which any Spelling Bee dropout can tell you are both Romantic languages. 

It reminds me of an American friend when he was living in France and dating a girl from Colombia.  He said the reason their relationship worked so well was that neither spoke French well, so they only said what had to be said.

Sometimes it's words that can get in the way of expression.  And because World Cuppers don't share enough words to dance around the truth, they sprint, stripped, straight to the point.  And it's that stripped race that unites race.  

3) It also creates a fertile landscape to dissolve "Difference Myths." I'm convinced that the main cause of a lot of social problems and pillow fights is that humans tend to overestimate their uniqueness.  The truth is the tendencies of our minds are universal, but people need uniqueness to pretend they have purpose.  

We're trying to sell the world on the value of our existence, while overstepping the bounds of our control. 

But when you're in another state where your "control" gets electrocuted by a language fence, you're in your most vulnerable state.  And when vulnerability strips your lacquered facade, everyone's remaining tootsie-pop core looks and tastes just the same. 

It's why shared hardship (i.e. a vulnerable state) can coagulate a bond beyond breakability.

It's why a group of travelers can briskly bump their tier 2 friendship to a Platinum Bond rewards card. 

It's at the World Cup, though, that the bond can be brewed before your breath. 

In 2006, a friend and I decided to buy next-day flights to "be near" the World Cup in Germany. Some 48 hours later at our first Fan Fest, some locals overheard my friend describe how Cameron Diaz in "The Mask" caused the first of many red rover battles between his penis and his jeans.

It just so happened that the Germans were also indebted to Diaz and her movies, for helping them learn English.  It also just so happened that we had lost the phone number of our host family, which meant we'd lost our way home.  But our new friends, knowing that we didn't have enough money for a taxi, drove us an hour out of their way, all the way home.  

The World Cup, wherever it is, always has a way of making you feel at home:

(a Moroccan fan expressing gratitude to the hospitality of the Russian people)

THE MAGIC OF RUSSIA  

It also has a way of feeling like a sweaty slumber party with air electrified by high-fives.  

Except, Russia actually electrified the air by hiring hundreds of people just to give high-fives on every corner.  And they actually had Free Vodka as a common lunch special....which may not have been World-Cup specific as much as it was weekday-specific.  

And yes, the official guidebook for tourists devoted loads of prose to uprooting a wrong impression the Russian Government thinks the rest of the world has about Russia........you know............that it's filled with bears:

(photo from World Cup Tourist Guide)

Americans assume that Russia is an elephant graveyard, covered in a grey cloud of communism. But consider that most of what you know about Russia is not about Russia, just about the Russian government. In comparison, consider how offended we'd feel if foreigners assumed all Americans thought like the US government. 

The truth is that, like most places, if you get to know the people, the people are sincere.  In fact, one Russian sincerely asked me, "Just the way Russians love vodka, Americans love........gay?"

I sincerely said yes.

Even their hospitality was sincere - when we asked the hostess at a crowded restaurant for a table, she said there'd be a two-hour wait. Some locals sided with our sighs and offered to squeeze us into their booth so we didn't have to wait.  

That's the human side of Russia that their external relations team forgets to tweet out to the West.

But be careful about what you tweet - we had a friend who was called into private meetings with local KGB for messages sent in a Whatsapp group that were found to be "disruptive."  

The one thing the government has done well is stripped its people of the lust to disrupt.  When we tried to play a drinking game called "Get A Local to Talk Shit About Putin" or GALTTSAP for short), it was medium-impossible to get to GALTTSAP a sip. 

But remember - the Russians, underneath that government-coated glaze, and inside those square-shaped heads, are as wonderful and cuddly a people as any communist blankie you've ever snuggled with. Deep down, their actions and your actions are just designed to make the world want to snuggle with you.  

THE MAGIC OF SOCCER

It was immediately after my second World Cup in 2010 that I wanted to snuggle with soccer forever. So I immediately signed up for a volunteer program to teach soccer to toddlers in Ghana.  While in reality, they taught me, the most memorable day was that first day, when Ghana beat the United States to earn their first berth to a quarterfinal.  

And let me tell you that you haven't seen true joy until you've been in a third-world country who's just beaten America in A Televised Event. 

The truth is that I'll never be able to truly root for a country like that, who truly needs soccer and the World Cup.  

In countries where there's no running water or private places to shit, they need soccer.   In homes where there are no mattresses or birth certificates, they need soccer. 

And in humans who don't have citizenships or homes, they still have soccer. 

In America, we don't need soccer. In fact, we think we don't need anything or anyone to survive. But if our minds are to survive, sometimes we need to shed the shimmer we want others to see, and let our similarities shine instead. 

Because that is what we need - a way to unveil our common bond. 

Title

As most of you know, I recently completed a road trip from Germany to Mongolia - 7803 miles to be exact and all the dirt road you could eat.

We picked up hitchhikers, camped in the dessert, drove through rivers.....even danced with Uzbeki nanis.  

And somewhere between nani hopscotch and deep sea driving, I witnessed some of our spiritual teachings in action.  Thought I'd share my findings:

1) You see, at my day job here, I'm the only one at our small company to do the sales....via calls/emails/candy/etc.  During the 5 weeks I was gone and nobody doing this in my absence, our sales actually went UP.  Proof that not only am I not the doer, I'm not even the seller. 

2)  Doing seva/being around people whose problems are exponentially greater than mine takes the mind away from personal memories and anxieties and into the present moment with their presence. 

3) Though the one place that even Ashtavakra would agree it's ok to move your mind away from the present moment is a 3rd-world country's public bathroom. 

4) People's expectations from strangers are low, but that's almost a good thing - you see, that means it's easier than it should be to bring them joy.  Just by blowing bubbles and passing out soccer balls to unexpectant families, the adults' smiles along our path were even bigger than their kids'. 

5) And both kids and adults alike around the world unanimously know one english word and one word only: "selfie"

6) Russia, which I imagined to be covered in a grey cloud of communism, was actually shockingly beautiful and friendly. That country just needs a better publicist.  

When I asked one Russian if people in the bigger cities are just as nice as in the smaller towns, they wisely responded, "People are nice everywhere. It depends on you, not them." 

7) It was easy to noticeably follow the flow of life's river when I was on a journey where every day's location and adventure were different.  It'll be harder to notice the same flowing river back home where the scenery changes...less. But that's why, wherever we are, we just have to be aware of the adventure that's happening around us. 

Hugs and kisses,

Mojikistan 

PS in case you're interested, below are some photos:

On the way from Urgench to Bukhara (Uzbekistan), we saw some russian-looking hats on display off the roadside. Nobody was around, so we walked around back, and accidentally woke up the sleeping couple. We didn't buy anything, but these people with almost nothing offered us their single cucumber and half a piece of bread - we handed them money, but they refused to take it:

At the Kazakh/Uzbeki border, which took a little longer than forever to cross, the locals were beginning to get cranky in the heat, so we blew up a bunch of balloons for them and they wiggled with appreciation: 

We had to spend 2 nights at the Russia/Mongolia customs crossing due to don't get me started, but it ended up being a huge blessing in disguise. We were stuck there with a group of Italians who've spent the past 5 years driving around the world showing movies to kids in villages who've never seen a movie before, and a German couple who are on a year-long global road trip to cook a meal for at least 1 family in every city they stop.  We spent the last 10 days with both groups, and collectively agreed to split the money we'd raised for charity with the Italians for their awesomeness and shared vision to bring more smiles to the world:

And last but not least, my new best friend is this monk who I caught gossiping with his girlfriends:

Kashmir Kush

A postcard of Paradise usually shows off palm trees, umbrella drinks, and turquoise waters. 

What if I were to tell you that the real Paradise is a cold desert, dry without booze? 

That Paradise goes days without internet when the nearby war gets spicy?  

That Paradise's winters are so cold, your pee freezes midstream while nutsacks flirt with frostbite? 

That Paradise is called Leh Ladakh in Kashmir, 16000 ft above sea level and that much closer to contentment, filled with characters walking along the same plane, free of intention to fly above their playmates.  

Fly your eyes along these lines, and I'll prove it to you:

1) Meet Norgyal (half Seagull half Viking) with borderless beauty, and an even bigger heart.

Norgyal is 8th Generation Ladakhi (7th generation is his Mom - seen above making us breakfast), and lives in a village filled with Buddhists, Muslims, and Christians.  Whenever someone in the village comes down with a cold, one person from each family comes to visit with a remedy called Community.  

I met Norgyal one morning in the city. But after a day driving together through the highest motorable road in the world at 18000 ft, I was windless and ready to wind down, without Winding-Down-Formalities. 

#SocksOn

As we shuffled in the starry dark through Norgyal's village, he warned amongst our exhaustion to  "watch out for bugs."

"Oh are there big ones out now?"
"Big or small, we must not step on them." 

In my exhaustion, I found his discipline impressive, but it was the next evening that I found it extraordinary.

fter another long day, we reached town an passed a cow whose legs were tangled in wire. My mental wiring sprung "shit that sucks," but his took tangible action. He pulled over immediately, and along with a few others who stopped to join, freed the cow from entanglement.

Seeing my awe in entanglement, Norgyal unraveled it: "We have to help each other. What makes us human is that we know how others feel. Animals do not, but since we and we alone have this power, our actions should reflect the best interest of everyone and everything around us.  Otherwise, what's the point of being human?" 

His point won all the points on Humanity's Scoreboard.  But Norgyal wasn't an anomaly.....

....2) Meet Nordan, self-dubbed as "Michel Nordan", collectively referred to as "Doc"

Michael Nordan is an Oxford-educated physician, with a laugh like Santa on hiccups.  

The first day I met Nordan, he asked what I wanted to do.  I suggested some things I'd seen online.

"That stuff is for tourists. What are you REALLY interested in?"

"People. Understanding people.."

"Then come with me tomorrow to a labor camp, you can interact with the local people while administering medical exams."

Sounded perfect, practicing medicine with my English literature degree.

One after another, I asked 150 of these $150/month laborers, who literally lived in shipping containers, "Anything you don't like about your job? Any dessert you've been craving? Are you missing your kids?"

"(smiling) How? What an opportunity!"

"(smiling) How? The chapati and daal are more than enough!"

"(smiling) How? They already know how much I love them!" 

I was hunting for complaints, realizing it was through shared complaining that I hunted for connection.  And yet, they didn't care for the stage to tell sob stories; rather, when visiting them in their shipping containers, they staged off who made the best chai.  That was how they bonded, through cooking for each other, through rich chai.  Meanwhile, I realized that my mind's complaints about their lack of complaints made me the poor one. 

And through all that, there was still Nordan the constant, Nordan the Brave.......busy running medical exams, fielding calls from the hospital, in between checking in on his kids, and all the while, whistling to himself. 

I had to ask him, "You have so much on your plate. Does it ever feel like too much? How do you not get irritated?"

Nordan didn't even know the word, nor the emotion.  Under a layer of annoyance, I introduced Nordan to Irritation.  And Nordan irrigated my irritation with a hug nd a smile

I had to wonder, what was their secret.......their secret to Paradise? 

One theory relates to the altitude.  Most meditation techniques manipulate the breath, slowing down thoughts by slowing down oxygen to the brain.  

Maybe the lack of oxygen meant less fuel for innocuous thoughts, and thus more space for Paradise of the Mind? 

Maybe the size of the surrounding mountains served as constant reminder about their servitude to Nature? 

Maybe they just liked each other. 

All the while I was just trying to record each monumental moment, storing canned soup for Irritation Hurricanes hiding over the horizon.

But hedging memory of the moment is far from being in the moment.  And if planning gets in the way of enjoying, then plan on not truly living.

Kashmir - you beautiful Goddess - another trip for the ages, another 15000 miles traveled. And while no age or mile-coun can silence your mind,

ashmir can certainly shush it.