Back To Less Important Business

The children have been fed through the severest emergency period, lockdown is partially relaxed here in Nepal, and families in the village we were feeding are doing a little bit better. The remaining smidgeon of money that was in the kitty of our food drive has been properly distributed to food and medicine for two desperately needy local families. (Romash and friend, pictured above getting ready to deliver.) There are many families throughout the city that are still very much in trouble, so we will keep the GFM page open and take care of those folks as contributions to do so roll in. As always, we will continue to report to you in prose and photo about the great good that your generosity accomplishes. Our crew is, at least part time, getting back to their previous lives. That means that I am once again an author writing a book about a laughing corpse who travels completely around a decaying world in search of truth and fun. Here is a very short piece from March. It describes the beginning of the long, severe lockdown in Nepal. Oddly enough, nearly everything in it is still very much current (except of course that the numbers are much higher than one by now). ***And again, thank you very, very much to all the compassionate donors that have helped, and those who will continue to help, to keep our neighbors from starving! https://www.gofundme.com/f/malnourished-nepali-children-need-help
Trapped In Heaven/Free In Bondage
Want to know how to be blissful and free while shackled to where you are? I found the answer (again) while trapped in The Boudha Stupa’s wheelhouse in Kathmandu, but it can happen anywhere.
Just three short days after moving into The Pundarika Cozy Apartments to enjoy my last two weeks in Kathmandu while finalizing plans for a Spanish adventure, Spain closed. It seems like most of the world closed with it.
The corona virus has spun the planet into panic. Everything is closed. Everyone is out of work. Early reports say that it will become a lot more serious. So far, what we have seen here involves a lot more social engineering and cultural manipulation than disease. A lot has been done about successfully controlling human behavior. Nothing has been done about successfully controlling a virus.
“Never waste a crisis.” —Winston Churchill
The manufactured fear, real economic impact, and spooky sociopolitical consequences are already proving to be worse than the actual disease. Nepal has one reported case so far. That person was isolated and cured weeks ago. Nonetheless, the government has officially mandated social distancing to the point of locked down isolation for its citizens. There is no projected end date to this process. Communication with the Western world tells me that reactions and overreactions to this virus are just as pronounced there. A real disease exists and it can be dangerous. But media exaggeration, dramatization, and fear-mongering seem to be serving a diabolical purpose that has nothing to do with a virus. Call me a conspiracy theorist, label me paranoid, and send me for counseling but I’ll bet anyone that wants to take the bet—there is a sociopolitical plague and an impending degeneration of freedom in the works that a virus itself could not produce.
Anyway, I am trapped here in heaven and loving it, so far. I’m not loving the fact that people around the world are getting sick and some are dying. I’m not loving the the way so many people are drinking fear as if it is champagne during Prohibition. There is nothing lovable about the economic butt kicking being suffered by so many people that have always been a paycheck or two away from being homeless and hungry, or the restrictions already put on personal freedoms, or the strong possibility that those restrictions will expand in the near future. What I am loving is that sheer dumb luck has landed me on a fragrant garden island floating in a sea of both bullshit and real shit. Yes, there is a nasty storm all around. Yes, the storm is complete with viral monsters, social maelstroms, a typhoon strength manipulation of the public that is painful to watch, and tidal waves of debilitating insecurity and fearful insanity. Common sense has become a victim of both the hype and the disease.
But life here in the Boudha Stupa area is a bit more fun than most reports of life elsewhere. When your dimension is collapsing, it is a real plus to be surrounded by folks who are already halfway into another dimension.
Joseph Campbell said that when a person is no longer directed by and mentally immersed in the history of his or her carnal body, but is rather directed by and immersed in the Consciousness that informs that body, then the suffering of that ego driven carnal self no longer has anything to do with this person’s experience of life. Although conditions outside of self stay the same, a change of perspective, perception, and focus can actually make the suffering disappear from the way we experience those conditions.
Identifying with the dimension of consciousness cancels a lot of problems that we employ by identifying with our so-called normal egoistic frame of reference. Mr. Campbell said that it is as if the shackles fall off while never leaving your wrists—like being free in bondage. A common old expression states a similar notion as, “head in the clouds with feet on the ground.” George Harrison nailed open the door to all this for us by saying quite often that, “It’s all in your mind.”
A very high percentage of the people here understand and live by these ideas. There are over a thousand monks and nuns in this small neighborhood. They spend more time dwelling in that Universal Consciousness than in their carnal, ego-based history. They radiate what the Buddhists call Loving Kindness. It is considered to be the base station of both human and universal nature. The entire population of the neighborhood absorbs a lot of what the robed people radiate. That general public then radiates love and support back to the monks, nuns, and each other as well as toward any and all living things.
This kind and loving way of life makes sense, and it is nothing new. It has been voiced in one form or another by sages, shamans, and other emotional scholars around the world for thousands of years. Generating a state of Loving Kindness and psychological freedom by identifying with the Universal, instead of identifying with the strictly and restrictively personal, has major advantages. It provides the practitioner with great inner strength as well as a ticket to ride with happy freedom’s essential sibling components—altruism, compassion, and universal connectedness. These qualities are the building blocks for a happier life.
Knowing that a mind free and strong enough to transcend conventional, mundane thought is the base station for happiness is not enough. Just knowing about this state of mind is a very different thing than consistently practicing and actively embodying it enough to internalize its benefits, and become skillful in sharing those benefits with others.
It doesn’t take a shaman to see that we are on the edge of some very deep shit, folks. It is more important now than it has ever been to practice the transcendence that will actually bring transition. Knowing about it won’t save us. Embodying it, becoming it, and then consistently being it, will.
Knowing that we need food to live will not keep us alive if we don’t shop, cook, and eat.
MORE TO COME ON Nepal, photos of ancient spiritual and historical sites, people, culture, then the continuing trip around the world, and more—if you want it. If not let me know and I will take you off the mailing list right away.
***If you missed the Introduction to the book that will be titled Temple Dog Soldier and contains the above chapter, or would like to see several other chapters that are available for free online, go to the Puppy website Blog section at www.fearlesspuppy.info or contact me directly at jahbuddha13@hotmail.com This is a book in progress. You are reading it as it is being created! Just like you, I don’t know what the next chapter is going to be about until it is written. As the Intro will tell you, this is a totally true story—and probably the only book ever written about and by a corpse traveling around the world!
**The books Fearless Puppy On American Road and Reincarnation Through Common Sense by this same author are also available through website and email, as are sample chapters from those books. Very entertaining tv/radio interviews with and newspaper articles about the author are also available there. There is no charge for anything but the complete books, if you choose to buy them! (***You can also get them right from Amazon. See all the 5 reviews there.) All author profits from book sales will be donated to help sponsor an increase in the number of wisdom professionals on Earth, beginning with but certainly not exclusive to Buddhist monks and nuns.

THANK YOU VERY, VERY MUCH and

Dear members of the team to feed Nepali children,
The friends of fearlesspuppy.info have met the $500 matching challenge, and so Tenzin has just given that additional $500. It doesn’t reflect on the total you see at the GFM page. It didn’t make sense to ship it through GFM. It went right to the groceries. We are very grateful to the folks that have already given. To those who haven’t, please strongly consider contributing now.
We are getting ready to make our second run up to the village. Last time, we fed 28 families out of the 75 that desperately needed help. Thanks to you, we now have enough money to feed an additional 30 families there. Times are hard all over the planet and we know we can’t keep counting on the same people to repetitively fund this essential operation. Although great things have been done, there is so much more to do. So please, please, please—if you have contributed, spread this information around as much as you can without annoying people.
*If you haven’t contributed yet, please watch the video and see what your contribution would accomplish. Poverty and hunger are a disaster no matter where they happen, but here in this third world country, they are an altogether life-threatening situation. No virus will decimate these people the way starvation can. Please do whatever you can to help. Thank you very much. p.s. Also some new photos @ GFM page https://www.gofundme.com/f/malnourished-nepali-children-need-help?utm_source=customer&utm_medium=copy_link&utm_campaign=p_cf+share-flow-1 Fearless Puppy On American Road Reincarnation Through Common Sense

Look What You Have Accomplished Already!

These photos show what happens as a result of your generosity. What you will see are some very relieved children and parents. Thank you so much to those who gave the first contributions we received. We hope that those who haven’t given yet will be inspired to do so by these photos. Your donations are working wonders out here where a dollar goes a lot further than it would in the Western world. If you haven’t yet, please send whatever you comfortably can. If you have already donated, thank you very much again—and if you could please Forward/Share this wherever you think appropriate, that would also be very helpful.
***AND NOW, the original details, and a link to the GFM page where there are more details about the children as well as info on how to contribute.
The link below is to the Go Fund Me page for a project that we friends put together in order to feed hungry children here in Nepal. Please help. I will personally match any contribution made (up to $500 US total). So every dollar you donate automatically becomes two dollars! No contribution is too small (or too large). About 46 dollars gives a 7 member family here a good two week’s supply of their traditional food.
These children have always been poverty-stricken. Now they are destitute. The GFM page explains why. Children worldwide cause less evil, but suffer more of it, than any other age group. NGO aid groups can’t keep up with the rapidly expanding need to keep our children alive and well. Governments often cause more suffering than they cure. Many local neighbors here are no more affluent than the children, so they can’t help either. In these times of rapidly increasing crisis, in this era where so many things have been done wrong, please join us in this important effort to do something right. Those we trusted to be the professional directors of our various social structures have mucked things up pretty badly. The future is in the hands of you and I, the steadfastly dedicated amateurs. Please help make sure that these children get to have a future. Thank you very much for whatever you can do. Be well, Tenzin p.s. In case you want to know who the project organizers are:
Zach Aldridge—Oneonta NY/Columbia University. The project is this young scholar’s brainchild. He coaches essay writing for, and is a private tutor to, college students—as well as being a perpetual student himself.
Romash Shrestha—legal liaison for Tribhuvan University, Bishwa Bahsha campus, Kathmandu. Those nice alphabet T-shirts the children are wearing in the GFM page photo came from him a while back. He has been doing what he can to care for these kids-in-need for years. But now the need has become more desperate. It has become more than one person here can possibly handle alone.
Doug Tenzin Rose—author of Fearless Puppy books and projects
https://www.gofundme.com/f/malnourished-nepali-children-need-help?utm_source=customer&utm_medium=copy_link&utm_campaign=p_cf+share-flow-1

Children

The link below is to the Go Fund Me page for a project that we friends put together in order to feed hungry children here in Nepal. Please help. I will personally match any contribution made by you (up to $500 US total). So every dollar you donate automatically becomes two dollars! These children have always been poverty-stricken. Now they are destitute. The GFM page explains why. No contribution is too small (or too large). We have figured that @ 46 dollars gives a 7 member family here a good two week’s supply of their traditional food.
Children worldwide cause less evil, but suffer more of it, than any other age group. NGO aid groups can’t keep up with the rapidly expanding need to keep our children alive and well. Governments often cause more suffering than they cure. Many local neighbors here are no more affluent than the children, so they can’t help either. In these times of rapidly increasing crisis, in this era where so many things have been done wrong, please join us in this all important effort to do something right. Those we trusted to be the professional directors of our various social structures have mucked things up pretty badly. The future is in the hands of you and I, the steadfastly dedicated amateurs. Please help make sure that these children get to have a future. Thank you very much for whatever you can do. Be well, Tenzin
*p.s. Any Forward/Share action you could do on this, wherever you think appropriate, would also be very helpful.
In case you want to know who the project organizers are:
Zach Aldridge—Oneonta NY/Columbia University. The project is this young scholar’s brainchild. He coaches essay writing for, and is a private tutor to, college students.
Romash Shrestha—legal liaison for Tribhuvan University, Bishwa Bahsha campus. He has been doing what he can to take care of these kids for years. Those nice alphabet T-shirts they are wearing in the GFM page photo came from him.
Doug “Ten” Rose—author of Fearless Puppy books and projects
https://www.gofundme.com/f/malnourished-nepali-children-need-help?utm_source=customer&utm_medium=copy_link&utm_campaign=p_cf+share-flow-1

Pandemics And Root Canals and Hornets, Oh My!

August 18, 2020

                           Pandemics And Root Canals and Hornets, Oh My!
If you are anything like me, then after eighty days in near-solitary confinement watching your species go insane with panic over this century’s bubonic plague while powerful sociopaths culturally engineer and blatantly gaslight democracy out of existence—you need some diversion. After seeing Murder Hornets invade Washington State while socially crippling racism and mindless riots vent lifetimes of both righteous indignation and misdirected anger as they swallow your homeland’s last remaining shred of integrity—you need some excitement! How about finding a working dentist that has First World dental knowledge, in a Fourth World country, during a lockdown where people are afraid to even shake hands much less put those hands into each other’s mouths? Doesn’t a bunch of root canals sounds like just the ticket while waiting for this whole thing to turn the corner and actually become the zombie apocalypse we’ve all been anxiously awaiting? Can you think of a more fun-filled activity, during a time in history when clinical depression is considered a normal reaction, than a procedure many sadists view as their go-to form of torture? Well, I certainly can’t!
It seems my teeth can’t either. The few natural teeth left in my mouth have gone rogue. They scream like mindless infants among the many silent, space-age implants housed in the rest of my jawbone. The pain has distracted me from both the hash pipe induced hibernation and the golden meditations. It is one of the very few things that could ever inspire me to attempt what seems to be the impossible—finding a high level professional with a strong knowledge of cutting edge procedures and sterile, modern equipment in a country where I don’t know a single word of the native language. This dentist needs to be willing to risk exposure to potential plague by diving into a foreigner’s mouth. The foreigner is from the nation with the world’s highest plague-related death toll. This has to happen in a world that has completely shut down, and in a part of that world where the phrase “strong knowledge of cutting edge procedures and sterile, modern equipment ” has never been part of the vocabulary.
Sometimes you get lucky. Doctor Samdup at Mon Lam dental clinic has an Internet presence that includes an email address. He answers emails quickly, and opens his office for emergencies even during a pandemic. During our first meeting, he shows more than enough dental knowledge and humanity to inspire my confidence. He seems to be a wonderful and very talented person. Dr. Samdup’s office has only one other employee. His younger brother, Chungdak, is his dental assistant since the dentist lost his actual assistant when she returned to her village as lockdown began. Chungdak seems to know his way around a dental office pretty well. Tibetan refugee families, and Nepali families in general, are very tightly knit. He has no doubt been watching his elder brother very closely since birth.
There is a high risk in this situation, but it doesn’t involve the dentist. It is with the administration that controls the opening and mandatory closing of businesses, such as the  laboratory that makes the crowns. There is a five day wait after the root canal procedures before lack of infection is verified. This verification allows the remains of the teeth to safely accept crowns. The lab makes the crowns during that five day gap. Teeth lose core strength when the central nerve (root) is extracted. Nothing is left in the middle but a vacant canal. Teeth in that condition, without strong permanent crowns offering a protective cover, could shatter. If there is a sudden forced shut down of the lab, the results could be disastrous. Decisions such as whether or not to shut businesses down are often made on-the-fly amidst the uncharted waters that have engulfed our lives in 2020.
Many administrative authorities around the world, within government and business alike, have shown confusion about what appropriate Corona procedure is and how to implement it. Actions that affect everyone everywhere are sometimes instituted by very small groups of folks doing guesswork in offices and boardrooms. They can’t be altogether blamed for this. Political and social as well as medical functions are all on new ground.
Some authorities also show more concern for the control and social engineering of their constituents than for the well-being of those people.
We all suffer a shortage of accurate information, not just government and business. There also, at times, seems to be a lack of knowledge as to what to do with accurate information, even if it appears in a very recognizable form.
Authority often has an unfortunate abundance of confidence without clarity. To be fair, so do many folks that aren’t in authority. Confidence, when tainted by pride and ignorance, will not allow its host to admit just how little he or she actually and accurately knows. This can result in some half-baked and counterproductive decision making.
All these factors are currently making life on Earth very unpredictable.
Again, sometimes you get lucky.
The lab stays open and everything goes smoothly. Two short weeks after first entering the Mon Lam dental clinic, I discover that it is possible to have fun getting four root canal procedures done, as well as a tooth pulled. Doctor Samdup seems to have the heart of Mother Teresa, the knowledge of a scholar, and the skill of a top level dental surgeon.
Those of you residing in the Western world will think this is a misprint. It is not. Four root canals, four crowns, and one extraction costs a total of  less than five hundred U.S. dollars here. The same procedures and prosthetics anywhere in America would cost somewhere between five and thirteen thousand dollars. It is very unlikely that the dentist performing these procedures in America would be any more talented than Dr. Samdup of the Boudha section of Kathmandu.
There are a lot of older foreigners with dental issues here. I recommend Dr. Samdup to all of them.
Holy Shit, I Really Am Dead!
Here is something even more bizarre than root canals during a zombie apocalypse! I have been severely, abnormally sensitive to cold for many years. Some friends say that I was spawned by a lizard, cobra, or other cold-blooded reptile. When most other people wear shorts and a T-shirt, I am in a sweatshirt and cap. In addition, I often claim to be already dead and that this book is being written by a corpse. As you know, doctors said the death part would happen by now.
These light-hearted comments have just tripped over their own feet. As it turns out, both of these chuckles seem to be a very different type of funny than anyone could have ever suspected.
Having seen and experienced more trauma than most people do in several lifetimes, I don’t freak out easily or often. But I am a little freaked now.
The monastery café that serves free lunch to trapped tourists is required by the government to keep people at least three feet apart while waiting in line at the steam tables, make sure each person keeps a mask on except while eating, and keep each person seated at a different table. Management is also required to welcome diners by putting a thermometer to the skin of each person before they are allowed to enter the first gate.
If you have a fever, there is another series of procedures.
Fever is not my problem. Usually, my friend Mr. Dawa or the lovely Ms. Diki just press the thermometer up to my head and say, “you’re fine.” Then I proceed to the mandatory hand washing and line waiting. Last week Dawa showed the thermometer to me. It said 90 degrees. I advised him to get a new thermometer as either his was broken or he was talking with one of the undead. He held that thermometer to his own and several other people’s heads. The readings were all between 96 degrees and 99 degrees. We have tried this little experiment five times during the past two weeks. Each time my temperature runs between 88 and 94°. This is cross-checked each day against several people, and always registers them between 96 and 99°!
There is no apparent explanation for this. It now appears that this book actually is being written by a corpse. For all my joking about “the zombie apocalypse,” I never thought of myself as one of the zombies!
A Nice Thought
“We suffer a serious disease as well as all the terrible human mismanagement, political and economic manipulation, fear mongering, gaslighting, social engineering, and other assorted criminal greed that is flying into our lives on the tailwinds of this virus. What if these are the abusive parents of the beautiful happening that we’ve been talking about and waiting for all of our lives? Could all this madness just be the last dying gasp of the old paradigm and its disappearing architects? Is their organized confusion and grasping at regressive straws just a sign that the old ways are fading to make room for a new, more compassionate, much more common-sensible sanity—a sanity that may come to us as soon as the dust from all the insanity settles? There may be some real ugliness in the tunnel, but the light at the end of it could be the birthplace of a near-utopian legend. As we keep our inner lights burning brightly right now, no matter how dark it temporarily seems to be outside, our better possibilities gather strength on their road to becoming tomorrow’s realities.”  Tenzin Kharma Trinley
MORE TO COME ON Nepal, photos of ancient spiritual and historical sites, people, culture, and more—if you want it. If not let me know and I will take you off the mailing list right away.
***If you missed the Introduction to the book that will be titled Temple Dog Soldier and contain the above chapters, or would like to see several other chapters that are available for free online, go to the Puppy website Blog section at http://www.fearlesspuppy.info (If you only have time for a bit, scroll down 6 or 7 pieces to the most important bit. It is titled What I Have Learned So Far.) This is a book in progress. You are reading it as it is being created! Just like you, I don’t know what the next chapter is going to be about until it is written. As the Intro will tell you, this is a totally true story—and probably the only book ever written about a dead man’s journey around the world!
***The books Fearless Puppy On American Road and Reincarnation Through Common Sense by this same author are also available through the

http://www.fearlesspuppy.info website, as are sample chapters from those books. Very entertaining tv/radio interviews with, and newspaper articles about, the author are also available there. There is no charge for anything but the complete books! All author profits from book sales will be donated to help sponsor an increase in the number of wisdom professionals on Earth, beginning with but certainly not exclusive to Buddhist monks and nuns.

HER BRILLIANT RESPONSE!

She says she tries to stay happy regardless of how bad the world news is. He asks if she is insensitive to other people’s pain. She answers, “Empathy doesn’t have to include stupidity. No one else’s suffering is going to decrease because I also suffer. Whether it is someone else’s misfortune or my own, being miserable about it is not going to help—and the only things that matter right now are the things that help. It seems more productive and helpful to sharpen my ability to have happiness come from inside, rather than having it being dependent upon the environment. If I accomplish that, and someone feels me radiating happiness and catches a little bit of it, that seems to make more sense than my catching someone else’s fear or despair. Also, every person in the clutches of fear or despair provides a victory for the assholes that purposely manipulate our information and emotions in order to trigger crippling negativities and profit by them. I will not comply. They can’t have me. I have me. The Universe has me. Most of the living things on Earth have all my devotion, time, money, effort, attention, concern, and love. My teachers have me. My beloved friends and family have me. The assholes cannot have me.” www.fearlesspuppy.info

You Can Learn A Lot From Dogs

YOU CAN LEARN A LOT FROM DOGS/CALL OR WRITE TO SOMEONE! There is an organic vegetarian café here in Kathmandu that usually does a good enough business to help fund the large monastery that is attached to and established it. They also host the Saturday farmer’s market. Since the Corona thing has been going on, they are not actually open for business, but do stay open several hours a day to feed tourists with no kitchens that are trapped in Nepal. The meals are provided at no charge and funded by the monastery. I go there and put out sealed vitamin C tablets for folks and also donate oranges bought from the fruit stand near my apartment. I have made friends with the manager and told him of my concern for the neighborhood dogs. He arranged to get me some dog food. Today is my first trip around the neighborhood with it. It is a very bizarre experience.
As I try to feed the first cluster of four, a local says to me in broken English accompanied by a dramatic shoulder shrug, “won’t eat!” I put handfuls of food in front of the dogs and discover how right the local person is. None of them take the food. One scurries away nervously, but three of them rub up against me and insist on being petted. I do so. They are very obviously happy about this. Of the hundred or so dogs I run into within the square half mile, only three dive into the food like they haven’t eaten for a while. At least fifty rub up against me and insist on being petted. These creatures are not starving for food! They are starving for all the people that are missing from their streets, and the affection they are used to getting from human passersby.
I wonder how many people are in the same boat as the Stupaville dogs. Call or write to someone you love, or someone you don’t! www.fearlesspuppy.info

What The F**k Just Happened?

Flag Day
Before heading to the Stupa, my breakfast sitting in the front window of the hotel brings about the same heart-swelling buzz today as it does every day. Most repetitious things get boring quickly, but I can’t imagine this feeling ever losing its flavor. The joy and goodness radiating from the people walking by on the street continues to astound me. This is too powerful to just be my marijuana and cigarette withdrawals—and it is a lot more fun. I have had both minor and major league withdrawal symptoms from various substances before. None were joyful, and even the most severe ones were rarely as powerful.
Clouds of devotional smoke offerings melt into the overcast sky as monks distribute blessings at the Stupa. This is day three of Losar. The thousands of prayer flags strung to the Stupa are being replaced. The past year’s flags are usually burned in ceremonial fashion when the new ones go up. These flags are of different sizes ranging from a few inches square to gigantic. Most have a picture of a deity on them. Each has a prayer printed on it that is associated with the picture, often in the form of a mantra or little story. “Prayer” isn’t really the right word to use here. “Aspiration” would be more accurate. Again, Buddhism doesn’t look for any god living in the sky to accomplish feats for humans. No god of compassion is going to drop a thunderbolt from the sky into some evil jackass and turn him into a saint. The idea with the flags is the same idea mentioned previously in regard to the mantras themselves. By focusing on the symbolic deity and the literal mantra or story on each flag, a person absorbs that quality and actually becomes, to some extent, its positive message. It is sort of a commercial for goodness, which is a product everyone here is looking to buy. The flags are also thought to send these aspirations out across the world as they wave in the breeze.
In addition to the usual reverence practiced on the grounds, people are singing and dancing in circular groups on and around the Stupa itself today. Sherpas climb precarious steps to the upper levels where the public is forbidden to go. They carry massive piles of multicolored prayer flags on their backs. These are strung from the top of the structure to points around the lower levels as the singing, dancing, and blessing below goes on all day. Garlands of orange flowers are strung around the entire girth of the structure at different levels, and the few spots left unpainted on Day One are now covered with white wash. Monks chant, drum, and trumpet from the main temple facing the Stupa, as well as from the second tier of the Stupa structure itself.
What The F**k Just Happened?
As all this goes on, I am involved in some things that are very, very strange. Actually, I’m not sure just how much I am involved. Yes, I’m physically present, and am no doubt seen by passersby as being involved in the incidents. But although my body is here, it feels a lot more like something passing through me is directing my participation in these incidents. Things similar to this must have happened to you at some point in your life. Have you ever done something, and when it was over felt more like you were carried through the process as opposed to walking through it all by yourself? Have you ever worked on something, then sort of found it completed instead of feeling as if you had personally completed it? I have written full chapters at night and awakened in the morning without a solid memory of writing them. I read them, like them, but only bits, pieces, and a few phrases look familiar. It feels as if someone else has written them and just used my fingers and computer to accomplish the process. Several other folks have described similar instances to me, so maybe the following incidents are not so unusual!
I take two herbal muscle relaxer capsules (Passion Flower) and a 600 mg. ibuprofen for back and hip problems before going to the Stupa on this Losar Day Three.
A very unusually crazed guy is ranting by the benches of the pigeon section as I approach it. Several people are scared off the benches by him. A half dozen dogs are barking wildly and approaching him. For some bizarre reason that still escapes me, I go sit down on the bench right in front of him. I wave off the dogs and tell them out loud, but in a quiet voice, to calm down and that everything is alright. It seems the herbal muscle relaxers are doing their job well! Much to my surprise the dogs back off for a minute or two. It is long enough for me to commence an “I love you”meditation and project it at the guy that is screaming in my face in the Nepali language. He keeps screaming and the dogs go back to barking and approaching. I keep smiling with a glazed stare while silently throwing love at the man, and gently waving the dogs back a few more times while all this is going on.
After five minutes of this, the man calms down, smiles at me while pointing to the Stupa and says in broken English, “Guess should walk around.” He wanders off and the dogs relax. I snap out of my meditation. All I can think is “What the f**k just happened!?!” A few locals are staring at me as if they are thinking the same thing. The nearest I can come up with is that the energy of the monks, nuns, and Stupa used me for a few minutes to do what needed to be done. As this thought crosses my mind, one of the dogs winks at me. The wink sends a blissful but spooky shiver up my spine. Folks in the old neighborhood in Brooklyn used to have a very colorful saying when faced with a situation so baffling that there is nothing sensible to say about it. “I didn’t know whether to shit or turn purple.”
Before I have a chance to get up and walk off, two boys, each about ten years old and both on one bicycle, start riding around the benches. They both look like they haven’t taken a bath or washed their clothes in a month. They are boisterous enough to shake up the dogs. The Stupa is not a place where loud beggar kids riding bicycles usually hang out. Kids acting like these are usually on the street where I live, and the other “spokes of the wheel” streets that branch off from the central hub that is the Stupa itself. The hub itself is a serene area that rarely sees the kind of action that I have seen there during the past few days. But the kids are cool and fun to be around. They remind me of the wiseass I used to be as a teenaged beggar on the streets of New York City. We start playing and talking. One at a time, they pop wheelies for me and I applaud them. I again seem to calm the dogs a few times, but they keep coming back to bark at the kids every minute or two. They are not at all used to this kind of disturbance on their Stupa grounds! After about fifteen minutes of play, I give the kids two hundred Rupees (@ $1.75 US), a grandfatherly smack on the ass, and tell them to bug off and go get some food—reminding them that they should not be disturbing dogs in the Stupa area, or anywhere else. Much to my surprise, they listen and leave the grounds. Again I am left with the thought, “What the f**k just happened?” Again, locals are staring.
I head out of the Stupa grounds, but the fun isn’t over yet! Thinking maybe some food will level me off, I stop into a noodle shop. It is about halfway between the Stupa and my hotel, on the same side of the street as the hotel and across the street from the Thar Lam monastery.
I walk into the noodle shop and find only one available table. It is backed against the front wall a little too tightly for a big guy like me to fit into either of the chairs jammed under it. At this point I’m so disoriented that I have a little trouble pulling the very light-weight table away from the wall. A stocky woman yells at me in a rude voice, “It is simple!” Dolma is the woman’s name. She is the owner, fierce, and obviously tired and overworked. She goes to sit down at the far end employees table for twenty seconds, yawns, rubs her eyes, then gets up to work again. Without any thought of doing it arising in my brain, again on some kind of automatic pilot, I do a love meditation and direct it at her. It is a very similar situation to the one involving the ranting guy at the Stupa benches. Within a few minutes, she seems to calm and perk up a bit. A monk that has just finished eating goes over to Dolma to pay for his noodles. Catching her eye from the other end of the restaurant, I wave, make a wagging no-no sign with my index finger, and then point at myself to indicate that I will pay for him. She says “Good!” loud enough for me to hear it and then explains to the monk. He thanks me on his way out.
By the time I’m on my way out, the lunch rush is over and the place has calmed down a bit. As I go to pay and leave, Dolma invites me to sit at the employee table with her and the others. She gives me some free and very tasty tea. We talk for a while about life, America, and a few other things before I leave.
Heading down the street toward my hotel, I notice that my Love mantra has become a “What-the-f**k-just-happened?” mantra.
***If you missed the Introduction to the book that will be titled Temple Dog Soldier and contains the above chapter, or would like to see several other chapters that are available for free online, go to the Puppy website blog section at www.fearlesspuppy.info, or check out fearlesspuppy at WordPress.com, or send email requests to jahbuddha13@hotmail.com. This is a book in progress. You are reading it as it is being created! Just like you, I don’t know what the next chapter is going to be about until it is written. As the Intro will tell you, this is a totally true story and the only book ever written about an around the world voyage being made by a corpse!***The books Fearless Puppy On American Road and Reincarnation Through Common Sense by this same author are also available through the http://www.fearlesspuppy.info website, as are free sample chapters from those books. Very entertaining tv/radio interviews with, and newspaper articles about, the author are also available there. There is no charge for anything but the complete books! Author profits from book sales will be donated to help sponsor an increase in the number of wisdom professionals on Earth, beginning with but certainly not exclusive to Buddhist monks and nuns.

MAGIC FOR BREAKFAST!

Moving On
In spite of the beauty and history, the friendliness of the people, and what may be the most inexpensive cost of living on Earth, it is time to leave Cambodia.
After a week or two in Nepal to break up the long trip, Spain is the next goal. The cost of living is bound to be more expensive in Spain, but I speak the language enough to carry on basic conversations with the locals there. The frustration of conversations ending with a first smile instead of beginning with one can cause devastating loneliness, even in a strong-minded traveler. A sixty-eight year old person is isolated enough when going around the world alone. Most individual world travelers are much younger. They are zip lining and night clubbing. The older ones usually travel in tightly knit tour groups. Not being able to speak with locals hammers a big, uncomfortable nail into communication’s coffin and can put a damper on an otherwise joyful trip.
On To Nepal
You may remember my friend Neil from the Netherlands, described in an earlier chapter. Before leaving for home, he advised me that help getting through customs and security at the Siem Reap airport was available through his connections. He sets it all up from Holland by phone. I get a ride to the airport in a Lexus from Neill’s Cambodian business partner, and am guided through check-in and customs by one of his friends that works at the airport. Neill continues to be a godsend, even from several thousand miles away.
It is great flight with wonderful crews on Silk/Singapore airlines. A Nepali couple fill the two seats next to me on the second plane. They are very sociable. We speak for hours as if we have known each other for years. Dayal and Orina live in Pokhara, about five and a half hours outside of Kathmandu. Oddly enough, their city has just been highly recommended to me. A good friend in America with Nepali traveling experience emailed just the previous day to say that, considering my health concerns, I should leave Kathmandu as quickly as possible and get to the lakeside Himalayan beauty of Pokhara. I tell Dayal and Orina to expect me within a couple of days. They are very happy about that and looking forward to my arrival.
A Terrible Beginning To A Wonderful Experience
Kathmandu, Nepal has the certified worst air quality on the planet Earth. Oxygen has color and texture here. The temperature is currently running between thirty and fifty degrees colder than Cambodia. I reserve a hotel room near the famous Boudhanath Stupa, and am guaranteed three times in three different emails from the manager that it has efficient heat.
When I step off the plane after the all day trip from Cambodia by way of Singapore, a hotel representative and driver are waiting with a sign that says, “Mr. Tenzin. Mandala Hotel.” So far, so good. Upon arrival at the hotel, I find that they have no heat in the rooms. The manager is gone for the night, so there is no way to confront him. It is too late to get anywhere else. Being out of options, I crawl into bed figuring death is imminent but at least my exit will be peaceful. Death ignores my invitation and sends suffering to take its place. All night shivering while fully dressed replaces sleep. Fiery anger with the dishonest manager is brewing in my cauldron. Anger is almost always poison, but in this case it may have raised my blood pressure enough to save me from illness.
When the manager that sent me the “we definitely have heat” emails comes in the next morning, I give him a massive tirade of shit and feel no guilt about it. It is loud and severe! Employees are staring around corners and folks look in from neighboring shops to catch the show. The word “fuck” is used more times in this five minutes than I have used it in any other five minutes since my early teenage years in Brooklyn. I tell the guy that if I die from this episode, Italians from New York are going to visit him. To his credit, he finds me a hotel with heat and has his people help carry my bags to it. The Pema Boutique Hotel is what I pictured the Mandala would be like. It is heated and clean. They are both about the same price, but the Mandala has cost me a lot more in terms of health problems and aggravation. It takes two days and gallons of hot tea to thaw out my lungs and get rid of the chill.
There are valid reasons why this situation is so serious. For the first time since twelve years old, I haven’t had any ganja for four days in a row. This has me more than a little tweaky. The forty-two hundred feet altitude and 30some degree low temperatures here would be a shocking change to anyone’s system compared with the sea level altitude and 70some degree lows that I just came from hours ago. These problems are piled on top of jet lag and the ever present fact that doctors had already labeled me a walking corpse a full year before starting this trip around the globe. The in-room heat most Americans take for granted is a real concern here in the third world.
The situation is well remedied in the next venue. If you are ever in Kathmandu, do yourself a favor and stay at The Pema Boutique Hotel on Phulbari Street. The place is as nice as any in the Stupa area and the staff is incredible. I’ve been in hundreds of hotels, motels, and hostels during my life, but never at one staffed with better people than those working here. Nikky is the manager. He does everything possible to insure the health and comfort of his guests. Power went out in the whole ten block Stupa area and Nikky spent a half hour rigging up the heater in my room with extension cords and batteries. Wangmo is Nikky’s sister and seems to be the hotel’s administrator. I immediately take her presence as a good omen for a few reasons. She is kind, honest, clever, and has a giant Beatles sticker on the front of her computer.
The food here is good and the service is great. This is due to a fine cook and wonderful staff that is fronted by two very special people. Bishnu is the young lady usually at the front desk. She is lovely, efficient, speaks English fluently, and has a patient smile that never fades. Passang is the 20some year old go-to guy. He is the main waiter in the restaurant, the room service person, and the main housekeeping person. He works fifteen hours a day, six days per week, without ever losing his happy, personable, pleasant attitude. I think of him more as a younger brother than a hotel staff member. The staff is rounded out by Tashi and several other young ladies. Each is as beautiful in character as they are in physical appearance.
Daytime In Magicville
With the preliminary disaster behind me, I step out into a spiritual paradise. The giant Boudhanath Stupa is in the middle of it all. A Stupa could be very loosely described as a dome-shaped Buddhist monument containing holy relics. The word Stupa is literally translated from the Sanskrit language into English as “heap.” Stupa structures actually pre-date Buddhism as burial mounds for relics as well as people. There are many levels of symbolism associated with the structure. All the earthly elements are represented. The building has a solid square base that represents earth. The hemispherical dome represents water. A cone shaped spire above the dome represents fire. There is a lotus parasol and crescent moon at the top representing air. Giant eyes painted on the dome represent the all-seeing wisdom ability of Buddha. The nose represents Nirvana, the liberation from suffering. It is in the shape of the Nepali character for the number 1, signifying universal unity. A whole book could be written about the various representations and interpretations of Stupa symbols! Perhaps the most important of these is that Stupas are considered to be a representation of the enlightened mind of all the Buddhas.
The Boudhanath Stupa is thought by many to be the mother of them all. Many folks feel there is a magic in the structure itself. Others feel that the building’s power stems from generations of human energy being fed into it. Reverence, devotion, prayers, and aspirations have been inspired by and fed into this structure for over a dozen centuries—and not just by visitors, pilgrims, and local passersby. Many spiritual professionals wearing robes live in the several monasteries surrounding it. They have been on the job for their entire lives. There is no denying the intensity of the structure itself, the intensity that radiates between the building and its devotees, or the energy that permeates the entire surrounding neighborhood.
On the grounds are a few hundred people, nearly a third of them monks and nuns, walking around the structure in a clockwise direction. Many of them are working rosary prayer beads and reciting mantras as they walk. A mantra is a short phrase containing the message associated with a particular deity. Continuous repetition of this phrase not only instills its qualities into the person speaking it, but is simultaneously directed toward the benefit of everything alive. For example, “Om Mani Padme Hum” is the mantra associated with Chenrezig, the deity of compassion. Continuous repetition of it fosters compassionate tendencies within the person pronouncing the phrase as well as sending those tendencies out into the world. There are varied opinions about which end of this equation is actually in play. Some think that a compassionate energy is actually projected into the atmosphere in the manner of a positive spell being cast. Others feel that the person pronouncing and absorbing these positive thoughts then passes the benefits on to the world through their actions, which are upgraded due to a strong association with the mantra’s message. The evidence I have seen supports the possibility that both opinions are true to at least some extent. To exactly what extent may depend upon the length and depth of experience, and the strength of motivation, in the practitioner.
I join the walk around the building.
The sound of monks chanting, blowing giant ceremonial trumpets, and beating drums seems to be coming from everywhere. It is. There are temples in all directions. The air is thick with an electrical vibration of elevated consciousness and compassion that I can physically feel as a swelling in my heart. It also feels like I am walking in slow motion as if through deep water, but with a lightness and lack of labor. This otherworldly experience seems out of my control. It is overpowering enough to draw tears from my eyes. A child brushes against me. According to his father’s watch, I have been walking around the Stupa in a trance for an hour. There is no way to tell how many times I have gone around it, but the crowd has grown since my trance began. A sea of people from around the world, many clothed in outfits that match the red-wine colored robes of the monks and nuns walking with them, flow around the Stupa structure. They are both engulfed in and creating the massive vibration, like the current within a river.
The flow of people that surrounds the Stupa is itself surrounded by a ring of shops. Most of them deal in Buddhist artifacts, masks, paintings, and Nepali souvenirs. Streets feed into that ring of shops from every direction. Like the spokes of a wheel, they branch out to create the neighborhood.
I float up to one of the rooftop Stupa-view cafés in the primary ring of shops. There is no way to be sure whether or not it is the same one filmed in the Keanu Reeves Little Buddha movie. Imagination tells me that it is. A strong cup of coffee there helps bring me back to Earth a bit—but certainly not altogether.
Love and Medicine For Breakfast
I will try to describe the rest of the Kathmandu experience in terms that are as grounded as possible. I don’t want to sound like a person whose LSD experiences never wore off. But the truth is that the baffling energy of the Stupa and the folks that frequent it spreads throughout this whole neighborhood and doesn’t seem to ever fade or weaken. The Pema Boutique Hotel is only a few blocks up one of the adjoining streets that act as spokes in the neighborhood wheel with the Stupa as its central hub. If you are anywhere within that wheel, you are engulfed in and become part of its motion, as it seems I have.
Next Morning
The next morning starts with the breakfast that is included in the price of the room. It might be the best breakfast available anywhere. Guests are offered a choice of American, Chinese, or Himalayan breakfast sets. I go with the flow and pick the Himalayan. It contains more food than one person could possibly eat and includes porridge (oatmeal) with honey, nuts and raisins, tsampa (a traditional Himalayan barley flour dough), a scrambled egg, a bit of well flavored spinach, Indian bread, mildly curried potato soup, fruit juice, and the option of cappuccino, coffee, or tea.
I eat seated at the front window counter of the hotel with a full view of the action on the street. The folks passing by are a very beautiful collection of humans. Besides the regular type of physical beauty, many seem to have a glow or radiance about them. Many are working their prayer beads and reciting mantras on the way to the Stupa. An old lady walks by with a limp. I project Medicine Buddha mantras in her direction.
There is no way to tell if the old lady feels it, but it feels so good to me that I continue to do it toward everyone walking by on the street. About halfway through breakfast, it clicks in that most of the people already look healthy. They don’t really need Medicine Buddha! I had been listening to the Beatles singing All You Need Is Love on the computer in my room while getting ready to come down for breakfast, and so switch the mantra to the “Love, love, love” phrase from the song.
Yes, folks, I realize that an ex-junkie from Brooklyn, New York sitting in a window in the middle of Asia casting love spells on everybody passing by in the street sounds a little fucking nuts—but that’s what this neighborhood can do to a person! And the more you think about it, the less strange it sounds. Being in a war zone will likely turn anyone defensively violent and keep them in a constant state of fear. The nicest of people can turn into a raging beast when life-threatening danger is in the air. Being in Stupaville fosters the attitude of projecting positive energy at any and everything that is alive. This sort of thing only sounds weird to most of us because we have spent much of our lives being on guard, stressed, and competitive instead of loving, comfortable, and cooperative.
The positivity in the atmosphere is largely, but certainly not solely, about the influence of all the monks and nuns in the area. Every one here, not just the spiritual professionals, is warm, friendly, and helpful—even when it doesn’t involve any obvious profit for them. It is also very apparent that the girls and women seem less nervous around white men than they are in Cambodia. Maybe this is true because they have seen more of our spiritually oriented gentlemen, and less of our bombings and sexual tourism.
But as much as I love Nepal and want to see more of this country, it is time to go. It is very chilly and wet at this time of year, the concrete buildings radiate the cold, the electricity cuts out often and takes the heating systems with it, it isn’t altogether safe to eat a salad, the air quality is as dangerous as the weather, and there is no access to the dietary needs, vitamins, medicinal supplements, and other resources necessary for an old ailing Westerner to stay alive. Spain has constant sunshine, warmer temperatures, more reliable electricity, healthy Mediterranean food options—and I speak enough Spanish to hold a conversation with locals. I will certainly miss what, in less than a week and in spite of all its material shortcomings, has become my favorite place on Earth. It would be wonderful to return in the warmer season, but for now it seems like this old man’s survival is dependent upon getting to some warm sunshine and greater resources. If I had discovered Nepal when eighteen years old, my last fifty years would have been spent right here. But old age brings with it a degree of physical fragility and restriction, as well as the wisdom to recognize and obey it. A person in my condition may go to sleep here and, if the electricity cuts out during the night, might wake up with a long painful illness—or not wake up at all.
PUT A DOUBLE LINE SPACE HERE IN THE ACTUAL BOOK
There is a distinct line between courage and stupidity. I am going to erase that line. Those two commonsensible paragraphs above about leaving immediately for Spain were written last night. They still make a lot of sense, but I can’t bring myself to leave Nepal. Every time I walk out on the street, my brain experiences a joyful explosion and I start laughing at nothing just from being around the people here.
Of course this Stupa neighborhood is a particularly consecrated area, and likely unique within Nepal as well as being unique on Earth. Even the rest of this city is probably quite a bit different. The Stupa is universally regarded as an international treasure, is a certified World Heritage landmark, and one of the holiest places in the world for Buddhists and Hindus alike. Besides that, it is now Losar (Tibetan New Year) week—so the vibe is likely stepped up even a notch further than usual. Every time the thought of leaving pops up, I cry like an abandoned baby. Part of that feeling, and the rest of my personal emotional circus, is no doubt the result of not smoking ganja for an entire week for the first time in fifty years, culture shock, and all the other variations in life that are being dealt with. But there is a lot more to it than that. Every day I go out and kiss the sky like Jimi Hendrix. Every night I punch up plane and hotel reservations for Spain, but can never bring myself to push that last button and finalize them. Whether it is a case of courage or a case of stupidity, I’m going to be here a bit longer. If I die before finishing this book, or even the next section of it, know that I love you and have loved being able to write for you. This will be true no matter where in the world my body gets left behind. But this feeling, like all feelings, is a little stronger here in heaven.
PUT A DOUBLE LINE SPACE HERE IN THE ACTUAL BOOK
Losar Day
Today is Losar, the Tibetan new year. It includes going to temple with family as well as public festivities. The Tibetan New Year’s celebration lasts for several days. When I hit the lobby for breakfast on this Losar Day One, Nikky, Wangmo, and much of the hotel crew, along with several of their family members, are present and dressed like royalty. They are even more smiley and sweet than usual, if that is possible. The streets are lined with people in their finest and most colorful regalia. If Walt Disney was still alive, even he would stand back in awe of the spectacle.
My positive-energy-projection-toward-the-street shtick is being done from the front window counter of the hotel without even thinking about it anymore. It happens on automatic pilot. After breakfast, I head toward the Stupa and watch as the entire massive structure is painted. This happens every New Year’s Day. It has been cold and raw since my arrival in Kathmandu, but even the sun has come out in force for this festive occasion. So have folks from all over Nepal and the world. A 20some year old named Milabuddha sits next to me on a bench by the Stupa. He is from another part of Nepal. Mila starts a conversation and then takes a selfie of us on his phone. The friendliness of the people here continues to astound me. It will be very interesting to travel elsewhere in Nepal and see if this friendliness is a national habit. Being in the Stupa neighborhood is somewhat like being in church. Visitors are on their most noble behavior.
But for the thousands of people that actually live here, their most noble behavior is way of life—and the animals on the Stupa grounds are just as amazing as the humans! A couple of dozen dogs, by far and away the most conscious, mellowest, and sweetest animals in the world, surround the Stupa. They seem to belong to no one and everyone. These canines seem more human than many actual biological humans. They also seem to have a sharp intelligence, a kind of radar and sense of premonition.
A white one sits himself in front of the bench that me and Milabuddha are on. A man walks in our direction and starts to approach a woman two benches away with his hand out. The man looks more hungover than hungry. He has an air of snarling surliness about him that I can feel from a distance. He isn’t doing anything loud, crazy, or even noticeably different than other folks—but to me the energy radiating from him seems to stand out like a sore thumb within this otherwise serene atmosphere. The white dog feels it too. He bolts up and darts himself between that man and the woman on the bench. White dog barks as if his master’s house is on fire! The man backs off and walks away quickly. The dog continues to bark at the ornery man’s heels for twenty yards or so until both are well out of range of the benches. White dog then simply lays down silently by the Stupa. This creature seems to be in a meditation, as do all the canines in the area. These animals lay around as if they are reincarnated saints that have earned the right to relax in heaven for a lifetime—unless there is a situation that calls them to action.
Several hundred of the most well fed pigeons in the world have their own corner of the Stupa grounds. Locals sell grain to visitors who spread it around for the birds to eat. Any form of caring for any form of life is considered a source of blessing here.
While I’m sitting on the second floor deck of a temple building facing the Stupa, a monk comes over to talk with me. He tells me that the crowds are a lot thinner than usual for Losar this year due to the Corona virus threat. We speak about how this is just one link in a long chain of well-publicized pandemic threats that included Swine Flu, West Nile virus, Henta, Bird Flu, SARS, and so many others. I guess out loud that these maladies may be largely manufactured, or at the least exaggerated, by the media and their associates that profit from public fear. These human vultures know that scared people will pay blindly for imaginary protection from manufactured enemies. Folks in Cambodia had also complained about the sparse tourist traffic this year. They also blamed it on the disease scare (as well as on the potentially volatile political situation there). For whatever reasons, tourist traffic in Asia seems to be way down this year. The merchants, manufacturers, people who count on visitor fees and contributions, cab drivers, and so on are all suffering the result.
On the way home, I stop at Thar Lam Monastery to visit the temple that sits halfway between the Stupa and my hotel. The monks are having New Year’s badminton and volleyball tournaments! The adult monks are playing as the elder and child monks cheer from the sidelines. I sit down near a few elders to watch and am immediately approached by a young black dog with markings that make it look as if it is wearing a white necktie. The dog licks me until I fall off my seat on the narrow curb, and keeps licking as I lay on my back on the ground. The monks are laughing at me almost as hard as I am laughing at myself. The dog seems to be laughing too.
Midway through the game, I go into the temple. It is, as most of them are, a beautiful structure with a gorgeous interior composed of giant iconic Buddhist statues. The walls are painted with scenes from the historical Buddha’s life. There are offerings of yak cheese, cookies, fruit, and many other goodies stacked everywhere in obvious preparation for a later ceremony. After a short solo meditation, I head back to the hotel with a big smile on my face and the love of fearless puppies in my heart.
Much of humanity thinks that a power beyond itself will drop from the sky to help save our species. Few people are coherently concerned, consciously aware, dedicated, motivated, and common sensible enough to realize that the only way our planet will become a better planet is if we each individually put in the mental work necessary to become better people. I may be in the ten square block area of Earth that contains the highest concentration of people that are aware of this fact. There is a palpable density of love and goodwill here that is fostered internally by individuals. This internal mental work, this fostering of goodwill, is not done as a self-serving mechanism. It is motivated by and done on behalf of the entire human community. It is extremely powerful—and it seems that even the animals are involved in the process.
My experience of being here is akin to that of a thirteen-year-old baseball fanatic who has suddenly found himself living in a bed-and-breakfast planted smack in the middle of the Cooperstown Hall of Fame. I have spent almost all of my life in America. In America, many people who see soldiers in uniform approach them and say, “thank you for your service.” The soldiers are considered heroes worthy of respect and admiration. My heroes are not professional killers. My heroes are professional altruists that dedicate their lives to producing saner, kinder, more compassionate opportunities for everything that lives on this planet. My heroes are walking on the streets of Nepal, and I have a campsite in the Hall of Fame.
***If you missed the Introduction to the book that will be titled Temple Dog Soldier and contains the above chapter, or would like to see several other chapters that are available for free online, go to the Puppy website blog section at http://www.fearlesspuppy.info, or check out fearlesspuppy at WordPress.com, or send email requests to jahbuddha13@hotmail.com. This is a book in progress. You are reading it as it is being created! Just like you, I don’t know what the next chapter is going to be about until it is written. As the Intro will tell you, this is a totally true story and the only book ever written about an around the world voyage being made by a corpse!***The books Fearless Puppy On American Road and Reincarnation Through Common Sense by this same author are also available through the http://www.fearlesspuppy.info website, as are free sample chapters from those books. Very entertaining tv/radio interviews with, and newspaper articles about, the author are also available there. There is no charge for anything but the complete books! Author profits from book sales will be donated to help sponsor an increase in the number of wisdom professionals on Earth, beginning with but certainly not exclusive to Buddhist monks and nuns.