Mongolia…. Medicine, Movement and Mystery.
Ulaanbaatar
As I prepare to travel to Mongolia I hear from various people who had once visited the city that Ulaanbaatar is an unpleasant, overcrowded and polluted place, with a heavy Russian influence in its undertow. I had prepare for this but this is not what I experienced.
I was surprised and delighted by the city in equal measure..
It was the spirit of the city that touched me most. I had a sense that even though a good number of high buildings rose up to meet the sky and more were being built, that in the centre of the city there was a strong and vibrant relationship to the earth, the hills around, the powers of the Four Directions and the Eternal Blue Sky above (Tengri Mongke).
On the night of the first full moon of our journey, and soon after we had arrived in the city, I headed South walking to the main square with some others with the purpose of introducing ourselves to the earth and spirits. We offered prayers to the spirits of the place while amongst the trees in the Peace Garden. As we stood amongst the trees, we faced East towards a rising and full grandmother moon, receiving the power of her, even though there was also a huge video billboard in line with our sight of her which was emitting loud music, there seemed to be an ease of the meeting of worlds and ways.
In the next days I perceived a deep flow of energy in and under the city, that everything seemed to move in line with. The energy appeared to be moving even as myriad cars came to a halt and seemed to fill all directions on all roads and all possible places to park. Still the energy moved and the drivers and traffic found its way in a strange and magical flow.
I discovered quickly that spirit is eternally awake and vibrant, in the lands that are named Mongolia, even in the towns and cities and after centuries of war and bloodshed and continuing movement and change. I wonder if this vibrancy is due in part to the unrestricted movement of animals and the humans, who, in constant motion, still mostly live a nomadic life in line with the seasons, the weather and the plants.
Travelling in a bread oven / flying coffin / earth boat travelling along earth rivers
What joy it was to sit in the middle of the back seat of the eight seater bus in one direction and in then the front seat in the other. The old Russian ‘bread oven’ flew over the earth as though boat. In front of us there were always several possible routes to take in as many moments, here roads were untamed. The surface of the earth was dry as we covered the miles…. routes we did not take, spoke of other weathers and many diversions. The roads stretched out before our ‘flying coffin’ as though the pathway of the River Styx following the contours of the earth flowing toward the ‘other side’.
We relaxed into our timeless journey of hours, days and perhaps weeks as the boat flew along to the rhythm of the land. Our driver knew well the body of the earth, she and he charmed each other with twists and turns and surprises that asked for intuitive response or laughter or slow and careful attention. There were no signposts that I could see for the six hours of our journey, the signs were the mountains and hills and changing rhythm of the earth herself.
Pathways of rivers
As we flew by plane from London, over Mongolia to Beijing and then retraced our earlier flight in a smaller aircraft from Beijing to land in Ulaanbaatar, I could see, far below me, the old and new pathways of the rivers. The great rivers have followed the flow of the earth for millennia, shaping the earth in return through the power of the movement of waters. From far above I could see the green rivers of plants that were resourced by the water. I could see the changing pathways of the rivers still marked upon the earth in great meanders and ox bow lakes, in the shapes of dry valleys and remaining pools in high mountain corries. Water, rivers and roads a mirror of each other.
Marmot stalking
I learned much from travelling for a while alongside some of the nomadic peoples of the Durgud, who joined our expedition with their animals to support us as we journeyed through their homelands.
One evening I sat amongst the men as they watched and encouraged and directed one of their brothers as he stalked a marmot (butter ball) with the hope of adding meat to their evening the feast. The hunter crawled upon his belly, pulling with his arms crawling with his legs, lizard-like, towards the bank where marmot holes peppered the land. A marmot spotted his movement and approach and with a chatter of alarm dived into its hole. The hunter rolled into a dip at the base of the bank, lying then, still as a rock. Up popped the marmot. The rest of the men loudly called out instructions of directions to the hunter, alerting him to the marmot’s whereabouts. They roared with laughter when the marmot, spotting him again and disappeared at speed down its hole once more. Their joyful laughter didn’t seem to disturb the marmot, perhaps marmots are more disturbed by movement. Marmots are certainly inquisitive and in time their natural curiosity seems to overcome any sense of danger and this one emerged again from its hole to see what was what. Over time the hunter inched his way nearer and nearer to the apparently now oblivious marmot amongst roars and cheers and laughter from the onlookers. All the while the hunter crawled, he carried in his fists two small rocks as weapons. Finally, he was adjacent to the entry point of the marmot’s den, instructions flew around…the marmot emerged again, stones shot, fierce and true and in the mouth of it’s hole the marmot was delivered a glancing blow, was it stunned, was it dead, the hole was thoroughly investigated by the hunter and his supporters, already joyously re-living the action. The marmot it seemed lived for another day.
Camels
Boynar and the others, brought eleven camels and ten horses with them to support our journey into the mountains. The camels were to be the pack animals for the expedition and would be employed to carry tents, our unmistakeable red bags, food, kitchen equipment and group shelters as we traveled. I have seen camels in the past but have never spent any length of time alongside one, never mind eleven of them of various ages and experience as pack animals.
Back to the camels. Their feet are like two thick suede soled slippers on each foot spreading wide and soft over the earth with each footfall. Their necks are shaped like the U-bend in a sink, taking the chewed cud to the stomach and back. The camels seem to chew the cud by moving their lower jaw in a figure of eight, after some while comes a swallow. After the swallow, I could see the cud travel down the neck into the body all the way to the stomach, at which moment everything stopped, the camel was completely still, until……. back up came the cud and the camel began to ruminate in figure of eight once more. I found it an amazing process to witness, as the camels gazed vaguely in my direction, sidelong fashion, through their long lashes. I am fascinated in and by the creatures………..I find their strangeness awe inspiring and unfathomable.
Boynar and his team, loaded and unloaded the camels each morning and evening with great precision, making sure that the camels were well padded, the loads well balanced in weight and structure and were strongly secured for the daily travel across rivers and up and down steep undulating rocky terrain of the ancient pathways as we walked these old trails towards the mountains.
While being loaded the camels were often tethered to a rock by a rope attached to a stick pierced through their septum, the best direct connection to instruct a camel that was at least four times as tall as Boynar.
In order to lie down a camel must fold its legs at front and then at the rear, the back legs seem to fold in three parts, once down their folded knees at the front are tied with rope round the bent knee so that the camel cannot straighten its leg to stand again until loaded and the rope released. Here the fun starts, while we all ‘broke camp’ our packing was accompanied by sometimes fierce struggles and often poignant complaints from the trussed camels as they were loaded with what looked like more weight than their own. As the days moved by we gradually became more efficient at packing and the complaints and struggles grew less in the camels, while my awe as I witnessed the mysterious ways of the creatures continued to grow.
I slept in my tent alongside camels amidst the falling snow and also through another night when they were tethered very close to my tent during a storm that brewed a powerful vortex of wind and rain and thunder and lightening. During the storm my mind raced with possible scenarios, instead of paying attention to my stories, I listened to the gently grunted comments of the camels and found my way to some rest through the storm as they seemed to.
Singing of the Earth Mother
It was a joy to travel over the earth amongst the of the songs that have emerged from the Earth Mother and the Eternal Blue Sky of Mongolia. They came to us from the earth and the rivers and the sky and through the voices of the Durgan nomads as we walked with them, rode alongside them and as we sat with them in camp. We did not hold songs in the same way, we could not share songs of our home on the earth that we were given as babies and children by our families as we grew alongside the animals and the plants. We do hold some Medicine Songs from other lands in our hearts, they have been given to us and we have learned to hold them as our own and we shared some of them with the others, for these songs I am grateful. We also included some crazy playful songs ‘Old Macdonald definitely has a yak’.
In other moments and places we were both soothed and sharply awakened by the mysterious sounds of throat singers and old stories of dancers and instrumentalists who gathered to perform for us as part of an audience in a theatre in Ulaanbaatar. I was deeply inspired by the spirit and energy of the shaman dance, even though this dance was a part of a ‘performance’, I could still feel it both as medicine and as a teaching as it entered my field.
At the end of our final day of walking and riding, Tim called us to join him to visit ancient standing stones in a burial ground just out of sight of camp, he called us with what seemed an unusual sense of urgency, so we quickly dropped what we were doing and followed him. Sounds of riding the Steppe, travels of the wind and water, flights of birds, growing of flowers and the movement of sun and moon and stars emitted from the instruments and the voices of the musicians there…… they had been quietly and secretly awaiting our arrival. It was an honour and very moving to hear these timeless songs reverberate over and around the ancient burial ground.
It was not until the next day, as we travelled the same route to Khvod, that we discovered just how far the musicians had come in order to play for us.
Marmot young
We were medicine walking……flying over the earth on the string of all existence, when we came upon new emerged, still blind and mewling marmot young in the entrance of their burrow. What wonder to see them and receive them in the midst of our walking with the earth.
Cold water feet
By the end of walking for the day, even in the chilling air of the mountains, my feet were very hot. What joy to immerse them in the cold cold waters of the rivers of the NW. I learned that full immersion took time, to begin with 4 seconds in the cold clear water made my feet hurt, out they came at speed…slowly, slowly I could leave my feet in the water for a little longer each time I dipped them, until I could happily receive the cold and healing balm for my hot hot feet for as long as I chose.
Mongol boots Medicine boots Riding boots
We stopped at a small town market on our way to the beginning of our journey on foot into the Turgen mountains of the North West. I found a pair of hand made thick lined black leather Mongol boots in the market. The boots had gently upturned toes and became my firm allies on the days that I rode beautiful spirited horses amongst the mountains. I felt as at home in the boots as I did on horse back amongst the nomads.
These great black boots taught me something about the nature of medicine walking, although I did not wear the boots for walking any distance, they taught me something other about the power of my feet to connect into and to sense more deeply the rhythm of the earth as I walked. I like to imagine that this was because traditionally made Monglian boots are turned up at the toes so that the wearer walks gently and with respect for the Earth Mother.
Walking in Medicine. Shadow Walking. Stone Stalking. Horse Walking. Shamanic Walking
Walking……here’s a thing…..it is a word that has over the years, moved from meaning a physical action, to meaning medicine to me. The word no longer describes moving from place to place on foot, but instead signifies connection to Great Spirit and All Our Relations. The walking I experienced in Mongolia was on a different plane. As a part of a group of humans and animals walking alongside each other, while ‘stone stalking’ on my own and while walking as a part of a string of medicine walkers we seemed supported by the power of the earth. I began to see that I could consciously attach myself to an already vibrating string of energy and through this be aligned with its copious life force, creating in me a sense, at times, akin to ‘flying’ across the earth, skimming the bottom of the air ocean. As I write I can still feel the power of the walking within my heart and awake through my body and connected into the deep earth, connected to source.
‘Black Market’
A few of us visited the ‘black market’ a couple of times it is situated on the edge of Ulaanbaatar….this was pure adventure, firstly to get there through the city traffic and then scouting amongst stalls and small shops holding the needs of Mongolian people. I loved the sense of vibrancy all around and then finding my way through and amongst myriad things looking for mosquito hats, (left unused), for ground juniper to burn as offering to spirit on mountain and hill top, to search for a small travel drum, (not found), to try on tribal hats, to search for gifts for family and to explore the stalls of ancient artefacts and medicine objects.
I love the raw nature of market trading, I feel that markets can teach me something ‘other’, about the land and the people.
Horse nature. Animal nature. The ‘five snouts’. Human nature.
Although the horses we passed by, some gathered in herds and the others alongside us in camp, were not truly ‘wild’ and were in ongoing relation with humans, they seemed to me to also hold a strong connection to their true nature and innate wildness. When the horses were not in work, they were released to themselves to live as herd on their own terms in their own terrain. It is not the Mongolian way to name a horse, again I had the sense that this perhaps helped to keep the horses free of potential ties or limitations of a human given name…..running free with a name like Red Rum or Black Beauty, to me, could hold something over horse that in Mongolia is usually only differentiated by intricacies of colour. It felt like a deep form of respect, to leave the horses to live free from name and fence.
I loved seeing herds of horses standing together for sometimes hours in the cool moving waters of the Orkhon River near the places where we camped overnight. At other times we glimpsed them in the shade of trees as we paddled by in our canoes. Herds of shadow horses. Herds of water horses.
We were also witness to herds of sheep and goats in motion and the extraordinary grunting yak, grazing the Steppe, the wide open lands of no divide that is Mongolia in summer. Sheep and goats are gathered together overnight by dogs and humans for protection from wolves and other predators in Summer and then corralled during winter snows, other than that they seem able to graze the Steppe within their natural rhythm.
It seemed to me that these animals, the ‘five snouts’, although living alongside humans were calm and free in their natures, not restrained, while at the same time still in service to humans to the end.
I sensed that humans of Mongolia live strongly connected to the ancestors and the Earth Mother in all her ways, their own ways deep rooted in the present moment. I perceive them as free from the cloak of neurosis and imbalance that seems to be growing elsewhere on the earth.
Sheep slaughter
A sense of calm and rightness and honouring was also held during the slaughter of sheep that we witnessed. A sheep separated from a local herd was brought alive into camp straddling a horse in front of the rider. In a deftly practical and ordinary way, the sheep was removed for the horse and held steady on the earth by two men. One of the men cut a slit in the skin of the sheep, the slit was long enough for the man to insert his hand between the outer layer of skin and the inner layer that held all the sheep’s organs. As the man slid his hand underneath the outer skin inside the sheep moving towards the main artery running against its spine behind the heart, the sheep seemed
calm. When the man located the artery he severed it with his fingers and we watched a kind of beauty as the life force of the sheep returned to spirit. Blood spilling from the artery was collected within the body of the sheep, none was spilled. Once the death was complete the sheepskin was removed and the body of the sheep lay on its separated skin. Part by part the sheep’s entrails and organs were collected and cleaned, its body cut into quarters and joints, those parts not edible to humans were given to the black kites waiting for the spoils of death. Later we ate of the sheep honouring its life and all that its death had taught us.
Death is present. Blood in the earth. Burial sites. Khans buried 20m deep.
Everywhere we traveled in Mongolia signs of death were a visible part of life, animal remains and bones of the long dead were visible as we walked, black kites and vultures willingly cleaned the bones for their own nourishment. Personally I find this settling, it gives me a particular sense of relief that death is not hidden and that it is a part of a living earth. I feel a greater sense of respect for life within the acceptance of death.
Having read some of the histories of the people of Mongolia, it is clear that blood once soaked into the earth in great quantities as warring tribes under Chengis Khan sought to bring all power home to the Golden Family, even after the Great Khan had died the bloodshed is said to have continued. Perhaps the blood of all of the waring ancestors mixed with the earth gives it a rich potency and the memory of all that has gone before is able to come into the light through the songs and the plants and the animals and that death itself remains a potent force as it is not hidden.
Ancient burial sites are numerous across Mongolia, small circles of stones in consecutive series and large circles of stones and standing stones mark some of the resting places.
We came across many ancient burial sites in our travels, most burial sites remain secret and undisturbed out of respect of the ancestors and perhaps because these ancestors were often buried up to twenty meters deep in the earth or given to the sacred mountains from where they could return to the Eternal Blue Sky. Through sensing this living relationship to death, I feel that I have learned something more in relation to The Beauty Way.
Opening into the earth
I dreamed of an opening into the earth. As I peered into the opening I could see ancient stone steps descending into the earth the steps were very worn through millennia of footfall. I had a sense that these steps were for the purpose of both entering deep into the earth in order to listen and a return to the surface again, the travel could be both directions. There was a call for a clear purpose for the descent, a particular call to follow and a teaching to bring back for the people.
I looked into the opening in my dream and I could see the steps leading downwards as far as the available light would allow. I awoke before I was able to descend. The dream felt connected to the true power of the earth and the teachings available to receive that would assist me in understanding something in relation to her true power.
Power received from the old ones.
As the earth rose steeply above us and we began our final walk towards the summit, we had been travelling upwards toward this summit for several days. I could see the rise of the final climb ahead, feel the stretch of it in my mind through the impact of the altitude on my body and heart and lungs. My mind began to contemplate the challenge ahead as we began to walk upwards navigating the scree below the first plateau. I wondered if I would have the power in my body to reach the top, I would wait till the designated ‘point of no return’ before I would decide whether to continue.
It was at ‘the point of no return’ that something within me changed. I don’t know what changed exactly but I found myself in closer contact with the rocks, it was as if the ancient energy held within the old ones was assisting me to climb, rock to rock, higher and higher I climbed filled with energy and delight, as though stepping up a great stairway into the Eternal Blue Sky. At the top of the stairway, I found myself filled with joy on the snow covered summit at 3,700 meters and from there able to see across the roof of the earth towards the mountains of Russia in the distance.
Nearby two ravens tumbled earthward and calling out our way as they headed out over the valley.
Rivers of flowers. Oceans of plants.
The moment we stepped onto the earth as we left the plane in Ulaangom airport, I sensed something different. I gave an offering of greeting and gratitude to the earth there and saw at once that the plants were vibrant. Here was mugwort and over there wormwood, an altogether other kind of nettle with a different beauty and a fearsome sting and other plants both familiar and different, the scent of the plants calling me through the air. From this moment onward in the journey, the spirits of the plants everywhere spoke to me through their vibrancy and powerful life force. Wherever we went the plant spirits were awake, I was called to touch them, to smell them, to rub them on my skin, to give thanks for them and to appreciate a real sense of joy and wonder in their presence. Plants shifted both their ways and their genus with our moving. Many of them seemed familiar for I have seen their echos and met their distant relatives in British gardens and amongst the mountains of Switzerland and on the dry hills of mainland Greece.
One afternoon we worked as a group with the powerful medicine of wormwood, shifting energies that may have become stuck, clearing and cleansing the auric field of our partner. The power that came through from the plants was awe inspiring.
At another point in our travels we surfed loose scree as we descended from the mountain, like surfing a river of stones and grit descending fast with each footstep becoming a kind of skiing. Nearing the valley floor we came to the cool clear spring that Tim had mentioned, we drank from the spring and gave thanks as we gratefully filled our water bottles. Here the river of scree shifted shape to become a river of orange flowers with heads of multi petaled globes, the flowers flowed onward with us as we walked beside the stream down the steep incline. Altai Globe Flower (ranunculus) is the name given for this beauty.
‘Do not allow your shadow to be cast’… upon the Snow Lotus (saussurea involucrate), for you will surely regret your lack of attention and respect. One at a time and in twos and threes we visited the sacred plant in its habitat above the Blue Lake where it grows in pairs in small numbers amongst boulders and amongst small nooks and crannies. Some of our number, whispered greetings, others sat in its company, others barely held back their shadows from its skin, some sang quietly and some danced with joy. The plant spirit received us with the beauty and dignity its name suggests.
Some other plant spirits we met on our travels …… monkshood, edelweiss, gentian, currant, gooseberry, iris, sage, thyme, many members of the pea family, forget-me-not, aquilegia, nettle, wormwood, mugwort, marijuana, berberis, geranium, grass leaved catch-fly, trefoils, potentilla, alchemilla, tormentil, euphorbias and beautiful tiny feathery blue flowers on the thinnest of stalks.
Intention
My intention for the journey was to listen and to pray.
My intention for the night vigil was to commit to raise and deepen my awareness on all levels.
E Air. S Fire. W Earth. N Water. (I’ve also read West water and North for the dead.)
The Four Daughters have emerged into a different rhythm through the teachings of this place.
Morning practice
I have been slowly building a Morning Practice for a number of years. It is good to consciously re-connect with All Our Relations at the beginning of a new day and through this renewed connection to spirit to do my best to stay present and to maintain that connection throughout the day. I discovered that my practice in Mongolia became another thing, became ‘other’. I had a strong sense that I was living amongst the source of the teachings and experiencing the true power behind the teachings almost as though there is no need for the protection of a veil.
Offerings of milk
In the mornings, milk was offered with gratitude to the Ancestors and Spirits and to the Eternal Blue Sky. Great ladles full of yak milk flung skyward and then falling back in fat droplets were received by the Earth Mother. The old ways of Mongolia spoke with the old ways that we are learning and carry with us, there was a sense of rightness and peace held amongst these old ways.
Power of the flying ones….raptors…vultures…birds…grasshoppers…dragonflies
I finally lost count of the number eagles I saw, the power of seeing these great birds, sits in my heart. I found a vulture feather lying in the undergrowth, it is the same length as my arm. I found a feather of a white tailed eagle, just where Jason and I beached the canoe after a day of flying down the Orkhon river.
I was mesmerised by the countless birds…….sparrow, northern wheatear, black stork, heron, greylag goose, swan, ruddy shelduck, mallard, black kite, upland buzzard, common buzzard, booted eagle, white tailed eagle, golden eagle, falcon, arctic tern, pigeon, hoopoe, wagtail, chough, raven, rock sparrow, partridge, kestrel, sand martin, swift, swallow, cinereous vulture, night jar, owl, the hidden communities of birds chattering amongst the willows who showed themselves only in flashes of blue, and all the other flying singing ones I could not name and did not see or hear and still were there. I thank you for your flight, your beauty, your brilliance and your song.
…colourful, leaping and parachuting grasshoppers, beautiful powerful mesmerising medicine of dragon flies, flitting travelling butterflies, absence of mosquitoes….I thank you…..
Snow Leopard domain
In the Khargatin river gorge, high in the mountains, we humans and the animals supporting the expedition had a welcome day of rest. The rest day was good timing for me as my stomach had been disturbed for the two previous days.
I recovered my appetite amongst slow time, sitting with the old ones and the river under the gaze of the many black kites that gathered to clean up after the cooks. I witnessed Mika or Boynar gathering the camels from out of their camouflage amongst the steep hillside and then sending them back toward the natural corral at the end of the valley. At another time I crept into the shelter of a rocky nook while the rain fell around me. In the slow time I wrote a little, caching this or that moment of travel in a phrase or a list and I scanned the book of plants for familiar spirits. The slow time allowed me to gaze the beauty of the earth and to feel its echo within me.
At one point while contemplating the movement of the river as it descended from the gorge towards the valley bellow, my attention was called to a hill rising from the valley in the distance, the hill seemed other and different to its surrounds. I could see steep cliffs crashing down sharp as teeth on one side of the hill, in other places there seemed to be dark caves carved deep into its sides, trees were nestled into sheltered clefts and into the folds of valleys once made by the ancient fall of waters. The colour of the hill itself was luminous, I imagined that it might glow even during the nights of the dark moon. As I sat, washed and filled with the power and song of the river rushing by me, I gazed this place and pondered on its story and magic, for surely it was a magic place.
Later as I sheltered in the dining tent from sudden winds, Tim joined me, I asked him if he knew anything of the stories of the hill, he told me that the hill is one of the winter lairs of the snow leopard.
Songs of the rivers Songs of the lakes Songs of the ice
The water was singing wherever we went, she sang herself towards the ocean and up into the Eternal Blue Sky and continued to sing as she fell back towards the Earth Mother in rain and snow and whispers of early morning dew. I sat with the water of the Blue Lake, hearing beautiful tinkling songs of ice moving along the edge of ice in the breeze. I walked alongside a mountain river at the end of the day, breathing heavily as I walked into the rising altitude and heard the thunderous timpani of old winter ice sheets descending into newly moving water, water coming together with other water. Heavy rain fell upon my tent, the sounds washing through me as I slept. Each day I again and again drank with gratitude from the waters of the earth while receiving her songs. As we travelled we learned of the peoples’ respect for the purity of clear running water, it is offered for the quenching of thirst and is not for washing in.
A group of us rode on horse back up to the Green Lake, on arrival the stillness of the water and the ice on its surface held us in its gaze. Once we dismounted we did not descend to the lakeside but paused above it and below the jagged faces of the high cliff. Here we sat above the soothing quiet of the deep lake, cold rising towards us from the ice still covering part of the surface of the lake. We held still on the edge of the moraine above. As we opened into our meditation the vitality and power of the vortex in this earth bowl expanded out towards us as in this place we entered the stillness.
I give gratitude to our precious Sister Water for her giving of life and her presence on earth in all her forms.
All night vigil
As I prayed this night, from a hill top eyrie under a dark blanket of stars, I was held by the bones of horse and the song of all that has gone before.
Orkhon River. Badraa and stories of Kahn Burged……… Paddling kachinas. The joys of a flying a canoe.
The journey in the company of the Orkhon River holds many stories for me as I imagine it does for all of us in different ways and through our different experiences. I would not say that I am a natural paddler, over the first couple of days I needed to adjust my body from travelling on foot or with horse to find ways to reset myself to the rhythm of canoe on fast water moving over rocks.
There are many stories…. I quickly became a ‘rock chick’…..rocks became my teachers, target fixation, nemesis, and finally my assistants in learning to fly a canoe. I thank Petri and all my paddling partners and beautiful Orkhon for your teachings, I did my best to learn from you. Thank you all for your patience, persistence, power, trust, assistance, communication, fluidity and gentleness. I feel that I still have much to learn in relation to paddling with a body of water, even after miles of travel and the re-adjustment from using the sheer power of my arms to a movement from the core of my body into ‘rotation, rotation, rotation’, I do feel that horse is a more natural way.
Over the final two days of canoeing, I finally learned to fly! In reality I became the bow paddler to Jason’s stern…….I still chuckle to myself as I remember us flying past Petri, overtaking the ‘lead paddler’ many times! We also gave up ‘following the line of canoes’! I have visions of us travelling fast, a hairs’ breadth from cliff faces and just glimpsing the huge rocks we slipped past whose current sent us onward at speed. I found that I trusted Jason’s self taught version of paddling and let go into his way and his seemingly innate understanding of the flow and energy of the river, I stopped ‘trying’ to avoid obstacles and either enjoyed them or worked with them, I even joined Jason standing to paddle through rapids. It seemed that the river became a moving recap of my earlier unsuccessful efforts and attempts at rock avoidance……..it was such a joy and such a great teaching…..……..YAHOO!
As we travelled and camped with the river it was wonderful to come back to the simplicity that was setting up camp, to Peti’s delicious one pot cooking and the loading and unloading the canoes that was our daily work. Camping by the river became a new adventure each evening, where would we land, what would we find there, who would we be alongside, rock, plant, animal, bird?
One evening Badraa (Baggi) and I sat by the river and wove a story together as we watched the fish jumping, it was a story of a huge fish that would fly out of the river at the call of the moon. A great mythical flying fish with the head of a dragon with a long long tail painted all colours of the rainbow. This mythical fish-bird, Baggi named Khan Burged, ‘Great Eagle’…… in our story we would meet Khan Burged again sometime, in the meantime we would receive a sign the next day to confirm this…what would the sign be, we wondered? The next morning as Baggi took his tent down he found an Asian Viper curled beneath the groundsheet, we saw that the viper was the sign from Khan Burged….good strong medicine.
Cliff of nests and boulders
The cliff rose straight up out of the fast moving water, its height curving away from the strongest part of the current so that we were able to rest within our canoes at the base of the cliff. The cliff itself was formed from a conglomerate of rock, boulders and pebbles, stones of many shapes and colours rounded and smoothed by ancient water and moving ice had at some point been cemented in amongst a newer body of rock. In time upon time upon time this conglomerate rock had been worn into a steep cliff, by the foot of which, we were now held fast in our canoes by a still point in the current of the swiftly moving river. We and the river were almost the only things that were still in the vicinity. Almost camouflaged and cemented amongst the stones and boulders of the cliff and mimicking their shape were nest upon nest of swallow, the cliff and the air above us was alive with the sounds and movements of swallows as they dived and rose around us entering and leaving their mud made nests. I found it awe inspiring to witness this phenomena from beneath as we held still on the edge of the swiftly moving river. As we began to paddle onward from this place, pulling ourselves away from the beauty we were witnessing, I imagined that in winter, the birds elsewhere, I might have not have seen the nests amongst the boulders of the cliff, so invisible would they become.
Station. Pale hare of the moon. Train.
The weather conspired to enable us to have an unexpected adventure added to our expedition. Heavy rains had created damage to the roads between Ulaanbaatar and the start and finish points of our trip with the Orkhon River. I was excited to hear that instead of driving we would be travelling overnight by train in both directions. Great beasts of trains, used to travelling through Siberia, took us on and on over the land towards the river as we slept cradled in bunk beds adorned with fresh sheets in which we lay and dreamed amongst the soothing song of the wheels as they rhythmically travelled the tracks.
On our return from the river we arrived in plenty of time for the train, which provided us with more hours of unexpected adventure within the station and the village by the station. Firstly we explored the small trackside shop and ate copious amounts of chocolate and crisps after days of healthy nutritious vegetarian and gluten-free food. We were entertained delightfully by children from the village, we were pulled out of our transit to play, some of us played basket ball with the teenagers in town. I wandered into the low hills behind the village to visit the land and investigate the empty animal corrals. Here I was seen by a beautiful hare as pale as the half moon, daytime shining over the village. The hare sat on her haunches poised between stillness and flight until tipped into flight she headed into the hills.
After happy hours at the station, we were warned, that once the train arrived we would have only two minutes to climb aboard. We waited, poised at the ready on the station as the train arrived, readying ourselves to run the track to our carriage, and run we did and threw ourselves, red bags first, up the steep ladder and into the carriage of our train bound for Ulaanbaatar.
Earth Mother
The names ‘Mongolian Steppe’ and the ‘Gobi Desert’ conjoured images in my mind as over time I had seen films and images of these places, not knowing that I would one day be a part of an expedition that would travel the earth there. When one’s imagination of a place created by images, meets direct and unfolding experiences through travelling over the surface of the earth in the same places, some adjustment is needed. I have already written about experiences and events but not about the full and unfolding sense of the land that I slowly absorbed over the days and the weeks. It feels like a sense of body meeting body. As my own body and senses became slowly acclimatised to receiving unknowns at almost every step. It was the vastness that slowly began to seep in, we could walk, slowly rising up a valley for many days, the earth changing her ways beneath our feet increment by increment. In Britain, so small a place on earth in comparison to Mongolia, the earth rings her changes quickly between a here and a there, the Shetland Islands to the tip of Cornwall are worlds apart within relatively short miles. It is the wider incremental shifts of the earth of Mongolia that seemed to give me time and space to notice, to witness and to absorb the shifts as they touched me. Over days of walking upon the rising earth my feet began to feel their way in line with the rhythm of the dusty rocky plant filled earth.
White Horse hair Banner of peace. Black Horse hair Banner of war.
Historically the Nine White Banners were a peacetime emblem placed by the Mongol Khans in front of their ger. The Mongolian people have been honouring the banners ever since and nine is a significant number of power to the Mongolian people. The central banner larger than the rest is placed in the centre of the other eight, each banner is a dome on the top of a pole, under each dome streams horse hair. The banners are said to be made up of the tail hair of a thousand stallions called in from each of the provinces.
During the Naadam Festival the Nine White Banners stood at the winning post of the twenty two kilometre horse races and also stood in the stadium in Ulaanbataar around which the winning wrestler danced as eagle.
Nine Black Banners would signify war.
Where on earth
Over the days and weeks and month of our expedition in Mongolia, during which we walked and climbed and rode horses and paddled canoes in relatively small areas of the country’s huge expanse, I had a hope that in the time of our travels I would be able to touch into or glimpse something of the essence of her nature and to find ‘where on earth’ I walked.
Mongolia, the part of mother earth, so named, is larger than countries the of France, Germany, Spain and Portugal together, I have travelled in these countries so have some sense of their size. The human population in Mongolia is less that 3 million people, whereas 211 million people live in the slightly lesser area of land that is France, Germany, Spain and Portugal. Through these figures I am trying to catch an underlying essence of something that creates real difference. It’s a sense of the vastness supporting many fewer humans, that I think I am trying to understand and to call a quality of into my responses.
In the time and places through which we travelled, both the climate and the weather and the surface of the earth beneath us was continuously changing, we adapted our ways and our clothing to these changes, just as we opened our hearts to all the unknowns.
Even Tim’s rigorous lists of clothing, instructions for physical preparation, itinerary and lists of reading matter could not have begun to prepare us for meeting this mysterious land, I don’t think anything could have prepared me. In fact I felt glad that I had read little in advance so that I could meet each moment from as close to beginners mind as possible.
I am so grateful to Tim for offering and sharing a journey that clearly means so much to him, with us, who were once strangers. I am grateful to Petri for his teachings on all levels and his magic and playful friendship, I so enjoy his expression of human. I am grateful to Chris for holding the intention for our journey to be aligned with the old ways and teachings, I am blessed to walk the Good Red Road in his company. To my adventurous travelling companions Becky, Christiane, Colin, David, Graeme, Jason, Kitty, Moira, Noel, Olivia and Valeria, I send a great whoop of joy for your wonderful company. Most of all I am grateful to the people and animals and spirits of the land named Mongolia, who travelled alongside us and supported us in myriad ways to meet the true nature of their homeland, as much through they themselves, as in every other way.
I returned home with a deep feeling of peace, filled with a renewed sense of the vastness of the Mystery and deep gratitude to be walking the path of the Beauty Way.
Navajo Way Prayer
In Beauty may I walk
All day long may I walk
Through the returning seasons may I walk
On the trail marked with pollen may I walk
With grasshoppers about my feet may I walk
With dew about my feet may I walk
With Beauty may I walk
With Beauty before me, may I walk
With Beauty behind me, may I walk
With Beauty above me, may I walk
With Beauty below me, may I walk
With Beauty all around me, may I walk
In old age wondering on a trail of Beauty, lively, may I walk
In old age wondering on a trail of Beauty, living again , may I walk
It is finished in Beauty
It is finished in Beauty