By Will Blake

thinking about the past few days, and the places we’ve seen, the people we’ve met, and the conversations we’ve had, I can’t help but circle back to a strong feeling of openness,

in people,

in religion,

in villages,

in sharing.

this openness never seems to stop or start anywhere over the mountains. As I sit here at the bank, listening to the rush of the river, this feeling is all I can think about, washing over me and pulling me downstream in its current.

standing in the middle of the temple at the confluence, it felt as if the walls weren’t there, and the borders of the temple stretched over the mountains and beyond my sight. it was more beautiful than any religious site i had ever visited.

talking to the people in the village, it’s obvious that the openness is not only a part of this place physically, but also permeates the minds and lifestyles of the people living here.

once we were invited to talk, nothing felt closed off. constant offerings of peanuts, tea, and places to sit and talk made these spaces and people feel extremely welcoming.

when asking questions about daily life, religion, and the dam, each one of their answers felt like the complete, transparent truth. It’s hard to explain why, but I felt as if they weren’t trying to hide anything away from us.

it’s painful to watch such a peaceful, honest, and open group of people lose their home that they have lived in for hundreds of years.

construction of the dam feels as if a door is being sealed on this space, and in a place with so few closed doors, it’s almost suffocating to think of what will be lost, and closed off forever underwater.

As i’m seeing all this for the first time,

the people,

the religion,

the villages,

the sharing,

and the openness, I don’t know what to think.

Listening to the sounds of the rivers mixing, and watching one become another, I feel conflicted.