By Will Flagg

Go to Dehradun and look towards the north.

Head up and past emaciated thin roads that snake and weave through high jagged cliffs where griffins roost on mottled rock faces.

Drive past dying dam choked rivers and drying lakes thirsty for summer rains.

Go to where pines line ridges like the hair on the back of a guarding dog.

Past the cities and markets full of bustling people, this beautiful gift from god gives like a mother to her child, without asking for anything in return.

So travel past Uttarkashi, look for the butterflies waiting on the air like a feather.

Listen to the cicadas and song birds call for love from across the valley.

Search for the children peaking at the traveler, and listen for the bell of the beast of burden.

Everything here has a balance and rhythm, whether it be the low solemn dove or the woman collecting grass on the cut, stepped terraces.

Stop, think, and stare at the mountains growing higher and higher like Kaliyuga waves.

Step into the stream and feel this cold rushing water wash over you. These are the blood and the heart of the valley.

There is bounty here.

The people here do not toil endlessly for gold and gain, but live a joyous life of hard work and balance.

So carry the logs, the grass, the bricks across mountains.

Hike in flip flops and run up the mountain breathlessly.

But play in the stream, play with the children in the streets. Play cards with the old men in the village square.

Stay to help your neighbor.

Share cups of chai.

Be at once the curious child and the old woman walking with her load.

Find the balance and the rhythm.

Share your valley and love your neighbor.

This is how it has been forever, and when the Babylons are ground to dust, so it will be again.

Man does not survive alone, so share in the bounty.