By Jonathan Landaw

A few months ago, in the first issue of Mandala magazine, I attempted to describe one of my most cherished travel memories: the dreamlike appearance of the fog-filled Kathmandu Valley when viewed from Kopan hill. The Valley is a place of extraordinary beauty and I am sure everyone who returns from even a brief visit there treasures his or her own set of enchanting visual images. The surrounding snow mountains glowing pink at sunset, the undulating geometry of the terraced hillsides, the patchwork yellows and greens of the mustard and wheat fields – these are just a few of the mental snapshots collected by those who have journeyed to the magical Kingdom of Nepal.

But here is another Nepal, and it is very different from the one prized in the visitor’s memory and pictured so romantically in the beautifully illustrated guidebooks. This is the Nepal of squalor and grime, of impossibly crowded roads and air thickly laden with dust and fumes. Kathmandu, the once charming capital of Nepal, seems to be transforming itself willy-nilly into a miniature Bangkok, so dirty and polluted in parts as to be almost unlivable.

I am not pretending that in the good old days – which for me only go back as far as 1973 – everything was clean and tidy. Far from it! Roads and alleyways strewn with the waste of animals and humans have been a part of the Nepalese experience from my first visit. But, as long as I watched where I was stepping, these passageways were innocuous and even seemed quaint – at least to someone like myself who was only passing through and not examining things too closely. Nowadays, however, the filth and indeed danger of these same streets are too obvious to be dismissed so heedlessly. Not only has traffic increased dramatically, but the air has become so dense with automotive emissions and other pollutants that I have often found it necessary – especially in the center of Kathmandu itself – to cover my mouth and nose with a piece of cloth soaked in an aromatic oil simply to be able to breathe without discomfort.

Nor has the countryside escaped the influences ravaging the capital. Stories abound of once forested mountainsides that have washed away because population pressures, ignorance and short-sighted greed combined to strip them of their protective covering.

This litany of degradation and destruction may appear overly pessimistic; after all, Nepal is still a land of great physical beauty and, for all its changes, Kathmandu still attracts many visitors charmed by its special character. Furthermore, the forces that are transforming Nepal are in no way unique to that area. To cite just two examples from the West: here in California magnificent stands of old growth redwoods are under continual threat from “developers” and there are many places throughout the state where the air quality is regularly and officially determined to be “unhealthful” (a word that sounds as awkward as its meaning is ominous). So what about Nepal is so special that its situation is particularly worthy of comment? Is it simply that I have had the chance to see these changes for myself and therefore feel personally affected by them?

This is only part of the answer. For me and so many others what is most significant about Nepal is that its natural beauty seems to point beyond itself to a transcendent dimension of beauty, something that no amount of despoliation can entirely eradicate, obscure it though it may. For those who have been touched by this transcendent beauty there exists a third Nepal, the Nepal of spiritual inspiration. This is not a land of mountains and valleys and fields but a place sought and found in the depths of the heart itself.

Over the centuries the external landscape of Nepal has seen a succession of spiritual pioneers triumphantly explore this innermost landscape, including Shakyamuni Buddha himself. Not far to the east of the Kathmandu Valley, for example, is Namo Buddha, revered as the site where the Buddha-to-be practiced the perfection of generosity by feeding his body to the starving tigress; much further to the west is Lumbini, where he was born as Prince Siddhartha of the Shakya Clan and demonstrated the selfless path to spiritual maturity; and the hill of Swayambunath, a short walk from the center of Kathmandu itself, is where Shakyamuni Buddha’s most profound and compassionate teachings on the perfection of wisdom were held in safekeeping, awaiting retrieval by Arya Nagarjuna for later dissemination throughout the world.

These, and countless other sites in this mountain kingdom, have been blessed by the presence of so many enlightened beings that nearly every trail one takes leads to a still living source of inspiration. Padmasambhava, Vasubandhu, Milarepa and the Pamdingpa brothers – who achieved the rainbow body of enlightenment through Naropa’s transmission of the Vajrayogini practices – all came here, and this list of master practitioners extends right up to the present day. When I look into the Kathmandu Valley from Kopan hill and can see the Great Stupa of Boudhanath down to the left and the hill of Swayambunath Stupa away to the right, it seems these two monuments are magnets drawing the spiritually gifted to this blessed land so that their inspiring influence can be transmitted throughout the Valley and the rest of the world.

Whatever may happen to the geographical and political entity of Nepal, this Nepal of the innermost heart shall exist as long as the precious transmitters of the pure Dharma – such as Lama Zopa Rinpoche – enact their enlightening deeds. If there are disciples worthy of such precious gurus, perhaps even the destruction of forests, the fouling of the air and all the other insults to our environment will be unable to prevent this and future generations from discovering the path to this hidden kingdom.