Nothing happens in Bhutan. Even when you think something is happening, it isn’t.
Sure, it looks like stuff is happening. Cows traipse in the middle of the road, eagles soar in tandem overhead, pine trees droop and drape and announce themselves with great dignity over vast expanses of hillside. Large Indian army trucks honk their large indian horns. Dogs bark. (This in fact might be the only thing that really happens here.)
People convene. A table of ministers trade speeches and laughs over beer in the evening. Women go to market and tend the children, or they manage their businesses with elegance. Teenage boys roam in packs, doing whatever it is that teenage boys do.
But what “happens” here is not really it. It’s not really what “it’s” about. If you were to come here and expect to be entertained, forget it. It’s gorgeous, perhaps that’s entertaining. But all that does is to point to what really happens here, and that is inside.
Someone asked me recently what draws me back here, and I answered, “drala.” I suppose the best way to translate “drala” is: blessings. You could say it means benevolent spirits, good energy, magic. Those forces are so profoundly at work here, it is hard to concentrate on anything else. Just try complaining about anything…poor plumbing, inefficient design, barking dogs, (and believe me I try) then just notice, quietly, that there is no one pressing you to be anything other than exactly what you are, at this moment. So you can complain, or you can just realize that it’s not going to change and in any case it doesn’t matter . And so you can relax. Let me tell you, this is a huge, delicious, refreshing treat.
As a result, mind settles so deeply here, it is incomparable to anywhere I have ever been in that regard. It’s as if the guru’s blessings are so thick in the air that it is impossible to miss. Then the little inconveniences, the lack of convenience, and even the barking dogs, become mere ghosts or illusions.