Boudhanath

After having a few good conversations with scholars and headmasters at Buddhist institutions in Boudhanath, Kathmandu, I went to get lunch at a place recommended to me earlier that day. I ordered jambalaya rice, which was a bright red color and mesmerized me as I ate. I was focused down toward my plate and the notebook next to it when something came crashing down on my head. I didn't know what was happening. There was a deep gasp from across the room and then I was out of my seat, staggering. There was a small commotion around me and a table of Westerners were staring at me. I looked back at my table and the big clay flower pot smashed into pieces around it. It had fallen from a ledge six feet above me, out of my vision so there was no warning. It had also been filled with dirt so that the weight on my skull was substantial. I took one more staggering step and glanced again at the table. My red rice had been buried by six inches of dirt, the rest of which had spilled across the table and floor, and the back of my neck. I went to a clinic for a neurological exam, and passed (I could walk a straight line). Everything still seems to be fine after two nights. Rose told me there was an energy I was already tuned into before I chose my seat in the restaurant.