Dena Moes - The Buddha Sat Right Here: A Family Odyssey Through India and Nepal

The Buddha Sat Right Here is a memoir of illuminated adventure. Dena Moes spins a story of a family finding their place in the world and finding each other as they travel through India and Nepal.... This is a memoir of plural voices and plural epiphanies. With tenderness and wit, Moes weaves into her narrative the diaries of her daughter Bella, the paintings and poems of her younger daughter Sophia, the conversations and good advice of newly formed acquaintances and guides in India and Nepal, and the difficult truth of confronting the state of her marriage. By the end of the journey, each character appears awakened and transformed. And the cultures, cities, histories, and individuals who walk across each page become important stories and vivid characters of their own. With each step, Moes takes the reader on a journey into the beauty and idiosyncrasies of South Asian and American life, redefines what family can mean, and builds a breathtaking intimacy between the reader and the page.

RITO BPNERJEE, Director, MFA in Writing & Publishing, Vermont College of Fine Arts, and author of
Echo in Four Beats and CREDO

... her descriptions of teeming city streets, vibrant landscapes, open country, and the delightful variety of many types of Indians and Nepalese enliven her locations and her spiritual searching.

KIRKUS REVIEWS

Like all the best travelogues, The Buddha Sat Right Here is equal parts far-flung experiencethe vivid colors and flavors of India and internal pilgrimage, and I felt lucky to be along for both. Dena Moes is a writer of great intelligence, humility, and sparkle, plus she made me laugh. I loved reading about her familys wild and beautiful transformation.

CATHERINE NEWMAN, author of Waiting for Birdy and Catastrophic Happiness

Written with clarity, insight, and enthusiasm, this remarkable story will have you rooting for the Moes family from the beginning. Part travelogue, part spiritual guide, and part family drama, this story of the adventure of a lifetime has all the ingredients of great literature.

DANIEL VEIDLINGER, Professor of Asian Religions, California State University, Chico

The Buddha Sat Right Here is a moving story of adventure, motherhood, and love. Dena Moes and her family set out on the adventure of a lifetime, finding along the way much more than they bargained for and exactly what they needed. Set among the colorful and spiritual backdrop of India and Nepal, this book stirred up a serious case of wanderlust in me and was a great reminder of the magic that happens when you step into the great unknown.

KIM DINAN, author of The Yellow Envelope

Dena Moes is a brave soul, keen observer, and powerful storyteller. I truly enjoyed tagging along with her and her family on their eight-month journey across India and places beyond. From the chaos of the crowded cities to her search for that perfect moment between breaths, Moesby turns a midwife, a budding Buddhist, a mother, and a wifeenthralls and enlightens. Theres a lot to love about The Buddha Sat Right Here.

LISO KUSEL, author of Rash: A Memoir

Copyright 2019, Dena Moes

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, digital scanning, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please address She Writes Press.

Published 2019
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN: 978-1-63152-561-2
ISBN:. 978-1-63152-562-9
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018956762

For information, address:
She Writes Press
1569 Solano Ave #546
Berkeley, CA 94707

Interior design by Tabitha Lahr

She Writes Press is a division of SparkPoint Studio, LLC.

All company and/or product names may be trade names, logos, trademarks, and/or registered trademarks and are the property of their respective owners.

Photos courtesy of Dena, Adam, and Bella Moes.

This book is for my teachers, whose guidance keeps me on the path.
For Adam, whose focus on what matters is unwavering.
For Clarabel and Sophia, pure beauty of Lifes longing for itself.

CC-by-sa Arun Ganesh, National Institute of Design Bangalore

I limp behind Adam and the kids as the first drops fall.

Girls! I call out. Put on your rain ponchos!

We are on the third day of a trek, hiking a ridge at 10,000 feet in view of the Annapurna peaks. The Himalayan sun beat down on us a moment ago, but now the daylight turns dim yellow. I am groggy with exhaustion, so at first I think I am imagining the eerie twilight as it falls. Its only noon, I think, why is it getting dark? I look up to see the granite mountains vanish behind a wall of black clouds. Thunder booms, and streaks of lightning lick the foothills behind us.

Our guide, Isur, leads the way in plastic sandals and skinny jeans, as if this were a stroll in the mall. He drops his rucksack fat with trail bars, our extra clothes, and Adams ukulele and waits for us to catch up.

There is a tea house an hours walk ahead and I will sprint there with your pack, he says.

Okay, good to know, I say, gasping for breath.

Just stay on the trail, he calls back as he takes off running.

Im going with him! announces fourteen-year-old Bella, breaking into a run before I can respond. Ten-year-old Sophia is at her heels, a flash of skinny legs and blond ponytail that disappear around a bend. Forget about running, I think, grimacing as I rub my seizing quads, Im not even sure I can walk another hour. I take off my day pack to fish out my rain poncho, thinking Adam is beside me. When I look up, he is gone too.

Wait, I say, to no one. I think we should stay together.

Rain drips into my eyes and soaks through my sneakers. The distance between me and my family grows with every moment I dither, so I stumble on. Twenty minutes pass before the rain turns to thick snow. The snow lays a blanket of silence over the landscape, broken only by an occasional rumble of thunder. Rhododendron blooms sag on the trees, heavy with snowflakes. My wet feet are cold, but the rest of me sweats from exertion. My legs revolt, each step an excruciating override of fatigue. The world blurs into thick white flurries and I can only see a few feet in front of me. I wonder what would happen if I wandered off the trail by mistake. I think about my daughters, running on the slippery path to an unknown destination with Isur, a man we only met two days ago.

How could I have let the girls run ahead? What if they get lost or fall on the ice? A herd of fearful thoughts stamp at the gate, ready to throw me into a panic. I can see the headlines now: