First time flying and the girls got the special welcome of landing in Hong Kong in a typhoon! As if they were not frightened enough, never having flown before. Gloria few with them, thank goodness, but our tickets could not be changed so she had to hold 7 shaking hands during the flight and landing.

Hong Kong is an interesting place for the women to be the first place to visit outside of Nepal. The two could not be more different. HK is masses of tall apartment building, one after another. Lots of concrete, LOTS of people everywhere, and little personality and diversity. Not surprisingly, the group did not like it and looked forward to heading home.

They did enjoy the conference. Their workshop presentation went well. I worked with Sarala, the leader, on a powerpoint presentation that included photos and the group performed their dance, with not a dry eye in the house. And they were happy with their performance.

They answered questions, and several told their stories. One of them was moved to tears herself as she was telling her story. That said more than a thousand words could. The participants left with a deepened and opened heart.

We sold lots of prayer flags and courage cards to generate donations.

" I feel that I am not alone being here like this."

" I made a tree - now I forget all those bad memories of my past. I learned many things here, now I move forward".

These are just a few comments from the girls we have been working with the past 2 days. Many recently rescued from unimaginable scenarios, these girls revel in the creative world of art and movement, playful and happy, if only for a short time. They are strengthening their sisterhood ties and finding new ways of creating their new life.

Some unable to write, another beside them who can helps them as they struggle to write what cannot be spoken. Or struggle to speak, to find their voice. But their love of dance and music and song and play cannot be stifled. In the midst of their horror they are able to somehow retain their joy.

Several are barely able to speak, another can barely raise her eyes, several are in tears...and they all have touched us deeply.

This is one simple story, one of many, that tell of man's inhumanity to man. Or more accurately, man's inhumanity to woman.

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We arrived, here in Kathmandu, Nepal, for our second day, working with the 7 women from Harambee Arts - survivors and supporters of human trafficking, which has increased 50% since the earthquake.

One of the women is late, as she has been at the hospital with a young pregnant woman who has recently been returned from Dubai where she had been employed as a domestic worker, having been taken from Nepal and flown to the middle east.

"Been returned" means she has been rescued from her "employer" in Dubai who has impregnated her. She arrived back in Nepal, in the late stages of pregnancy with complications. Ultimately the baby died, the mothers life was saved and she is on her way to recovery. But her next journey is just beginning - that of healing not only her body, but her heart and her soul of this horrendous experience.

12 hours after my friends have posted about the full moon/blood moon/lunar eclipse we get to experience it here in Kathmandu,Nepal, though we are unable to view the lunar eclipse. We can, most definitely though, feel the intense energy of all that is happening.

And, of course, the place where it all plays out is right here at the Boudha Stupa. It changes from day to day, seemingly magically, though clearly, many are working through the night to make these reflected changes. This morning, the stupa was surrounded in a circle by numerous people in need, most disabled in some way. People missing limbs, those suffering all sorts of maladies, mental and physical, received alms, food, and other items which those circumnavigating the stupa brought for them. It clearly was a time to give to those in need.

Candles were everywhere, incense was burning in volumes, horns and other unknown instruments were playing, pilgrims were praying with their malas while walking around the stupa in a circle, monks were chanting, dogs were fighting to figure out who is lead dog...and the world goes on.

Yes, it is an auspicious time, and that is reflected in the complex realms of Tibetan Buddhism.

So my plan for a daily post was quickly dashed by the reality that the internet access at our guest house was not only inconsistent but nonexistent much of the time. The few hours in the morning and evening that it did grudgingly work, it was as slow as I felt in the intense heat and humidity. The posts that I thought did go through, never did. Therefore...begin...again...

Speaking of patience, have I mentioned the traffic? Even slower than the internet access. It can take 4 hours to cross the city, accord to the taxi driver. Breakdowns, accidents, general gridlock combined with fumes from ancient diesel engines, hoards of motorbikes, the heat, and lack of air-conditioning in taxis and our van make any trip in this town of Kathmandu trying at best. Just remember, drink water...lots of it. Then make sure you have TP in your pocket when you hit the loo.

Today we visited Raksha Nepal (www.rakshanepal.org). The founder, Menuka, is a powerhouse of energy, smarts, and pure joy. She has her own story to tell and being the youngest of 8 girls in a culture that holds women as second class citizens, she also holds empathy and compassion in great amounts. Her vision is an umbrella that holds as parts of what is needed to free women and children in Nepal from sexual exploitation.

Each story is different, and each has the common thread of disempowerment. Menuka's answer to this is: Create awareness, rehabilitate, reintegrate, lobby, rescue, provide economic support, counseling, health education, legal support, shelter, a home, and schooling. No small agenda here. But she does so with grace and a heck of a big smile. We met her group of 45 or so women, (twice the number we were expecting to be with) gathered in a social hall, dressed in their finest, wearing their own big and shy smiles. I could almost see their stories in their faces. The hall had been set up with banquet tables end to end so that made it difficult for us to work with them in smaller groups, which we much preferred. We did the best we could, bringing forth an array of art materials (lots of glitter, sparkles, paints, all shapes and sizes of creative possibilities). We ran the large sheets of paper down the center of the tables and we all went to work/play. With music blaring, we danced and played together, creating individual and collective heart love through art. Not all were engaged tho. Some were clearly listless, illiterate, and simply unable to comprehend what we were up to. With these women, smiles created a bridge. And dancing always saves the day. We moved the tables, turned up the music and let it rip.

Awakened this morning by the acrid smell of burning plastic burning my nostrils so intensely it woke me up. I realized I can use an eye mask to keep out the light, ear plugs to keep out the nighttime sounds of dog fights and snoring, but nothing to keep out smells. The layer of sweat on by body intimated the electricity had been off much of the nite, the fan sat silent. I lay still...and waited. I knew the birds would begin soon and I needed them at that moment. Faint light, stillness... I may as well rise up and head down to the stupa for my daily walk around it. Three times, just cause thats what feels right, thought if the momentum is there, I continue till I"m tired. Many people do 108, just the the number of beads in the mala they carry. That could take all nite, I have to be awake and fully present for our days work so its not on my agenda.

It is the beginning of a 45 day celebration evidenced by many layers of Tibetan prayer flags strung everywhere, candles lit at night, more-than-usual chanting and drums and gongs coming from the monastery, and the multitudes of people circumambulating the stupa, many in prostration. Every day there is something different in the stupa square. New people, (from their attire and thin physique, clearly from a village a ways away), the smell of a different incense in the 4" high incense burner, different lights, different flowers, different instruments. Its a complex mix of ingredients that make up this spiritual practice. And it changes constantly...

Today we went to visit Shakti Samuha's "safe house". After a week working deeply and intensely with the 7 women from this organization bring trained to bring Expressive Healing Arts to their community, it was stepping in a different world to be with a group of women with a more recent connection to their trauma, some having been recently rescued. They were very shy at first, not quite sure what to make of this very-different-looking group of women who had come from far away to be with them. But all it took was a few games, laughter, and of course, music and dance, to break the ice and cut us all loose. As a universal language, dance can't be beat, no pun intended. They turned up the music and took turns dancing in the middle of the circle. We did a few art games together, drawing together on one piece of paper, passing the paper back and forth and then art became our language. It was inspiring how much we were able to communicate without words. Time came for us to leave and it was difficult for some of them. So many of them had no one in their lives, other than their fellow sisters there at the safe house. I sensed all of our hearts opened wide. And we all became vulnerable.

Though human trafficking laws are in place here in Nepal, they are implemented poorly. Numerous NGOs operate though with little coordination. With approximately 7000 men, women,children being trafficked here annually, information gathering is necessary, particularly since this is being done across borders. Its complex and necessitates coordination between many different agencies.

The second challenge is the culture itself. If a young woman has been trafficked and is rescued, its highly unlikely she can return to her village. Stigma runs deep, and many families will not accept her back. Her community sees her at fault, and with no place to return to, she is left alone with no safety net. The rescue coordination, the "safe" houses/hostels, training, healing are all necessary to help these survivors to recreate their family/community and self esteem. The trauma they suffer is all- consuming - emotional, mental, physical.

We spent time with the young women at a "safe" house/hostel today. They were all in different stages of healing and timing after their return to their country/life after being rescued. They were normal young Nepali women - loved to do art, play games, sing and, most specially, dance. We did all of these with them, and they clung to our arms, grabbed our hands to dance, smiled big, were shy, and screamed and laughed, and for a few short hours, maybe were able to see beyond the mire of their lives. Many cried when the time came to part. Estranged from their family, shunned by their community, they are forced to recreate their own.

Shakti Samuha (shaktisamuha.orga), an NGO, supported by their own meager funds, offer these survivors shelter (for as long as necessary as each one needs a differing amount of time to rebuild her life), skills training (computer, sewing, weaving) and a support to rebuild and recreate their lives.

7 of the young women, who have been working for Shakti Samuha for the past 3 years have also been learning how to teach Expressive Healing Arts training during this this time also. And that is what our global group of 12 is doing here in Kathmandu. We have come to support, be guinea pigs for the girls training, and help strengthen their safety net with the Power of Women. And in this past two weeks we have become heart-sisters along the path to wholeness. I have learned so much from them.

What does it mean to feel safe? For many of us, we don't think about it until we've lost it. What I learned most from my work with these young women here in Nepal is that many women in this world do not feel safe in their daily lives, and worse yet, have never felt safe.

Our two groups (volunteers and Nepalese women) did a number of art games and exercises during the week structured to take us all deeper into and with ourselves as well as our relationship to our outside world. After each practice, we would share, in the large group of 25, or smaller groups. I think the greatest shock for me was the sharing on this topic. None of the young women who chose to share about the "safety" exercise felt safe in their world, and had never felt safe. They gave us pieces of their lives and their history, and through many tears, sobs, and much heartfelt stories, we followed each other through this very emotionally wrenching afternoon.

As women, none of us are truly safe until all of us feel safe in the world we live in. How can we each be proactive in creating and sustaining safety for ourselves, our families and our communities? What does "safety" mean to you?