Observations, a February compilation

(the following is another compilation, this time culled from journal entires made between 12-24 February 2010)


The Tibetan cook at Moonpeak Thali is catching large black flies from inside the restaurant and releasing them out from the balcony. Kindness to all beings… Lovely. True spirit of McleodGanj.
I am shocked when the Indian guy who minds the host/cashier/desk, with whom I have been chatting amiably my past few visits, speaks to Tashi in Tibetan…and I chime in with a Tibetan comment of my own.
What a masala! We are American, Hindi, Tibetan…all of us speaking in a strange mix of the three languages…
I am trying, perhaps a little too hard, to get down my thoughts on what it is like to be here. Why? I feel like there is some danger of losing it when I leave.
Maybe I really feel afraid I will lose myself (again) when I leave, afraid I will lose the beauty of what has awoken inside me.
I am not the same woman who came here in the end of November (not even three full months ago?)


Strange how easily and casually strangers from western countries become companions, here. Something to do with comfort zones, common language,  or safety in numbers, no doubt. 
Just when you think you are going to be alone, abandoned, someone unexpected “rescues” you! YAY and thankfulness for that.


This life is so strange. I have called so many places HOME and yet I have never been at home…not since I was about 12 years old. 
I have lost everything…but mostly I have lost myself. I have no idea who I am. I keep looking for me in weird places. I have looked in England, Scotland, Ireland, France…I have looked in India and in this Tibetan refugee community. I have found pieces of myself everywhere, but the whole is still missing…Who am I?
I am still lost and confused. 


It’s a very funny thing. I always talk about how much I am going to miss people, even places. But the truth is, what I really miss is myself.
I lost myself when I was so young.
I moved so often, surrounded by so many new people and experiences, that I never really developed an identity.
I think I am a poet, a writer, a gardener, a cat lover who loves to color. I think I am a home maker who enjoys cooking and decorating and doing the laundry.
But I live so far away from myself…running here, running there, like the world might end, like there is never enough time. I always “have to” see another set of ruins or learn another language before it is too late.
I will run around in circles until I come back to my center and can breathe, again.


I am simply lost and lonely and searching for grace. I long for a second chance at innocence. I want forgiveness and salvation and I want to be chosen and I want to GET IN.
I am always afraid of god, always afraid of going to hell. Christian hell, Buddhist hell. All hell‘s terrify me. Deep inside, I feel like an eternal sinner. I have done things which I must account for. I have been accounting for them for years. Perhaps I will be accounting for them forever.
“I believe in you“, all my friends have told me this week, as I express a multitude of fears. Why do they have such faith in me when I cannot?


Things are changing. And change is good. But change is also frightening because I do not know what lies on the other side. I know McleodGanj. I know my way around, I know all the places I want to go, I know so many people here, I know what to say in Tibetan and Hindi in enough situations that I do not feel like a foreigner. 
But I do not know what will happen next. I do not know who (myself included) will say or do what between now and Monday evening. So I cling to routines…to familiar places. I walk slowly through the shortcut listening to the morning sounds from the monastery, watching young monks play karom~pa. I ignore Indian beggars and slap donkeys and cows on the rear to get them out of my path. 


The world is full of joy and secrets this first week of spring. Perhaps the fact that it is spring is making it all the harder to leave. Mostly what I’m working on is getting through the day. Hour by hour, I get through each day, and each day slides away, bringing me closer and closer to Friday Pizza Night, to my Saturday farewell party, to my wait at the bus station on Monday evening…


Something incredible is building up inside me. I am afraid I may have to climb to Triund and HOWL down the mountainside all night to release it.
Maybe it is the old parts of me dying that are making these sounds.


His Holiness returns from America today and there are special ceremonies continuing at the Main Temple, across the street from the cafe where I post these entries.
I wish the young staff at One Two would turn OFF the obnoxious modern dance music they are playing this morning and let the sound of the monks' chanting resonate through the morning air...

January-February Compilation

(compiled from journal notes taken over the past month. Apologies in advance for any repetitions and disjointedness… )

Especially as my last week in McleodGanj (for this visit) begins, I often stand and stare out over the valley and mountains beyond and fall into a reverie…

I do not ever want to forget this time, these views, these feelings. No matter how much I look at the scenery, it seems almost mystical. I am not sure it would be engraved on my memory if I never came here again and somehow lost my photos…
What will I remember? The terraced hillsides, multi-colored buildings climbing haphazardly up steep slopes, the greens and yellows of unknown plants blooming the last 10 days of January, the way Triund and the peaks seemed to vanish and reappear from clouds, the brown rocky gashes where heavy rains carved down the slopes, dirt trails winding along the mountains’ contours…Indian villagers in multi-colored garments carrying baskets of stone or guiding their herds of goats and cattle…and most of all I will cling to the memory of Tibetan Buddhist monks with blood red robes wrapped and draped or flapping in the wind as they walk…
Why do those robes make me feel this way? I have a strong sense of sorrow and loss…Was I a monk or nun in some past life? Is that why I long to be around those shining round faces, why I feel so connected to their vibe? Did we walk arm in arm or lean on one another in some past life as we debated philosophy? Is that why I get such an intense feeling of longing and fascination when Geshe-la makes his debate gestures? Is that why I feel like I recognize Sakaya? Is that why I feel so incredibly sad when I think about leaving them? Is that why the chants mesmerize me?

I go through dramatic emotional shifts. I feel like I cannot stay here then like  I cannot go back to America. I feel like I will never feel “right”…I have glimpsed what I have been missing since childhood, and I cannot bear to give it up again, and I cannot bear to be here as a foreigner always on the outside looking in. I want what they’ve got, emotionally speaking…They all look so carefree. They all seem happy in spite of everything.
I have many “things” and nothing to which I am spiritually connected or accepted by.
I feel like I cannot do this another minute and yet I feel like I cannot leave.

And yet I WILL leave, in only 9 days. On the 10th day I will arrive back in Mumbai to a totally different world. I hope Titu understands and allows me a full day to get my head around being there…Or would it perhaps be better for me to leap fully back into life, there? To take the taxi to Colaba and shop and not be afraid of India like I was when I first got here…

I feel like even with all I have said in these pages, that there is SO much I have left unsaid. I feel like I have forgotten to write about many amazing moments, both deep and humorous.
One day there will be a book, if I can ever figure out how to put it together.
How to reconcile the hilarity and absurdity and amazing spirituality of all of this…

I cannot bear the thought of leaving these people. How can I explain to them that my life has been so lonely, that it has been years since I felt this close to anyone? How can I tell them that I will miss their companionship and openness and joking every single day? That my heart will feel so empty being so far away from them?
I love them all. I love every single one of them in some very deep powerful way. I love them selfishly AND unselfishly. I love them and I set them free. Letting them go their own way, not pursuing them…THAT is when they most want to be around me.
So…off with you, then, go do whatever it is you do when you are not “studying”. Your appeal does not lessen, it actually increases.  You are like exotic wild animals…beautiful and mysterious and always a little out of reach. And like wild animals, they are fun to watch, but you cannot keep them in cages, you cannot tame them.
Sometimes I am afraid of people because I am afraid of myself…I am afraid I am a freak. I am afraid they will see something in me that is unforgivable.

I want to transform this experience into BEAUTIFUL writing.
I want to write poetry and literature and somehow capture the essence of what it means to be here, changing my life, living loving and learning NOW…

How I will never forget:
Walking in the rain in the Himalayan foothills without an umbrella…being connected to all these other souls even though we do not speak the same language…
Learning to love without expectations…Learning how to let go…learning and forgetting and relearning…Learning forgiveness…and re-learning innocence… Trying to breathe and say IT JUST IS, IT IS WHAT IT IS, and everything is as it should be.
I mean, I am pretty blessed, right? I need to stop wanting MORE and enjoy what I HAVE…Sometimes it all seems so simple.

**India is quite possibly the strangest place on the planet.
10pm? Steam shovel? No problem.
Midnite? Welding? No problem.
5am? rooftop Bollywood party? Sure!
Unless, of course, it is something which actually NEEDS done, in which case…good luck.
“SYSTEMATIC CHAOS” Titu calls it when I tell him the above…
I have resorted to shaking my head. There is no point in resistance.
It really is just what it is.
I no longer hate it. I do not love it…but I accept it. I have made some kind of peace with it.
In some strange way, McleodGanj is really starting to feel like home.
I have friends here. I have PLACES. I am accepted…or at least tolerated.
I have come to belong.

Even though I know I will be back, leaving is going to rip me apart.

Himalyan Home...

McLeodGanj is now "home"...as much as I have felt at home anywhere in the

past few years.

Shopkeepers great me pleasantly when I walk by in the morning. There is

no more pressure to buy souvenirs or "just look" at their merchandise.

I am learning how to be a local. Learning where the best prices on fruit,

snacks, and clothing are. Learning how to speak basic Tibetan (there are as

many if not more Tibetans than Indians here, thankfully, as this IS the home

of the Dalai Lama and the exiled Tibetan government and many refugees.

I am volunteering as a conversational English teacher every weekday with

the Tibetan community at L.I.T. (Learning and Ideas for Tibet)...follow the

link to find out more!

Help stop the human rights abuses the Chinese are inflicting on Tibetans!

There is a real community here, both of locals and westerners like myself who

are getting involved with the Tibetan cause.

Actually, I have been selected to choose the topic for Monday's

conversation class, and I am having a bit of a dilemma, but have a few ideas

which I'll run by some other volunteer coordinators.

In other news, I trekked to Triund 2 days ago with a nice girl from Finland

who I met at L.I.T. We started at 7:20am but had a few stops for tea/snacks en

route. The distance is roughly 5 miles one way, starting from 6831 feet

climbing (steeply at times) to 9514 feet.

We reached the summit at about noon, rested and took photos for over an hour,

and started down at about 1:30pm

We made great time coming down until we encountered a fellow trekker who

pointed back the way he had come and told us it was a "shortcut" to

Dharamkot. By this time we were all for shortcuts, so we decided to go for

it.

The slate ledges were steep and loose in many places, and often the trail led

in several directions, so we were never certain we were going the right way.

I was in tremendous pain and on the verge of a panic attack when we

encountered some Tibetan Buddhist monks sitting in front of simple stone

cottages. We asked "Dharamkot?" and they pointed, and a little white dog

sitting with them suddenly bounded off in front of us. Every time we'd lag behind,

the dog would stop and wait. I am pretty sure he thought we were taking him to

town for biscuits, and thereby showed us the way!

We should have been to the village by 3:30pm but the short cut added at least

an hour and a half, so it was nearly 5, the shadows long and leading into dusk,

by the time we came back to McLeodGanj!

I had my first Tibetan language class yesterday afternoon, and today boldly

introduced myself to the assembled group of Tibetan students in their

language, partially to help the girls in my group who had never spoken

English publicly before feel less awkward! If I could say some phrases in

Tibetan...anything was possible!

After class today, I hung out with two other western volunteer

coordinators and a group of Tibetans at the tea shop connected to the

ex-political prisoners association. Somehow the topic turned to relationships,

and everyone wanted to know if we wanted Tibetan boyfriends.

We all agreed that Tibetan boys are very cute, but one of the other girls

boldly said, "Yes, but I have heard Tibetans are very bad lovers!" so I

said, "Well then we just have to teach them!" Everyone loves to joke and

laugh. And now I have three Tibetans playing match-maker for me!

So cute

Well, life is good, and I can't wait to see how things develop.

Stay tuned!

McLeodGanj...Peace in the Himalayas

After a nightmarish 18 hour journey from Jaipur to Dharamsala via

Delhi, including an over-sized drunk male seatmate who passed out

on me for a few hours overnite after Chandigarh, I arrived, tired but

in decent spirits, to lower Dharamsala at 8am.

A brother and sister couple, Mumbai born but he residing in Texas

with a very US accent, helped me get on a local bus to McLeodGanj

(upper D'shala).

After another brief unpleasant encounter with a cheating guesthouse

proprietor, I got a fellow named Sergei from St Petersburg Russia to

help me carry my bags back up a steep stair to the main street and

found myself a new home at Mount View Guesthouse on Jogibara Road.

I rested about an hour, took a hot shower, and set out to explore my

new environment.

McLeodGanj (pronounced Mik-Klee-owed-Ganj), is best known as the

home of HH the 14th Dalai Lama, affectionately known locally as Kundun

(literally, "presence"...and you can truly feel his presence here), and the

seat of the exiled Tibetan government.

The place is full of red robed Buddhist monks and nuns, often, incongruously,

talking on mobile phones.

People here actually SMILE, and most of the local shops were very low

pressure, totally unlike those I visited in Rajasthan.

I encountered a few beggars, but even they were not over-bearing like the

ones in Rajasthan (who would crawl and claw at car windows at stop lights).

From my hotel room, I can see Triund Peak in the Dhauludar Range of the

Himalayas, plus three other snow capped peaks. It is technically the foothills,

but totally impressive, nonetheless, and I still cannot believe I am here.

The chest cough and sinus infection which plagued me the past month is

almost totally gone, though in the morning I still have a cough until after

my hot shower.

Since arriving, I have started smiling again, sometimes maybe too much.

I like to start the day by turning the prayer wheels at the stupa in the middle

of town, after having tea on the rooftop terrace at my guesthouse.

I have begun reading a daily inspirational guide by the Dalai Lama, as well as

his short introduction to Buddhism text, purchased at the Tibet Museum

bookshop.

I have visited the main temple once, but it is confusing as I know nothing

about the dieties depicted there or the appropriate protocol.

There is amazing shopping here for traditional prayer box pendants (ghau),

prayer wheels, clothing at very reasonable costs, and so much more.

Feeling bolder by the minute, I had my hair cut by a local barber. He did a

great job for only 50 INR about $1 USD), but I had to repeatedly refuse his

offers of a head and shoulder massage!

In the evening, I met a guy who has been voluntering at L.I.T,

Learning and Ideas for Tibet, and he took me to their offices, where I met

Lauren and Mary, western volunteer coordinators.

After a short discussion, Lauren recruited me to come to the weekly Tuesday

Tibetans Talk, where refugees and former political prisoners tell their stories

with an international audience, to take notes and begin writing articles for the

organization's website.

I am also considering an introductory Tibetan language class and also basic

Tibetan cooking (momos!)

fyi Tibetan food is really yummy!

This MAY be my life purpose!

woo HOO

This morning, tired of being stared at and perceived as a young blond, I dyed

my hair back to its natural dark brown color.

I will now let the grey grow out naturally and stop denying my age.

I think this will also gain me greater respect here. Older women are treated

with much more respect than solo young western ladies.

I am now at my new favorite hangout, MoonPeak cafe, a WiFi cafe on Temple

Road, and have finished my pot of lemongrass herbal tea.

Dharamsala is feeling like home. I have random repeated thoughts of

staying on indefinitely, returning annually.

I will be here until at least the end of January, barring any more unforseen

negative experiences.

I will read and write here and walk in nature and do my best to make some small

difference in my own life and that of others (as HH the Dalai Lama advises).