Moving Ahead with India Plans

My visa was approved and I am moving ahead with plans for my return to India.
I plan to arrive in Mumbai on 14 October to visit my friend, recover from jet lag, and remind myself that, well, I'm truly back in India.
There are so many differences, both subtle and direct, and it will require shifting mental and emotional gears.
It doesn't happen over night.

I plan to spend about a week there before flying to Delhi. Last visit I did not spend any time in the city. This go round I'm thinking I'll spend a few days in Majnu ka Tila, the Delhi Tibetan colony. Something different. A more in depth view of exile life in India. Hoping it will lead to new contacts, new knowledge, eventually new material.

I aim to catch the bus from MT up to McleodGanj  at the start of the following week.

In all honesty, I can no longer remember what it was like, there. The feeling has left me. I am both eager and excited, but I am also nervous. I cannot really pick up where I left off. I will have different priorities, this trip. When I arrived last autumn, I was not looking for the specific things I am this trip.
This time, my goal is to find a Tibetan language tutor, and also someone who can guide me on the Buddhist path. Yes, I will still teach English conversation, but not at the same place...maybe only as a private tutor.

Mainly, I am looking for more details on the situation of Tibet in exile. I want to get a better feel for the views of the community regarding the future.

And, of course, I am hoping to further explore the interpersonal relationships which developed and meant so much to me.

One way or another, this trip will determine the course of the rest of my life.

After India, next spring I intend to spend 2-3 months in Nepal. Beyond that, nothing "concrete"...I would love to spend some time in Ladakh, maybe more time in MT, maybe back to Mclo...maybe something as yet unforeseen.

Over the coming week I'll be putting more effort into organizing what still remains to be done on the Everyday Exile project, which is still very much in planning stage.


To be honest, with less than 5 weeks til planned departure, I realize slowly slowly how much remains to be done. I've been in a holding pattern regarding planning, organizing, pre-trip shopping, and of course packing.
I really need to sit and breathe and figure out exactly what still needs to be done.
And then start doing.

I Am SO Blessed

I am shouting a big THANK YOU to the universe because I know that I am so truly deeply blessed. 
First, because I got to HAVE the experience I just had in India working with Tibetan refugees. 
Second, because it has inspired me and motivated me to work on creative pursuits like nothing I can remember in my life.
And, third, last but not least, because the experience, and talking about it, and knowing I need to get back to do it again, has connected me with the most amazing, kind, generous people all around the world who are concerned about the issue of Tibet and Tibetans and are helping me in so many ways as I endeavor to raise funds to return to McleodGanj no later than October of this year (hopefully sooner).
So, thank you universe, and thank you beautiful souls!


With the help of angel Deb Lauman (aka ramkitten), whom I have known on twitter, Squidoo, and in person (not all at the same time!), I discovered a website called Kickstarter which helps people fund projects of all kinds. (Deb is currently funding a project which takes her to Nepal to work with Search & Rescue Dogs in the Himalayas.)
I quickly joined the site and created my project, titled "Teaching English, Learning Life with Tibetan Refugees".
In less than 24 hrs I have received $135 in pledges towards my $4000 goal! YES!
However, the "catch" with Kickstarter is that you have to reach your total goal in order to receive ANY of the pledge money...which means I have 81 days remaining to raise the rest.
That means I need to raise, on average, $50/day until the project deadline (mid-June).


This morning I have been deeply honored to be featured by fellow artist, Zazzler, and online friend Cherie, which has featured my project on her blog, Cheries Arts & Crafts. She is a wonderfully talented artist herself, and has been more than kind and supportive of me in this (as well as other) endeavors.


Life is good, and I am glad to be in it. And THAT is amazing in itself.

The End...is Just the Beginning

Thirteen hours from now the 777 will depart from Mumbai and I will look down and watch India vanish as thought it had never been real.
Of course I am filled with strange mixed emotions. Mostly right now I am relieved. The past week in Mumbai has not been difficult. I am looking forward to trivial but comforting familiar things from my US home...a long bath, a nice steak, a stable fast internet connection so I can really do some work...the love of a few great cats...phone calls to my mom and long hours ensconced in bookstore cafes!

Sometimes it feels like none of the past 5 months ever happened.
But I know they did...and not because I have photos or journals or souvenirs.

I know they happened because my soul was touched, my life was changed. I know it was real because I am not the same woman who arrived here at the end of October 2009.
I know because I am connected by invisible threads to so many other beautiful souls whose lights illuminate my darkness and shine out into the world. We will be forever connected, no matter where on the planet we may be.
Some may stay in touch through facebook or emails while others seem quietly hidden...but they will still be there, whether they write or call or not...and I will hold them inside my heart until we meet again, if that is indeed our karma.

My work is just beginning as I look for new and more ways to publicize and support the situation of Tibet and the Tibetan exiles whose lives touched mine. I am creating products for my online shops, the earnings from all of which are now ear-marked for my return trip. I will research fund-raising and holding talks and events to educate others...I am hoping to work with at least one teacher to help educate her 6th grade class.
I am also reaching out to local print & tv media in the areas where I'll be living in the hopes that I can get them interested in covering some aspect of the situation, even if not by directly interviewing me re: my experience as a volunteer.
There are many options and opportunities and I now know the universe is going to connect me to the people and events which I need, when the time is right.

I am thankful for all of this. For the pain, the confusion, the failures and the triumphs. Every new thing, every new lesson...All the difficulties of life in north India (squat toilets, "no lights" power outages, no heat, etc).
I would not trade the past 5 months for anything.

And I know in my bones that I will be back. This IS my life, McleodGanj IS my home, this is my passion and my calling.
Thank you to everyone who has supported me by reading this blog, by messaging me on my social networks, to all who comforted me in times of confusion and doubt.
Thank you to everyone who has purchased (or will purchase) products from my shops or will make a donation to support my return to continue my volunteer work.
You are precious.

And so while today marks the end of this trip to India, it is only the beginning.
The sacred sojourn which named this blog is by no means complete.
I will continue to post when related soul journey insights occur, and of course whenever there is news concerning my return to my heart's home.

Mumbai...Integrating the Experince

I arrived back in Mumbai on the night of 2 March. Arriving at the airport, a phone call from my friend notified me he was not coming to the airport to meet me as expected.
I was disappointed, but not bent out of shape or terrified as I would have been had this happened 4 months ago.
So I collected my bags and decided to check out a pre-paid taxi.
300 rupees later, I clutched my receipt and navigated the queue out front without a lot of difficulty. It took what felt like forever to get out of the airport car park but at last we were whipping through the Mumbai night.

What struck me most as we rolled at a decent speed through the city was that...it did not seem as strange or crazy or frightening as it all had when I landed at the airport the first time, arriving from the USA in late October 2009.
In fact, it seemed pretty average. I can't believe I just wrote that!
I kept track of location by reading bank branch signs... Had my friend called to ask, I wanted to say, in my twisted humor, "I'm at the corner of Amitab Baichan and Shah Rukh Khan" (two Bollywood megastars whose faces are EVERYWHERE on billboards as well as tv and film). HAHAHA
Shops and temples sailed by...
Then I saw the Breach Candy bank branch and knew we were getting close. As we veered off to the right, I suddenly actually recognized the neighborhood.
I was able to give the taxi driver exact directions from there...although it was more gesturing as my Hindi and his English were pretty much equal at...virtually none.

India India India.

Hard to explain the mindset I've been in ever since getting back. The apartment here is posh, in India terms. I took the longest hot shower I'd had since I could remember. I slept with a sheet under a ceiling fan instead of two blankets and a space heater. I ate Domino's pizza and drank white wine and laughed over how much I've changed.
I do not feel threatened by the curious stares, anymore. In fact, there don't even seem to BE any curious stares. Maybe I have just learned to look past them?
Today we went to the grocery...the same grocery which seemed dangerous and complicated during my first week here. It was...routine. Absolutely normal.
I have said it before and I will say it again.
My life will never be the same.

I have cried, but not a lot. Mainly when I get an email or a facebook chat or a phone call from someone in Mcleod. I miss them more than anything but I am somehow applying the lessons of acceptance and letting go that I learned there.
Life is good. Everything is as it should be.

I am focusing on life NOW. On working on projects both online and off which will help get me back to my heart's home in the Himalayas quickly.
My goal is to be back and teaching English conversation to the Tibetan refugees again before October...hopefully by late August.

Please check out the links below to see what I am working on:
Tibet in Exile
Tibetan Buddhist Prayer Wheels
and
Support for Tibet

As all my work in McleodGanj is self-funded and completely voluntary, I appreciate anyone who would like to make a donation to contact me for my PayPal information!

State of Shock

Quite frankly, I have gone numb.
I am sitting in the Delhi Airport waiting for a flight back to Mumbai which is still nearly 6 hours from boarding.
I am exhausted.
The bus ride down from McleodGanj was not horrible, but I cannot say it was "comfortable", and I may have had 4 hours of intermittent light sleep (dozing is more accurate) while sitting partially erect, head occasionally flopping off to the left.


I do have to say, the full moon over the Himalayan foothills and the soft pink glow of the peaks made my heart swell. 
And the line of lights that is McleodGanj, strung out along the hillside as we descended towards Lower Dharamsala...even remembering it now brings on a feeling I cannot describe (and you know how I love to describe).


So the full moon sailed over India and the bus chanted mantras all the way to Chandigarh...gears exactly the same timbre as the low monks' chanting emanating from temples and monasteries... 


Two Bollywood films played at the beginning of the journey, and then we stopped for dinner. I ordered one naan...one stinkin NAAN (a simple tortilla like bread)...and of about 40 people present, I was served dead last, and almost missed my bus! 
I think this was the universe reminding me of the lessons I learned (started to learn, apparently) in McleodGanj.
Either that, or it was "farewell Dhasa (Little Tibet)" and welcome back to India.
Back on the road, "Law Abiding Citizen" was popped in the DVD and played til after midnight.


There were then a few hours of quiet. On the plains, moonlight pierced a thin veil of smog, silhouetting tall leafless trees rising against a flat blue backdrop.


We stopped at a seedy Indian bus stand where the toilet watchman wasn't letting me get away with not paying the 2 rupee fee (I don't even think there is a US equivilent for 2 rupees, it's so low)...so I had to run back to the bus across the dirt through a crowd of leering Indian men...joy. Well, perhaps an American woman wearing a salwar, a khata, and Tibetan Buddhist prayer beads running with toilet roll in her hand was simply too much for them to comprehend!


At 4am, like clockwork, the bus drivers decided it was morning and Hindi music pervaded the coach, along with groaning from numerous seats.
My seat-mate, 70 year old Australian adventurer Pammy, disembarked along with most of the Tibetan passengers at Manju ka Tilla (the Tibetan colony in Delhi). I stayed on with maybe 5 other passengers bound for ISBT.


ISBT...the thought of it made me shudder. My only other experience with it was arriving from Jaipur after dark way back in late November. I remembered a huge, bustling, crowded, incomprehensible terminal with no signs in English and no English speaking help.
This stop? We were unceremoniously put out on the side of the road amidst a swirl of auto-rickshaws, drivers virtually grabbing luggage from travelers, shouting "Rikshaw? Auto rikshaw? Hotel? Airport?" My attempts at speaking full English sentences with them failed...again. "Airport? Domestic? Ek sau pachas?!  (150)" 
Oh hahahaha madam.
Ok fine I'll pay you the freaking 300 rupees just get me out of here! Two young local girls piled in with me and my bags and we careened off into the Delhi sunrise.


I could not see much out the "window", especially covered as it was by a whipping tarp which reeked of urine. I remember seeing the Air Force base and, as we neared the airport, a huge expanse of what looked like really nice apartments...until I realized that the entire expanse was abandoned. Pink and golden light filtered over the scene, softly high-lighting empty windows and what were once streets now filling in with weeds and dust. A bit surreal. 


So now I sit in the waiting area of terminal 1D, having stuffed myself on KFC (yes, that's right, KFC) and black currant ice cream, having bought an Elle Decor India magazine which I'm saving for the flight...people watching, uploading pics, killing time...


And mostly fighting off feeling. I cannot allow myself to really think about the past 48 hours, yet. About all the beautiful, kind, loving souls who came with me to the bus station to send me off, even ones who were going through emotional trauma much greater than my own...
I am incredibly blessed.


I am loved. I belong. I have a home in the Himalayas, and people eagerly awaiting my return.


THAT is what I came to find, halfway around the world from where I started. I never dreamed I would find it in INDIA, in a Himalayan hillside community where many of the people can only speak to one another with their EYES for lack of words in one another's languages...and where EYES speak far louder and more clearly than words...

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.

Said, Unsaid, Unsayable...

I must apologize that I have not been diligent in keeping up this blog. Sometimes the day to day motions of living distract me from what I am really trying to and want to say about my experience, here. Or perhaps writing it all in my journals has kept me from saying it here...

It is hard to get my mind around all that is happening here...all that is said, all that goes unsaid, all that is unsayable...and even more difficult to explain to anyone who is not here with me.

How can I describe what it is like, to be teaching English to Tibetan refugees and monks? That you have to learn to think in entirely new ways because words fail, and because sometimes concepts do not even exist in one another's cultures? I learn as much, and probably more, from them every single day.
Sometimes the most ridiculous things get said. I am collecting quotes...priceless unexpected deep and often plain silly interactions. It's like watching a group of pre-schoolers who have found a new toy or learned a new way of expressing themselves.
Sometimes hilarious misunderstandings result. It is hard to explain "slang" or "figure of speech". But we have all agreed to make silly mistakes together (and trust me, my mistakes re: speaking Tibetan and doing culturally acceptable behavior are much more embarassing than theirs!). When we say something wrong, we gently correct one another. And so we learn, and so we grow.

There is so much I want to say TO them...how their joy and courage and determination continually astound me. But because of lack of words in Tibetan, it goes unsaid.
Some things go unsaid because I am afraid...afraid to alienate the people who have come to mean the most to me.

There is much that is unsayable...whether because there are no equivilent words/concepts or because it would not be appropriate, given that I am a foreigner.

When I question my purpose here, I have to remind myself of my student who says that without me, he would not have words to express what he has wanted to say to western travelers for 15 years.
"I have only one wing", he says, and flaps his arm awkwardly. "But when my English becomes good I will have two wings, and then I will fly!" (I know he is paraphrasing something the Dalai Lama says but it is so touching, so clearly on his mind).
It is amazing to me, because I am not an English teacher. I do not even remember the correct names for all the parts of grammar, for heavens sake!
But every day, I show up, even when I feel like I just cannot do this anymore.
I show up because I love them, in the most simple meaning of the words. I want to hug them the same way I hugged my pre-schoolers when I was a teacher's aide.

I learn every day from their amazing insights, am constantly amazed by their playfulness and joy. I feel a glow when I am in their presence...something that I lost from my western life when I was about 12 years old...

Some days I feel isolated, left out. I am still a foreigner, after all. I still cannot hope to comprehend their ways of interacting and expressing themselves in their own language and culture, what is ok and what is not.
I often miss the modern amenities of life in America, but I know that when I leave here I will cry for the loss of
the beautiful connectedness I have found with these radiant beings.

The Only Constant is Change

I am not a Buddhist. I only know the most basic teachings of Buddhist philosophy. I live in a community which is predominantly Tibetan Buddhist, here in north India, headed, as per the previous post, by His Holiness the Dalai Lama.
Sometimes I see Buddhist philosophy working in miraculous ways, here. More often than not, I am surprised by all the ways even the monks/nuns seem NOT to adhere to Buddhist teachings and yet...overall, probably the only reason this community hasn't crumbled is because of Buddhism.


I don't know. I feel like musing, this afternoon.
The more I learn, the less I know.
All the complexities of human interaction are present, even when dealing with monks. Probably even more so because our vastly different cultures make MEANINGS unclear even when words and actions seem to indicate one thing...One thing, my acquaintance Caroline says, viewed by my American glasses.


She described it this way: 
Imagine 3 people seated around a table. One is American. Let's say the American wears blue glasses.
One is Swedish, the Swede is wearing red glasses. One is Tibetan. The Tibetan wears green glasses.
On the table is an apple. Each of the people is asked what they see on the table.
The American sees a blue apple, the Swede sees a red apple, the Tibetan sees a green apple.
It is only the same in its most basic form.
Now imagine applying this analogy to EMOTIONS and abstract concepts which do not even exist in one another's cultures!


You see my dilemma. OUR dilemma.
Girls are much more intimate with other girl friends, both emotionally and physically. The same with boys. Men walk around openly holding hands, rubbing each other's arms or legs, sitting side by side with arms around each other's shoulders. To the western eye it often looks like their is a lot of homosexual behavior...and yet, it is the exact opposite. They (mostly) shun homosexuality, but there are very few opposite sex friendly interactions.
Which makes having any kind of romantic (as a westerner would perceive romance) relationship with a member of the opposite sex equally complicated. 
Do not get me wrong. I am very fortunate to have a GOOD man as my partner. I care about him deeply and I know he cares about me.
The interior FEELINGS are the same. They are just perceived, interpreted and expressed in vastly different ways.
Even explaining the idea of interacting with your love partner as an intellectual and emotional equal (or even as an intellectual or emotional ENTITY) is proving extremely difficult. 
It seems like the only people who understand "romance" are Buddhist monks and nuns! They are just so fun to be around, so free, so expressive, across the board with all fellow humans.
And, of course, as monks, they can only "romance" by innocent "play" flirting. 
Maybe the burden is meant to be on me, for a change...in learning to let go of my preconceived notions of what a romantic relationship "should" be.
Is it possible that I've had the wrong idea about what "love" SHOULD mean all along?
And if so, how do I change and put the focus elsewhere?


There are days when I would love for a sudden bolt of lightning to make all of us understand one another. There are days when I feel there are glimmers of hope, when a teeny shift in the fabric of the universe makes it look like a break-through is about to happen.
There are days of utter confusion and frustration, too...when I wonder if true understanding is possible.


It's like beating on a door louder and louder, non-stop, not even knowing if there is anyone home, but having to be determined to continue even if no one ever answers!
Success can never happen without repeated attempts, and there are never any guarantees!


Every day, something changes. Sometimes it feels like progress, even if tiny progress. Sometimes it seems like we are sliding in the wrong direction.
As so often happens with me, the struggle is beginning to define my life.


The past week has delivered so many changes (hence the title of this post). 
My daily schedule changed first because my usual internet cafe closed for construction. Blissfully that resulted in me having a new favorite hangout. 
Then I changed my pattern of where I was going and who with because of communication issues, plus several of my "long" term acquaintances (fellow foreign volunteers working in McleodGanj) left town.
Now I am on the verge of taking on a new teaching project...a group of 4-5 close associates who want to practice English conversation. 


I should also focus on feeding my creative passions, as well. I need to do more daily photography uploads and work on my paintings.


Life is good. Don't get me wrong. 
I am blessed in so many ways, right now. The people I am surrounded by are touching my life in ways I never imagined possible. I love them ALL more than you'd think possible for someone you've only known a few weeks. I do not love all of them in EXACTLY the same ways...but I love them all with the same level of intensity, if that makes any kind of sense.
These are ultimately GOOD (kind, compassionate,open, friendly,funny,intelligent) HUMAN beings.


We are all doing the best we can. 


THAT is sacred. This is truly a sacred experience for me, although I cannot exactly say it is a "sojourn".

Most Sacred Experience of My Life to Date

Today was an incredible day for me. Before 8am I was seated on a thin green mat on the ground along with hundreds of other people, waiting for the main event, a Long Life Ceremony attended by HH the 14th Dalai Lama in honor of the 20th Year Anniversary of the Death of the Panchen Lama, a Tibetan hero rumored to have been murdered by the Chinese at the age of 50 in 1989.

The event had not been publicized, like so much here in McleodGanj, and news flowed through word-of-mouth between friends and associates. Rumors varied from 7am to 9am start and no one knew exactly what would happen or how long it would last.

At 7:45am I flowed down Temple Road towards HH Main Temple in a river of red-robed monks and nuns from various local monasteries. At the temple everyone was thoroughly searched. I was sesnt back outside to leave my forbidden camera in the care of a popular WiFi cafe then returned to be re-searched before going inside to find a seat as close as possible to the gold-cloth draped dias. Several other "inchi" people (foreigners/westerners) were seated in the same area and we all chatted pleasantly.

Upstairs near the main shrines, chanting resounded from speakers. A long line of well-wishers bearing orange and red cloth wrapped boxes draped with white khato scarves files slowly up the stairs. A Quebecois seated near me who is studying Buddhism said they were objects such as texts, mandalas, and other items to be blessed.

Styrofoam cups were passed to the crowd by young monks, then pocha (traditional Tibetan butter tea) was served. Giant vessels of steamed sweet rice were ladled out into bare hands, paper sheets, and any number of other containers the crowd could find. Of all the Tibetans I have met locally, I saw only a few familiar faces.

The chanting continued, mildly hypnotic, as the line continued slow progress up the stairs. Late comers continued to press into the temple. My friend Mary arrives and joins us, but no sign of Sonam or any of our usual monk compatriots.

By 9:10am I am feeling slightly restless, full of anticipation. The blessing line has slowed to a snail's pace and no one around me is sure what to expect or when it might happen.

Two gilded statues of Buddhas or avatars are rushed down the stairs. Suddenly things begin moving very quickly, in a see of rushing color. Much of the crowd has taken up the chanting.

And then the soft voice of His Holiness comes through the speakers...

It doesn't matter what he is saying, in my eyes. His infectious laughter punctuates the speech. The whole crowd is smiling, leaning forward to hear his words.

A song begins, and a woman begins to descend the temple stairs backwards, sweeping each one.

At this moment, it occurs to me I am about to be in the presence of quite possibly one of the greatest humans ever to walk the earth. A great human soul, a great spiritual leader, a leader of a people striving to regain hope and freedom. A truly amazing man.

Geshes distribute money to monks and nuns, and other monks toss fruits, breads, biscuits, cakes, and sweets, reportedly gifts from Tashi Lumpo (the Panchen Lama monastery). We are all laughing and passing around food to friends and strangers alike regardless of nationality, truly a "breaking bread" experience.

Khatas are being passed through the crowd and draped over railings. One passes through my hands, and I feel as though I am presenting this gift to HH personally. A group of monks scurries down the steps.

At times it seems like a lot of nothing is going on, although I know the continuing chants have deep meaning to those who understand them. Every now and then someone in the audience picks up the melody. The chants are deep, resonant, and really penetrate your body and soul.

Atop the temple, Snow Lion flags are stirring.

The chanting stops, and low cymbals fade til there is only the murmuring of the crowd.

Things are about to happen. Everyone is standing up, peering at the stairs, where a lot of lamas and government officials are coming down to the podium.

With a fan fare of horns, High Lamas wearing yellow head-dresses descend the steps holding a type of decorative sceptre.

Then, suddenly, a giant golden fabric unbrella with orange and turquoise trim appears.

His Holiness himself, wrapped in orange robes over his red monk garb.

He moves quickly, and appears surprisingly small, although he is not a short or physically small person at all. I think his humbleness is deceiving. I really expected him to look larger than life.

He DOES look serene, super kind, and like he is just one of the people...

He takes the Golden Dias and cleans his large round spectacles with the hem of his robe.

We listen to Tibetan speeches commemorating the Panchen Lama by high lamas, government officials and other prominent figures in the community as more pocha and sweet rice were served. It's hard to pay attention for very long when you don't understand the language.

Every few minutes I find my gaze returning to His Holiness.

It is a powerful moment for me when I realize that, entirely unpremeditadely, he and I are swaying in unison to some invisible inaudible stimulus.

At last, HH rises, gently tapping the microphone as if unsure of its effectiveness, although he has addressed modern audiences around the world for the past several decades.

His voice is quiet, hard to focus on, even, I expect, for the Tibetans in attendance.

A Quebec native studying Tibetan language is seated next to me and translates in short form the contents.

HH tells a story of searching for the Panchen Lama reincarnation, of time spent with him in person. He talks at length about the state of the Tibetan plight/cause, the fact that the world loves Tibetans for their realness, their lack of pretention, their honesty, and that they need to preserve these qualities. He tells the locals to remain strong and focused on the drive for freedom and human rights, and not to let their culture die.

Suddenly the golden gilded umbrella re-opens and His Holiness seemingly glides past the crowd, many (myself included) with hands folded in prayer. He views a photo and art exhibit about the Panchen Lama, and emerges again after about ten minutes.

A fan fare of horns sounds again. HH and the yellow head-dressed High Lamas hustle down the centre corridor through a crowd of surging fans, passing within maybe twenty feet of me, and I rush forward with the others trying to get a better glimpse.

And then, behind the audience, he disappears on the pathway leading down toward his residence, leaving a sea of humanity surging towards the exits.

It is impossible to stand still and absorb the atmosphere. People are pushing and hurrying all around me.

All I can do is talk to every other westerner I pass about the glory of the experience and hope I get the chance to see him in person again.

He is 75, after all, and although he appears strong and capable, many whisper that they fear he may not live much longer.

Long Life to Hh the Dalai Lama, and success for the Tibetan cause.

Open Letter to President Obama and Sec of State Clinton

I urge ALL U.S. citizens as well as citizens of other western countries

to copy and re-post this letter which I sent via email to the

White House as well as the U.S. State Department this morning.

In addition, I encourage you to add your signature as a form of

petition and send it on to your local, state and national governments,

as well as local and national news media outlets.

I request that when you do, you leave a comment here telling me

when and where you directed it!

Thank you.

Mr. President: As a US citizen I am deeply concerned over the American policy and actions

regarding the human rights crisis with the Chinese occupation of Tibet. I arrived in McleodGanj, India, home of the Dalai Lama and the exiled

Tibetan government, at the end of November 2009 planning to stay one

month. Within days I started volunteering with a non-profit that offers free

English conversation, grammar and computer classes to refugees. By the end of my first week, I knew I had found my calling. I am now

residing here until mid-March, with plans to return later in 2010 for

an even longer period. Every day my new Tibetan friends, whom I consider family, tell me

stories of their suffering in China. Some were denied religious freedom,

others imprisoned for speaking out against China. Some were beaten

daily, tortured brutally for as long as fifteen years at the hands of the Chinese. Every one of them, as well as myself, is deeply disappointed at the failure

of the United States, UN and other western nations to take a stronger

stand on their behalf. Mr. President, I urge you to meet ASAP with H.H. the Dalai Lama. I urge you

to come meet the Tibetan refugees in person, to listen to their stories and see

how they struggle daily to survive while they wait in the hopes that one day

they will be able to reclaim their homeland. Tibetan culture has so much to teach the western world. I can promise you,

once you spend time with these wonderful beings, your life will never be the

same. I am appalled that US policy regarding this situation is based solely on trade

numbers with China. China exploits Tibet in the most horrible ways. Many

so-called Chinese products are made by forced labor in Tibet by Tibetans. My Tibetan students have asked me to convey one more message to you,

one they agree on strongly. Mr. President, Tibet is NOT part of China. China seized control of Tibet in

1959 by FORCE. They, and I, are deeply hurt at your statement to the contrary. I beg you, please reconsider your stance on Tibet. If you consider it our

responsibility to be in Iraq, or Afghanistan, then how can you NOT

consider it our responsibility to support and offer aide to Tibet? Please, earn your Nobel Peace Prize. Work for peace and a free Tibet! Thank you for your time and consideration. Sincerely, Ms. Tammy Winand US Citizen on behalf of the Tibetan refugee community in McleodGanj, India and the thousands of oppressed Tibetans unable to escape the Chinese occupation

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).