(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.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
Geshe Lobsang Gyaltsen's Story
Geshe Lobsang Gyaltsen, a Doctor of Buddhist Philosophy, chose to become a monk at the age of 15, in 1987. He speaks to a group of international travelers at L.I.T., Learning and Ideas for Tibet, a non-profit organization which supports a Free Tibet, about events related to his arrest and torture at the hands of the Chinese.
He became a monk at the age of 15. Roughly two years later, he became involved in a campaign for human rights, free Tibet, and awareness of related issues.
In 1989, he says, the Chinese came to interrogate monks at his monastery on issues related to an uprising in Tibet. The monks and local villagers decided to protest on 24 August, 1989, stating that Tibet had been a free and independent nation throughout history until 1959.
Chinese police arrived quickly and told the protesters that if they capitulated and declared that Tibet was part of China, they would not be arrested. The protesters resisted. The next day villagers and monks decided to oppose the Chinese. Some 500 Chinese police were sent from Lhasa. Of these, roughly 300 were “special forces” who were authorized to shoot and kill without official direct permission or orders.
Geshe-la was one of four organizers and leaders of the protest who stood up and admitted their role. The police hand-cuffed him to another organizer, Dorje, and they both had their hands tied behind their backs. They were taken to a prison in Lhasa where they were kicked and beaten with gun butts. Then they were lined up against a wall and beaten with sticks and fists for about an hour, during which time they broke his nose. He says he remembers bleeding badly.
After the beating stopped, they were put in separate dark windowless rooms with no sheet to put on the floor or use as a cover. They had to use a corner of the room as their toilet. He was held at gunpoint and told if he renounced Tibet he wouldn’t be arrested. The Chinese beat him again and poured hot water over him for refusing to say that the Dalai Lama had organized the protests.
He reports being tortured daily for a month with various electric devices until he lost consciousness. Water would be thrown in his face to revive him each time, but still he refused to comply.
Each day, he said, prisoners were given only a small amt of tsampa and one cup of water. Some days they received no food or drink. They were forced to clean pig sties and never given clean clothing or allowed to bathe.
He spent 9 months in prison. When he was released, he was given a letter he was ordered not to open for delivery to the abbot of his monastery. The letter said he was to be expelled from the monastery. He went to live with his family, but was watched closely by the Chinese, his activities limited.
After 6 months he decided to escape. He requested to visit his brothers in another part of Tibet. Permission was granted, but instead of going to see them, he went by bus to Lhasa, then on to the Nepali border, where he paid a guide 700 yuan to lead him through the mountains. It took a week to reach the reception center in Nepal.
He stayed at the reception cnter for 2 months, where he was given good food and medical care. In 1990 he was sent first to Delhi, then to McleodGanj. After meeting HH the Dalai Lama, he received an opportunity to study Buddhist philosophy along with approximately 5000 other monks at a monastery near Bangalore. His studies continued for 18 years, until he achieved the degree of Geshe (Doctor).
In 2007 he returned to Dharamsala to study Sanskrit at HH the Karmapa’s monastery for one year. Now he teaches Buddhist philosophy at a monastery in McleodGanj, India. He is studying English at L.I.T. and has expressed an interest in teaching Buddhism to foreign visitors.
ADDITION: Geshe-la has since told me that, after his escape, his brother, who was also imprisoned with him resulting from the protest, was questioned harshly and repeatedly about Geshe-la's where-abouts but refused to answer. This resulted in his re-arrest. Not long after, the news came that his brother had died. Geshe-la feels that this was a direct result of torture at the hands of the Chinese.
ADDITION: Geshe-la has since told me that, after his escape, his brother, who was also imprisoned with him resulting from the protest, was questioned harshly and repeatedly about Geshe-la's where-abouts but refused to answer. This resulted in his re-arrest. Not long after, the news came that his brother had died. Geshe-la feels that this was a direct result of torture at the hands of the Chinese.
Monday, February 1, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
The Face of Holiness
Woke this morning at 6:50am and decided almost immediately, after last night's uncertainty, that it was important to attend the Long Life Ceremony for HH the 14th Dalai Lama.
By 7:10am I was en route to the main temple...the following is what I wrote by hand while sitting and watching. (I am going to type it as it appears in my notes, replete with expressive capitalizations)
Seated upstairs at the main temple, again not exactly sure what to expect. I'm enjoying watching an elderly Tibetan monk seated on the ground nearby trying to convey something to some westerners in animated gestures.
Sometimes language is unnecessary.
You don't look at clothing here, so much. You look at faces. At motions.
The constant chanting of mantras passes into my core. A strange soft warmth fills me.
For a moment, I understand EVERYTHING.
These people are not here for me to "love" in western terms. They are here for me to LOVE, purely, unconditionally.
They are my GURUS!
The energy is pure life force...although until today I just had no other way to interpret it except as "sexual". An invisible thread is pulling bodies to sway in unison.
I know HH is near when I see a monk pour his tea...I know it is his tea because the mug is set next to his "dias", I have seen this ritual before.
Then the horns, the cymbals...crowd rising to its feet, hands steepled.
HH arrives, passes into the temple sanctum, takes his seat as attendees bow.
Indian military with machine guns stroll the perimeter as the pocha and sweet rice servce begn.
I don't so much hear the chants anymore as feel them straight through my ribcage and lower abdomen.
HH is seated on a dias just out of my line of vision. Every now and then I catch a glimpse of his hands, the hat on his head as he leans forward, his red-robed knee.
Monk robes hold great appeal for me, aesthetically. Draped, sweeping, graceful, elegant...they lend an air of mystery; they are mystical...like the creatures under them are ethereal, something "more than". Transcendent.
After the prayer ceremony and offerings and blessings, the guards shift the crowd to make a path for HH and the other dignitaries. High Lamas with their conch shell horns herald the passage of HH.
To my shock and delight, HH stops about 3 feet in front of me to talk to some girls holding "Free Tibet" signs. He is so close I could literally touch his arm without stretching! I hear his natural, unaided voice ask them "What country?" and thank them for their support.
The Tibetan man beside me and I look at one another simultaneously, both absolutely beaming at our shared good fortune. A few feet further on he paused again to accept some Buddha and Hanuman statuettes being offered by a local inchi hippie guy. HH looks amused at the Hanuman, turning it over in his hands, even playing with its movable tail like a child delightedly examining a new toy.
Precious.
Priceless.
Totally unpretentious.
This IS where I need to be.
This is the answer to everything.
By 7:10am I was en route to the main temple...the following is what I wrote by hand while sitting and watching. (I am going to type it as it appears in my notes, replete with expressive capitalizations)
Seated upstairs at the main temple, again not exactly sure what to expect. I'm enjoying watching an elderly Tibetan monk seated on the ground nearby trying to convey something to some westerners in animated gestures.
Sometimes language is unnecessary.
You don't look at clothing here, so much. You look at faces. At motions.
The constant chanting of mantras passes into my core. A strange soft warmth fills me.
For a moment, I understand EVERYTHING.
These people are not here for me to "love" in western terms. They are here for me to LOVE, purely, unconditionally.
They are my GURUS!
The energy is pure life force...although until today I just had no other way to interpret it except as "sexual". An invisible thread is pulling bodies to sway in unison.
I know HH is near when I see a monk pour his tea...I know it is his tea because the mug is set next to his "dias", I have seen this ritual before.
Then the horns, the cymbals...crowd rising to its feet, hands steepled.
HH arrives, passes into the temple sanctum, takes his seat as attendees bow.
Indian military with machine guns stroll the perimeter as the pocha and sweet rice servce begn.
I don't so much hear the chants anymore as feel them straight through my ribcage and lower abdomen.
HH is seated on a dias just out of my line of vision. Every now and then I catch a glimpse of his hands, the hat on his head as he leans forward, his red-robed knee.
Monk robes hold great appeal for me, aesthetically. Draped, sweeping, graceful, elegant...they lend an air of mystery; they are mystical...like the creatures under them are ethereal, something "more than". Transcendent.
After the prayer ceremony and offerings and blessings, the guards shift the crowd to make a path for HH and the other dignitaries. High Lamas with their conch shell horns herald the passage of HH.
To my shock and delight, HH stops about 3 feet in front of me to talk to some girls holding "Free Tibet" signs. He is so close I could literally touch his arm without stretching! I hear his natural, unaided voice ask them "What country?" and thank them for their support.
The Tibetan man beside me and I look at one another simultaneously, both absolutely beaming at our shared good fortune. A few feet further on he paused again to accept some Buddha and Hanuman statuettes being offered by a local inchi hippie guy. HH looks amused at the Hanuman, turning it over in his hands, even playing with its movable tail like a child delightedly examining a new toy.
Precious.
Priceless.
Totally unpretentious.
This IS where I need to be.
This is the answer to everything.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Contemplating Goodness and Happiness
A dear friend of mine said something today that really made me think about what it means to be "good", to be compassionate, to be happy.
Words are concepts. Concepts are open to cultural and personal application, at least in terms of application.
One person may think they are being "good" while to an onlooker their behaviour may seem devious or inappropriate.
I want to, for the purposes of this post, define "good" as acting towards others with kind...or with zero intent to harm or control.
When a monk says to you, "I am a good boy"...and the look on his face reflects an openness and, for lack of a better term, naivety rarely seen in westerners except in early childhood...you really have to think about your own behaviour.
Silliness is one thing. But when ulterior motives and attempts to control begin to creep in...
I have said some things, lately, seeking to illicit a particular response. I thought it was all in good fun. Now I realize it may not have been perceived as intended, and may in fact have caused someone else emotional conflict.
This was not my INTENT....but does that make it okay?
Mainly, the question is, how can I do BETTER next time? Is it simply a question of stopping to think a moment longer before opening my mouth?
Which brings me to "happiness"...and what may seem like a conflicting perspective.
If life is all about happiness...whose happiness is the most important? And what KIND of happiness?
Are we talking about superficial "ok I'm gonna smile now no matter what" happiness or deep internally bursting at the seems with joy happiness?
If I do something that makes me happy in the short term but harms someone else in the process, intentionally or not, is that justifiable?
I had a day of true happiness yesterday. I do not know exactly how it developed, but I truly was RADIANT all day. I was so in love with everything about my life even the parts which haven't been working. I felt a deep gratitude for all the people around me and for all the lessons I'm learning and growth I am experiencing.
I felt prepared to ALLOW and ACCEPT everything and not attempt to control outcomes.
Perhaps that last bit is the most important thing I've said. Possibly ever.
Words are concepts. Concepts are open to cultural and personal application, at least in terms of application.
One person may think they are being "good" while to an onlooker their behaviour may seem devious or inappropriate.
I want to, for the purposes of this post, define "good" as acting towards others with kind...or with zero intent to harm or control.
When a monk says to you, "I am a good boy"...and the look on his face reflects an openness and, for lack of a better term, naivety rarely seen in westerners except in early childhood...you really have to think about your own behaviour.
Silliness is one thing. But when ulterior motives and attempts to control begin to creep in...
I have said some things, lately, seeking to illicit a particular response. I thought it was all in good fun. Now I realize it may not have been perceived as intended, and may in fact have caused someone else emotional conflict.
This was not my INTENT....but does that make it okay?
Mainly, the question is, how can I do BETTER next time? Is it simply a question of stopping to think a moment longer before opening my mouth?
Which brings me to "happiness"...and what may seem like a conflicting perspective.
If life is all about happiness...whose happiness is the most important? And what KIND of happiness?
Are we talking about superficial "ok I'm gonna smile now no matter what" happiness or deep internally bursting at the seems with joy happiness?
If I do something that makes me happy in the short term but harms someone else in the process, intentionally or not, is that justifiable?
I had a day of true happiness yesterday. I do not know exactly how it developed, but I truly was RADIANT all day. I was so in love with everything about my life even the parts which haven't been working. I felt a deep gratitude for all the people around me and for all the lessons I'm learning and growth I am experiencing.
I felt prepared to ALLOW and ACCEPT everything and not attempt to control outcomes.
Perhaps that last bit is the most important thing I've said. Possibly ever.
To ALLOW and ACCEPT everything and not attempt to control outcomes.
If things aren't perfect, just let it be! Whatever it is, it is happening for a reason. I need to remember to look for the lesson inside the "pain".
Everything IS exactly as it should be, even if it is not as you WANT it to be.
I have struggled against that concept with all my might for as long as I can remember...
I know I will forget. I know I will flounder and fail and have to dig my way back out of emotional pits.
That's ok.
Ultimately this post may not have defined anything nor taught you anything you hadn't already thought for yourself.
It was a way for me to state something it has taken me a very long time to even begin to grasp.
For ME, important lessons lie in the above words.
Hopefully my experiences and failures and progresses can be useful to someone else reading this.
In closing, it is now late afternoon. The sun is sinking into thickening clouds over the Himalayan foothills.
This day did not evolve as I had hoped...and yet, I am content, because other unexpected blessings and lessons presented themselves.
And that is exactly the point.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
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".
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".
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
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.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Tibetans Talk: Political Prisoner Profile
I thought it would help you to hear some first hand stories of people in my life. People I work with (almost) daily. People who have changed my life forever. Beautiful people with amazing souls and inner strength that brought them through horrors most westerners can never even imagine.
I want to introduce you to some of the Tibetan exiles/refugees and former political prisoners in my life.
I will start with the first former prisoner I ever met...a man who now plays a special role in my life. I want to introduce you to Sonam Dorjee...middle, wearing glasses. Look at his smile. And then read his story.
Sonam Dorjee is a soft-spoken, studious looking man in his late thirties. He comes from a poor farming family in a Tibetan village. Speaking to our international group at a non-profit event at L.I.T. (Learning and Ideas for Tibet), he recalls how the Chinese arrived one day to mine natural resources from his region for shipment to China, and how their factories polluted the rivers so badly that wildlife and farm animals began to die.
In 1992, he says, the Chinese demanded the people of his village denounce the Dalai Lama and stop any talk of a free Tibet. Restrictions were placed on how many children Tibetan families could have (Tibetan families in the city are allowed one child, while in rural areas they are allowed two). He was asked to “round up” women with more children for forced sterilization. Some women were to be given forced abortions. This, he says, is one way the Chinese control the Tibetan ethno-religious population.
Sonam refused to comply. He took part in a meeting with other villagers, and eventually they made a mutual decision to protest. They sewed and planted a Tibetan flag on the steps of the main local temple and refused to denounce His Holiness. A crowd gathered below the steps to support them. After fifteen minutes, Chinese police arrested everyone on the steps.
The group was taken to a local police station where they were forced to kneel and beaten with sticks. Sonam was beaten until his nose, mouth, and even eyes bled. Afterwards, they were taken to a detention center near Lhasa where they were again beaten, and imprisoned without trial.
Sonam was taken to a room where he was forced to stand on a table. His thumbs were tied with ropes hanging from the ceiling, and the table was kicked out from under him, where he hung and was beaten til he lost consciousness. He reports that the beatings were so intense that the blows made his body feel like it was on fire, but that after a few minutes everything would go numb and he couldn’t see or feel.
His fellow prisoners were tortured with finger vises until they were out of their senses with pain. All of them were interrogated repeatedly for months. The Chinese wanted them to admit that the Dalai Lama and/or foreign nationals (specifically American or British) had organized the protest, but they refused to reveal who had organized the demonstration.
One of the most difficult parts of being in prison, he says, was being unable to sleep lying down because of numerous wounds on his body. Chinese doctors sometimes took blood from prisoners, which was reportedly sold for food or to bribe government officials for favors.
The Chinese told them they would be allowed to take their case to court, but they knew it was a lie. Sonam explains that no Chinese court judge can rule in favor of Tibetans, or he will be punished also. They decided simply to accept their sentence.
Sonam was sentenced to thirteen years. Others in his group who were more active in preparing the demonstration were sentenced to fifteen. After a few months, he was taken to Drapchi, the largest prison in Tibet, near Lhasa. There were separate sections for men and women. He estimates there were about 300 men and 270 women. All prisoners were given a thick rule manual which they were expected to memorize within three months. Those who could not were punished.
He was forced to labor taking human waste from the toilets to the greenhouse, where vegetables were grown. The Chinese did not permit prisoners to bathe or ever have clean clothing. He also had to raise vegetables, which were given to outside vendors for sale. He was supposed to earn 12,000 yuan monthly selling these vegetables, with sales being recorded on receipts from the vendors, but no matter what the actual sales were, the vendors always reported they fell short of their quota. For failing to make the required sales totals, workers were put in solitary confinement.
He describes solitary confinement as being too small to lie down or even stretch. While there, he was given only one glass of water and a tiny bit of bread each day. His feet were shackled with a ball and chain weighing 3kg.. After 10 days, he says, he went delirious with hunger and lost consciousness.
When he woke, he decided to attempt suicide to escape his torture. He says he ate pieces of metal and hit his head against the wall repeatedly, but did not die. Then, he says, he thought about how other political prisoners had survived torture for much longer, and he decided to survive the rest of his sentence. He was held in solitary for two months, even though Chinese law states the maximum solitary sentence is twenty days.
Other prison experiences he describes include being forced to stand outdoors in burning summer sun or freezing ice with no shoes for long hours and sleeping on bare ground with no covers. At the end of every year, each prisoner was forced to write a letter stating that what he had done against the Chinese government was wrong.
In 1998 the Chinese flag was put on the wall and prisoners forced to sing Chinese National Anthem. Seven Tibetans were killed for refusing, another committed suicide. Others protested, and their sentences were increased. A monk near him was shot, and he helped some other Tibetans use their clothes to tie his wound. Another prisoner organized a hunger strike, for which everyone was interrogated and tortured. Sonam says the interrogation room was ankle deep in blood by the time it was his turn to be questioned. After this, surveillance cameras and microphones were installed in the prison room, plus two additional guards who spoke both Tibetan and Chinese.
In spring 2005, all political prisoners were taken to a special new prison. There was one guard for each prisoner. These guards were supposed to get prisoners to confess and renounce Tibet. Guards who were successful received rewards.
In late June 2005, Sonam was released and taken to a local police station, where he was told to write a letter promising never to oppose or protest against China again, but he refused. He says his time in prison made him stronger and more determined for a free Tibet.
He returned to his village, but his home and family had moved. When he finally found them, they didn’t recognize each other at first. His sister, who was only 7 when he was arrested, was now a woman. He says he felt like it was not his home or his family, that everything had changed.
For awhile he was glad to be back and tend yak and cattle on the mountains. But after three months, he grew unhappy and decided to look for work. He had to apply for special permission from the local police to leave the village and go to Lhasa, where he found work in a shop for two months. Then, he says, Chinese officials forced the shopkeeper to fire him. Each time he found a new job, he was forced out by the Chinese, so he went back to his village.
He became ill but refused treatment for a long time. Finally he was allowed to go to a hospital in Lhasa, and it was then that he decided to escape to India. He didn’t tell his family, but sought help from a network of other former political prisoners. He traveled from Lhasa to the border of Nepal in a truck, where the border guard was paid 5500 yuan.
He had to cross a river in the dark, and fell down a cliff, hurting his head. He made it to a Nepali village, where he says everyone stared at him strangely. When he found a mirror, he realized his face was almost completely covered in blood. He was taken to a refugee center in Katmandu, where he was given food and medical help for eight days before being sent to Delhi, then on to Dharamsala.
He arrived in Dharamsala in 2007. Along with 150 other refugees, he got to meet and tell his story to His Holiness the Dalai Lama, who told him he should let the western world know exactly what the Chinese had done to him and why. He stayed at the refugee center for one year, where he was interviewed by many international news agencies. Later he went to a Tibetan school, then joined Gu Chu Sum Tibetan Political Prisoner Organization. With other members, he helped create a non-profit school, L.I.T. (Learning and Ideas for Tibet) where Tibetans can study English and other subjects for free.
Sonam continues trying to create a new life and now teaches Tibetan language to people from other cultures on request. He tells his story to international guests every few weeks through a translator. He is also active in cooking for L.I.T. events.
When questioned by the international audience, Sonam softly says that although the best years of his life were spent in prison, he feels it was more than worth it, and that now all he wants is to inform the world about what is really going on.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
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.
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
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Living on Caffeine and Hope
Over the past 4-5 days, life has become very "strange"...as in, it has taken a major departure from the norm.
I have been meeting so many new people, learning so many new things (about Tibet, Tibetans, even about myself), DOING so much more than usual.
I have had bouts of tears, bouts of insomnia.
I have also had fits of outrageous laughter, and deep meaningful discussions.
I have also fallen madly in love (for those truly interested in the inner turmoil of my emotional life, see http://justreallife.blogspot.com )
I have found a place I feel can become my home, on the other side of the planet from where I was raised.
I have met some of the kindest, most soulful people in the world, people of a nature I never believed possible.
I have found something worthy of doing...helping an oppressed nation, a displaced people living in exile, learn new things, and hopefully gain hope and show them that there are good soulful westerners with their hearts in the right place.
I have been living on caffeine (darjeeling tea and mochas, mostly), rarely eating.
And on hope... for these people to keep their culture, to keep their natural way of being, to find freedom, to stop living in fear.
And hope for myself, as each day brings new developments in inter-personal relationships. The
The weather is turning...colder, cloudier, windier. Winter is on the horizon, hanging over the Himalayas. there has been snow at Triund and above.
I continue to learn Tibetan language...something new every day. I continue to learn and to grow.
I continue to battle mind-boggling hurdles, not negative, but growth-challenging!
Life is good.
Confusing, frustrating, difficult, but good!
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Candlelight Vigil
After English conversation class yesterday, a group of students and teachers,
myself included, chatted over tea, playing tic tac toe and hangman for til dusk.
As I was leaving, I bumped into another western volunteer, who
asked me if I was going to the candlelight vigil.
I had not heard anything about it, but agreed to join her. We walked in
silence to the town "square", where Tibetans were handing out candles and
info pamphlets regarding the recent death of a young Buddhist nun.
The nun, aged 33, was arrested and beaten by Chinese police after
participating with a friend in a peaceful march where they chanted slogans
asking for basic human rights and freedom of religion.
She was tortured and died this Sunday of injuries related to her
beatings/torture at the hands of the Chinese.
A sizeable group of Buddhist nuns and monks, other Tibetan refugees, and
western visitors and volunteers gathered to light candles.
The walk circled the chorten, a temple in the center of town, three
times while the Tibetans chanted in their language.
Afterwards, the procession made its way downhill, to the main temple at
the residence of H.H. the Dalai Lama (who is currently teaching in
Australia), where we listened to different speakers about the recent
events. Tibetan flags waved in the evening breeze.
I was very moved, although no English translation was offered.
All that kept going through my mind was that if we had held even
this peaceful remembrance vigil inside Tibet, we would have been beaten,
shot, and/or jailed by the Chinese.
At the end of the speeches, the Tibetans sang two native songs, and
several people cried.
Friends, how can we allow our governments to side with the Chinese?
How can we stand by and give permission for one nation, China, to oppress,
control, repeatedly punish another, Tibet, for wanting the most basic
human rights and freedom of religion?!
I implore you, do whatever you can to make your voice heard, that we
know what the Chinese or doing, that we abhore what the Chinese are
doing, that will not permit what the Chinese are doing!
Write to your representatives, even to your President or Prime Minister.
Boycott Chinese goods.
Let the world know what the Chinese are doing is absolutely
unacceptable!
If you would like to make a donation to a non-profit organization here in
McleodGanj, please contact me directly for more info.
I can see that your donation goes directly into the hands of a refugee or
former political prisoner of your choosing, or, if not specified, that it helps
defray expenses for volunteers and non-profit agencies in town.
Thank you for your support and concern!
FREE TIBET!
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