Breathe Easy

So I spent about 3 weeks in MacLeod Ganj, the hilltown that holds the Tibetan Government in Exile and His Holiness the Dalai Lama. The actual town itself only has about 3 main streets that project from the "taxi/bus stand". It's flooded with shops, restaurants and internet cafes, all catering to the prominent tourist population who migrate here to get a little taste of Tibet. Upon my arrival I saw Birkenstocks, 50 litre backpacks and dirty hair everywhere....the utmost in tourist comfort! Not to mention the older Tibetan population wearing traditional dress and the many monks and nuns. MacLeod just radiates a relative peacefulness.

I made my way up to the 10 day meditation retreat at Tushita which is located another 15 minutes walk straight uphill, farther into the mountains. This place was one of the only "destinations" I have on my trip and as it turns out, it is quite a special place as the Dalai Lama himself was housed there when he first fled Tibet in the 60's. The idea here was to get settled in, relax and watch my mind. After 10 days of silence and Buddhist philosophy I really felt at home. It's easy to get sucked into this schedule and not want to emerge. However, I did and was more than overwhelmed by the indignant honking of the Punjabi tourists that like to race their cars through the narrow streets of MacLeod, the vast amount of beggars and gypsies tugging at my shirt and the overall speed of things. But as time does tell, my perceptions all quickly slipped back to normal within a day or two.

I spent the next 10 days seeing and doing all the things there are to do here. One could call it "killing time" (although I think that's the stupidest way to put it) until the Dalai Lama's teachings. I trekked to the waterfall, saw the holy hindu temple, circumabulated the Dalai Lama's temple a few times (with some very old Tibetan women who do it every morning), got a blessing from the 17th Karmapa, spread my rupees among gypsies and disabled beggars daily, went to the Tibetan library, the Norbulinka Institure and I even managed to volunteer my skills to 5 Tibetans for an hour in a conversational English class. I spend most nights going to bed fairly early or sitting in one of the many permanent tents they have set up that provide an amazingly elaborate menu with anything from Indian, Chinese, Israeli and Western food to Chai tea and crappy beer. There is also a wide selection of movies and musical instruments if one cares to partake in a jam session. I actually prefer just to lie on the cushions and read my book. I can see how the people I've met over the past few weeks have really found themselves stuck here, or returning often more than once. It's amazing how content we all are so far away from home. Conversation after conversation has led me to come to this conclusion. The question of "What are you doing?" or "Where are you headed?" is more often than not answered with an "I don't know."

The other day I made an attmept with a Swiss friend of mine to do the day trek up to Triund. We were determined as we had spent 10 days sitting on cushions and then another 10 days doing pretty much nothing and time was running out to get a bit of exercise in. We were completely and totally unprepared. About 2 hours up we got caught in a massive thunderstorm (it's monsoon season over here) and were forced to wait it out at Chai Shop #2 with some friendly New Yorkers, who were, needless to say, more unprepared than the Swiss and Canadian tourist! I've been able to cruise around this country and make an endless number of friends here. I say friends because meeting fellow travellers in India, we're all already completely open and bare, stripped to essentials. Most people are unafraid to reveal some of their deepest, darkest stories to a stranger only moments after conversations begin. It's moments like this where I am really assured that I'm not alone in this big space, where I can really connect with someone, smile and realize that my thoughts, feelings and emotions are just like everyone else's. But it's also the next moment, huddled under my blanket at the tea shop, trying to shelter myself from the relentless rain and trying to warm myself up that I wish I had a familiar arm around me in my time of need. Some of us look at these moments to define us. To say, "I am alone", "I need someone to care for me". Sure, I agree, at times we all do. But having said that there really is something about being absolutely alone in this world, without responsibilities or schedules or deadlines, naked in the rain (so to speak) where one can find the essence of existence. I set out on this trip not exactly sure of what it is I was looking for, and I still feel like that today. But I can also say that whatever it is, I think I've already found it. That being said, one can't sit in the rain forever, one has to have a taste of love and comfort to know that it's lacking, and to find it again. So in that moment, on a Himalaya in India somewhere, I was missing you. You are all my comfort, my refuge, my shleter, my warmth. But like all the rest of it, that terrible storm faded. The clouds parted to give way to the sunshine, the blanket and new wool socks I bought succeeded in warming me up and slowly slowly, the rain faded to a drizzle as our altitude decreased. The conversations that I had with my new friends from New York were quickly forgotten as one day their faces will also be, and the moment where I really wanted someone at my side also became a distant memory as my thoughts proceeded to the chai and hot shower I was going to enjoy very soon. Fleeting thoughts, all of it, like ships in the night.

So I saw him, and I listened to him give his teachings and I even got within a half a meter of him (I was crouched on the ground behind an Indian army member with a big gun). What an amazing person the 14th Dalai Lama is. People come from miles around (or in my case half way around the world) to listen to him and just be in his presence. Two days prior to the teachings, you come into the palace and tape down a cushion or a sheet or even a piece of cardboard to reserve your seat for the duration of the 3 day teachings. I love the Tibetan system....the honour system. The teachings were in Tibetan this time, unfortunately, but there were live translations broadcast over the radio. Just being in the presence of so many monks, nuns, and devotees to his path of love, compassion and wisdom is really a perfect place to be.
At the end of the day, when I snuck near the aisle to watch him pass right infront of me, I couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking as he walked past all of us. How focused is he on giving his teachings just days before the Olympics begin? What kind of thoughts pervade his mind on a daily basis? As he finishes his commitment to his people for the day, I can't help but think about all the other "more important" things he has on his mind and that he could be doing in light of all the political issues. Where most of us think, "Whew, glad that's over, what should I have for lunch?" Or "what extravagant gift should I get my friend for their b-day?" Or "Did I lock the back door?" He's probably thinking "What can I do today about the repression of my people?" or "How can I make all the people in this world happy?" Now these are problems worthy of solving. My question is "How do we get everyone to think outside of their own box?"