Tushita

I’m getting ready to head up to a week long meditation retreat.  Tushita, the meditation center is just above town in the pine forest.  It’s is beautiful and absolutely serene up there.  I took a short course last week up there.  The course was on Emotional Balance.  A spit fiery American woman taught it.  I’m not sure where exactly she lives, but half of her time is spent in Asia.  She made reference to Boulder a couple times and it sounds like she possibly did some undergraduate work at Naropa.

I don’t know why when I enrolled in the course at a meditation center,  I didn’t think I’d actually be meditating.  I imagined learning about “Emotional Balance” and getting new skills on affectively dealing with disappointment, sadness, anger…. You know, that kind of stuff.  Well, apparently the way to affectively deal with those emotions is through awareness which is gained through meditation.  Go figure.

I surprised myself and actually took to meditation quite well.  At first it seems absolutely impossible to not fidget and scratch your nose.  Lee, the spit fire American, tells us that being fidgety  is another form of anger.  What!  Are you kidding me!?  I’m failing already.

I begin to settle and accept that I will be sitting for some time.  The fidgetiness goes away.  I no longer need to scratch my nose.  I am pretty relaxed, I’m actually comfortable (for the moment) and my mind is being flooded.  Flooded with thought, with memories, “what are we going to have for lunch”, “I hope I’m doing this right”, “mmm, this is starting to hurt my shoulders”.  Which is perfectly natural and ok but I am learning the point of meditation is to quiet all this chatter.   Which is hard.  Really hard.  Now I’m just trying to tell myself to stop thinking.  Oddly enough sitting and focusing on your breath, looking for those moments in between thoughts is something you can get used to.  Time slips by and when the sounding bell rings and gently awakens you to your surroundings again, the calmness, the stillness is magnificent.

We break for lunch.  We’re told to hold our silence and not talk to each other during lunch.  We’re instructed to take notice of our food.  Noticing the smell, the texture, taste.   We are being taught to be aware.  At lunch everyone has a soft gaze and we all decide to watch the forest (since we can’t talk to each other).

During this course I was given instruction on how to affectively deal with our emotions in the moment while they’re happening.  I’ve also been introduced to meditation and I love the practice of it.  At times it really sucks, really sucks.  Overall, the benefit far outweighs my discomfort.  Even though it sucks, I’m ready to dive into it again!

So, in just a few hours here, I’m headed up to Tushita again.  This time for 8 days and being silent the entire time.  No internet, no music, no idle chit chatter about the weather.  Can’t wait!

I digress

The prevalence of bad American pop in India is astounding.  There was a nice rooftop restaurant in Leh that me and my traveling companions liked to go to.  Wonderland Café.  We’ll be sitting around enjoying our tea when all of a sudden… wait, what’s that I hear?  Why, yes, that is the Backstreet Boys singing a song that was popular in 1999.  I hated it then and I’m certainly not a fan now.  It got me and the Swiss French, the Japanese and the Israeli guy all in a conversation about American music.  Before I knew it I was explaining the difference between West Coast and East Coast hip hop.  Ha!  Like I’m some sort of expert.
…”Well you know, West Coast is all about your ride and the ladies and East Coast is more raw.  There’s more of this street survival to it”  My companions eagerly agreed.  Thinking about it now, this may have been true in the early nineties; but I think it’s all about women and money now.

I was in a coffee shop in the Tibetan neighborhood in Delhi.  Very nice place, nice service… but wait!  Is that the Black Eyed Peas!?  Oh yeah.   It’s oddly hard to try to enjoy your book and coffee while the guy at the espresso bar is singing along with the Black Eyed Peas.  They had their own play list going.  Suddenly it went more mellow and Tracey Chapman came on.  The barista crooned along to this one as well.  I thought it was rather sweet that he new the lyrics to “Fast Car“.  Then Bonnie Raitt came on.  Oh!  One of my favorites!  “I Can’t Make You Love Me”.  This one gets me every time!  It made me think about the time my mom and I saw Bonnie Raitt at Red Rocks.  She sang this song back to back with another slow sad one… "Angel From Montgomery".  She got teared up herself.

I think it’s wonderful that music has the ability to be accessible to all.  I’d rather hear great American music if I have to hear American music over here, but I’m completely shocked as to how much American music I hear.  Just yesterday I walked past a man who was washing his car and out of the stereo system was The Dire Straights "Romeo an Juliet".  Another great one.  I am currently reading Herman Hesse’s, The Glass Bead Game.  In the novel the glass bead game is a game that is played using every area of human knowledge.  The players of the game are masters in Mathematics, Astronomy, Philosophy, you name it.  But the highest of the knowledge one can have is the knowledge of Music.  Writing this blog now and thinking about how music can translate to all cultures and to all people, I feel Hesse may be right that music is the noblest of all the human knowledge (although, I may put the highest rank on human creativity).  Wow, thanks for letting my digress on that one!

The next day at the Dalai Lama teachings I had much more success.  I decided to sit down in the courtyard below the balcony I was on the day before.  It is still within the temple, but far less crowded.  Here I could sit out amongst the trees and watch the adorable little kids run around.  In India there are many things lying around that seem often dangerous and out of place.  Buildings often times appear to me to midway through construction and look as if they’ve been that way for a very long time. Anyway, an example of this is that in the courtyard at the Dalai Lama temple there’s this large pile of really long rebar on the ground.  I believe, quite possibly, that if any other place in world were having a public event let alone the Dalai Lama teaching; they would remove this rebar.  But, we are in India and you see this kind of stuff all the time!  The children discover the pile of rebar and of course immediately begin to jump and play on it.  I watched many near misses.  We had one little girl down for the count at one period (startled but okay), overall the kids came out unscathed.   I unfortunately was incredibly distracted watching (and cringing) as these little ones jumped and played on rebar.  I caught most, but not all of what the Dalai Lama said.

My other success was that I found the English translation on the radio (you thought I learned how to speak Tibetan)!  The topic of the Dalai Lama’s teaching was Emptiness, which to be honest with you, I’m not sure I fully grasped this concept and I certainly will be unable to explain it to you.  All in all, it’s lovely to watch the Dalai Lama speak.  It’s lovely to see how he interacts with the people and the monks.  He seems to be a man with a great sense of humor.  He laughs a lot and quite often gets the audience into a pretty good belly laugh  as well.  Every time the Dalai Lama is done with his teaching for the day he departs down one particular set of stairs.  One afternoon I raced to the stairs to maybe get a chance to shake his hand.  No such luck on the handshake, but I was standing about three feet away from him.
What a presence.  

The Journey has begun!

It’s already been two weeks since I’ve begun my India travels.  It gone by alarmingly fast and at the same time at a snails pace.  Looking back, I can’t believe I’ve been traveling already for two weeks.  The days go by slow here and I’ve found plenty of time to sit in cafes and read.

My first taste of India was Delhi.  I was picked up from the airport by a small man who seemed friendly enough.  We hopped in his tiny car and headed out into the Delhi traffic.  In India there seems to be no traffic laws besides announcing your presence in a rather aggressive and obnoxious way by laying on your horn.  Turn signals are not used and I believe the lanes are merely suggestions.  There’s a number of roundabouts where bikes, rickshaws, cars, and pedestrians all converge.  I’m watching scooters go by that have a man driving, a child on the seat in front of him, a woman behind sitting side saddle while holding a toddler in her lap.  I’m watching astonished as my cab driver is making small talk with me and I cannot understand a word he says.  I am unable to understand most of what he says, although he makes it very clear that I need to give him a generous tip and his job is very stressful.  Huh.  Funny that I’ve just gone to the ATM to get rupees and I only have large bills…   Needless to say the cab driver got a very generous tip and my course of learning how to handle India has begun.

I stayed very briefly in Delhi.  I arranged a ride the following morning back to the airport as I was flying to Leh very early.  My flight took off at 5:45am and the man at the front desk told me I was going to have to leave for the airport at 2:30am.  Embarking back out on the Delhi streets, it was much more quiet and serene.  More than I imagined it would be.  The streets were empty of cars.  There were people sleeping on the streets, but overall there was a very quiet nature to the night.

The flight to Leh was absolutely beautiful.  The Himalayas are as striking as you would imagine them to be.  Leh is situated about 12,000 feet up and has the nickname of “moonland” or “moonscape” something of that sort.  The Himalayas here are barren.  It’s a semi arid climate and the mountains are sheer rock.  Leh is like a little oasis.   There’s trees that look like aspens, though have very different leaves.  Apples grow here and it’s the land of apricots.  I’ve had amazing apricot jam and apricot juice.  Hay is being harvested, there’s a feeling of fall in the air.

I’ve managed to find an amazing guesthouse that is run by a Mongolian family.  The Zeepata guesthouse, in case any of you are ever in the area.  The couple who runs the guesthouse has an eight-year-old daughter and then there’s the Great Aunt who is absolutely adorable.  She has the sweetest round face, braids that run down her back to her waist, and she wears her traditional Ledakhi dress everyday.   She reads prayers during the day in the families living room while counting her prayer beads.  At night she likes to watch Hindi soap operas, as does the eight-year-old.  Each night all the guests in the guesthouse eat dinner together in the families living room.  We get in animated conversation about where we’re from, travel,  the economy, government… conspiracy theories, you name it.  Sometimes I look up and the Great Aunt is watching us with a half curious half repelled expression on her face (she speaks no English).  She’s somewhat grumpy and when people show up to the guesthouse looking for rooms she gives them an exasperated “no!” with a dismissive wave of her hand.  We guests here at the Zeepata love her!  We laugh because she is so adorable and enduring.

I’ve met so many people from around the world in this guesthouse.  Thibault, the French Swiss upstairs, hosts us each night on his balcony for some beers and his opinion on many things such as how to travel in India (this is his fifth time here), how to get a job in Geneva, and why Israeli girls are the best.  Thibault has adventure stories from all over the world.  My favorite of his stories is when he was in Nepal and the people who ran the guesthouse he stayed in were completely convinced he was Captain Jack from Pirates of the Caribbean.  Haha!  Makes me laugh out loud writing it right now!  He insisted that he was not Johnny Depp, showing them his passport which they dismissed as his fake passport he used so he wouldn’t attract too much attention.

There were amazing people  continuously coming and going from the guesthouse.  Eran from Israel, Louisa from Newcastle, Yu from Japan who I particularly enjoyed spending time with.  I have felt so privileged to spend time with these folks.  Everyone is down-to-earth and intelligent.  I’ve had amazing conversations with these guys in an amazingly beautiful place.  I hope to run into any of them again, though I’m sure the extent of my time with my friends here is but a few evenings.

Leh is gorgeous, but besides the few Buddhist monasteries there are to visit there is not much to do.  I can really only go to the same coffee shop so many times and eat dinner at the guesthouse for so long before it’s time to move on.

I flew back to Delhi and hopped a bus to Dharamsala.  My bus to Dharamsala is one of these “tourist” buses.  It’s not a government run bus so it is supposed to be plush and comfortable and luxurious.  I feel this bus is none of those things.  I have a comfortable seat, don’t get me wrong, but it’s definitely not comfortable to sleep in overnight.  We take off and the screen at the front of the bus is showing a Bollywood movie.  At about 10 pm, after getting through horrendous Delhi traffic (they hand out barf bags.  Joy!), our bus stops for dinner.  We’re at the Indian equivalent to a truck stop.  There are tables outside under blaringly bright street lights.  The food is greasy, I get one look at this place, and I know I’m not eating here.  I’m standing around, trying to look casual while waiting for our bus to take off again, when I’m approached by a young guy who says, “sweet bag.”  He’s American and I’m sure just out of college.  He confirms, yes, just out of college and traveling India on a scholarship.  He’s just gotten his degree in Psychology and is studying how Indian’s society/culture treats people with mental illness.

I end up sharing a cab with our young college grad after our bus drops us off in Dharamsala.  Everyone stays in the town above Dharamsala, Mcleod Ganj.  Because we’re both American and share some common interests, I now have an instant buddy and traveling companion.  And I am grateful.  Colin and I have a rather large age difference to contend with, but we both somehow make it work.  We basically meet early each morning to grab breakfast and head down to the Dalai Lama temple to go the Dalai Lama’s public teachings.

The night before the first day of the teachings Colin and I buy cushions to reserve us some seats.  People have been going to the temple and laying down cushions and blankets with their names on them in hopes that they get that seat for the teachings.  We try to find the best place that isn’t already covered by other’s cushions.  We find a spot that if we crane our necks just so, we might be able to see the Dalai Lama.

The next morning when we arrive at the temple and it is packed.  Everyone is already in their seat and the Dalai Lama is already speaking!  We climb our way over many people to our seats that have now been reduced to a space that is about two square feet (for the two of us).  We narrowly sit in our spots and try to get comfortable.  But!  We can see the Dalai Lama!

As the morning goes on I am attempting to not knee the man in front of me.  The little Taiwanese woman who sits behind me has her little foot tucked under my leg (too bad it doesn‘t smell so good!).  I have an elderly monk to my left.  He has about 3 brown teeth but he gives me huge smiles none the less.  He’s concerned about me having enough space and starts to push people aside a bit.  I am also struggling to find the English translation on my radio.  He attempts to help me find the right station, puts on my headphones, listens a bit and hands my radio back to me with a huge smile.  I put my headphones on.  Uh!  Still no luck.  I spend the first day of the teachings simply taking in the surroundings and the people.  It’s ok that I don’t know what the Dalai Lama is talking about, I have the monk next to me giving me knowing looks and I can just people watch.