Pleasure Notes

It’s been a crazy couple of weeks chez moi. I’m being pulled in 20 different directions. I feel like every aspect of my life has been put up for review, and found wanting. Of course, this is only my perception. I can’t see the bigger picture. I do know, however, that I have no road map for where I’m going. And, more importantly, I have no clear concept of where I want to go. I am easily distracted by flash and bang. I hesitate to commit to a course of action. There are so many possible directions in which to go, and I don’t want to take the wrong route. I fear a dream is dying, but I’m not ready to say my goodbyes. At the same time, strange doors are opening, but I don’t know where they lead. I am at a crossroads. I have been here before. So I am behaving according to the script I’ve always followed. Instead of letting myself grieve my potential loss or, alternately, tightening my bootstraps in anticipation of the unknown, I watch myself fall into inertia, into chaos, into disastrous disorder. It might seem odd to compare chaos to inertia, since chaos suggests movement. Imagine a hamster wheel at Mach 2, however, and you’ll know what I mean. In many ways, I’m comfortable with this chaos. After all, repetition breeds familiarity. But just because it is familiar, doesn’t mean it brings me pleasure.

Chaos

What if I change my perception, however? What if I decide to look at this chaos the way the Greeks did? What if my life isn’t in disorder but, rather, in a state without form? Then there is hope. Maybe I can take that flying leap off the spinning wheel. Maybe I can make that single step, in any direction, without analysis or even thought. Maybe I can simply close my eyes and trust that the chaos in which I find myself is actually blossoming into a new, better and more beautiful pattern for my life. I think, if I can do that, great pleasure awaits. I’ll let you know…

In the meantime, what do you do when you feel the tug of chaos pulling at you?

Today marks the 50^th anniversary of the Dalai Lama’s forced flight from Tibet after a failed uprising against Chinese rule. In anticipation of this crucial and sad milestone, the Chinese government has closed Tibet to foreign tourists and media, and put severe restrictions, such as banning prayer, on monastic life – a cornerstone of Tibetan society. My heart breaks at the injustice of it all.

Reunion

A few years ago, I went to the Roof of the World, as the Tibetan plateau is sometimes called. Though the visit was all too brief, the experience had a profound effect on me. I want to share with you my impressions of a magnificent place and an even more phenomenal people.

Old Woman in Hat

First, let me clarify that I was born with wanderlust. As a result, I have travelled fairly extensively, I have lived in various countries, and I always ensure my passport is within easy reach. I have seen Wonders of the World. I have met fascinating people. I have touched and tasted and smelled the definition of exotic. No place, however, has come close to shifting my soul the way Tibet did.

Traveling

Tibet introduced me to many firsts.

Fear and Innocence

Challenges. An old woman defecating in the gutter of a bustling street. A cluster of giggling nuns scattering in terror at the sight of a uniform. A teaming pile of maggots waiting for the heat of my urine at a road-side Ladies Room.

Girl

Revelations. An old man, barely able to walk and held up by two family members, making a full salutation to his faith at every step between his home, miles away, and Tibet’s first Buddhist temple, Jokhung. A child handing her stuffed monkey to a stranger in a gesture of utter innocence and generosity while her mother looked on with approval rather than fear or greed. A group of laborers weatherizing a roof by dancing the tar into place and singing in harmony… A smile on the striking face of a young man from Kham, a smile matched by every other member of his impoverished clan, a smile that illuminated not just his eyes but, I swear, the very air he was breathing.

Men at Work

The smiles are what slayed me. The Tibetans are a persecuted people. They are told they can’t speak their native language in school if they want to continue their education past the primary level. Their sacred mountains are flattened to make room for box-like structures with gaudy, blue-tinted windows. Their poverty is extreme. And yet… They smile. I mean, they really smile. And when they do, it is obvious that they have more capacity for ethereal joy than any other people I have ever met. It is as if they have discovered the secret of life.

Two Women

Now, I am aware that none of my photos capture those smiles. The Tibetans are not comfortable posing for the camera. Most of these pictures were taken on the Cora, the pilgrimage path around the Jokhung, and people were focused on their spiritual journey rather than the inquisitive tourist with the camera. So, I don’t have proof.

Monks on the Phone

Without proof, you could roll your eyes, groan at the sappiness of my sentiment, kindly suggest that perhaps I was affected by the altitude more than I knew. You would be wrong.

Pool Hall

We, in the “Western” world, are surrounded by stuff. We worry about losing our McMansions and SubZero kitchen appliances. We moan about our crappy cell service or the price of gasoline or how we’re being forced to take a service job since being laid off at the hedge fund. We medicate with television, with Prozac, with Bourbon. And we spend millions in a desperate search for happiness.

No Small Obstacle

From what I’ve seen, the Tibetans don’t waste their time in that pursuit. They embody happiness, in a more profound way than I could ever express with words. It would be madness to crush that gift, or try to profit from it.

Children at Play

Free Tibet.