An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet regardless of time, place or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break. ~Chinese Proverb
Every new year’s eve for more than 15 years I have a ritual of finding a quiet place to sit with my journal and think about what I most want to practice in the upcoming year. First I read my journal entry from the previous year and reflect on my aspirations, assess whether I accomplished my goals and whether I lived my life according to my intentions. I then write about my hopes and dreams for the upcoming year. Often these entries become a list of goals I want to accomplish, places I want to explore, lessons I want to learn, problems I want to climb, races I want to run, etc.. However, this year I decided to only focus on slowing down and simplifying my life. I am fortunate to feel passionate about many things, but this sometimes means the things that most bring my joy and peace in this world can look more like a “to do” list, rather than an opportunity to meander throughout my days... wake up, run, climb, write, take photos, cook, and read. Instead, I wanted to create time to get lost amidst these passions rather than check them off my list. However, despite my best intentions, the first half of my year became a balancing act of too much to do. Each time I stopped to take an inventory of what I could take off my plate I came to the same conclusion: there is nothing I could stop doing or nothing I was willing to stop doing; therefore I decided to embrace the fullness of my days, rather than be burdened by them, ( at least this is what I attempted.)
As winter faded into spring this year, my preparations for my trip to Tibet collided with end of the semester grading for the class I teach at Metro State, scheduling time to visit my new nephew on D.C., wrapping up the school year with cityWILD, and student commencement ceremonies. Not quite the simplicity I had in mind on New Year’s eve. Yet, I kept reminding myself to breathe because I would soon be in perhaps the most spiritual place on earth.
I have been home from Tibet for nearly two months and have sat down to reflect numerous times, yet each time I struggle to find words that capture what I feel. I have concluded, these words don’t exist. How do I convey what it felt like to walk into our home-stay, which was the home of a Tibetan Monk and his mother, as he welcomed us with a joyous laughter that comes from a place so deep within, I have yet to visit, and she greeted us with a smile surrounded by wrinkles from a road map of the stories she could tell. How do I convey that the Tibetans' voices greeting me throughout the day sounded like a gentle lullaby, or how a peacefulness washed over me each morning when we arrived at the orphanage as the boys chanted Buddhist mantras, or the stillness I felt sitting around the fire inside a nomadic tent drinking butter tea-with nothing else in the world distracting me, or the ache I felt as our guide, who became like family, described crossing the Himalayan mountains alone at 15 and then again at 18 in order to get an education in India, or how for the first time in my life I felt god/buddha/allah while sitting between two Tibetan monks outside a cave at the top of a mountain, where one of them had meditated for 3 years and the other was still there meditating after 3.5 years?
How do I convey being overcome with the playfulness of a child while playing frisbee in a muddy field, under a canopy of rain with 40 orphaned boys learning to be monks, or the despair I felt listening to the monk, whose home we were staying in, describe being bullied by Chinese government officials, to support a government, which is actively trying to abolish his culture, language, and people, or the inspiration I felt as another guide and dear friend shared his plans to build a school in his village to educate nomadic children, or the overwhelming feeling of being one, while sitting inside a monastery crowded with Tibetans listening to monks chant the most transcendental sounds, or the desperation I felt driving past the concrete governmental homes built to cage the nomadic people?
The first week after my return I avoided all socializing. Despite having transitioned home from faraway places, with vastly different cultures, on numerous occasions, I wasn’t prepared to return home from Tibet. I had no idea how profound my experience in Tibet would be; in fact, I believe I only have a partial understanding of how transformative my time there will continue to become.
Ordinarily I turn to writing as a way to process my thoughts and feelings and on multiple occasions I sat down to write about my trip. Yet, each time I was unsuccessful. As the days turned into weeks, and then months, I recognized I was avoiding my own reflection. The idea of trying to capture the depth of what I feel and putting these feelings into words has been paralyzing me. Before I knew this trip was a possibility, I committed to seeing the Himalayas during my 40th year, but I had no idea this intention would culminate into the most meaningful and poetic lesson in simplicity.
However, this lesson in simplicity isn’t just about moving through life slowly or about reducing consumerism, it is also about the simple, yet profound reminder of our impact on the world. The Chinese government is methodically and intentionally trying to eradicate the Tibetan culture; and although injustice happens throughout the world, most, if not all, of these oppressed cultures have formal allies-governments who are coming to their aid. This isn’t true for the Tibetan people. China has so much economic power, countries, including the U.S., aren’t unwilling to hold China accountable for the atrocities they commit. So while many people sleep walk through life, blindly purchasing products made in China, living in insular places, which perpetuate the illusion that the injustices in the world have no bearing on their lives, or that their lives have no bearing on the injustices in this world, the most peaceful, spiritual, kind, and enlightened people are systematically being abolished We must wake up. It’s that simple.
