Springtime & Loveliness

Springtime & Ares energy is definitely in the air, what with shoots pushing up through the ground. It requires a stubborn, young, bursting energy indeed to make that happen. The urge to create something or make something happen is so strong.

Here in the rather rocky Dharamsala area, springtime is beautiful indeed. In the agrarian valleys there are endless beautiful green fields of wheat, a nice contrast to the highest mountain peaks, which glisten with snow. The insects have also been coming out in record numbers. There are so many creamy-yellow butterflies flitting about that sometimes I think they're little blossoms falling from above. An abundance of lady bugs has us finding their little bubbly red bodies piddling about on the computer monitors at the internet cafes, skipping from head to head of attentively listening devotees of His Holiness Dalai Lama in the courtyard of Namgyal Monastery, and sometimes crushed from the scuffle of an abundance of people at the teachings.

But today was the last day of these spring teachings. So I bade adieu not only to the many Holinesses (Dalai Lama, Karmapa, Ling Rinpoche, and all the other lamas, whom I don't know) and the crowds of devotees, but also to our rituals together -- the prayers, the mantras, HHDL's jokes, the attempts to sit comfortably each day on the concrete, the steadfastness of being present whatever the weather, the tea offering, which is a blessing and sometimes (like on rainy windy cold days) literally a godsend, and of course the unbelievably dense crowds. It's like a concert in there! Except you have everyone, including babies and old ladies, beggars, devotees from Tibet, devotees (Indian and Tibetan) from all over India and local, foreigners in every form and personality from your over-stylish new ager to the quiet devoted types to your curious backpacker.

This time I was tripped out to see so many Mongolians and Asian Russians. Whoa! They look like they could be from Korea or China, but then they speak.... The funny thing are the Russian monks. They wear the same clothes as the Tibetan monastics, so there are sometimes confusions. ("Ani la, bala bala bala" is answered by "ni chevo ni ponimayu"). Haha. Funny thing, too, is that I understand some of it, since I took some Russian back in college when I thought I'd major in Comparative Lit with an emphasis on Nabokov and Dostoevski. Wow, how things change.

Anyway, the traffic jam of people (and those Tibetans push, man! Whoever said Asians were polite didn't understand), honking taxis and cows are probably only charming now that I don't have to go through it again (for the time being).

Mahayana Buddhism is way over my head most of the time. That’s to be expected, as it’s traditionally been for the monastics and learned Buddhist scholars. But I do learn, and what I can’t absorb intellectually, I do learn from just being there. In any case, it’s a privilege, and an interesting experience to be in on teachings to the monastics, and the special thing about His Holiness’ teachings is that he is able to teach at once to them and to ordinary laypeople from a huge spectrum of experience with Buddhism.

Trying to practice art here has been frustrating and edifying, I guess. After getting over the imperfections of my living space, and all the inconveniences that seem to eat up all my time, I discovered anew how difficult it is to paint in oils. It’s a huge luxury to paint! I finally “stretched” a canvas the other day, by nailing it onto a door-sized piece of wood. The wood is necessary, as all the houses are made of concrete and there’s no way of painting on the walls like I did before. That, and getting stretchers made here would be a pain in the ass. The painting process itself has also been interesting. The other day, I poured some of the turpentine into a small an empty plastic curd container. I usually do this with mineral spirits so I can quickly clean the brushes between color changes and so I can also have the option to thin out the paints when needed. Actually, unlike artists of olde, I never had to use turpentine before, thanks to Turpenoid and Gamsol. To my horror, the turp ate right through the plastic container and dripped all over the floor. Luckily I was outside and didn’t get too much of a headache from the noxious smell. This experience is making me rethink oils, perhaps for a little while.

On the bright side, a monk astrologer from Tibet told me that the best thing I can be doing as a career is my art. Why do I need affirmation of that from an astrologer? I don’t know. I think that truly the wish to be someone rich and/or famous is much too engrained in the consciousness of Americans. We can never be satisfied just getting by and being happy with what we have. For the working poor, perhaps it’s because we see that our government doesn’t truly look out for you when you’re down, and we always want a safety net. Yet, somehow, we also ask so much of ourselves. Anyway, somehow, hearing that calmed my career anxiety, and I’m looking forward to playing with collage and not taking my art so seriously.


Anyway, my time here is starting to become short, what with less than a month less. I definitely feel like I could use more time here, in terms of getting some of my goals fulfilled. But I think the swiftness of time is just something I’m more conscious of now, and there will never be enough time if I keep thinking about goals in that way. I am where I am for a reason. Always. In this last month, I’m really going to take advantage of the opportunities that are here. I will be reading lots of dharma books, taking hikes, taking more classes, and just observing.

Daily Lessons

Back a few months ago, I started a blog for some of the realizations I was getting in my daily life, since being on the spiritual path has been so rich. But after a while, there was just too much to write. The artist and writer in me is screaming for a chance to write it all down. But after all, as I WAS SHOWN from a very wonderful healer who came to my aid in Berkeley one day, the most important thing is the present and anything beyond is subordinate.

The thing is, it's one thing to know something intellectually, but another thing altogether to actually experience it. I'll use an example so many sages have before: I can tell you with as much eloquence and emphasis as possible how good honey tastes, but you will never know the taste of honey until you actually experience it.
What then to actually experience such truths as:
+ it doesn't matter what other people think. Social graces, cultural capital, the favors of social popularity, again fall way below the most important thing.
+ I truly do act in aversion and attraction!
+ Anger really does arise like a monster within me. And I really can, with patience and reasoning and wisdom, allow it to pass without feeding it.

Spring Teachings

Last night's rain brought a nice surprise to this morning: snow on the high peaks of Dharamsala.

Early morning bus rides took us up to McLeod Ganj for His Holiness' spring teachings on Shantideva's Guide to the Bodhisattva's Way of Life. We who sat in the open air were so glad it wasn't raining. Actually, the sun had come out and was really strong.

Teachings were wonderful today. There was an intimate crowd (I guess, compared to the numbers at kalachakra, it would seem small!). We all had a pretty good view of His Holiness, and today His Holiness Karmapa was also present.

The Way Things (Don't) Work

Today it has been raining heavily, a rain becoming steadily heavier since we moved in on Saturday, and I’m pretty miserable. It wouldn’t be so miserable if the houses here weren’t concrete and damn cold. Or if things actually worked properly. The irony of this downpour of rain is that we have a water shortage. Since we moved in 4 days ago, we haven’t had enough water even to take a bath (I was able to take a semi-bath before the water ran out). Sometimes, we have enough water to cook but not to wash dishes. The water shortage is due to a leak in the kitchen tap, which has been dripping steadily. And the sink is so jancky (a flimsy metal thing that’s supported by only two small fixtures to one wall – the sink’s fallen off its tiny ‘supports’ at least five times already, and that’s with us being careful. We can’t put more than a few cups in there for fear it will collapse, so it makes it difficult to wash vegetables and dishes. Never mind trying to keep something there to save all that dripping water we’re losing.

Then there’s a leak in the toilet, which is probably the main culprit for all our water loss and the resultant other headaches (as if it weren’t enough we don’t get water, the neighbors, who are a bit passive aggressive and resent us having moved in, have even more reason to make adversaries of us, as they totally believe we're using all their water). The toilet problem we figured out today and it looks like we can prevent that leak if we don’t use the flush, but flush instead via buckets. But Mamaji (our landlady) just paid a guy to fix all the flushes in all the units. Same guy who installed the faulty tap to begin with. And now he can’t come by to fix the problems that he’s in part responsible for because 1) it’s raining and he’d just rather not show up, and 2) his wife’s going to have surgery soon and… well, forget that, he’d just rather not show up.

We’ve talked to Mamaji every night since we moved in to fix the problems. After we finally get someone to fix the taps (so far that’s the only thing that will likely be fixed because the water leakage is a big problem), we’ll need to have someone fix the bathroom, because at the moment, it’s just a tap without sink. To have to take bucket showers and there’s nothing stopping the water from spilling right out into the next room.

And we JUST moved because the other place had no kitchen, thus making it a tedious thing to cook food (which is necessity because there aren’t any good restaurants around Sidhpur). Actually Mamaji is a really nice lady. We had a good talk when we first moved in. It’s just that she’s a teacher and very busy. Of that and and of her kind, patient way I think these lousy contractors take advantage. And that’s just the way things are. They move so slowly.

I have been supremely frustrated because I’ve been looking forward to setting up the studio space properly, but the reality is so agonizing – forget productivity when you have to spend all this energy and time just to get your basic needs taken care of.

At this point, I don’t know what I can do about it. Things won’t get fixed before they get fixed, and certainly with only a month and a half left, I won’t move again. Besides, as Tamdin said, “you’ll never find a perfect place in India. If the toilet’s good then the kitchen’s got a problem. If those two are good, you have a problem with your room. The only thing you can do is control your attitude. Make yourself happy, or you won’t be happy in this place.” His experience makes him much more tolerant of this kind of thing.

Perhaps I have still been too fixed on the idea of being really productive in my art. At this point, I just need to not let the frustration swallow me up and to simply see that this experience is just opening up reality for me more and more. I am so amazed and humbled by the reality that what I always thought were basic necessities people often go without.

This is the same reality that was grinning at me the other day when I needed to get gas (the places you rent here come with no stove. You have to procure a cylinder with natural gas and portable stove). I went to the gas company asking about getting one. Give me 2400 rupees (roughly $50), he said, and you’ll get a cylinder, gas, a regulator, a pipe, a stove, and a customer book (which would allow me to get refills via the weekly pickup truck – these cylinders weigh too heavy to lug around). When I asked for a breakdown of the costs, they wouldn’t give it to me and at one point said that I was arguing with them. Alas, how strange people start to behave when they know they’re doing something illegal, and especially if they’re a big company doing something illegal!

Don’t worry, he said, I’m not charging you a cent extra. All I ask is 2400 for everything.

This, when they cannot tell me the exact price of the stove. I had been comparing prices and was hoping to get the stove myself. Besides, as the sign right in their shop said, “customers are not obliged to buy a stove from the company.” As I sat there, the price of the stove fluctuated between 900 and 1100 rupees, and then I finally saw on the box, that it was 669. When I pointed out the sign and the price on the box, they put the final pressure on: Actually, you cannot buy gas from us. So you pay 2400 and you’ll get this. We’re not forcing you to buy gas from us. Shall I make this bill or forget it?

Silly me. I knew there was a way to buy gas on the black market, at any of a number of small shops. But I guess I didn't expect the company to move that way. Anyway, the reality is that I needed gas and didn’t have any other way of getting it. But I was so uncomfortable. I gave him the cash and he gave me a piece of paper with somebody else’s name & address on it. That's the way things work. For me, it actually was relatively easy, as 2400 rupees won’t kill me. But there are still a lot of Tibetans here without the documentation required to get gas, and they certainly don’t have that kind of money (on average, if they can even get a job, they can earn about 1500 a month). Who knows, if they’re cunning enough they can convince one of the shops in Kotwali Bazaar to sell them some black market gas for less than that (though as a rule, you always pay much more), or if you’re lucky, you can get one from a friend who got it from his friend, etc. And it’s not like these folks are illegal, because they’re refugees, and have been accepted to live and go to work and school here (via the Tibetan government’s help and programs). But there’s a lot of ambiguity about their status and they still have to fend for themselves on so many levels. They basically have no rights and have to rely on the grace of the government and the kindness of friends and strangers alike.

This gas thing and the non-workings of my new flat are just small examples of the ways things work and don’t work around here. The imperfection is real. I thought the US had problems! Which it does. And I thought I knew that there were injustices in the 3rd world. But to actually experience it, you realize how deep those inequities go. The world is not a fair place, nor will it be for a helluva long time. I feel like I appreciate the benefits of living in the US much more now, thanks to all the people who constantly struggle for justice. We who struggle for justice may see, more than the progress we’ve made, all the imperfections and problems that are still there. That’s good because it keeps us going. But I have a completely different understanding now of equity and justice. They’re ideals. And thanks to my refugee parents who sacrificed everything for me to experience the benefit of that privileged place that's less than ideal.

International Tibet Uprising Day

March 10 started off eeaarly as there were to be speeches up at Namgyal Temple followed by a march of protest from there all the way down past Dharamsala.

The crowds packed the temple for the speech. His Holiness and the prime minister of Tibet-in-exile were among the speakers.

The protest was really spirited, as we all chanted in Tibetan, Hindi, and English: "China out of Tibet" "UNO, we want justice!" "Long Live the Dalai Lama," "Release release the Panchen Lama!" "Freedom for Tibet," and the like. Different from the anti-war marches I was in in San Francisco, where we packed the entire city streets. Here, we were in a long formation streaming down the mountainsides via small wending roads that we also shared with honking taxis and the occasional cow.

Pix to come later, though I hesitate to post pictures with distinct faces. A few of the Tibetans I talked to are still wary about who gets a record of their activities. This is especially true for those who arrived in the past few years and have hopes of returning to Tibet.

I was exhausted for the rest of the day, probably not so much from marching as from lack of sleep, as I've been preparing to move to a new flat. Exhaustion plus pms usually make for a very grouchy, intolerant Sylvia, which I'm seeing more and more as just no good. I lose my temper quickly, I tend to waste energy perseverating over things that don't matter in the end, I put myself in a bad mood. I suppose it's good that I'm now conscious of these things and make an effort to remedy the situation when I can. I've been telling myself in those kinds of situations, just to go to sleep.

Meanwhile, the evening was a nice one, as Tamdin, Kanga, and I were hanging out at Kanga's place, a tiny (I mean walk-in-closet sized) room. But tiny rooms here seem to be workable. You make modest meals using 2-burner portable stoves and it warms up your room quickly. The two told stories all nigth about their drokpa days, that is, their sheepherding days. Completely blows my mind. I would have thought they were making it all up except they talked about it with the conviction that comes only from direct experience. Will write a little more about it later.


Uprising Day, Dharamsala


Uprising Day


Uprising Day

Happy Losar, year of the Fire Dog!

Happy New Year's once more!

As much as we regretted having to say goodbye to the warm weather, pineapple and musambi juice, sweet friends, and other aspects of the south, Tamdin and I were also relieved and happy to have made it back to Dharamsala. For me, it’s a big relief not to have to figure out trains, buses and autorickshaws, not to mention dragging around luggage, finding a decent place to stay every few nights, all these basics of traveling that can become wearisome after a while.

A much warmer, greener Dharamsala greeted us the morning of February 26, along with the Himachali way of things, sweaters and all. It also got us working right away. We unpacked and cleaned our Sidhpur apartment within two hours, and then were off to Mcleod Ganj and Dharamsala (oh, the buses!) to do Losar shopping.

I’ve missed “the” major holidays celebrated in the west (Thanksgiving-Christmas-New Year’s) the past 2 years, though I did spend the Lunar new year at home last year. Anyway, I’d forgotten how fun it can be to prepare and go through the rituals of celebration. I guess since the Losar celebrations are new for me, I can’t take the rituals and preparations for granted. There is more interest in the meaning behind rituals and no jadedness, only light-hearted participation. And I feel like that can be possible also with Christmas and those holidays that I used to celebrate more wholeheartedly. Never mind that Christmas isn’t “my” holiday and that I can’t peel layers of capitalistic & materialistic fluff to get the essence of Christmas, it is possible to understand the intention behind participating in holidays, rituals, etc. and understand what kind of exercise it was meant to be.

This year, I’ve had three chances to celebrate new year. January 1st I was far from parties and champagne as I was at Kalachakra, and in a small Indian village. Kalachakra didn’t have much to do with new year’s, but the locals did celebrate. There were a lot of Christians in Amaravati, and since I was staying just 100 meters from a church, I was right in the middle of those celebrations. The local folks all drew mandalas and messages of happy new year and best wishes in their front stoops with rice flour and brilliant powdered colors. Certainly I could have been spared the all night vehement Christian sermon over loudspeaker and the singing session in which all the kids took turns singing – also over loudspeaker. That was too much, especially since there was already too much use of the airwaves, what with the lamas chanting starting at 5 in the morning (which I didn’t actually mind) and the all-day broadcast of the people locator(“Tashi Dawa from McLeod Ganj, your brother, from Kham, is looking for you”). January 1st I was also thinking about my friend Birj and reflecting back on what this year meant.

I was on the road in Kerala when I got the January 29th email from my Ma saying “happy new year (did you know today is new year’s)”. Haha, what a nice email to get, from Ma, whom I missed so much, and from other friends wishing me happy year of the dog. Really, at that point I was really missing Chinese & Vietnamese food (the ubiquitous “chopsuey” and chowmein, which has become standard Indian faire is ok, but I wanted some good lightly stir-fried veggies with shitake mushrooms, ah!), and especially new year’s food -- banh tet and the Dujou style sticky rice cakes, with peanuts and mung beans, watercress and mushrooms (my mom’s vegetarian substitution for the fatty pork). I wasn’t exactly in a place to cook, but it was nice instead to get stories and new year’s wishes from home, how my dad scared the ish out of Victor with his usual enthusiastic display of firecracker-popping. I was thinking of home a lot.

Losar has been a chance for me to actively participate in festivities. Losar in Dharamsala is much more festive than it was in Berkeley a year ago, though then I didn’t really get much chance to participate much. I should say, my experience here has been rich, as I’ve had a chance to visit several homes and temples. There is quite a bit of preparation that people go through. Everyone sets up elaborate displays of food, especially kapse (Tibetan fried biscuits), fruit, candies. They offer these as well as sugar, butter, and flowers. They also present offerings in beautiful boxes, half filled with tsampa, half with rice (representing bountiful food, and tied very much to the agricultural predominance of life in Tibet). Imbedded in the tsampa and rice are usually colorful sheaths of wheat and butter sculptures that the monks and nuns make (see some photos below).

Losar is celebrated for 3 days in Dharamsala (compared to a month in Tibet), but all the same it’s been fun. Today is day 3, and it’s been nice just to spend a few days preparing and having beautiful meals of momos (dumplings), kapse, and various dishes. It’salso been nice just visiting people, hanging out and talking, drinking chang (barley beer which people brew themselves) and exchanging good wishes and small gifts of food and the like.

I’m just taking the time to recuperate from the travels and reflect before the next stage, which promises to be just as busy as my first three months here in India. I will be taking a Buddhist philosophy class and certainly getting into some other stuff as activity in Dharamsala picks back up for the spring season. I have to move closer to the area of activity (alas, the beautiful little flat here in Sidhpur, while peacefully agrarian, is now missing a kitchen as someone moved in next door and the spare kitchen’s no longer available).

On top of moving and getting into studies, I have a burning desire to establish a regular, stable, art practice and meditation practice again. After all, a creative person who doesn’t practice is a tortured one indeed, so many ideas, stories, images, expressions that want to come out. Much more difficult than in the US, where (though I had less time), I had more conveniences and resources, which made painting much easier. I’ve looked hard for oil paints, man, and finally scored a few tubes of paint and some turpentine – alas no mineral spirits, which are much better for the health and nose. Anyway, we’ll see what we can do with limited oils, local materials, and watercolors. Given enough time to mess with materials, scarcity can be wonderful for creation.

I’ll be challenged for sure. One thing I’ve learned in the past year is that time isn’t going to go any slower. My teacher Hari made a keen observation about age – the older you are, the less a year means. A year is a whole lot more time for a seven-year-old than for a fifty-year-old, because a year is longer in proportion to the kid’s experience of life than it is in proportion to the old guy’s. Hence adulthood, and for me 27, 28 (and coming up this year, 29, <>) have been a whirlwind of one thing after another, making it more challenging to do the art, and now much more discipline is required on my part to make things happen. There’s also a lot more sacrifice that is demanded. I’ve been forced to simplify simplify, give up give up give up, not just things, but ideas about myself and about my life. It’s been an intense but great growing experience. I truly have felt my life shaping me into an adult. It’s putting the reality in my face that life is precious and short (two deaths of people I was close to this last year made that reality really clear) and that I can’t continue to seek comfortable for be paralyzed from doing what I need to and want to do out of fear (all who’ve had deadlines know that procrastination doesn’t come so much from laziness as it does fear). It’s demanding that I get up and get my life together. I guess that’s one of the reasons I also had to come back and experience life in the 3rd world long-term (of course, that’s a complicated statement, as India is a huge mix of everything from 3rd world to first class all in one package.) But however you describe it, I've been living dramatically differently, very simply. I’ve needed to be removed from the comforts and conveniences and safety of home to understand the reality in daily life.

Anyway, I hope this year brings along with these demands more joy.


Part of our chupa (offering), which includes these butter sculptures made by nuns at Dolma Ling Nunnery


Losar breakfast


Neighborhood kids in their best dress


Tamdin and Dhakpa