a different side of delhi

my discovery of delhi metro made a big difference in the possibilities of exploring the city. it's also a trip to go from the dusty noisy chaotic streets in some parts of the city into the slick, organized, modern fast subway. we were so excited to take the elevated train (so we could see the city without sloughing through the streets) that we just picked random stops and went there. one stop, tagore gardens, definitely did not have gardens or parks, and was rather dumpy. but on the other hand, we discovered the marching band district (the shops here are all clustered together. where you find one type of shop, you'll find them all).

Upon leaving

I've been savoring my last few days in Dharamsala as much as I've been able.

I've been pretty calmly observing, despite all my strange dreams, with mixed symbols and characters from my two worlds. The other night, I dreamt I was crammed with twelve other people (Indian style) into a jeep, but we were driving by the ocean, on the way to Santa Cruz. We missed Santa Cruz and ended up in Sausalito. I've also had dreams of the Tibetan alphabet, Hindi phrases oft-used in my daily routine (baiya, yeh kitana? dharamasala jaeger?)

Last night, Tamdin and I chatted with a neighbor a little bit when I got home. We talked about lightening. The wind was picking up ferociously. The power will go out, Tamdin said, just knowing how things go. Surely enough, the hills on the other side of the valley started blinking. The whole hillside went dark. Then lit back up in a few minutes. Then went dark again. Meanwhile, dusk was a little pink and gray. The clouds were gathering and were already thundering. Tamdin reminisced a little about thunder back in Tibet. This is nothing, he said, you can barely hear it. In Tibet, everyone's afraid of the dragon, what they call the sharp clack-ka-ra-ra of thunder. I was thinking that thunder made a lot more sense in the country, where things were still simple enough to be symbolic. For some time, we sat out on the balcony and just listened and watched that wonderful display of the heavens: lightening lighting up the entire hillside for an instant, or running across the sky like a crack in the egg of our world. Slowly, rain, off in the distance, over the Kangra Valley. In the distance, we could hear the drumming and whooping of an Indian wedding ceremony going on. Rain or shine, they continued to play.

The cold and drove us inside, but the weather continued its drama all night, with very fast winds screeching and rain. We had another kind of entertainment competing with that though, the 5-in-1 DVD (5 movies on one disc, that is) that we rented for rs50, yeah!

Speculations

Atmosphere is something at Lhamo's Croissants,
the importance of atmosphere being something of a new trend in Dharamsala, and a bit more expensive,
which is why you won't find the McLeod Ganj boys sipping chai there.
Besides, it's a bit awkward,
sitting on newfangled orange cushions,
sipping (real filtered) coffee from newfangled painted cups
and forking delicate cakes on newfangled square dishes
when you only make like thirty bucks a month
and still have to bargain hunt for socks and vegetables.
Even flipping through magazines, as I am now,
is a strange thing that requires your eyes to first be opened
to the idea of solitary leisure.

Don't get me wrong -- as a Westerner,
I'm enjoying the luxury, and I get a good hour in (one cuppa coffee, a lemon cake, and one cuppa earl grey tea)
before my solitary leisure is disturbed by a huge American group
who've congregated here at these low tables --
which were constructed, carved, and painted by artisans I know at Norbulingka --
to discuss the issue of Tibet.
I'm still busy flipping through magazines for some photos
that are good for painting
and making notes on safety tips when using oils,
though I find it tempting to comment.
A group of people who've just arrived in Dharamsala,
white-middle-class-college-educated Americans
who mean well but know too little
are spending time at ornate tables speculating on
what Tibetans in exile think versus
what Tibetans from Tibet think versus
what the Dalai Lama thinks versus
what the US government & the international community think
about a Free Tibet and a China they don't know.
They speculate on whether Tibetans want a free Tibet,
whether they have too much blind faith in the Dalai Lama and the middle way,
and whether the Dalai Lama is being pressured to pursue the middle way,
though some admit they don't have a good grasp of Buddhism
(and I add) don't really know what the middle way is,
nor who really the Dalai Lama.

There is not one mention about Tibet within the context and history of imperialism,
not a hint of understanding about this conquest within the context of a degenerate human nature ( it is ignorance that causes us to be born & reborn in the first place)
not a mention of first-hand accounts by Tibetans about living in Tibet or living in exile,
not a grasp, only a small idea about realities in China,
realities of refugee experiences,
the ultimate reality that the Dalai Lama is trying to teach the world to see,
the reality that has nothing to do with nations, political power struggles, or painted coffee cups.

But I can't blame them for not knowing, since they can't know.
And they may have learned some things today
through their speculations and discussions.
And maybe they'll do some things to inform others about the situation.
Maybe too people can lecture about enlightenment,
which they read about in some book by someone equally ignorant,
without having done the work to find what it is.
What a college student discussion.

Art sharing

The other day I went back to TTS to talk a little with the Thangka painting class, as I was donating some art supplies to them. The students were so enthusiastic. I'm going back on Monday to do a (very quick) demonstration on watercolors and oils. It will be interesting what we can cover in just 2 hours, but it will be fun. Most of the students are pretty talented and have a good eye.

Meanwhile, I decided after few visits and pondering how to study thangka that I'm not going study it for now. Thangka painting is amazingly intricate and structured and it has its specific history and purpose. It is meant to pay homage to gods and goddesss, Buddhas and Bodhisattvas in the Buddhist pantheon. My dharma knowledge is not great enough to practice this art, nor am I at the moment disciplined enough to spend hours a day for several months on a single piece. Yes, that's how long it takes to complete these thangkas, which is why they're so expensive. They're also so precious because they crush their own pigments from precious stones and minerals. The paint-making process involves boiling those pigments for hours. That's really good because the painting then retains its color brilliance for a long time. (These should not be confused with the great number of fake thangkas on the market -- ones that are painted in acrylics and watercolor, for example). Anyway, hopefully those interested in buying the thangkas will understand their value, not from the price, but from the materials, time and energy, and dharmic value.

Having been more interested lately in how the process of art-making informs the art ideas and the art product, I've decided it's not for me now. My art is still about patching together stuff from recycled materials, from image and text. But I may be able to endeavor in learning thangkas later on, when my dharma is stronger. We'll see.

Anyway, here are pix from TTS:


The class monitor is offering me a kata


A work in progress by the thangka teacher

Time's Short, Life Goes On

I have two weeks left in Dharamsala. Wow, where did the time go? After moving into a cute apartment on Baghsu Road this last weekend (the 3rd time in 5 months!) with a beautiful view of the valley and Jogibara Road in the distance, I feel like I'm only now getting the hang of things.

But for the most part, I'm feeling fine about leaving. Somehow, I feel very calm about things as they are, and that everything has its time and place. Besides, the shortness of time has been making things very poignant.

I finished up a reiki (energy healing) class yesterday. It was a bit too new-agey for me, and the instructor, as friendly and ebullient as he was, didn't really answer my questions very precisely. That's the problem with new-age stuff: a lot of mysteriousness and not enough concrete knowledge. Still, it was interesting and probably at least half useful, and I'm excited to use reiki on friends of mine who need it.

I'm also hiking to the Library of Tibetan Works and Archives for a beginning Tibetan language class every day. The class is taught by a nun who is so cute. She's a clean-shaven (her head) shorty with a beautiful face and is really expressive as she corrects our pronunciation. "NO, not NA! NGA! from the throat! NGA!"

Life goes on in the way it does here, with grittiness, beauty, and craziness all wrapped up in one. The other day I was just walking to class when I came across a police scene and the body of a man in the gutter. He was very small and frail, probably elderly. I couldn't tell what happened to him, whether it was an accident or a crime, but his face was totally gone. Utterly shocking. But things went on as usual.

People just accept what comes, which can be good sometimes, and sometimes can be detrimental. For instance, I went to meet one Khampa woman who fell from her 2nd story "balcony" while doing laundry. The accident would have been fatal if she hadn't grabbed hold of the balcony before she fell. But she broke her hip and has no documentation, so the hospital bills are putting her and her husband in debt for a long time. I went to talk to her to help her out, but as I was surveying the scene, I shocked that she would live under such hazardous conditions -- the "balcony" was just the concrete roof of the unit below, and there was no fence or anything to keep anyone from falling off. This is especially hazardous since she has small children. And yet people live with these kinds of serious problems because they're poor and perhaps don't feel like they can spend any extra for a fence. From my experience growing up in the US, though, has me at times outraged by things not working. Sometimes it's just me being a spoiled brat. But at other times, I am outraged by problems that really do need fixing. For instance, today I was walking down one of those narrow winding roads on the way to the library. I have gotten in the habit of carrying a stick with me to give the taxi drivers the illusiont hat I'm bigger than I am because otherwise, they brush inches by you as they're rushing up and down. As I saw this truck carrying long cables and metal beams coming, I stepped to the side of the road, but he still drove too close to me, and had I not ducked quickly (thanks to capoeira for this!), I would have been hit square in the face by these beams. When I yelled at him to watch where he was going, he looked at me as if I was crazy.

I feel I'm practicing more compassion and patience through the wisdom that's been seeping into my consciousness from the Dalai Lama's teachings here and from the dharma books I've been reading. Such good stuff. I've been taking more and more responsibility for what I experience in my life. For instance, I've made a vow to really work with my anger, to observe how it arises, what effect it has on me, and not give it fuel. That's helped so much.

I've also been realizing that people don't change except every so slowly but that every day they have the potential to change. We are so deeply and superficially run by our habits. But some do use that potential to change. If I can keep this in mind, I can have so much more patience with others.

Beautiful Hike

I accompanied T and D on their hike up past Tushita Meditation Center to a mountain top. It was a rather steep hike, but was gorgeous. We stopped for chai at this little stall called "Restawhile" at halfway up.

Once up there, the guys set to work to build the offering pyre. It was lit on fire, and we all made offerings to our specific gods. We watched the smoke billow up in opaque clouds as we threw in the offerings of tsampa, fruit, biscuits, sprinklings of water, candy. (Offer what you like to eat, T had said). We threw in a kata and some fragrant incense powder. As the fire started to die, the crows above kept mistaking the red-stained kata for meat and were always disappointed. But they cleaned off the remnants of biscuits from the pyre.

T & D both gave hearty yells from their lungs as they threw the lungtas(small "lottery" papers) into the air, making dedication for long life and prosperity for ourselves and families in the present and future lives. We sat down and recited our mantras for about half an hour. The dog who followed us up the mountain was enjoying that. He lay stretched out, sleeping.

Offered windhorses (prayer flags)were also a little adventure. We found some suitable trees and climbed them, despite their thorniness. And left a sign of our aspirations there. Visuals below.

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.