Tibetan Truth

All year I've heard anti-China protests and seen pictures of the Olympic rings as handcuffs underlined with "Free Tibet." But all of this dissent has been from us, from Americans.

Yesterday I had the good fortune of seeing Professor Samdhong Rinpoche speak here. He holds the highest political title of Tibet as Prime Minister of Tibet in Exile, as I mentioned previously. He has worked alongisde the Dalai Lama for over 50 years.

His speech's effect on me was that of a pebble dropped in a still pond. His limited English required him to speak directly and succinctly. He did not dwell on abstract philosophy but rather practical application of Buddhist teaching in world issues ranging from war and terrorism to environmentalism and the Olympic games.

To condense an already compact speech,his main idea was that we need to start with introspection. We have to fulfill our own ideals before we go forcing them on other. We need to recycle our waste before we try to clean up the oceans. We need to communicate peacefully before we try to stop war miles away. We need to eliminate the fear that every crowded place and airplane is grounds for a terrorist strike.

In reference to China and the Olympics he said that the Tibetan people do not hate the Chinese or communism. They don't mind being ruled by China as long as the policies are fair and not intrusive.

“We have no ill-feeling for the Chinese people,” Rinpoche stated. “In spite of terrible conditions, the strength of truth and compassion are with us. We support the Olympic Games hosted by Beijing … [and] wish all goes successfully.”

He concluded with a Buddhist chant that held the crowd in a contemplative rapture.

The Part Where I Lose Steam

I just want to play outside, sit in the grass, read silly books on the hill. Six days of work remaining and my mind is a sugar-fed child in math class. I can't believe I will be home so soon. I will have to start doing my eyebrows and shaving my legs regularly...what a concept.

My father is here and it is glorious. We plan to walk to the waterfall later and his snippet of a vacation ends tomorrow morning. Luckily, my cousin Nikhil will be arriving from New York City to slooow down.

This weekend is my editor's wedding as well as the arrival of the Tibetan Prime Minister of Exile Samdong Rimpoche. Our grounds are being manicured and tended like a "bride on her wedding day."

My lack of camera cord is frustrating...I have many images to enhance my thoughts. Perhaps I will go back and put the pictures in for all the back posts when I go home. So the pictures you've seen so far are from friends.

Prospect Park

Another weekend in New York City revved up my too-low blood pressure and brought me to normal world pace. A 6 a.m. Saturday wake up was followed by 3 hours in the ice-cube bus, a visit to Washington Square park, a light Japanese meal at Dojo, a rendezvous with my cousin, shopping in Union Square (bought fuchsia lacy shirt), dinner at African/French/Belly dancing place in Soho,a $5 psychic reading and some early morning crooning at a Japanese karaoke bar.

A whirlwind, in short. We fell into our beds in Brooklyn at 3:30 a.m., too close to being awake for 24 hours. My cousin Nikhil's apartment is on a beautiful leafy road on St. Marks and it made me reconsider my nevereverlivinginNYCthatplaceiswhack rule. The city has actually started to whisper its call into my ear, something I did not think was in the cards.

The next day we strolled in the sultry summer heat through Prospect Park, wiping off our foreheads and sipping on fresh orange juice. We didn't get back to Manhattan until 3 when we picked up our one meal that day at Whole Foods and rushed back to Port Authority for our bus. The ride home was less than fun with my tumultuous stomach instability and the winding hill roads.

The psychic reading was easily the most entertaining portion. Five dollars has assured me a life of money, fame and romance (does she know I'm going to be a journalist??). I also sport a bright red aura, so make sure your next birthday gift to me matches. I guess another 10 would've got me a celebrity husband and dog.

Future Career?

In my office I hear French, German, Hindi and Wisconsin daily. The song on the video is a young girl singing the words of Tagore's Gitanjali.

Measuring Up

For the first time, I'm feeling antsy. Exhausted. I haven't slept well in days. But enough of that.

I was thinking recently about how calculated our society has become. We use numbers to determine our health, our prosperity. If a doctor looked only at a patients chart to diagnose them, there would be much more malpractice. A person's height, weight and heart rate can't tell you how they relate to their family, or how competent they are at work. So why do we still hold these numbers as our sole method of evaluation?

There is a reason we use a clock to tell time. Because living is circular and not linear. What if we pretended that every day was the same. Kind of like Billy Murray in Groundhogs Day. Would we wake up happier if we knew that no matter what happened that day, the next day would be the same exact amount of opportunity? Would we feel less overwhelmed by ambition?

I know that my own linear thinking is a trouble maker. As soon as I got the idea in my head that I only had 3 weeks left here, my mindset changed. I started thinking of the end. I started becoming aware of all the things I needed to stuff into my remaining time. And that's when the antsy-ness entered.

I think this is why I don't like math. There was a quote from Albert Einstein in my Religion, Nature and Ethics book that goes like this:

It would be possible to describe everything scientifically, but it would make no sense; it would be without meaning, as if you described a Beethoven symphony as a variation of wave pressure.
-- Albert Einstein

So That's Where My Polly Pocket Went

Good news...we may no longer have to cut down trees to build our house. We can build a neighborhood, homes and a school on our own island of trash in the Pacific Ocean.

In the Pacific Ocean there is a Texas-sized mass of plastic floating between San Francisco and Hawaii. The 3.5 million ton manifestation of our ignorance even has a name: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch.

This particular part of the Pacific has a weak current and winds that surround the area in circular motions. Therefore, the flip-flop you lose in the ocean is pulled into the patch and unable to float out.

Over 257 species suffer every year from this ocean-fill. Thousands of mammals like dolphins and sharks have died from swallowing the debris. The magnitude of the situation would require billions to clean up and therefore is not on the government's agenda.

So next time in the grocery store...paper or plastic? (Hint: the answer is Tote Bag)

The Right Action

I had a massage yesterday. Half an hour of soothing hands and dark room and aromatherapy. It was the most painful 30 minutes of my summer.

A combination of car accidents and headstands has thrown my cervical alignment off kilter. You know when kind people come up behind you and massage your shoulders? For me that feels like a 300 pound bench press.

In short, one more lesson I've learned with yoga...don't just do the pose, do it right. And if you don't know how, ask.

I can assure you my ego has gotten in the way of my healthy spine. I would never tell students in a class I was teaching to do headstands so recklessly in grassy fields like I do. I also have stubbornly refused to use props, but you better belief that those blankets and foam blocks will be my friends now.

The right action is a phrase that has been entering my mind a lot. Yesterday I spilled water in the hall and half-heartedly wiped it up. I started to walk away and then a flash of "the right action" made me turn around and dry the floor thoroughly.

A silly example, but it's the little things right?

Cutting the Cord

I fasted this weekend. I cut electronics out of my diet. No computer, phone, IPod. Other than an alarm clock, I was unplugged.

Friday:
On the Fourth of July we celebrated our bountiful nation with bountiful Mexican food and an "Asphalt Party" commemorating our newly paved parking lot. I spent my time keeping sparklers in the kid's hands and listening to our trio (guitar/fiddle/tabla) jazz up the lawn.

Our modest fireworks ended in about two minutes and we trooped up to the Sound of Music hill and watched the colorful bursts from neighboring towns over miles and miles of dark forest, fireflies twinkling all around.

Saturday:
Instead of sleeping and waking up groggily to rush to breakfast, I broke my weekend routine by attending Hatha Yoga class in the morning, exploring the overgrown trails with bees buzzing in my ears and abandoning my book to play Go Fish and charades with two energetic children in the lounge.

After an intense dinner serving shift in the evening I attended a Prayer and Meditation lecture with a wonderful spiritual teacher based in New York, Rolf Sovik. We discussed the topic of having no preference and remaining even-minded and unattached so truth can flood your mind.

Rolf drew inspiration from Buddhist monks, St. Teresa of Avila and the Vedas among other things. It reminded me of the first day of my Introduction to Religion class when my teacher asked us why we wanted to study different religions. I answered "To reaffirm my theory that we are all essentially the same."

We ended with a remarkable meditation where my usual discomfort from tingling, falling-asleep legs was replaced by a non judgmental awareness of every sensation in my body.

Sunday:
On Sunday I felt a little antsy in the morning. I wanted to call my sister and I wanted to watch a movie on my laptop. Instead I sat in the sun after lunch and was invited to go to Skinner's Falls with two residents.

The trip was a joyously twisty, windy drive to the border of PA and NY. We walked down a narrow mud path and then hopped over rocks (okay, I crawled) and lay out over a big flat rock in the center of the river. We dipped into the cool water and swam through rapids that threatened to take us their way downstream. I played with a beautiful golden retriever. My friends and I talked about books and life and whether or not pee is clean.

On the way back I watched the trees fly by and dreamily wondered if my weekend with no modern-day stimulation had made the green brighter, the sounds more vibrant.

Hugsy Comes to Town

My momma came to visit me for two days. She slipped into the institute with that adaptable ease that makes her comfortable in most any space. She took full use of fresh air, fresh food and yoga. Yesterday she left as I stood up to my elbows in gray dish water with a sinking feeling in my stomach.

When I was younger I had what could be described as separation anxiety on speed. If my parents had put one of those creepy kid leashes on me, I probably would have rejoiced. Then in high school, I loved to leave home, travel by myself and take trips, joyously savoring each mile that took me further.

Nowadays I've re-sensitized myself to leaving my family. Since the first day of college when my parents left me in that grimy dorm room, I've felt a strong (but fleeting) pull to go back home and stay. After brief pangs I am usually restored. My wanderlust and solitude reenter. But there is a moment when I see that the old tradition of living with all of your family, extended family, and family by marriage is practical and appealing.

I have this theory about big families. I feel like it's a built in psychotherapy system. If you are surrounded by any tight knit community, you are forced to talk through every bad mood, tear and moment of grief. None of your thoughts have too much time to coagulate and become toxic and stagnant inside you. Now Angelina and Brad make total sense, don't they? Free therapy.

To Do List

1. Inhale
2. Exhale
3. Repeat