power of people and place

Five days in Dharamsala was a bit like stepping into a parallel universe. Like India, but not, in so many ways. And I felt the difference palpably. It was cold, which made me breathe more deeply. It was mountainous, which made me stretch my legs further. And its spirit made me open my heart.

Tibetan refugees arrive here by bus, after harrowing, often violent, always terrifying journeys over the mountains from their homeland. They must take high passes to avoid Chinese forces, who shoot freely at Tibetans trying to escape (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nangpa_La_killings for a recent example). The community takes them in - feeds, houses, nurses their frostbite, and tries to help them settle in. Each refugee, when ready, receives a personal audience with the His Holiness the Dalai Lama. The government and the community have tried to create a home here, and a center for the preservation of the traditional culture - the arts: music, painting, sculpture, metalwork, dance; the language; the religion.

Dharamsala is thus a place of sadness, and of hope. It is like a history lesson walking down the main roads or strolling through paths between temples. Wise eyes on wrinkled, shining faces turn prayer wheels for good blessings and sell hand-knit socks and scarves. I wonder at their stories - what they have seen with those eyes.

Now and again, especially when traveling, I meet someone who really challenges me to think and feel, who encourages me to follow my dreams without fear. In Dharamsala, I met three. On our second night, Sarah and I went to a cafe to drink tea and watch an open mike night, but found that just a few musicians had shown up, and we were the only customers. One of them invited a small gang of us to his apartment to have tea and play music there, and so we went - it was bliss to sit with warm tea, listen to guitars, and sing badly without remorse - so there were the first two people. A day or so later we wanted to hike up from town into the mountains and after a few false starts, we all ventured out for what ended up being a very fun, very special hike to the middle of nowhere. The trail was recommended to us by the third wonderful person, who has been living in Dharamsala and studying Tibetan history for over 20 years - he has been to Tibet countless times, cataloging ancient sites and studying ancient writings. He says that you cannot describe the landscape of Tibet without being a poet, the light is so brilliant and the place so starkly tactile. The sun was setting as we reached the main road from our hike, and as it cast continually changing light on the snow fields above town, I think I caught a glimpse of what he meant.