Om Mani Padme Hum

Dharamsala. For those of you who aren’t up on your current/historical events, let me catch you up. Awhile back, there was a country called Tibet. For what reason, I am not sure, nor do I really care, Tibet was taken over by China. As a result, thousands of Buddhist Monasteries and ashrams were destroyed and the Tibetan people ran. Most of them came to India. A lot of those who came to India, went to Dharamsala. Dharamsala is a small used-to-be-quiet town  in Northern India. Why this town you may ask? This town was chosen as a new home, or temporary home, for many Tibetan refugees because

A) Their government that has been in exile for (I think) over 40years, is residing there.

B)The most beloved leader and spiritual guide, the Dalai Lama, moved there as well.

Dharamsala was a nice break. from India. Cleaner air, less garbage, quieter people, and a new culture. We spent two nights in Dharamsala and I enjoyed all 3 days equally. The IYE students and I went to the Dalai Lama’s ashram to pray and learn about Buddhism. Afterwards, we spent the day shopping in the local market for Tibetan handicrafts made by the refugees. i think it was the first time in India (and probably the last) that I didn’t bargain for what I was purchasing. I had sympathy. I wanted to help them so badly… but I didn’t know how, so I settled with the first option I saw in front of me: Paying full price…or more.

The day was long, and we were tired, but we decided that night to get up early and go back to the Dalai Lama’s ashram and pray with him and his monks in the morning. I have to be honest… I feel I shouldn’t lie. I didn’t really enjoy it… at all. I sat there, cross legged, like I can’t really do, and winced in pain for 45 minutes before I gave up, stood up, and put my shoes on. Chanting and recitation continued around me in a language I didn’t understand. I enjoyed watching, but sitting and pretending to participate just wasn’t working for me. Plus… I was still sore from the camel.

I guess it’s nice to be able to say I went there, and I prayed with his Holiness… but it didn’t really do anything for me, didn’t give me insight, or help me meditate, or understand anything… it only made me sore. I started walking down the hill back out to the market to pass time while I waited for the others to finish, feeling a little disappointed, and a little left out. It didn’t last long. As I reached the outside of the property, I stepped into the street, and a strong breeze. As a pushed against the wind, enjoying the mountain air on my face, I passed an elder monk in traditional red robes. In the breeze, his outer robe/shawl, got caught in the wind just as I walked past him. I tried to avoid it, but couldn’t, and the robe became tangled in my legs. When I finally untangled myself from his robes, I looked up and said sorry in an unnecessarily embarrassed smile and a timid voice. However, he did not react the same. His face was clam, almost laughing, and he gave me the purest, kindest smile I have ever experienced in my life. It was honest.

I went to Dharamsala, not knowing what to expect, not knowing much about Buddhism. I left not knowing much more than I arrived with. But I remember his smile. I live in a world where whether we admit it or not, is based on material things, impressions, egos, and reputations. He had none of that. Just happiness. Every person is different, and I am not the kind of person who could go up in the mountains and sit and meditate and devote my life to… whatever they devote it to. A search for Nirvana. In addition, I don’t necessarily admire them either, but I do respect them.

The rest of the day, and really most of the week, I thought about his smile… which in turn, made me smile.

~ by Amanda on April 7, 2011.