Paro, Bhutan: when silence becomes tangible....as spruce trees, a quiet valley and the baby blue sky!! September, 2012
There were prayer flags everywhere, an indication of constant communication with the divine!! Chalela, Paro Bhutan, 2012.
So, I was not sure whether I was going to write about this
whole process of taking two months of unpaid leave.
This blog is my way of documenting whatever does not get
written in my personal journal. In
addition, it has been hard to write regularly in my journal, due to time and
mind clutter. I try to write, partly to
remember incidents that we tend to forget even though they add to the richness
of life, partly to document how one feels walking through life when goals and
interests seem to have faded away. But
mainly to share the thoughts and musings that might bring the readers an
understanding that despite wars, despite crime, despite corruption, it is a
beautiful world. That our happiness is linked with personal happiness. That charity starts at home. And a calm in our inner self is crucial to us
engaging in the outside world.
Despite being in media, I stopped watching news about 8-10
months ago. I am cut off from the world.
I have not followed the election drama in the US, I am unaware of what is going
on Sweden, although Swedish News for me serves and instructional purpose. Staying away from NPR has been hard….but…..
There is no interest in saving the world, when I seem to be
drowning often times. And the news, I
have realized does not understand the poetry of the world. It is couched in negativity and flanked by TV
shows that make a mockery of human relations.
My friends used to call me a home-body. In many ways, I still am. But there is a restlessness, that makes me
feel that I need to be somewhere else, all the time.
It started when I first left home, at a strange age. You step out of your teens and leave. Partly as an escape from-- tradition that you love. You feel it will bind you. And also that there is not enough freedom in
the way tradition is presented. An
opportunity arises and you respond.
You do not realize that leaving at that age, when your
memories of your ‘own land’ are barely a decade long will mess you up. We do not remember much about the first
decade of our life. Then as a corollary
to you spending your adult life outside of where your childhood was spent,
something else shifts. All your
conscious memories are of lands where you were adjusting yourself—always in
transition. It brews a restlessness in
you. You celebrate your holidays but
only as a side thought since no one else around is celebrating. Your
holiday spirit remains contained, and seems odd. People around you ask--Why are
you dressed up today? Why buy all these
sweets?
Its like celebrating Christmas in a communist country. A lone tree, sad lights, and no glow of
lights from neighboring houses.
Emotionally and romantically not many interest you, not many
can match or understand that restlessness, not many want to live at that edge,
not many can be your home, since your home is spread far and wide. You are not a loner, or lonely, because you
make friends. You are alone, since in
this line of life, on this route, all travellers have their own stories, while
many overlap, points of convergence are few.
But since you are young, you leave. You want to see beyond the horizon. You have your whole life ahead. You do not want to foresee, for there is
time. You leave your own shore. Only the new shore, does not appear. When waters get turbulent you look back and
cannot see the city/place you left from.
After that you hold your breath for life to return to
normal, like people your age. At some
point. If not now, may be tomorrow. That tomorrow never arrives. And you are left wondering if your goal now
is only to enjoy the sunrises and not hope.
Personally, I get angry when I read all this globalization
literature. I am stuck in that whirlpool
and do not appreciate these scholars even pretending that they understand what
it feels like. Visas, money, security,
future, nothing is clear. An exchange of
a meaningful conversation is where one rests.
No place is home and yet every place calls you.
The one thing that I
have and can count on is that, now for the last decade and a half I have had
really good friends. There was a
long dry spell of not having that either.
But I do now. A consistency. (I will write else about my return to Sweden,
and how it was different from when I returned to the US—this ultra cold country
felt warm due to my friends—something that hardly happened in the US. No one ever emailed or asked or checked on my
while I was away. I did not exist!!).
And the readers will know what friendship means to me. It is the joining of the heart. Not two emails a year. But someone who interacts with you on several
levels. Emails, calls, visits, skype,
postcards, and occasional packages. But
most of all, the conversations and interactions are not about discussing, ‘oh I
went there, I did this…’ but a genuine
asking and telling of ‘how am /are -- I/you
feeling.’ And then to listen. With our friends, we know their hearts. We know their state of mind. Other friendships then come in varying
degrees.
I have some of the best people in my life. Name a continent,
name a nationality, I probably know people from there. That I consider a compliment to myself!! That is my wealth.
And yet, the question remains what to do with your
condition, when it isn’t where you wanted to end up?
When you look around and think well, ‘Yeh daag daag ujala, Yeh woh sahar to nahin….’ (a line from a very
famous line from a very famous Indian, now Pakistani poet---‘This stained daylight,
this was not the morning/ destination I had hoped for’-- This tattered raiment
of darkness.
This sputtering of dawn.
This is not the dawn that we had hoped
for.
This is not the dawn we had set out for).
People go through midlife crisis at 40. Mine came at 18, and has stayed with me ever
since. In between there have been
moments of clarity.
Teaching at Penn State was my highlight. Indiana and Clarion were good too, but Penn
State was another dimension. I have
never had that peak again.
Writing, which is important in my field, comes easy to
me. Just not academic writing. I write, and I never send them out. Or just before the deadline I back out. There were times when I wanted to throw up
(literally) in the middle of academic writing.
That is the deep resistance I have to this way of communicating with the
world.
If that can be called communicating with the world?
My dissertation was on environmental activism. I killed nearly 20 trees writing it. What with edits and rewrites. And every environmental summit the delegates
eat, drink, and leave without any solid decision-making.
Did I or others like I make any dent?
Years of work on Media Effects and I am amazed at what gets
produced at MTV, and worse how it reaches countries like Fiji and Botswana?
So this trip, I have thrown caution to the wind and am
spending so much. I knew I needed it. I hardly spend time and money on myself. A realization that has come to me in the last
year. My resources are always about,
that person’s birthday, this one’s anniversary, let me call that relative, this
friend…..
Years of being away from home, I still call my
relatives. Not just my parents and
sibblings.
But again, that is my way of keeping continuity. The reward is that now I know my nieces and
nephews who grew up in the decade that I never visited home. and many of them I had not seen since I first
left home.
I went back and 3 year olds had turned 18, and were a head
and shoulder taller than I. When some of
them came to touch my feet, not only did I scream but realized I had to deal
with the shock that now I commanded some respect of age as well. I was still young and yet there were these
youngsters, my blood, who had no knowledge of me.
I have been returning home, or to the place where I grew up,
once a year in the last 8-9 years. I
have restored that connection and in some way am ready for a break.
In many ways I know ‘something has crossed over and I cannot
go back’ ( A famous line from Thelma and Louise).
But for this trip, I knew that I had no plans. At first I thought I wanted to spend two
months in India, since I will get to spend Dusshera and Diwali, the two main
festivals in India. Also October is one
of the most pleasant months in Delhi. I could get more footage for the
documentary that I have in mind.
But what I really wanted to do was volunteer. There was a peace project in San Diego,
writing about peace activists that was paid.
A student of mine had told me about it.
But I declined, since that would mean work.
I needed some free time to make some decisions. My last five to six years have been
hectic. Dealing with life, life issues,
looking back trying to piece a life that I am not sure I created or wanted. Also, I have moved continents three times in
this time period.
But there have been moments of light, when I look at it and
I see clear. The falls and the failures
are the things to be proud of. Some
times it seems like there is a plan, an organization. I am just frustrated that
I do not understand.
This is to tell all those who struggle with these issues,
that most of us are in this whirlpool--together. Those who think they are not, are not
contemplating the real questions. Most
have no time since they have the luxury of being sold to the images provided in
ads and movies. Ah, love and
family. So easy to talk about and
replicate in images.
But the changes in the world happen and emerge from those
who are restless. Who seek change. But more importantly, who are actually caught
up in the revolution. With or without a
conscious intention.
So, for me, this has been a winding road.
And I have had many companions on the way. Most of them are companions for a short
while. The real conversations I have had
are, either short quick ones in classes, where I make sure my students take
some questions with them, with my dear friends who function at the same level,
and the travellers. Those who have
acknowledged that their home and heart is an idea, often a fleeting one!! So we
see ourselves in people who reflect our own condition.
If we are awake/Buddhas in the making then we have the
courage to acknowledge it all.
On this winding road, this time, taken deliberately I had no
idea what I was doing. I wanted to go
woofing, volunteer, teach, rest, not think, cut off from the world, read,
write, paint, walk, run, meditate, sing, go to India take classes in Vedic
philosophy, spend time in Latin America working with children’s television, go
to the US and work with this research group that I admire, go bike riding
everyday,
In essence, I wanted to be everywhere.
But I chose Asia.
I thought I would backpack through South East-Asia like I
did three years ago. But by the time I
arrived in Thailand, I was tired. Heat
wears me out. And I realized that the
thought of carrying my bag every few days looking for a place to stay, trying
to see how to enter and exit a country was not what I wanted.
I met L from Germany in Bangkok, at the backpackers. I took to
her immediately. She had a cute chubby
face, that exuded joy. We got to know
each other only for two days, but it felt like a deep connection. One of those travellers who gave meaning to
travels.
The day she left, I found a note in my wardrobe. A beautiful note from her that talked about
how she felt when we talked and it had a 1000 kyatt, Burmese currency. Burma was a place I wanted to go. And so in some ways that was a sign.
Then, I met a gentleman from India in Thailand on my way to
Ko Chang, who when I talked about my interest in Bhutan said, ‘ Oh you can go
easy, all the visa stuff there is for westerners mainly.’
Really, I thought?
Ko Chang was loud.
The best thing about that was meeting these two cute young Chinese
girls.
On my return to Bangkok I met M from Netherlands, and
reconnected with M from Germany. Another
one where we sat down and felt like we were meant to meet. Hindu and Buddhist beliefs are based on this
ideology that when we meet and the interaction is intense, it is from a past
life connection. I must have had
millions (not a compliment) since turn around of people in my life has been
enormous.
I must have had numerous lives, because
I have many of those heart to heart connections where I am left wondering where
do I know these people from?
I think on our winding road, we meet people from our past
lives.
The night before I left I talked with two young men. Both 21, one from UK and the other, part Thai
kid, from guess where? Yes Sweden!!
We talked well into the night since my flight was at 4 am.
I left Thailand with peace and excitement in my heart.
At the airport I met this bunch of Taiwanese people, I will
put their picture up as well. A happy
group of people. Including an 82 year
old matriarch.
I met this wonderful young woman and her daughter in the
plane. She spoke fluent hindi. I had been told that Bhutanese people speak
very good hindi. Partly because they
share a border with India, and partly due to Bollywood.
The moment I arrived in Bhutan I started laughing. Like a mad person. It was pleasant, clean, gorgeous and pretty
much soundless. Except the construction
sounds and stray dogs. I knew I did
right by me!!
Although my blog entries are all sporadic and come out of
time, I will try to write the next few blogs, just about Bhutan, as I truly
intend to write about this beautiful country and its policies that are geared
toward fiercely protecting its culture. I will try and put them under the category of Bhutan and/or winding roads.
But in this one, in this long one where I have bared my
heart, hoping that those who struggle with ‘existence and meaning’ will find
some solace that they are not alone, I wanted to write about how sometimes
things happen magically---and that we should be open to it.
Pay attention to the signs and signals that bring us
messages.
On the winding roads around this wanton world…..there are
many things and people that bring us messages.
I hope and pray we learn to be open to them. And at the risk of preaching mumbo-jumbo, I
think we should teach children at school to be on the look out for messages
that help us deal with this wanton world..
