Letters from India

As a poet, I often go through seasons of silence, where I write very little and enjoy just being instead of always trying to cross that border between you and I with words. This, I suppose, has been like that...but different. I've been living and studying in India for almost three months now, and mostly I just haven't had time to write, which means no time to edit, which means I'm not ready to show my work. However, what I do have to offer are my letters home, which speak of this experience and will explain much of the work to come. For now, let me trade my silence for these hasty little bites of India.


9/15 . First Namaste...

Namaste, friends! I'm now in Bodhgaya, living at the Burmese Vihar, which is a Buddhist monastery with guesthouse. There's no easy way to explain what India or the monastery are like. I barely remember the last time I was in the States, though it was not that long ago, because everything here is so radically different. As we flew into Delhi, we looked out the window and saw the mountains of Afghanistan--a breathtaking landscape that just reached out at us, even as we were thousands of feet in the air. I think that's when I had some idea how confrontational India would be. Everything here is in your face: the land, the smells, the poverty, the heat, the power-outages, the tasty food, the overwhelming beauty of the clothes and temples and people. And yet, it is a relationship you learn to love. You wear the same dirty clothes for three days in the dust, yet still are amazed how rich and beautiful these traditional outfits look. You light a candle when the power goes out, get used to the heat and lack of air conditioning, and learn how to walk down the street among the cows and young men trying to "guide" you. You wake up at 4:30 in the morning to the rooster and the Islamic call to prayer, but then you see how fresh the morning is, and you go to meditation in silence, looking forward to the places in your mind you might go today. I love it here. I feel so called and blessed to be here.

And not only is India wonderful, but this group I am with makes everything deeper and more enjoyable. I have never been in a room with so many people who want to talk about God and in such different ways. We have grown close in a very short amount of time, and especially my roommate and I have developed a friendship I hope will last after the program. I am very excited about what the next few months with bring.

Even in these few weeks, we have done so much. I've begun classes, which are going fine, and meditation, which I love. I expected it to be quite difficult, since I had never tried it before, but found that I was actually fairly natural at it. I suppose I have spent a lot of time cultivating a spiritual place in my mind, where God and I can talk, so it's easy for me to go there and be calm there. Too, I have seen many beautiful places and done some pretty crazy things. Notably, I have shaved my head. I know, I know...crazy hippie Liz. But I really just wanted to let go of what I didn't need anymore. And I really didn't need my hair. I feel just as beautiful, if not more confident without it. And it's much easier to deal with in this weather, too. But mostly, the act was symbolic, something I'd been wanting to do for a while, just to prove to myself that I could. And I'm quite proud of myself.

Too, I met an elephant in the riverbed the other day, which was pretty neat. And I've been visiting Sikh temples and Buddhist temples and will get to see a Hindu festival this Friday. It's all beautiful and fascinating. But more on that in future updates.

For now, I have to get back to homework. We keep a very tight schedule here, so don't be concerned if these emails are few and far between. Thanks for your patience...in advance.

So much love to you all. Your prayers and well-wishes are always with me.

Liz


9/28 . Fevers and friends in robes...

Things have been a little up and down lately in India. This weekend, several of us caught the "seasonal fever," which basically means we got the flu. And if you know how much the flu stinks when you're in America, imagine having it when it's 95 degrees outside, you have no air conditioning, the electricity is out (i.e. no fan), and all you have are poorly-lit Asian-style toilets. It's not very pleasant. However, after sleeping 20 hours a day for a few days, I'm feeling almost back to normal. So just pray that I stay healthy, especially as I have a big paper due in a few days.

On the bright side, some really cool things have been happening here. We experienced our first Hindu festival last week, which was crazy but very fun. Basically, the Hindus believe that one of the gods comes to visit for a day or two to bless things, so everyone parties and eats a lot of these little butter cake balls. This particular god was the patron of tools and mechanical stuff, so all the rickshaws (taxis) and cars were covered in flowers and the parked ones had incense burning on the engine (which seemed a little unsafe, but hey it's India). The best part, though, is how everyone is very friendly and basically wants to feed you as much blessed food as they can. Even walking down the street, we got pulled into several shops for food and picture-taking.

Also this week, the students in this program had the opportunity to be ordained as a novice monk or nun, so several of my friends shaved their heads, wore the robes, and generally lived a monastic life for a week. It was really interesting to see them ease into that life, which can be pretty austere and difficult. Everyone seemed to handle it well, though it was difficult to have so many boundaries with my male friends, who were supposed to keep their distance with women. Also, because those of us who didn't ordain became "laypeople" in this experiment, we were expected to treat them as higher than us, which would be normal for Buddhist society. This was hard for a lot of people, but I actually found that I liked serving my friends that way. And it was a very concrete way of learning how actual Buddhist societies function, which is what we're supposed to be studying here. It's different from what we're used to, but very stretching for the Western mind.

This coming weekend will be a 4-day break for us, and many of us are traveling to Varanasi for a few days. Varanasi is a city on the Ganges river, where people come to burn their dead and bathe in the sacred waters. There are many Hindu temples there, which we hope to visit, and supposedly there is a Pizza Hut too! After weeks of rice and dahl, you have no idea how good that sounds.

As for daily life, things remain ever new and exciting and challenging. We're getting very used to the food and clothes, sights and smells of Bodh Gaya, but things still come up and knock the air out of my lungs sometimes. Like this morning, as we were practicing walking meditation, you could see the sun rising over the river all red and orange with silhouetted palm trees. And I admit, I cheated in my meditation, because it was too glorious not to watch. And another night I lay on the roof with my friend, watching the stars, feeling the electricity go on and off in the building below. Often it's cloudy at night, but when the stars and the moon do come out, it's a whole new sky. These are the moments I remember that God is ever in this place, even when I get discouraged about the little things, and he is rising up all sorts of new and good things in me. And I am very grateful for that.

Thank you all for prayers, notes, and support. I'm sending you all a lot of "metta," which is the Buddhist term for the unconditional loving-kindness we are trying to cultivate here.

Love,
Liz


10/7 . From the holy river...

Hello dear friends/family!

Thank you once again for your emails of encouragement and tidbits from home. Also, thanks for your concern about my health. I'm completely recovered now, and am back to eating more momos (Tibetan dumplings) than anyone should legally be allowed to consume.

On the note of wonderful food, I got my pizza in Varanasi! It was...strange...but delicious nonetheless. Tomato sauce isn't really available in India, so it was more just naan (Indian flatbread) with ketchup and cheese on it. But this is surprisingly good, unless you're dead set on American pizza, in which case it is quite disappointing. But if I've learned one thing here, it's to stay open and accept things as they come. Otherwise, India would be a very frustrating place, instead of a frustrating but really really beautiful and exciting place.

But back to Varanasi. After living in a strict Buddhist and academic environment for a month, Varanasi was exactly the break we all needed. The city is breathtaking, with an almost Venetian feel, as its roads open right up into the Ganges. And my oh my, that river is so beautiful. It's actually one of the dirtiest rivers in the world, with a terrible rate of sewage and decaying bodies...but you really wouldn't know it to look at it. Plus, the fact that thousands of Hindus are constantly bathing in it makes you forget it's a bad idea to touch it. Don't worry, I put a floating candle in it, but there was no contact. I wasn't keen on getting some funky disease. Anyway, the whole riverbank is lined with ghats, which are basically docks that are entirely stairs down into the water. Here, the people come to bathe in the sacred water, and brahmin priests perform aarti, which is a ceremony in which fire and incense are offered to the Hindu deities. Everything is very alive and colorful there, and I loved just sitting and watching it all happen. It's really hard to explain, but just imagine the Ganges in the evening with hundreds of bathers and floating candles, then add the scent of sandalwood incense, then some Hindu music blaring over loudspeakers, and finally one priest at the center of it all, dressed in the oldest style of Indian clothing, carefully lifting a plate of fire in a hypnotic rhythmn with the music. It's something like that.

Also in Varanasi, my friends and I took a rowboat ride out on the Ganges at sunrise. This was my favorite part by far. The sun rises so fast here, so one minute you're out with the moon, then the big red sun just takes over the sky. Beautiful. And you can see so much from the river: monkeys, temples, the Hindu ascetics and sadus (holy men) performing rituals, beautiful European architecture, ridiculous advertisements. We also saw the burning ghat, which cremates over 200 Hindus a day, so it's constantly burning. When we got there, all you could see were stacks and stacks of firewood (usually sandalwood, which covers up the bad smell). Then, you walk up to the roof of a building and can see the cremation grounds, which seems strange by American standards, but is actually a very public thing in India. We saw a body wrapped in white linen put on a pyre and lit. The Hindus believe that burning their dead by the Ganges releases their souls from their bodies and allows them to go straight to Moksha (kind of like heaven, or more accurately, the release from the cycle of rebirth). If anyone cries, the soul will be stuck on earth, kind of like a ghost. So it's mostly men who watch the burning, and then a bunch of Western tourists. It was a little weird to be there, but altogether I'm glad I got to see it. Hinduism is really interesting, and I'm hoping to learn more about it while I'm here.

Varanasi was also a great place to go shopping and generally act like a tourist, since there are a lot more Westerners there. Often we would spend hours eating these big wonderful breakfasts and drinking tons of chai, then would amble out into the "gullies" or small alleys near the river to shop and generally soak up the life of the city. I bought some new clothes, since I only have four outfits here (we are all dirty and no one cares anymore), and lots of fun gifts to bring back. It was hard to leave the city (especially since our train back was at 5 am), but hopefully I'll get to go back one day.

Back in Bodh Gaya, we have begun working on our independent study projects, during which we will all go out to different places in India for three weeks and write a 20-30 page paper on some aspect of Buddhism. I'm planning on doing my project on Tibetan poetry, and will most likely be traveling to Dharamsala, which is in the mountains in the northwest and the home of the Dalai Lama. Currently, I'm trying to track down a Tibetan poet-in-exhile, but I haven't made that contact for sure yet. We'll see how things go. Either way, I've been digging into the contemporary poetry of the exhiles, and it's very interesting, so I'm pleased with my topic.

Also new is that we're beginning Zen meditation with a Japanese sensei from Australia. He's quite a character, and Zen is a little confusing at times, but also calming and elegantly ritualized. In the evenings, we walk to a Japanese temple to sit Zen for an hour, and I like that a lot, even though a ton of Indians come out to watch us and take pictures. It's funny, I guess, to watch a bunch of white kids try to be Zen. And we think it's funny to watch them watch us, so everyone wins.

Everything here is busy but good. We don't sleep enough trying to get everything done, but I still somehow find time to pray on the roof in the mornings, write poetry, and have the best best conversations with these amazing people. Altogether, I remain incredibly blessed and well. It's stormed the past few days, which has cooled down the weather so that sleeping is more pleasant and the afternoons more tolerable. I'm looking forward to snow in the mountains during my independent project, but for now I will take this Indian "fall" with gratitude.

I hope you all are well. I neglected to mention about the Indian train we took to Varanasi: It was open-air, which was kind of like being inside a pair of lungs, but in a good way, because all the wonderful countryside air rushes into the compartments, kind of like driving with the windows down on a country road. And there's really just no way not to feel alive and happy with that going on. So I hope you all are well and happy in that way, with all of life's blessings fresh on your face.

So much love,

Liz

10/18 . Places of love...

Life in India is as wild and busy as ever. Festival season is picking up, and just yesterday we had Durga Puja, which was a lot of fun. In Hinduism, Durga is a warrior goddess, created by the other gods to slay a buffalo-headed monster. So this festival is basically a celebration of the triumph of good over evil, and everyone gets dressed up and comes into town to pay respects to Durga, whose image is set up in tents around town (which you can find by the really really loud Indian music blaring from them). Also, this festival blends with a celebration of the Ramayana story, which is a classic Indian epic about the capture of Sita and her rescue by Ram (the ultimate ruler-god). In the Ramayana, Ram defeats the evil Ravana from Sri Lanka to save Sita, so to celebrate, Indians build huge statues of Ravana and blow them up. Yes, that's right, there are explosions. It sounded a lot like the 4th of July around here, except big nasty warriors were collapsing in the process. Ironically, we were trying to sit Zen at the Japanese temple while this was going on. Needless to say, that was not my best meditation session.

Anyway, what I really loved about the festival was that all the mothers came out that day. Usually you only see women if they are traveling somewhere or begging on the streets. It's rare to see whole families together, but on the holiday it's very much a family atmosphere, with vendors selling toys and carnivalesque balloons and sweets. I really loved seeing the women act in that universal "motherly" way, clutching their childrens' hands and making their babies laugh. One of the hens at the monastery hatched chicks the other day, and all day you can watch the fuzzy little ones follow her around, looking for seeds and stretching their tiny wings. Indian families are a little like that, all clustered around the mama, looking for food and trying not to get lost on the crowded streets. And though I had my wonderful friends with me, I have to admit I wanted a mommy there with me too. There's just nothing quite like one.

In other news, we climbed a mountain last weekend, which was amazing. First, we walked an hour through the countryside villages, which included wading through the river and being greeted by a million little village kids. Then we got to the mountain and trekked up, which felt so good after weeks of sitting and studying most of the day. At the top, we got to go in this amazing cave that had a stunning Buddha statue inside, and we lit some incense and received blessings from the brahmins there. Then, we strung some Tibetan prayer flags (these beautiful multi-colored flags with prayers written on them) between two high peaks, and climbed around on the rocks, which made my inner eight-year-old boy very happy. If being in town made us forget how naturally beautiful India is, we certainly remembered it as we looked down from the top at all the distant mountains and rice fields, palm trees and rivers. It was quite a sight.

Later that evening, we students had a talent show at the local restaurant, and I got to read a few poems, which was fun. Also, so many people from my group have incredible musical gifts, but there isn't any music allowed in the monastery, as monks aren't supposed to engage in entertainment. So it was amazing to hear everyone sing and play, especially those who did original songs. I still can't believe I'm with these people some days, as everyone seems to be so talented, intelligent, and just downright interesting. And even as we all get tired and loaded down with work, the group dynamic has remained surprisingly strong and supportive, for which I am very grateful.

As much as things have been exciting and good around here, I have to admit that at this point in the program, I'm getting very tired and a little burnt-out on studying just Buddhism. We're having to do a lot of work on our independent study projects, along with another round of papers and exams for the end of our Zen session (next is Tibetan-style meditation), so there's rarely a moment to spare. And getting up at 4:30 am is getting harder and harder as the days grow shorter and the mornings darker. So do pray for my perseverance and that I will be refreshed for the second half of my time here. I think working with poetry again will really help, as will going to a new place next month in Dharamsala. Too, this weekend is a long weekend (yay!), and my roommate Britt and I are already planning to do some fun shopping and sightseeing in the area. So things are well, and looking up, just a little stressful right at the moment.

I hope you all are well and enjoying where life takes you. I was having chai with some shopkeepers the other day, who reminded me not only how hospitable Indians are, but also what is special about this place. "Bodh Gaya is a place of love. Here is the tree of love," Nailash said, referring to the Bodhi tree under which the Buddha gained enlightenment. And it's true. No matter how frustrated I get here, I am always reminded how much I am growing and learning how to love in this crazy little Indian town. And really, I can't ask for more than that.

May you all find yourselves in places of love.

Liz

10/30 . Taking the "I" out...

Well, there's certainly been a lot to write home about lately. These past couple weeks have been packed with changes and challenges, ups and downs. I'm doing well, but definitely tired out.

First off, there was Zen. I haven't written much about our actual meditation practice, because it's hard to explain, especially when you haven't practiced it yourself. Zen meditation, to summarize, is highly aesthetic, ritualized, and confusing. There's lots of bowing and very careful posture and hand placement, but as far as what your mind is supposed to be doing, Zen will only give you some vague and contradictory advice like "Take the 'I' out" or "What is the sound of one hand clapping?" I found it incredibly frustrating, and would often leave a little early to sit on the roof and defiantly sing or pray. However, by the third week (we do each style of meditation for three weeks, then switch) I realized how much my negative reaction to Zen signaled how much I needed to practice Zen. Those meditation sessions were like sandpaper against my sense of control and ego, and while I really didn't enjoy it, I came to see how beneficial it was to me and made a sort-of peace with it.

One of the things I hated most about Zen was the tradition of students asking to be hit by the teacher. Now, our teacher was a very kind Japanese man, who would not normally inflict pain on any being. However, because it's tradition, he told us he would smack us with his wooden stick if we asked for it during meditation (by doing a particular hand gesture). And so many people did, and it sounded awful. I hated sitting there listening to my friends get hit, and even though I knew they were asking for it and many liked it, it still sounded so violent. And though I never ever thought I would want to be hit, India has a way of changing your mind. The last evening of Zen, I was taking a rickshaw with my friend Taylor to the Japanese temple, where we would have our final session. As we approached one of the busier intersections, we saw a group of men swarming the street, which is usually not a good sign in India. And then we saw: a man lay in the street with his head smashed against the pavement and blood pooling around his head. He'd been thrown from a motorcycle, and as there are no helmets or emergency services in Bodh Gaya, all anyone could do was watch him bleed to death on the street. It was awful, how no one touched him, even as he showed small signs of life. And Taylor and I just walked around and got back in our rickshaw, as if walking past roadkill. There was nothing else we could do, but it felt so inhumane. And as I sat in meditation, with the man's face and the bloody street replaying over and over in my mind, the only thing I wanted was to be hit, to be shocked out of my own ability to breathe. So I did it. And it hurt. And I had a red block-shaped welt on my skin for a few days, which faded and peeled off long before I came to any peace about what happened on the street. I heard later that the man was carried to the clinic and confirmed dead.

So that was the low point. But things did go up from there, as India has a way of being surprising in many excellent ways too. I decided to visit the local church this past weekend with my friend John, and, though it was hard to know what to expect, I am so glad I did. It was all in Hindi, but so incredibly familiar that it hardly mattered. We prayed and sang, prayed and sang, testified and sang, and prayed some more. There was a little girl sitting next to me, and we clapped together to the beautiful and very Indian songs. Later, I gave her a few of the bangles from my wrist, and she smiled huge at the too-big bracelets on her little arm. The people really made the place special, and I loved being around so many women as they smiled and sang and laughed in a safe, relaxed atmosphere. It was so refreshing to be around so much joy, even in a tiny room packed with Indians with whom I could only half-communicate. So much love and sincerity was present, and that was all that mattered. As the preacher said, in a manner almost comically akin to Southern-Baptist, "Hallelujah! Dunyavad Jesu!" (Thank you Jesus!).

Too, we've recently switched to Tibetan-style meditation, which I love! We had a pretty famous Rinpoche come to teach us, and he was so wonderful. Now, this man has supposedly been reincarnated seven times as a Buddhist master, and he's definitely wiser than your average Joe, but he was also incredibly funny and gracious. We only had a week with him, so it was jam-packed with lectures and ceremonies, but even so, his humor and compassion carried us through it. I feel like I learned so much about wisdom and compassion from him, and I decided to take part in the "refuge" ceremony, during which you link yourself with that particular teacher and commit to live a life striving not to harm other beings. I really wanted to recognize Buddhism and the Rinpoche's influence on my life, even as I didn't want to become a Buddhist (which Rinpoche says is okay, because Jesus is a great teacher too), so I felt really good about this particular ceremony, which was very basic but beautiful. Rinpoche cut a little piece of my hair (which is getting longer), blessed me, and gave me a Dharma name, which is Choying Thaye or "Limitless Basic Space." I really like it, because it reminds me that I don't have to put borders around myself, by my own fears or concepts of who I am and what I can do. There is an essence that is limitless, and there is nothing stopping me from having access to that except me. Then, Rinpoche mixed rice and flowers and threw them at us, like newlyweds. It was so funny, because he was really getting into it and we were all laughing hysterically at what a little kid he could be sometimes. The whole thing was like a big celebration of life and how good humans can be when they choose compassion over selfishness. I just loved it, and I've been picking rice out of my hair for days.

Well, that's probably enough for now, and I have to get back to the monastery for lunch. Tonight we're having a Halloween party, and I'm dressing up as Twiggy, since I got this sweet 60's-style dress in Varanasi. I'm really excited, and ready to DANCE!

More updates to come... Thank you all for your continued letters, emails, prayer, and support! Love you all!

Love,
Liz


11/19 . From the Himalayas...

Namaste everyone! Or I should say, "Tashi Delek!" which is the greeting of choice here in Dharamsala, where the population is predominantly Tibetan refugees.

So, of course, the biggest news is that I am now in Dharamsala, India, which is an entirely different world from Bodh Gaya. Before, I was staying in the poorest and most "backward" state in India, in a small dusty town in a rice farming plain. Now, I am living in the Himalayas, in a small-ish but quite Westernized city that is full of Tibetans and dharma bums (Western hippies seeking the ancient wisdom of the Tibetan Buddhists). Bodh Gaya was hot and loud and smelly, but here the air is chilly and fresh and the mountains are so quiet you'd think someone turned India on mute. I love it. I loved Bodh Gaya as my semi-home, but I have to tell you, it's great to be comfortable again. I'm staying at this gorgeous villa on a mountainside with five of my friends from the monastery, and we really got the hookup as far as living space. Our apartment is a little away from the main town, and actually right next door to the Dalai Lama's house. Yes, that's right: the Dalai Lama is my neighbor. I don't think he's home right now, but come the end of November, he definitely will be. And our area is certainly fit for the leader of a nation. Not only do we have a beautiful home with kitchenettes and a great common space, but our front porch overlooks a picturesque valley, with misty mountains and soaring hawks in the distance. I can't stop taking pictures of the sunsets here. And still, there is no capturing them. You'll have to come for yourself.

As for school, things are going great. I finished up my anthropology and meditation classes back in Bodh Gaya, and now I have 100% of my time to dedicate to Tibetan poetry. I picked up a bunch of books at a local shop here, and I have been absolutely devouring them. Too, I have interviews with three different poets in the works, which is wonderful and exciting and nerve-racking. Not only are these guys really wonderful writers, but they are hardcore activists for the Tibetan independence movement. Even reading their poems, you can feel a great fighting spirit within them, and also a deep deep sadness over all they have lost. I sometimes worry I'll be in over my head, a privileged white American trying to make sense of these exile-written lines. But the Tibetans have been so kind, so open.

I guess I should explain briefly the Tibetan situation, which is complicated and something I have a very cursory knowledge of. Basically, Tibet was an independent nation until the 1950s, and was secluded from Western influence, so it was still using a feudal system of government and had an intricate system of Buddhist spiritual leaders (who would be reincarnated and lead again and again). Then, China gradually invaded and decided to "fix" Tibet, because they were "backwards." In this process, they violated all basic human rights of the Tibetans, took their land and systematically annihilated the culture. Many monastics and spiritual leaders were executed, and anyone who resisted was tortured or killed. So many people fled, including the Dalai Lama, who is both the main political and spiritual leader of the nation, and the rest still live under extreme oppression and assimilation into Chinese communist culture. So most of the Tibetans in Dharamsala were either born during the mass-exodus from Tibet, or have been born in India and never seen Tibet. But there is this great hope still floating around here that they'll be able to go "home," wherever that might be.

And my project, more specifically, is looking at how these exile poems are keeping Tibetan Buddhist culture alive, while still being incredibly modern and actually quite challenging to the old ways. It's fascinating, and such a different style of poetry than I'm used to. But I'm learning a lot, and learning fast. It's been so good.

This morning I got up with the sunrise and prayed and meditated and ate some real cereal (hard to come by in Bodh Gaya), and I just couldn't believe how blessed I've been to be on this journey. Really, a small-town girl from Illinois should not be reading Tibetan poetry on a mountainside in India, watching the best sunrise from a sweet villa as beautiful Tibetan women walk the prayer path below, reciting the sacred "Om Mane Padme Hum" under their breaths. It's mind-blowing how I ended up here. I don't think I could ever be grateful enough. To have this space to challenge my ego and my sense of the world has been incredible. Thank you all so much for your support along the way.

So much love...
Liz


More to come. Plus poems, if I get my act together...