Prisoner of Shangri-la

When all said and done, somehow every journey begins and ends in the same place: home. I have been back in the States going on 3 weeks now, and the transition has not been easy. Perhaps more than a part of me was unwilling to return so quickly; I seem to have left my immune system on another continent. My health can be summed up by a stomach bug followed by a virus followed by a cold followed by a spasming back. How much of health is psycho-somatic?

Certainly there are great things about being back home, being together with family and friends, all the amenities of a comfortable 1st world life, the Wii, organic foods. My job for the next year or more will to succeed my mother in the family land development business, a task to which I have taken willfully as a shouldering of filial responsibility rather than passionate interest. But I have no regrets, it was my choice and the future is always malleable.  

With this last entry, I retire the "Prisoner of Shangri-la," which from the onset was meant to be a metaphor for the seeker who is trapped by his own concepts of the world around him, the thinker who takes his thoughts much too seriously. Although I am still him, I must turn to live in that world of concepts, to engage and dialogue with it, to take it very seriously…though I hope still with a touch of humor and spaciousness. Will the prisoner ever be free?

At what point do we become so driven by our goals (no matter how noble they may be), that we forget our basic humanity; that we cease to see that humanity as anything worth cherishing. Instead of always laughing at  something, can we laugh just because there is something delightful about life? Instead of always picturing a brighter future, can we just be stand still without feeling the world is passing us by? Instead of merely focusing on the result, can we understand that how we get there means everything?

I suppose I’ve been examining my values in the face of the many seductions of Beijing life - the nightlife, the interesting people and places, the exchange rate. And while I may not be able to say this in the future, I can say it now: only the outer conditions have changed.

I’m so itchy right now. No seriously. I’ve had this rash thing since saturday…and I have no clue where it came from. Seems like a food allergy I’m not allergic to any foods that I know of. At least this makes meditation a tad more interesting (i.e. tingly).

Finally! Too long have I huddled in freezing spaces, blankets heaped upon blankets, a dinky electric heater sputtering along in the corner. Spring means freedom from the elements! Though, it also means showering more often…which, I guess I can get used to. My bathing method at present consists of going to the local public bathhouse once a week - definitely a cultural experience (don’t worry, I won’t post any pictures…).

But in honor of spring Ricky, Yidi, and I headed off for a day in the sun at Bei Hai Park (北海公园). You can see the Tibetan influence in the white stupa towering over the park, a relic of Beijing’s historical ties with Tibetan religion.

The cherry blossoms were also blooming!

Me in doorway.

Girl practicing characters.

Ricky and Yidi…posing.

Behold my inspiration for the site redesign: an attempted recreation of a Beijing hutong (or alley way).

很像吗？

No, a true seeker could not accept any teachings, not if he sincerely wished to find something. Be he who had found, could give his approval to every path, every goal; nothing separated him from all the other thousands who lived in eternity, who breathed the Divine.

When I read Siddhartha for the first time, I couldn’t understand what this passage meant. Or rather, I didn’t want to understand it. At the time (maybe 2-3 years go) I thought of myself as a budding Buddhist, seeing Buddhism as really the end all be all of spiritual paths. Indeed, that Siddhartha had met the Buddha himself (in the story) and yet had rejected him as a teacher I found to be personally a little insulting. This is how much I had identified myself as a Buddhist.

Fast forward 3 years later and a second reading has proved to be much richer (perhaps that is how these kinds of books are meant to be read, after long intervals throughout a lifetime). Siddhartha’s disillusionment with teachers I now share as well, to an extent. Perhaps this is also what Herman Hesse found prior to writing his novel, that he could find no suitable teachers and thus concluded that “wisdom is not communicable,” that to awaken one had to find is own way independently. I sense there is much of Herman Hesse in Siddhartha and yet as a Westerner, I can understand where he is coming from.

However, I think the Tibetan tradition advocates the opposite approach. That not only is awakening communicable (through different lifetimes even), it is bestowed upon you through empowerments and teachings, through total surrender to a guru who leads you to the final goal. There are even meditations where the teacher will “point out the mind,” which I’m told are moments where he will somehow alert you to your essential nature as clear luminous consciousness. Of course, these kinds of things they may not have had in the Buddha’s day, and Herman Hesse probably never heard of them because Tibet was closed to world when the book was written (pre-1950).

What does it mean to start a new life? Does it mean changing the outer conditions or the inner conditions? Or both.

Tonight I fly to Beijing, ostensibly to create a life there. And yet, every step of my journey thus far has been one more step into life’s great uncertainty. Though I love traveling to unknown places, it can feel so empty if you don’t have that inner compass to make sense of it all, to put it in a “framework of meaning” (or so my religious studies professors might say). And then long discussions about graduate school (in the humanities anyways) have left a lingering feeling of revulsion at the thought of big headed professors pushing their weight around. It was never the discipline itself that interested me so much as the the truth embedded somewhere deep inside. And already discussed somewhere in this blog was development work in poor communities which again suffers from the same deficiency as traveling for me. If it can be said that I have been “looking” for something in my journeys, than it can equally be said that what I’ve found are empty concepts of hopeful endeavors.

So recently I’ve seriously tried not thinking. Have you ever awoken one morning, eyes wide open, taking in all the sensory information, acutely aware, and yet, without any thought recognition? Though it only lasts a second or two, its wonderfully peaceful and full - like you’ve put down the burden of all existence in that singular moment. Those moments continue to be my inspiration on this journey and perhaps they themselves are the start of a new kind of life.

I suppose that’s better than "left for dead in the Gobie Desert" or "surrounded by herd of pandas during mating season."  It’s "golden week" here in China, that is to say the week after Chinese New Year when everyone and their mothers are traveling. The result: stranded foreigners like myself praying and wishing for a train ticket. I guess I’ll just have to wait. At least the weather is nice here.

Just arrived on a 18hr over-night sleeper train from Kunming to Chengdu (the capital of Sichuan). Its just like I remember, big, sprawling, concrete and dirty. Incidently, I also was able to cram in a couple hours at the Panda breeding and research observatory. And the rumors are true, pandas (adult, middling, and baby variety) are all equally and absurdly cute. The Chinese name for Pandas is "bear-cat", and after observing them, they do possess features of both animals - the size of a bear, the disposition of a cat. Unfortunately no pictures because my battery was dead!

Next: Tagong (Lhagang) and the Tibetan grasslands for some Dharma teachings 

Well, staying here next semester has been all but ruled out. Today, I talked with the headmaster who very clearly stated the impossibility of me getting a work visa in Qinghai. What is still to be determined is whether or not I can stay here until the end of the term, or if I must high-tail it out of town next week. As of right now, my visa expires in 12 days…and counting. Tomorrow the Fates decide.

Funny that today marks 3 months in Rebgong.

Also interesting to see that when you are in trouble, your friends really do help you. Its nice to see that perhaps I do have more friends than I thought.