November 18, 2009 at 7:08 pm (Thoughts)
Tags: asia, culture, europe, france, studying
I feel like I have faced both directly and indirectly, more racism, or ethnical stigmatization, than ever before in my life, right here in the lovely French Riviera. Oh, I can say so much about the French, but I’ll try to just be even more general and wander out loud whether humans have just lost their bloody minds or if I’m just being too sensitive and/or politically correct.
Well, here it goes…errr!!! Of course, the prize for the least favored ethnic group that I know of goes to the Africans, particularly those from the Arabic reaches in the North. I’ve gotten a good taste of the stereotyping and social ostracization since my closest friend here is from Algeria and he constantly faces boundaries in finding work, crossing borders and simply meeting people outside his own ethnic circle, since, quite frankly they are considered a dishonest, sniveling group of sub-humans that most people avoid socializing with. I wondered at this so many times when I used to visit Shisha cafes with my friend in Chartres and realized I was the only non-Arab in the place ever. But, it didn’t matter, because we had one important thing in common and that was that no matter how friendly or sincere souls we were, our neighbors would never give us the time of day — Quelle heure est-il?..silence! — the same, literally and figuratively.
Now, for the Asian question. I’ve witnessed both discrimination and reverse discrimination. A good friend and classmate had bed bugs in his room and was bitten endlessly for two months. When he reported the problem they merely said he had brought it with him from China – “We are always having problems with you asian people, the manager quipped – and he had to endure it until now. There seems to be an air of mistrust and uneasiness in the way our kind hosts look towards these far east strangers.
Now, I’m not saying there is outright racism, but there is certainly an air of avoidance and a stick- to-your-own-kind mentality that in my opinion is unsurpassed anywhere in the world. Now, on the other hand Asians, who make up the vast majority in my major of study, receive lofty praise from our English teacher, who is regrettably American born, but Asian proud. She spent a good amount of time in China and speaks Chinese the majority of time in class, and repeatedly bashes any way of behaving which is explicitly “Western.” Those few of us from Europe and North America have to work extra hard to steal crumbs of praise.
In the past weeks I have almost forgotten that I am even a simple person at all as our program centers on the idiosyncracies and customs that lie within strict cultural boundaries, I feel almost bounded and shackled to my country, which isn’t even my country at all. My “Americanism” is denied and my “Europeanism” is contested and my lack of “Asianism” is lamented. I don’t know if this concept truly exists, but can’t we all just be equal, damn it?? And can’t we just all get along despite the territory we were born and reared in. Oh, what is this world coming to…a march of progress or just around the rusty spiral to the same place we’ve been returning to cycle after cycle leading man to the same tired old historical conflicts, the same mutterings and laws and precepts which will only be reversed as time repeats itself all over again. We really don’t know anything anyway and everything we do know will be erased with time and we will have to relearn it again, like studying in France over and over again only to learn the same things that are to be forgotten once more.
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September 9, 2009 at 12:55 am (Thoughts, Uncategorized)
Tags: english, water management
Today I had a very interesting experience. For my very first class I attended English Communication. The teacher was an American lady who spoke very carefully and simply to us “foreigners.” Even though we were a class of two native speakers – me and a Canadian girl – and around 8 Koreans, a handful of Chinese, a couple Indians, some Southeast Asians and one Serbian with various degrees of English ability from almost nothing to fluent, we all had to take a rigorous writing, listening and reading comprehension test. T’was an almost identical test to what I would have handed out in my formative years as English teacher.
Then, the blue-eyed blonde cheerfully and professionally explained that this would not count towards our grade but was simply for her personal use to evaluate our needs. Brilliant! And of course this didn’t deter my classmates from laboriously writing the test with strained looks and using every possible minute and various scrap papers. I surely got a taste of my own medicine today; I saw exactly what sort of innocent-looking tyrant I really am.
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August 10, 2009 at 10:07 pm (Thoughts)
For so long I thought I was one of the best at partying. I was the regular mixologist at the basement soirees at college. I could drink anyone under the table in New York, especially if it was vodka. Now I go to a party and just watch drunk people crying, fighting and just being stupid and I just wish I would have spent my evening at a chod ceremony or yoga class where I could actually come back a little closer to the truth. Why does everyone always want to escape reality and then say that they are on a quest for truth? I had one such party experience last Friday that made me never want to touch a drop of alcohol nor spend a weekend ever with someone who does. I truly think it is poison now and understand a little more why so many who’ve had their lives touched by it, including me, would loath the sight of it so much. I also understand a little more why there is a whole world religion which effectively bans it. Interestingly, the word alcohol actually comes from an Arabic word meaning something like the spirit or demon (al-ġawl).
“Satan’s plan is yet but to excite enmity and hatred, between you, with intoxicants, And gambling and hinder you, from the remembrance Of God and from prayer, will ye not then abstain?”
~Qu’ran 5:93
I would have scoffed at such conventionally religious sentiments last week. Even so, I realize it can also be translated into universal ideals. Getting intoxicated is in fact a hindrance from realizing the almighty within. And how can you reach the true heaven in this life if you waste all the potential moments drinking or with people who are drunk?
So that’s it, yes wine and beer can both be medicinal and have been used for centuries in rituals both bleak and jolly, but really how often has their consumption resulted in benefit rather than destruction? Now to explain my title, Uganda, one of the very poorest countries in Africa has the highest drinking rate. The average Ugandan drinks almost 20 liters of spirit per year compared to Americans’ measly eight-and-a-half. I don’t know why but I’m sure there are good reasons. There always are. But after this weekend’s display of enmity and hatred, I haven’t got one.
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July 8, 2009 at 11:49 pm (Thoughts)
Tags: childhood, emilia, oregon city, papermill, work
Last night my childhood friend and I met up in a place we had lightly haunted as fourteen-year-olds or perhaps more accurately had scared us for a day. It was in Canby, Oregon where we had gone one school day when we felt like breaking the rules and visited an old classmate in a trashy trailer park on the outskirts of town. We did every bad deed we could and then I spent months afterward dreaming of emulaing his sister, a beautiful blond seventeen-year-old chainsmoker, pregnant with a second child, living in a romantic dirty campervan-sized trailer. The trailer park has been cleaned up and re-named an RV park and even the bowling alley no longer doubles as a smoky bar so we hit the next town, Oregon City.
Oregon City is the official end of the Oregon Trail and also has one of the oldest paper mills in the country; an enormous sleepless smash of smoke streamed buildings straddling a historic bend of the Willamette River. As nighttime beckoned we followed stone-walled steps up to historic houses and a park that overlooks the city and down a walkway. From that vantage point the constantly roaring trains and churning factory were perfectly visible. We’d always marveled at this factory with its myriad stairways, strange tanks and mysterious doorways. This time we decided to walk to Emilia’s sister’s house along the tracks where she narrowly escaped a train speeding along a bend as we hopped the fence onto the shrouded tracks. Suddenly a stairway beamed next to us and we ascended it to a cobwebbed portion of the factory that was like a new-age passage to a mad scientist’s office in a tiny box suspended high in the air. Hairy spiders teetered inches from our heads as we squinted to read the dusty papers on the desk inside the dark greasy-paned windows. Then, suddenly we heard footsteps scaling the precarious twisting stairwell. We ascended higher and higher until we remained forever trapped in that moment in a spooky papermill in the same room where countless workers were slain back before the riots and the layoffs and Oregon City was never the same..
So that’s the story, of me stepping back in time with my best friend. And now my childhood is just a thing in the past,as nothing does last forever except in imaginary stories. But I work with children everyday in summer school and play their games in recess and enjoy the wonders of youth and relish in the fact that even if it seems to be gone on the outside, those years gone by can be recaptured at any moment, anytime, in the recesses of one’s mind.
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June 5, 2009 at 1:04 am (Thoughts, Trips)
Just a quick blog to let everyone know that I made it safe and sound to the United States. Unbelievable trip, I still can hardly believe the places I was when I’m driving around in a jeep, stopping at cafes and restaurants (no drive-thrus yet!) and dressing up to go out to a club how far removed I am from the days of basking on the beach and bathing in passing streams and waterfalls and dumpster-diving at nighttime. Life is truly amazingly beautiful.
Just dropped my stepdad off at the train station, he’s going on a trip to San Francisco and it reminded me of my first days travelling, how nervous and stressful and disorganized I once was. I think it’s about time I wrote a couple travelling tips for those of you going off on their first big adventure:
1. always atleast pack as much as you can the night before, if your flight is in the morning be all packed by dinnertime the day before. Not many of us are morning birds and there’s atleast twice more last-minute details you never thought of.
2. Don’t overpack. You will come back with way more than you need so why leave with a heavy pack? Best to forget a few things and then you have an excuse to check out the local shopping scene. C’mon it can be fun even if you are broke you can always bargain and often end up with a free tea and meal if you’re in the right place.
3. All underwear can last for atleast 2 days by turning them inside out
4. stop washing your hair everyday! It’s uneconomical, inconvenient and not good for your hair. It robs it of it’s natural oils making it work harder to produce grease, so of course your hair will be more greasy. Every 3-4 days is more than enough to start with.
5. Pack some olive oil and some spices; you may just find yourself in a situation where you need to cook or atleast you can use it on a cheap bland sandwich from the supermarket or as mouth and headwash (turmeric), toothpaste (sea salt) and moisturizer (olive oil). Also a spoon is the greatest asset ever.
6. Travel lightly mentally as well as physically. Do yoga, pranayama, meditate, whatever it takes to make sure you are light and fully present for every moment of your voyage. None of these moments ever repeat in the same way so be there for them. If we can pass through this planet as lightly as possible we will also find transcendence to the next realm that much easier.
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February 25, 2009 at 1:49 pm (Thoughts, Uncategorized)
Tags: darshan, madrid, spain, travel, work
So I’ve been in madrid for three weeks now. The city of the fast walkers, and nervousness! I never realized how nervous everyone is here, or maybe it just seems that way after being in a bit of a peaceful state, physically and mentally. People also are not in the moment, they walk rapidly not really paying attention to anything but their own thoughts and what’s directly infront of them. No one meets your eye, I suppose that’s just the way of this concrete world. People hate their jobs yet they are scared to travel anywhere for fear of losing them! Everyone is caught up in this daily grind and though I’m not there, I feel guilty for not wanting to live out my days like this. I suppose the office is an intriguing place for some, the thrill of accomplishment gotten from achieving a project or difficult assignment and the applaud and envy of boss and co-workers. It’s like its own little gladiator stadium, you do or you die. And now with the crisis and lost jobs many feel like they might as well sacrifice themselves to the lions, if only this was ancient Rome. I feel now more aligned with the spiritual path rather than the worldly one. As Amma, “the hugging saint,” said in Darshan:
Because there are two types of education: “Living,” meaning your job and “life” which the gurus teach. In the materialistic world teachers teach practical things. In the spiritual world some things aren’t clear.”
So I was taught to be practical and make a decent “living.” But I don’t really want that type of life, so instead I’m an impractical vagrant. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that, I’m happy, but at the same time it makes me difficult to understand, which is fine with me. Others argue that I’m sloppy, I much prefered the Indian way of sitting and sleeping on little more than the bare dirty floor. People live in a world of fear I think. Scared of being poor or attacked by terrorists or their families and of dust, of the unknown and of other people’s thoughts. I wish we could live without fences, that there was no worry of thievery and of the sun burning us and of bad intentions. I suppose I am an over-trusting person, I don’t assume anyone would want to take anything from me, but like with everyone it’s happened a fair share of times – from my jacket to a mcdonald’s transformer to my purse – people have taken many things and I’ve also witnessed the grief of those who’ve had more than possessions, but irreplaceable journals and photographs, the remains of memories lost in time, so to speak. And so we have to be vigilant, even the tent in Bolonia had to be shut and tied up to keep the cats out. But I suppose I’d rather have less expensive possesions and less worry, less money and less choices of how to spend it, less drama with relationships and jobs and less chances of wasting my precious time on this earth. This life I feel truly is a gift, as the old Buddhist saying goes, we have less chance of being born as humans than a dolphin has of coming to the ocean’s surface through a ring. Now I want to embrace this life and be thankful for all the wonderful people I’ve encountered and so many unique experiences. I could write a thousand books about it. And not one would be boring. I don’t think boredom can exist, not when you realize the unlimited potential of this moment.
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November 25, 2008 at 2:01 am (Thoughts, Trips)
Tags: china, meditation, oregon beaches, pu-erh, tea making
I apologize for the delay; I have been busy enjoying life. Even here in America that’s possible. I went on a trip to the coast last week with my parents; we went South to take advantage of the nice weather and it really was beautiful for anywhere. I also had my first experience meditating near the ocean. On the first night we got a condo complete with fireplace and kitchen. The biggest draw was the grand balocony that sprawled in front of the bay with a postcard perfect view of an old bridge and hundreds of sailboats, similar to the dock at La Rochelle except without the castle. I sat out there in the cool of the evening on a yoga mat and immediately I was transported into utter awareness of the peace and calm nature of my mind. The still crisp air kept me anchored in the moment unable to float into the troubling sea of my thoughts. There is definitely something special about peacefully abiding in this place than some other. I suppose with practice it would be this easy even in a samsaric ghetto in Washington DC.
Just three short days hitting all my favourite places on this coast: The hippy shops of Newport Bay, the best clam chowder in Depoe Bay and dodging the viciously rough waves as they tumble the rocky beach of Yachats. I even got to attend a tea workshop and learned about what they predict to be the latest drink craze: Pu-erh tea. They explained all about the province of the Yunnan where all the tea plantations are that make this extra intense yet medicinally potent green brew. It comes from the very south of China right near the juncture of Laos and Myanmar, so close to where I was situated just over a month and so many miles ago.
Now I’m wondering if I should venture back and go to China. So many fascinating things emanate from that place. But, at the same time maybe I should just stop planning and reside peacefully where ever I happen to be. I’m kind of confused right now and finding it difficult to be in the moment when the future is so uncertain. Also, every movement I make seems to have such monumental consequences. Could my soulmate be waiting for me in this or that country or am I going to become someone great if I stayed here or would I miss out on further developing myself if I didn’t go over there? So many questions and uncertainties puzzle me and I suppose this is all part of the journey.
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October 31, 2008 at 8:13 am (Thoughts)
Tags: halloween, horror, meditation, phantoms, shantideva, time travel
Since it is Halloween I’m going to tell you a true tale that happened not long ago. Travel with me down a deserted country road in the darkest part of night. There’s no lights anywhere except for your own lonely head lights, which don’t seem to do much good. You get lost as I often do and find yourself turning around in front of some little country house with a morbid collection of dolls standing like grave-heads in the lawn. As you try not to look to closely into the encroaching shadows you turn around and feel a deep dread in your stomach that if you were to stop, something hideous would climb from somewhere under your car and strike at you through the glass. That thin layer separating you from all your deepest fears that lie out there, temporarily shielded from your carefully protected reality. And as you continue on down the road going the opposite direction quickly blinking and trying anything to keep from dozing off you wander if there’s any way you’re going to make it to your destination, which seems endlessly out of reach. You stop at a flashing red light and what you took for a roadside hedge suddenly comes racing at you and the fear of death seizes you as you enter into your own real life horror.
But, this isn’t the point of the story. Actually, whether we live another day or are dashed to pieces like Paris Hilton in The House of Wax, does that really separate the hero from the rest of us poor doomed victims? I guess what really matters is what we’ve done with our lives. As anyone who has come back from being clinically dead will tell you; there is much more meaning to this life than what we gather from these “gateways to night and day” (the eyes) and “the whirling wheels” (the ears).
What is real anyway? Can you say something is real life and something else is not? Yesterday I was working on the computer until about four in the morning and then I went up to my room and like I usually do, turned on the heater and sat in front of it in swastikasana and began my nightly meditation. It was one of those few moments when it was so easy. My conscious mind just melted away into the bright light of the machine and I could feel with awe the strength and perfection of my essence, my buddha nature. I was aware. And some thoughts did come but they seemed foreign and I realized they were not me and they just smashed to bits screeching just as they had come. I became aware of how insanely repetitive the monkey mind really is. I meditated on the true essence of mind. The concepts of time and space seemed far removed. Sometimes I feel like there are beings moving around me when I’m sitting. Once I felt the hindu deities gathered about me, and one of them, perhaps it was Krishna stroking my hair. This time I felt someone brush past me and like there was all this activity and commotion happening all around me, but I was still, but I could participate if I wanted to. I knew this was not in the present era. Was this another dimension? I even heard noises that couldn’t have come from the sleeping house. If, as in some traditions, time is just a human construct and the past, present and future lie on one single continuum, then what is separating us from the past people and things that once shared this same space? If, indeed, all of these notions are just illusions, then it is only our own perceptions preventing us from being in other times, places and with other beings, etc. This whole notion of being different and of otherness is false and like a vase containing my own inner world away from the outer one. I found it close to breaking, cracking and just letting everything collide, come what may.
I wonder, is time travel really necessary or do we constantly have access to a transport vessel if we only learn how to utilize our minds?
If the elephant of mind is bound on all sides by the cord of mindfulness,
All fear disappears and complete happiness comes.
All enemies: all the tigers, lions, elephants, bears, serpents
And all the keepers of hell; the demons and the horrors,
All of these are bound by the mastery of your mind,
And by the taming of that one mind, all are subdued,
Because from the mind are derived all fears and immeasurable sorrows.
~ Shantideva
Happy Day of the Dead!
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October 15, 2008 at 1:58 am (Thoughts)
Tags: jungle, nature, pai, se asia, thailand
This morning I woke up and heard what sounded like Tibetan chanting, a beautiful sound that resonates in the chambers of your soul. It sent me into an instant deep meditation and even when I realized it was actually just the sounds of chain saws vibrating through the hills, I remained there some minutes relishing this connection, however slight, to the East.
The thing that I miss the most about Thailand and SE Asia at the moment is the interminable jungles. In every landscape, even the vast rice paddies you can see the wide coconut palms, bamboo trees, ferns and tropical fruits creeping in; a ton of nameless medicinal plants ripe for rediscovery and worshipped for eons by local hill tribes and unnamed Shamanic peoples. I regret only admiring this wild mess of plants from afar, studying them only in the vast backyards of temples and when they encroached upon roads that I zoomed past riding on the back of motorbikes – the only way the locals travel.
I did take one beautiful walk to a waterfall and was swept away by the still chaos under the canopy of trees. It was like another world and just felt further away from any type of civilization than any forest I’d ever been in. The various streams underfoot were like universes of eternal contemplation, secrets to indestructibility.
Now I’m back in America and I must say it is still beautiful here, in the lush wine valleys of the pacific northwest where my family has a small farm cradled on the side of a hill. We’re surrounded by pine trees and some oaks and maples turning delicious colors of red and yellow fitting for any Christmas postcard and there’s an exciting chance of snow. But, it’s also freezing cold and since I’m not acclimatized to anything below the eternal hotness of Asia, it’s impossible for me to go anywhere without layers of coats and the discomfort of dry, cracking skin: Going out for a long walk in the woods is pretty much out of the question. In Thailand everyday is perfect temperature, even the rains only bring a brief welcoming change.
Three years ago I was planning a trip with a girl from Alaska to Central America. Well, I backed out at the last minute and she went ahead on the five month adventure through Guatemala, Peru and Ecuador solo. She never returned as far as I know. She was swept away by a handsome Ecuadorian tour guide and they were married and are still living together on the Galapagos Islands. Could I have had the same fate? Well, I guess I’ll never know. But, I did have a similar opportunity in Thailand. In the last five days I was there I decided to go to a little hippy town called Pai. Everyone had been saying from the moment I got to Thailand that I had to go to Pai. It was the place for me. So I made a brief excursion there and found out they were right. I relished every moment; from learning to drive a motorbike through the narrow hilly roads to riding an elephant through the river and then burning my fingers while giving a Thai herbal steam massage. Every moment was unforgettable and the town was visibly likened to a ’70’s Shangri La. I spent the evenings at a small bar outside of town that had live reggae music and barbecues every night. It was attended by the same few locals, one of them a Thai musician I’d hung out with in Bangkok. He was so thrilled to see me he dedicated a Bob Marley song to me onstage and begged me to stay in Pai. He said I could work at the bar along with a few European girls who’d also been swept away by the relaxed beauty of the place. The cosy bamboo bungalows where I would have lived were brand new and straddled a tiny stream which zipped down the nearby mountains. But alas, the realist in me said no. I had to get back and see my folks. I guess this is the reason I’ve always come home even after being in some very tempting paradisaical places. I just have to remember that paradise is every moment, no matter where we are. Maybe if I look hard enough at my computer’s lush Laos backdrop I will be transported here when I close my eyes.
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October 3, 2008 at 9:53 am (Thoughts)
Tags: buddhism, financial problems, generosity, money, robbery
It has been a very hard last couple of days for me. I returned back from my peaceful countryside retreat to the city and my apartment. Immediately the hazy thick air and panick-stricken hustle struck me harder than ever before. Could it be that I am a country girl? I think I just prefer small towns -small towns with just the right vibe - maybe it’s the hippy in me.
Anyway, all my money is gone!! I looked in the place I always kept it and someone took off with my wad of cash and my bank card. And I know I should just accept it and just have peace about it like a proper meditator. But, I just burst into tears and spent the rest of the day and night in frequent bursts of anger and frustration. I had saved up my money meticulously during my entire trip so that my last few days could be spent doing the luxury things I’d denied myself this entire time. The busride back I’d been dreaming about riding on an elephant through the jungle and bamboo rafting in one of those package tourist deals I’d never tried. I was going to finally take a cooking course so I could dazzle with my Thai culinary expertise. I was also going to take a short course in foot massage. But, alas it wasn’t meant to be.
But, I can’t say these last two days of extreme poverty have been all that bad either. I’ve met a lot of people for one. I’ve lost all inhibition in going up to strangers and doing a little peddling. I’ve also stopped being so stingy. Everyone knows what a spend-thrift I am but now that I actually have so little money, what’s the use of holding on so tightly to it? It’s not going to come with me to the afterlife. Money is money and it’s worst than worthless if you’re constantly worrying about it. Today I donated the rest of the food in my house to a monastary. I said a little prayer for happiness and set it at the golden foot of the giant Buddha statue. Within a few minutes I had befriended a repairman there who gave me a juice and some snacks. So it came back to me!
I bought smoothies for the people I met knowing I had way less than them, but within a few hours I managed to sell my bicycle and some lamps and pillows. This experience has taught me to be in the moment and not to worry because you will have everything you need if you do good. I know next time instead of holding onto cash with an iron fist I’ll loosen up a little and instead of considering only my own personal enjoyment, I’ll use it in a way that will benefit others too. If you’re always expecting to get something in return how can you say you’re doing something good? For the entire three weeks I stayed with the herbal doctor and his friends who cooked for me and provided me with my own room they refused any money. I tried, but they wouldn’t accept it. I wish there were more people who did things for others just out of the pure goodness of their heart and I think that there are more of them out there then we know. ~V
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