Manny and I received a kind note from Sonum, our hostess and guide during our stay at the Tibetan Settlements in Bylakuppe. At the time of our departure, we had spent much of several days in her company, given a walking tour of the monasteries and the farmlands in the area. We left a little money — the only thing we had to offer as a gift, a kindness for her kindnesses — and hoped that it was received in the spirit it was given. 

Sonum's note thanked us for the gift to her family and her children. All were looking forward to January, when an extended tour of settlements would bring the Dalai Lama to Bylakuppe for a couple of weeks: as important as paying homage to the figure of the Buddha, to the Bodhisattvas in their various forms, is to breath the air of your living leader, who embodies at one and the same time enormous pragmatism and spiritual fortitude.

One wishes that the struggles and tenets and powers which envelop our nation could produce a man of similar stature and integrity to lead us…

And I, I must bow to the Dalai Lama as well, as I imagine him in the Sera Jey or Namdroling Monastery, the paint of whose walls my fingers touched and can feel still, whose polished floors my bare feet walked, slowly, as I took in the strong and ordered colors of Tibet; I must bow to Sonum and Dolma, the women of the village who create and maintain the structure of community, and who easily and naturally took care of us; to Manny as a traveling companion; to myself as I opened to a larger life… again.

As I write I remember — the memories come unbidden, freed — and in the remembering I am not only back in Bylakuppe in thought, but back as well in spirit. There is a sweetness and a depth that were fruits cultivated and harvested and enjoyed in four weeks away. It has been a difficult re-entry, one which has demanded that, for a time, I resume the yoke of many responsibilities I have chosen. And here I don't refer to labor for salary, though that project has been more highly stressful than usual, but to the habits of living which cause you to age, cause you to close, close to change and the light of new sunrise.

Close my eyes, and the sound of people walking to work and school in the morning, the cacophony of the Tibetan musicians in their recital (and cacophony was beautifully coined just for them, I am certain), the shouts and whistles of the herders… and the voices within my own self, voices which hesitated before, but now speak ever more assertively of a Truth.