Author: Mary Fuhrman Major: International Studies Country: India Program: Tibetans in Exile Today (TEXT)
His name is Gyalthang Rinpoche. He was born in Tibet. At a young age, it was discovered that he is a Tulku, a Buddha reincarnate. He was sent to Beijing to learn Chinese politics and continue his Buddhist studies before returning to his hometown to give teachings to his community. Some of these teachings were doctored- they were made to sway the public in Chinese favor against the Dalai Lama. He refused to give these teachings. At a young age, Gyalthang Rinpoche chose to revolt. At a young age, he was imprisoned for that revolt for one and a half years. At a young age, he fled the country he loved.
This is only one of the countless stories I heard. It is only one of the countless stories that exist about the pain and loss of Tibet told by the country’s own people outside of its borders. It is not meant to be hopeless nor grievous, although, at times, it can be. Regardless, these stories are meant to be documented and told. From Mundgod in the jungles of southern India to Dharamshala, the home of the Dalai Lama, these stories exist in-between and beyond these places. The culture and religion of Tibet perseveres- in momos and the Dalai Lama and stories of the Land of Snows. It is a culture and religion that I am so grateful to have seen and learn from.
When I chose this program, it was due to my interest in cultural preservation and cross-cultural communication. As a young white woman from the Bible Belt, I have limited knowledge on other religions and cultural customs. However, the religious tenacity I have experienced has always been countered by the overwhelming diversity of the south in my life. Thus, I have always been open to learning and experiencing cultures outside of the box I grew up in when the opportunity is given.
Yet, nothing could have prepared me for this experience. In the two-week course given by Dr. Sidney Burris and Geshe Thupten Dorjee, I was well informed on the history and culture of the Tibetan people but not the reality of their exile. While I knew that they had built Mundgod from nothing, to see a monastery like the Drepung Loseling in person with that knowledge was aweing. In a mere forty years, the Tibetan people had rebuilt their home as best they could with nothing but their determination and belief. Even now, they are still building despite the adversities they face.
Throughout India, there is an abundance of dogs and cows roaming freely amongst the streets. It was not unusual to see dogs curled up on the sides of roads or for a cow to block an entire intersection. Yet, while in Mundgod, there was one particular pup that we all had a particular compassion for: the type of compassion that makes you want to bring him in when its raining. So, we did. We told all the adults he had “followed” us upstairs and we were unable to get him back down. Yet, Geshe la, with a shower bucket, scooped him up to return to his mother. He reminded us that goose bump compassion is not compassion, and that we would forget about that dog in a week.
It was a difficult idea for us to wrap our head around, goose bump compassion. It is something I believe is inevitable to have in the moment and impossible not to lose in your memory. It is powerful. It is in everything, but it is not forever. I will never be able to recreate the feeling of hearing these stories for the first time, of the anger and righteousness I had at the injustice. But I can be aware that these are not my stories. We serve as a megaphone and a listener. The things we learn along the way are there, of course they are there, but they are not important. The thing that is important is transcribing their message.
The compassion we feel is different than our compassion for the dog, but the initial feeling, of anger and grief and loss, is much the same. It is that feeling that we lose when we come home to football games and days at the pool. It becomes difficult to remember those moments and stories completely. Yet, while these memories diminish as memories often do, the awareness of that loss is what allows our compassion to become anew and complex.
Right now, I am nineteen years old. I am at a young age. I have so much building to do.