Thursday, August 10, 2000
See all of President Mohrman's photographs from Tibet; click on pictures below for larger images
Dear All,
Tibet is absolutely fascinating! I had been expecting to enjoy this part of the trip but I am REALLY enjoying it. Let me tell you a bit about what I am seeing and doing.
Tibet reminds me of the drier sections of the Rocky Mountains, perhaps Wyoming or western Colorado. Lhasa is about 12,000 ft and the mountains above have only low growth, green grasses and shrubs less than a foot high. The earth is tan clay colored in some places, reddish brown in others. Trees grow along the river banks and in the cities where they have been planted. The climate is dry, the sun in intense, the breezes are quite pleasant. On clear days the daytime highs have been close to 80, I estimate, and the nights around 50. When it has been cloudy the days have been in the 60s. Just like Colorado, we layer our clothes because conditions change rapidly.
For me the most intriguing sights are the faces of the people--they seem much more Mongolian than Chinese. Many of the people are tall and statuesque, quite elegant even as they harvest grain or herd animals. They are open and friendly, quick to smile and wave at the two obviously Anglo women taking pictures or riding by in the car. Even in the city many people wear traditional Tibetan clothes.
I have been struck by the contrast between the external and the internal. The landscape is monochromatic, the buildings are stone (sometimes natural and sometimes whitewashed) but doorways, windows, and interiors are intensely bright with painted designs. Temples and monasteries are especially beautiful. Yellow and red are colors reserved for religious buildings; on several occasions I have felt as if I were moving through a golden environment, totally suffused with color. Since I am a visual person who loves bright hues, I am enchanted by these experiences.
It's hard for us to determine how much of what we are seeing is deep devotion to traditional Buddhist practices, how much is reverence for history, and how much is for the tourists. Probably some of all three.
Certainly we have seen people expending a great deal of energy in worship and pilgrimage--making offerings of food and money, putting ghee (yak butter) in the flickering lamps in front of statues, even prostrating themselves on the floor.
In the Jokhang, the most holy temple in Tibet, some pilgrims spend hours in a ritual series of motions--bringing hands together in prayer, kneeling, and then extending arms completely in front of themselves as they stretch out on the floor. They have pads on the floor to cushion their bodies and wooden paddles on their hands to allow them to slide their arms forward easily. Some of the more devout do prostrations for the entire day, stopping only for tea on occasion. We've also been told that people make pilgrimages from distant villages and prostrate themselves every three steps. It can take a year or more to travel to Lahaska this way.
At the same time, I am sure there are totally secular Tibetans who wouldn't be caught dead going to the temple, much less engaging in such strenuous worship. Our guide told us that today about 90% of Tibetans are believers, compared with 100% a generation ago. As in the US, however, there are probably degrees of devotion, from the Tibetan equivalent of Christmas-Easter Christians to those who go to Mass every day.
It's also hard to tell what is new and what is old. Many of the ancient sites were destroyed in the Cultural Revolution (1967 to 1977) and a number have been rebuilt since then. But the harsh climate makes even rebuilt edifices look old in a hurry. Sometimes the government is the source of funding for restoration and sometimes...we're not quite sure who pays. Hard to figure out complicated political and cultural issues.
Some of the simple vignettes are the most memorable. For example, driving along in the countryside I spotted some small children bathing in a stream--and then lying on the highway to get warm. The image of a series of little brown bodies, one after another on the asphalt, will stick with me a long time. Or the rhythm of the people tossing grain in the air with pitchforks to thresh it. Or the sound of the monk chanting sutras in the corner of one of the chapels in a monastery. Or the song that a group of roof repairers was singing to make the work go more quickly.
I am struck by the comparisons that come to mind with seemingly unrelated experiences. Last summer I went to Bali and learned temple etiquette in Hindu temples there. The same rules apply here in Buddhist temples, thousands of miles away and thousands of feet higher in elevation. We witnessed yak dancing as a welcome to a visiting Chinese delegation.
Two men with a yak mask and a hide covering their bodies imitated an animal dancing, much like a barong in Bali. I suppose it shouldn't surprise me as much as it has, since Tibetan Buddhism and Balinese Hinduism are both directly derived from India. Of course, Bali is a much more hospitable climate so temples are more elaborate, rituals are more complex, and people have more leisure time to spend on religious rituals.
I am also struck by the relationship of sacred and secular, much like medieval life in Europe. Outside the temples are stalls selling everything from incense for the pilgrims to pots and pans for the housewife. We could buy saddles and bells for horses as easily as trinkets for tourists, all in the shadow of the Jokhang Temple. And until recently, the Dalai Lama was both religious and governmental leader of Tibet. Perhaps only in the US is there much concern about separation of church and state.
I am also interested in the degree to which the teachings of Tibetan Buddhism parallel many western teachings on self-actualization or even psychotherapy. Buddha teaches that much human anxiety comes from an unwillingness to accept change, from grasping too much for things or for accomplishments, from living an unhealthy life (whether physically or mentally). One goal is to balance the male and female aspects of one's own personality--energy, wisdom, compassion, and so on. One of the books I've read on Tibetan art compares the visual symbols based on Buddhist teachings with the insights of Carl Jung. Hmmm.....
All the guidebooks warned that the amenities of tourism in Tibet were limited, that we should bring vast quantities of peanut butter and granola bars to supplement the meager diet of yak meat and barley that we would find in hotels and restaurants. Well, the local people may eat yak and barley at every meal but we are treated to excellent Chinese food.
Our hotel in Lhasa caters to tourists so breakfast includes everything from pickled vegetables and rice porridge for the Japanese, dim sum and soup for the Chinese, sausage and cheese for the Europeans, and omelettes and toast for the Americans. I had thought I might lose weight on yak and barley but I probably won't with so many choices.
Jane and I are thankful we live in Colorado Springs, since 6000 ft is half the altitude adjustment we need to function in Lhasa. We've seen a lot of folks from sea level really suffering. Our guide has been giving us the same advice that we give to parents of new students--drink lots of water, get a good night's sleep, move slowly--and it's working for us. Our guide has also set a very humane pace, including lunch and a two hour rest period in the middle of every day. I could get used to the (whatever the Tibetans call a siesta) as a regular matter. What about instituting that at Colorado College?
Tomorrow we go off on an excursion into the countryside, including a drive over a 16,000 ft pass. This will be the true test of our altitude adjustment! We're hoping for clear skies so we can enjoy what is described as absolutely spectacular scenery.
I could go on and on, but I don't want to tell you more than you ever wanted to know about Tibet. No doubt I can outlast your interest when I return to the US and start talking at length about my adventures.
I hope all is well with you.
Cheers,
Kathryn
