Weiyu Lin

I have been in Lhasa for three weeks by now, and have not once gone far from it. I am too content to leave anyway. I am even too content to leave Barkor Circuit, the pilgrimage route around Jokhang Temple. From morning to night, with pilgrims and tourists, I circle clockwise with a Tibetan textbook in my hand, or scholarly books about Buddhism. Have I circled more than 200 ¨kora¨ by now? Around Barkor Circuit, I have pockets of Tibetan friends here and there, and would drop by their places punctually every day. Dusk, I spend it in a quiet alley where the cloth makers do their works, while I sit on the doorstep, sip my yak butter tea and chitchat using scraps of my Tibetan, and their non-existent Mandarin. Near the end of my Tibetan book are mantras and prayers. We make it a habit of reciting some of them together. Today, I inadvertently flipped the page to the Prayer to T**n G**so (not typing his name to evade the all-watching eyes, but you know who I am talking about). I was ruf...

Every other evening in Lhasa, I visit the lounge in a fancy family hotel, because my friend Jigme, also hotel owner´s son, and my Tibetan teacher Ngawang work there. (They speak perfect English -- much better than their Mandarin). Inevitably, we slipped into debates about Tibetan Buddhism. At every chance, I pick up some Tibetan words. Tonight was our last night because I am leaving Lhasa. From tomorrow on, I will explore Kham region in Eastern Tibet. This evening, I made a little video, saying farewell to them, and other Tibetan friends. As you will see, I was nervous. Words sputtered out painstakingly. But in the end, I am satisfied. This little video of my crappy Tibetan is the gem that emerged from a ludic learning process among three friends. It testifies a rewarding friendship, that is an organic aftermath of five-weeks learning, sharing and debating together. The video has subtitles. And sorry for the low video quality.

Now that I am wearing Tibetan attire, strangely I am more concerned with being intrusive. At least before, people saw me as I was but when they heard me speaking Tibetan and reciting mantras and prayers, they would embrace me in. But now, I have to worry about a subtler form of intrusion because by wearing as Tibetans, I am purporting to be one of them, and if I am not careful, would I end up insulting them? I don't want to be like some Han Chinese tourists who wear flamboyant costumes for photography's sake, which are more Tibetan than Tibetan so which is not Tibetan. That is why when my Tibetan teacher told me that the shirt and robe I was wearing was rare among young people, who wore them mostly in festivals, I was terrified. I wanted to be more invisible, not the other way around. I only felt better after I had learned to tie the robe around my waist in a casual way. The most invisible moment for me is of course dancing every afternoon on the public square. I have...

In Tibet, some local vocabulary would enter your everyday use. One such word is ¨Kora¨, meaning the circular pilgrimage around a sacred site, such as a monastery or a mountain. I stayed in Ganden Monastery three days. Every morning, I would walk its breathtaking kora. Below is the Kyi Chu river, weaving like the tangled roots of an old tree through the vast gravel flats. On the trail, the rocks are smudged with yak butter and bushes are decorated with tufts of sheep wool.

Me and Potala Six Years Ago: 

A week ago was the anniversary of Buddha´s Enlightenment. It marked the start of the month-long Saga Dawa festival that takes place all over Tibet. Hundred of thousands of pilgrims begin circling around sacred mountains and sites. And monasteries host religious rituals that serve diverse purposes. In Yarchen Gar monastery, this is first day of the week-long annual ritual of Supreme Joy Gathering in Yarchen Gar. We receive lectures on the scripture, recite prayers for the happiness of all beings, and are blessed with the initiation into esoteric path of Buddhism (even though only a small fraction of lucky and devoted ones may be successfully initiated).

Spent a fine day by the river on the prairie in Garze, and found a right poem from Baudelaire to voice out the right sentiments ( video  of me reading the poem; and photos are below): L'invitation au voyage Mon enfant, ma soeur, Songe à la douceur D'aller là-bas vivre ensemble! Aimer à loisir, Aimer et mourir Au pays qui te ressemble! Les soleils mouillés De ces ciels brouillés Pour mon esprit ont les charmes Si mystérieux De tes traîtres yeux, Brillant à travers leurs larmes. Là, tout n'est qu'ordre et beauté, Luxe, calme et volupté. ---Charles Baudelaire