TIBET: THE LAND BEYOND THE SNOW
December 21, 2007
“I don’t know if I can go any further,” I yelled with lungs choking on the thin air. We are at 16,000 feet.
“Yes you can, just keep moving your feet,” hollered my Tibetan climbing partner, Dorje. “We’ll be there soon. And from the top, you’ll be able to see my entire country.”
I put my head down, and continued to amble up and up and up. My legs were diminished to useless stalks of flesh swinging listlessly forward and backwards. My head was expanding, billowing and aching with such force that I feared altitude sickness was calling my name. But still, we walked further towards the bright blue sky splayed to infinity above our heads. I could just see the summit approaching in the distance, so I bit my lip and charged with the last ounce of energy I still had in my body.
“Well, what do you think?” Dorje asked.
I paused for a moment to gather sparse flecks of oxygen. Then, I raised my head, and consumed an image so sublime I will never forget.
Surrounding me was the plateau of Tibet: the hidden land of the snows. I spun in a full 360 to take in the whole picture.
Panning the landscape, I realized that Tibet is a land of physical grandeur mixed with simplicity. The mountains extend as immaculately sculpted chains—bulbous, soft and alluring. Their color is of a brown copper that shifts to a yellowish hue under a full sun, and then transitions to a deep-brown as evening descends. The land is too high for the vernal lushness of the tropics, and instead finds stasis in a thick soil that is parted by gushing turquoise rivers. Such landscape diminishes our Rocky Mountain to mere anthills.
But one would be mistaken to call Tibet merely a picturesque landscape. For what defines Tibet is the immaterial essence that exists within the minds of the inhabitants. Let me explain. Tibetans are Buddhists, and fervently so. Extracting their religious practice from their daily life is like taking oxygen from lungs—one cannot live without it. Therefore the temples are plentiful, the prayers ubiquitous, and the worship inimitable.
“Where is Lhasa?” I asked Dorje.
She pointed east, and immediately I found it.
Lhasa is the holiest city for Tibetans, which means endless streams of pilgrims filtering into the city limits. Yet what is more inspiring than being around these pilgrims, is watching how they enter the city. Many times, the pilgrims will not simply take a bus or a car into Lhasa. Instead, they will do full body prostrations starting from their hometown, which in many cases can be hundreds of miles away.
But can you really imagine this? Can you imagine throwing your entire body onto the dirt for weeks on end — callused forehead, bruised bones — until you reach Lhasa! This, though, is a reality for Tibetans, and it is part of their religious practice—they are laying down their lives for the Buddha. Each prostration is prayer. Yet, the prayer is not for personal gain. Instead, it is sent out to the entire world; it is a whisper of compassion meant to help every single sentient being that abides on this planet.
And this compassion still sings triumphantly and steadily, even while the country is being strangled and desiccated by the Chinese. Yet the Tibetans endure by exchanging Chinese bullets for sacred Sanskrit prayers
The Dalai Lama once asked a nun, “What are you most scared of?”
The nun answered, “I am scared that someday I will lose compassion for the Chinese.”
Perhaps now you understand that Tibetan exists beyond the physical; it is a spirit— a noble, open-hearted ethos — that transcends the land of snows by traveling thousands of miles west to Europe and the United States.
Just recently, I sat with a Tibetan monk here is Aspen. He had arrived only one year ago from Tibet. And while he is now speaking English and eating American food, I sat in his presence and felt exactly how I felt taking my first steps across the Nepal boarder into Tibet, intuitively understanding that this culture soars on selfless wings, casting out a wish for a world unsullied by ego, desire and hatred.
So whether your travel all the way to Tibet, or pick up a book by the Dalai Llama, or just sit at the feet of Tibetan elder, I promise that you will feel the core of a culture that shakes with the brightest glow of humanity; you will feel just as I did, standing 16,000 feet high on the plateau, wishing I would not have to leave such a country behind.
Luckily, I didn’t have to.
