politics, thoughts on india, final pics

Howdy folks. So today we'll begin with a short political rant, move on to my reflective views on the India experience, and finish off with some more dazzling pictures. Ready? Okay.

So what is up with middle of the way America? I pick up a copy of The Nation today- one of my old favorites that left me along with mail service in New Orleans- and I read about the "New College Left". It recounts the tail of extensive right wing funding, think tanks, etc. and the rise of the right on college campuses. I remember having these convos w/ a friend in New Orleans: when the old hippie can't take care of himself and is still yelling and angry, but the old conservative seems to be doing pretty well, well no shit people would rather be the conservative. Anyhow- the article went on to say how some Left "Campus Progress" national organization has started and gives funding to campus groups. My first reaction: "Sweet! I could start up a paper at Tulane when I get back, because God knows they don't give funding to poli organizations, and the few times I've picked up the Hullaballo I've ending up reading some of the most racist, slanted bullshit- not as a letter sent in- but as an article published.
However, upon further reading, I find that the organization is obviously wary of supporting anything too left, which could get it into trouble. The article also talks about some Ivy groups starting up- classy Dems that don't yell their rhetoric but voice it in suits with coctails. Politicians.

Laura's views: What the fuck mate? Why? Because yesterday's left is today's too left, and yesterday's middle man is today's awkward liberal. Okay- you don't want to be yelling on the quad, etc. Neither do I to be honest- it puts you in an awkward and open position. I just find in the past few months- and lets not lie- after certain group conversations in India- that I'm sick of hearing hollow words. I'm sick of a generation that listens to the Dead, does their parent's drugs (and more), reads about Leary, talks the talk, and then returns to the life that their wealthy parents carved for them. Hollow words my friends. It's as if 'hey, our parents didn't change anything, lets take the best they have to give us and leave the sweat and tears.' Now I realize I'm not out in the street protesting anything, etc.- but I think I do my part to not contribute. I don't run around saying "No Logo!!!" and cover myself in Nike; I don't feign to support the environment and drive and SUV five blocks to school b/c my skinny blond ass can't manage a bicycle. I try to not support a world system I don't agree with and hope that somehow little actions reach others.
The other frustration (highlighted by this wonderful Leibermann campaign) is that I'm sick of Repubocrats. Now listen, I was raised a good Dem, but when for the past four years all I hear are people come out who support the war- or don't "support" it but still want to fund it- wtf? You know- Bush didn't technically win that election, but the way everyone acts, you would think we have to duck and cover because the neocons are everywhere. They're not. They are just better organized b/c they don't keep muddling up their message by scooting it farther left.

So that turned into a long rant. But afterall, I understand when people want non-partisan politics. But shouldn't there be a point when people (liberals) say, "yes Mr. Republican, come to my meeting, hold my hand. I respect you as an intelligent person with your own history, your own culture and norms, and therefore your own views. When I say work together, however, I WILL NOT swallow and neglect my own MORALITY and opinions so that I can eat your corporate sponsored shit in return for your approval." come on america. You can have cooperation and still have different ideals- non partisan doesn't mean republican.


Okay okay, done with politics for now......India!!! (Which will likely lead to politics)

My last real message from that distant land was after an intense sickness in Varanasi/Benares. How far away. Since I've returned, people have asked if I feel like a changed person. Yes I do, but mainly because of the reflection time I've had since I got home. My first few hours back in the states were spent at Ohare International Airport waiting for the currency changer to open up. My first real culture shock: We are really fat. Not that the fat people are so huge, but that pretty much everyone is on the big side. Next reaction: gas in Chitown was 3.60ish a gallon. shit son.

I came home and I wanted to clean out, clear up, and think about everything that had happened. I didn't want to come back to the states and think "I'm so grateful to be home. I'm so grateful to be in a safer place with clean food, etc. Let me go grab a sandwich and a frappe and walk the streets at night." I was resentful even before I left to the people who said "Oh India- you'll get home and kiss the ground you walk on". So I didn't. I fasted for about a week, sat on my ass at home listening to music, doing a little yoga, being outside, and-thinking I suppose.

One of the most important things, I think/i feel, is just not to forget. The poverty in India is striking, but you get used to it when you're there. You realize there is a society India, a middle India, and a poor as shit India, and they just don't mingle. From the society view, how could you live a life of comfort and walk into a beggar village and not feel wretched? You couldn't- neither did we. But I don't just want to come back here and forget them. I try to live a life that doesn't harm other people- that doesn't support coporations or ideals that will harm others. I'm not saying I succeed, and I'm sure I fail quite often, but the motivation is there and at least I'm trying.

Spiritually, there is also the concept of being connected to those people and having compassion for them. Some could say that just thinking things -"I wish those poor people in India to be happy" -doesn't do jack, but my meditation course taught me a lot. When Buddhists meditate analytically there is the hope that ideals in our minds can be focused on our hearts- that what we logically know will become something we logically feel. Being around monks and nuns ( and Tibetans for that matter) in North India was hugely powerful; these people have such striking compassion and good will for those around them. They realize everyone is in this painful cycle, so regardless of where we are, we should be kind. We don't know the karma of that beggar we just ignored, and we don't know our own. Some day the tables could be turned, and you could be depending on someone's kindness as well.

I also worked on strengthening my equanimity while I was there (treating everyone the same). I struggle a lot with trying not to judge people so directly opposed to my beliefs. ex- People who support the war. How the hell do I respect someone who supports hate-mongering money politics. How do I relate to people who rape the earth and then spit on her? The answer (according to a nun) - "Hey- they are just people too. And who is to say I have all the answers. I have my flaws. I'm learning -they're learning, but we're all in this cycle together."

Leading to...Capstone India thoughts: A lot of my poltical and moral beliefs were strengthened- but strengthened in different ways. If my ideals are a kickboxer- I don't want them to knock out my enemy. Rather, I'd like them to be strong enough to get dropkicked and not fall down.
I felt incredibly humbled there. Seeing life- real life- so stark and all around you- that's what India is. People live on the street- sleep, shit, eat on the street. Why? Hey- they're poor, we're all human, "so what's the problem?" It's real life in your face. Varanasi was a key example of that- seeing the stark constrast between Hindus and Muslims there (and remembering how we came from a hotel lobby in Delhi filled with Christian Missionaries- I also remember thinking- why don't you give the people some of the food you hide in that pot belly under your polo shirt and keep your damn Bible). Anyhow- you just realize how small you are.

Everyone of those billion people (plus people everywhere) are living and struggling and have their own hopes, dreams, pains, and joys. Who am I to think mine are so much more important? Honestly? We are all human, and that right there deserves respect. Regardless of beliefs, we all suffer in this life and are all looking for something- for some type of joy.

So those are the lessons I'm working on and the thoughts I'm developing post-India. --trying to respect and be open to everyone, gaining humility, cultivating compassion
(This doesn't mean there wont be more political rants in the future, but hey, i'm only human.)

I'm sure you'll get more of this later- but now pictures!!! (Whee!!) I think my blog is angry at the size of this post and not taking more pics, so those will go up later. for now...

So these three are at the Taj- the second is with my Didi/varanasi buddy Kathleen- and the last is one of the citadels by the river right at sunset.

pictures!!!

Dear god did I just post a thousand pictures (or ten- but it felt like forever). At the end of each post with pictures I added notes to explain them, which was easier than trying to make captions.

More to come tomorrow. mwah!

I'm home- alive and well and full of ideas.

Also- there is sadly no internet at my house, so bloggalicious communications will be limited. My thoughts on India -in capstone matter- aren't quite ready for publication, so you will have to await them anxiously.

much love- me

I finally got a picture to post. Whee!!! This is from the top of Triune- which is the most beautiful place I've ever been.

getting sick in Varanasi

So yesterday/last night was maybe the sickest (or second sickest after food poisoning in New orleans) that I have ever been. To detail the sickness would be pretty terrible- so i will spare you. Regardless, I was lying in bed with a fever, and i was sort of numb, really incoherent, and without balance or any energy. It was sort of scary- but I feel much better now. (It was sort of like when I got sick in Mcleod- the first day was terrible but after that it was fine.) Then- in my scared, confused state, I started thinking about how distraught (sp?) my mother would be if something happened to me. Then I thought about all my friends back home, and I much I really truly love all of you. So I needed to put that into words- and I hope in our interactions i make it obvious that I really love you, but if I ever seem cranky or impatient, just know that i have flaws too, but - yeah- i love you all.

Aside from that, India is really a love/hate relationship. Here in Varanasi- the temples are great, the Ganges river sends a great breeze into the city, and fantastical pilgrims are commonplace- complete with intricate face paint, massive dreds, and colorful uniforms of orange and red. There is also the flip side- this is a place where people come to die (to gain instant enlightenment). I feel that all that energy - that sickness- really infects the place.
And then of course- there is the desparation. Kathleen was saying that after she left Africa, she felt so connected to the people there, and now when she sees a Ghanain back home, she just wants to hold their hand and talk to them. She wondered if she would feel that way about Indians. So then I wondered...I feel that I love the place and parts of the culture- but there is definately a rift between me and the people because I have never been that desparate. Part of india really saps your energy- "buy me, take my rickshaw, buy me, special for you- first customer of the day, hello? do you remember me?" No, I don't fucking remember you because I don't know you, you don't know me, and you just want to harrass me on the street. "Where are you from?How long are you in India? Where are you staying? What's your name? Are you married?" multiply this by a thousand and it's somewhere close to how many times I've had to answer these questions. I feel it's worse here- withtheyoung boys that fucking surround you. "Where do you need to go? internet- here!!!! NO THIS WAY!!! Hotel? THIS ONE!! HERE= LEFT!!!" I don't understand what they want- they can't get commission from an internet cafe, and if they just want the company of a westerner- well, usually i want to trip them- or really just get away from them. Honestly, I can read, I know where i'm going.

Then i have to stop and think- these kids were raised in a setting i can't imagine. If i was that poor, you're damn straight I would beg for money, or try to sell you postcards, or bindis, or shine your plastic shoes. I would also be reallyamazed- in a country of over a billion indians, to see what bollywood tells me is a beautiful white person; I would want to talk to them, A LOT, because I would also want to learn English so I could get a better job- and swindle tourists even better. After all, why not? They would make about 20,000x more than I do in a year.

So yeah- i suppose it is hard for me to connect to the actual people of India- lack of social tissue as Neibur would say. But- i am trying to understand their situation- which is, i suppose, a start. In this way, I feel it's good to be here; mcLeod was like a little buddhist retreat filled with kind tibetans and meditation- this is real India- with poverty and dirt and temples and holy water and Indians.

much love!!!- me

A note on new pictures: The first and last were taken in a low key neighborhood beyond the last ghat (steps) in Varanasi. The children in the last were all (as most are) thrilled to have their picture taken. The middle picture is simply a view from the river of one of the ghats- these structures were systematically built by the maharajas of Varanasi and other cities as- if I'm right here- sort of a mark of power/dynasty. One king started it so the rest had to follow suit. These are holy places were people come to perform rituals and bathe.

Also- looking back on what I wrote while in Varanasi, and then remembering it via these pictures- seems to be two different things. It could get very draining, yes, but it was also raw. It was real life in your face, and that's part-a mere facet- of the beauty of India.

la ti da

so really I just have ten minutes of internet time left...

We've been in Varanasi for about six hours; we saw our first dead body right before dinner being paraded down the street with tambourines- but it was covered in beautiful flowers and cloth.

Our train here was 6.5 hours later- meaning it left at almost 3am. Since we had some time to kill, we wandered about Paharganj- the hippie/backpacker marketplace in Delhi and then got some drinks. It was good fun all around and the train ride was surprisingly nice (expect that there were baby roaches everywhere, but eh?).

talk to ya lata! mwah.