Prisoners Of Gratitude

There are some expressions in colloquial Tibetan that make my hair stand on end every time I hear someone invoke them. One is the adverbial phrase thugsrje bka'drin which translates something like "by the gracious benevolence of". Another is the verb drinlen bsabspa or "to repay the kindness of". Both are part of our long-established, autochthonous vocabulary and reinforce a certain way of thinking. My impression is they are increasingly used in both the media and society these days. The supposed humility, however, always comes across as sycophantic.

Maybe I'm not listening properly. But maybe there is something to it?

I am not referring to normal gratitude, the kind, where we say "thank you" because someone opened the door for us, showed us the way or offered us a seat. Expressing that kind of gratitude is something you have to do and can also expect from others because it is not merely good manners and helps to keep human interactions smooth, but more importantly, it is an expression of our basic civility and our consideration and respect for others.

What I mean is a different kind of gratitude contained in these two Tibetan expressions. A typical sentence would be: "By the gracious benevolence of my parents I was able to attend such a good school", and, "My biggest wish is to repay the kindness of my parents". Both phrases cry out for the recipient to give something in return - almost like a debt they are expected to repay. They go beyond expressing appreciation for what others have done for us: They involve a great deal of social pressure and personal guilt.

The mindset echoed is paradoxical because as parents we know we shouldn't expect gratitude from our children for the things we have done for them. Gratitude becomes difficult when there is the expectation to receive something in return. The guilt caused is more of a burden and most definitely doesn't create feelings of gratitude. Gratitude obtained through subtle pressure or implicit expectation is worth nothing at all. It's emotional fraud.

True gratitude comes from remembering and appreciating acts of kindness with no strings attached. When children discover that parents have done things for them out of selflessness and pure, unconditional love – just like an altruistic Bodhisattva does what needs to be done without wasting a thought on what he may get in return. Expressions like "by the gracious benevolence of my parents" and "to repay the kindness of my parents" are the pure contrary. They are like putting a gun to a child's head.

I believe this kind of emotional blackmail often unfolding in Tibetan families - sometimes subtle, sometimes gross as illustrated in Blind Brides Or Strawberries From The North Pole?, where Dolma is threatened to be thrown out of the house if she goes on to marry Daniel - is also mirrored in larger society: Here, segments of the population disagreeing with the views of the establishment are often charged of "disloyalty" and "ingratitude".

While in the family, children who disappoint their parents often have to live with the guilt of having troubled their peace of mind, people who insist on diverging views in society have to live with the reproach that they are responsible for creating disunity, disturbing social peace, and sometimes also for – Buddha forbid – upsetting the Dalai Lama. 

Phrases like thugsrje bka'drin and drinlen bsabspa chain people up emotionally, make them dependent and keep them small. There is something intrinsically wrong when these expressions are overused in society like a Mantra. To me they feel like an obstinate linguistic relic of our feudal past:  Even though we left the old society behind, many of us have internalised its values.

I am not calling for a rebellion against our parents or against authority. I am a parent myself. Instilling guilt, rebuking each other, using coercion and psychological warfare only poisons relationships and drains our energies for nothing. As a family and as a society, we can only move forward by accepting diverging opinions without bias no matter who expresses them.

Children who automatically follow their parents' wishes may lull themselves into a false sense of security and turn into adults who follow the mainstream without a second thought. People, who speak up, while they can be more challenging to handle, actually display a quality much sought-after: Courage to express their own opinion and the determination to stand up to them.

Given the tremendous internal and external challenges Tibetans face, should we not encourage people in our midst who are courageous, innovative and fearless? We know we can't produce them if we limit ourselves to raising people who repay our kindness - because where usually do fresh ideas and inspiration, the ability to create new things, come from? Exactly! From mavericks, dissenters, border crossers and bridge builders, in short the unconventional folks who think independently and talk openly. It's their creativity that is the main motor for social progress.

There is a quote by Mark Twain on gratitude which fits the two Tibetan expressions I am discussing: "…gratitude is a debt which usually goes on accumulating like blackmail; the more you pay, the more is exacted. In time, you are made to realize that the kindness done you is become a curse and you wish it had not happened."

We should not let it come to that. We love our parents and naturally want to see them happy. I also believe that every one of us - whether socialized in the West, China-educated, India-educated or coming out of the exile-Tibetan system, whatever political or religious creed – every one of us is a Tibetan patriot at heart. But this precious sense of solidarity cannot be enforced by autocratic tactics in the name of loyalty or some kind of diffuse special thanks "owed".

Gratitude, it is said, is the sign of noble souls. Remembering the kindness of others and a respectful tone are very important values be it for children, parents, the people or leaders. But none of us can live our lives to the fullest, and no one is served, if we manipulate it and turn ourselves and others into prisoners of gratitude.

Mountain Phoenix 

Photo: Cheryl Wolfberg, Tibetan Woman, oil on canvas 16 x 20''

http://www.anatomicallycorrect.org/SkokieArtWalk.htm

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Losar 2013 – Time For A Tibetan Pow-Wow

My children belong to the third generation of Tibetans living in the West. To keep them interested in the Tibetan language and culture, I use music as one of my most valuable allies. Over the years, the search for child-friendly songs and dances has become something like a creative hobby with Losar, the Tibetan New Year, figuring as a prime motivator and highlight where the children get to perform what they have learned during the year. We would always pep up the performances with beautiful Chupas and accessories brought from our travels to Tibet.

Much like what North American Indians do at their annual pow-wow, Losar is something like our Tibetan pow-wow: We get together with friends celebrating our heritage by joining in dancing and singing, sharing stories and eating Tibetan food that we cook together. In the process we receive a boost for another year ahead of us and the children are able to reconnect with their Tibetan roots. That's why this year too we will celebrate our New Year with all the bells and whistles. Losar is a ritualised event that keeps everyone positive and going.

I know we have been asked to skip festivities. But I believe it is not a wise recommendation. The daily stream of sad news coming out of Tibet is depressing and the hardliner response by China makes us feel helpless. In this situation, being asked to cancel New Year celebrations for the umpteenth time, could easily pull people further down instead of lifting them up. It's like twisting the knife in the wound.

Being continuously asked to cancel celebrations is scoring own-goals because we depend on cultural festivals to keep our traditions relevant. We can’t be in national mourning forever.  It paralyses our society. I don't want my kids to grow up in a morbid and culturally barren environment where all we do is shouting during demonstrations and mourning in prayers. I don't want them to subconsciously connect being Tibetan with negative emotions such as sadness, powerlessness, anger and uncertainty. If that’s where we wind up, then the sacrifice of the self-immolators is 100 % wasted.

Tibetan kids deserve to be happy, enthusiastic and self-confident like all other kids. I want to see them excelling in their Western environments, at the same time, knowing their Tibetan culture inside out. And I want myself as a parent to be able to set the example. For our kids and our culture to burgeon in the communities outside Tibet, I believe it is psychologically important to have something positive to relate to like Losar celebrations.

So here I am, sharing three songs from the broad range of contemporary Tibetan music that are fun and uplifting. I picked them for my Losar pow-wow because they don’t try too hard which is what makes them cool. They don’t have a big message. They don’t tell us: Speak Tibetan! Study hard! Work for Tibetan unity! I like these songs for this year’s Losar precisely because they don’t lecture, don’t plead nor mourn; they simply live it. 

The Losar Evergreen: Lokhor Dawa 12 - "Another Year Gone By"

"Another Year Gone By" is a Losar evergreen because it fulfills all the criteria of a perfect Tibetan New Year song: 1) It's a traditional folk tune; 2) The content of the song is really about the New Year and not something else; 3) The melody is easy, no high pitches, everyone can sing along; 4) There is an uncontrived group dance to go with it, that even little kids can master - the perfect pow-wow dance! Moreover, we can learn about the seasons, fauna, flora, and it tells us something about people's attitude and the local farming almanac. In addition, the blend between electronic music and traditional instruments gives it a contemporary touch. This song was also mentioned in Bashè Forever.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kw93-Br1FoY 

Another Year Gone By

Again it's the first month (of the New Year)

Again the willow trees are turning green in the second month

Here a little dance, hoppedeehopp

There a little dance, hoppedeehopp

Again it's the third month

Again we can hear the cuckoo calling in the fourth month

Here a little dance, hoppedeehopp

There a little dance, hoppedeehopp

Again it's the fifth month

Again the ? are ripening in the sixth month

Here a little dance, hoppedeehopp

There a little dance, hoppedeehopp

Again it's the seventh month

Again the grass is turning yellow in the eighth month

Here a little dance, hoppedeehopp

There a little dance, hoppedeehopp

Again it's the ninth month

Again the leaves are falling off the trees in the tenth month

Here a little dance, hoppedeehopp

There a little dance, hoppedeehopp

Again the twelve months of the year are gone by

Don't forget: It's over in no time, as quick as that.

Here a little dance, hoppedeehopp

There a little dance, hoppedeehopp

The Runner Up: Gakyi Luyang  - "Song Of Joy And Happiness"

The "Song Of Joy And Happiness" is always a good choice and perfect for any festive occasion. I heard other versions but the interpretation by Tseten Dolkar below is my favourite. It's not merely a funky song but has deep meaning. It honours all people which Tibetan society considers worthy of special respect. It teaches a lot about social etiquette and traditional values: Reverence for the Dharma and its representatives, gratitude towards one's parents, the value of studying hard, nurturing our national sentiment, and instilling a sense of responsibility in kids for the future of Tibet. There is a sense of continuation coming out of this song, a feeling that our people will endure. All this is packed into a musically pleasant song. The beat is a plus because kids love funky music. A minus is that it is not Losar-specific.

                                          From the album ser bya'i las dbang, 2010, ISRC CN-G02-10-364-00/V.J6

Song Of Joy And Happiness

To mark the occasion, let us all go to Norbu Lingkha Park for a picnic.

To mark the occasion, let us entertain our parents, relatives and friends with songs and dances

Let the good times roll!

Let us offer the first Khata to the noble and kind root Guru

Let the good times roll

Let us offer the second Khata to the kindhearted and sincere people of the Tibetan race

Let the good times roll!

Let us offer the third Khata to the fortunate and wise ones (i. e. monks)

To mark the occasion, let us all sing a song of joy and happiness that we could all get together

To mark the occasion, let us entertain our parents, relatives and friends with songs and dances

Let the good times roll!

Let us offer the fourth Khata to our kind parents who are always anxious for our wellbeing

Let the good times roll!

Let us offer the fifth Khata to the students who are diligently learning

Let the good times roll!

Let us offer the sixth Khata to our heart's brothers and sisters from the three provinces of Tibet

Let the good times roll!

Let us offer the seventh Khata to the future youth of Tibet

The Bronze Medalist: Sempa Gasong – "Happy As Can Be"

Here's another folksong with a face lift. Whereas "Another Year Gone By" describes farming life in Eastern Tibet and "The Song Of Joy And Happiness" in an interpretation from Central Tibet teaches us about traditional values, "Happy As Can Be" has nomadic roots. We can learn that just like the Drokpa we don't need a whole lot of fancy material possessions to feel happy. It's the simple things in life that count like a sunrise or watching animals or enjoy nature. It's a particularly relevant reminder for people in places that overboard with consumerism. Create a hip dance to go along and your kids' Western pop idols can count on some serious competition!

                                                      From the album "bkra shis dawa", 2004; ISRC CN-T05-04-323-00/V.J6

Happy As Can Be

The moon reflecting on the surface of lake Yamdrok Yumtso illuminated everything around it

As I saw the bright landscape before me, I felt happy as can be.

The sun rising over the eastern mountain peaks brightened up the whole place.

As I saw the land immersed in light before me, I felt happy as can be.

When circumambulating snow-capped Mt. Machen, we saw peacefully grazing horses and white sheep

As I saw the horses and sheep so peacefully before me, I felt happy as can be.

In Tibet, the land of the great snow, there are white Khatas fluttering everywhere

As I saw all the Khatas fluttering around me, I felt happy as can be.

If you are uncomfortable with song and dance at this time, you could use the New Year holiday to improve your Tibetan language skills, read Tibetan comics with your kids or watch a Tibetan movie together or learn more about Dharma. You could also cook a Tibetan meal with your children or teach them how to play Sho and Tibetan card games. The list is endless if we use our fantasy and prepare ahead of time. The main point is not to succumb to grief and end up doing nothing.

I wish us a merry Losar with magic moments that we can draw upon for a long time to come. Gnam lo gsar la bkrashis bdelegs, thugs bzhes lhun 'grub!

Mountain Phoenix

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I should have declined. But he was a friend and so I agreed to take three watches and deliver them to his brother. "It's just watches, easy to pack, no weight", so I thought to myself. When he actually handed the watches over though, they came in expensive-looking, bulky boxes and it was too late to retract.

Maybe it's best to get into the habit of leaving for Tibet quietly without telling anyone because there´s always this risk to become inundated with letters, gifts and cash, people want you to hand carry on their behalf. It's one of these peculiar Tibetan traits: Even in the age of superfast postal services, e-banking and Western Union, some still prefer sending stuff the archaic way via people. And for all snying-rje or compassion that we consider a national trait, it doesn't seem to cross our minds that asking someone with limited time to carry and deliver goods could perhaps be burdensome.

My partner looked at me with a frown when I came home with the boxes. After taking a closer look he informed me those were not "just watches" but Rolexes - luxury items worth almost USD 10,000 each.

Gulp. What if they got stolen? What if they drew the attention of the Chinese customs or they confiscated them?

I knew of a wealthy Chinese businesswoman from Chengdu who returned from a trip abroad wearing a ten thousand-dollar Omega and hand carrying seven more ordered by office mates. Everything got confiscated at customs. A fraction was returned to her later, it was said. - Scary!

"Okay don't be afraid," my partner calmed me down, "technically you're a foreigner so all you have to do is declare them."

Luckily that's exactly how it went. There were no problems at the customs but I was nervous throughout the flight. The real headache though was still before me: After I reached Tibetan soil, it took days to get hold of the brother. And then it took days until the brother got a third person to come by and pick up the precious goods on his behalf because he was away from station. All the while, whenever I left my place I had to worry that the watches would get stolen.

My relatives always warn me to be careful with cash and belongings as there were many thieves these days: "Keema mooma doray!"      

On another visit, a lady of an American NGO had her bag stolen during a visit to the monastery: Passport, mobile phone, cash – everything gone. We were so afraid one of the monks could be the thief. Politically suspect per se, turning into criminals would make their reputation even worse. There was a sense of relief when, after a long day and night of searching, they found the thief to be a Chinese construction worker. He was obtuse enough to answer the call when the police rang the number of the stolen cellphone. The police caught the signal and hunted him down in no time.

Remembering my partner's instruction, I insisted on a written confirmation when handing over the watches. You never knew. When I innocently asked who wears such expensive watches, the man replied: "Rich merchants", adding that they preferred to order from overseas as the Rolex watches on sale in China were all counterfeit.

In the old days trade caravans brought in watches across the Himalayas. There was less choice in terms of models but I guess the few you got were genuine. These days, visitors like me functioned as couriers, because with the huge counterfeit industry in China, not even famous brand items could be trusted.

When I think about it, the Tibetans have something like a historical relationship with expensive watches and particularly so with the Rolex.

I first learned about the Tibetan weakness for expensive watches from an old monk about fifteen years ago back in my dad's hometown. His name was Dragkar Amnye ("White Rock Granpa"). As a youngster he worked as a Tshongpon or chief merchant for the monastery making the three-month arduous journey to Lhasa and continueing to India on mules several times. He allowed me to stay at his place while we were doing some reconstruction in the vicinity.

In the evenings we would gather around the fireplace in his kitchen and have supper together: Mostly Tsampa, rice, Tibetan tea, sometimes a hearty soup with chunks of greasy pork, horseradish and leafy vegetables. Then Dragkar Amnye would tell stories of the old days. The one that really caught my attention was where all of a sudden modern brand names came out of his old, wrinkled Tibetan mouth: "Omega, Rolex".

There we were huddled in a dark, smoky kitchen full of draft in some remote corner of the highlands at the end of the world. It could have been in the 19^th century judging from the infrastructure - or should I say lack of infrastructure - and we were discussing Omegas and Rolexes, epitomes of consumer decadence in modern times. 

But Omega and Rolex have been household names in Tibet for ages. When I asked the old man why those watches were so popular he said: "Back then all the watches we and other traders bought in India for resale in Tibet would stop when we crossed the mountain passes, all except for the Rolex. It was the only watch that would continue working. That's why the Rolex has become so popular in Tibet."

How poetic! If I were Rolex I would make a commercial out of this piece of information!

Imagine rustic Tibetan traders in Chupa with the stereotypical red tassel in their hair on their ascent over the Himalayas with their pack animals carrying precious goods. A glimpse of those old-fashioned boxes discloses their content: Colourful textiles, canned food, expensive cigars and cigarettes that were in fashion back then such as the "555". The subtitle reads: "Himalayas, 1940". The leader of the caravan calls the others to camp for the night – all in local language with English subtitles. They pitch up their tents and light a fire. The subtitle shows the altitude: “5,500 meters above sea level”. Then close-up of the leader sitting by the campfire – darkness all around - the audience spots the traditional earring with corals and turquoises, shiny white teeth and maybe a golden tooth flashes. Then he says: "Hey pals, let's see how the watches are withstanding the altitude." One of his caravan buddies passes on the box with the precious content. The leader opens it - all watches have come to a stand-still except one – close-up: The trader nods tellingly and a voice says: "Rolex – dares to go where no other watch dares to go" – or something to that effect, ha, ha!

Mountain road through southern Kham near Lithang, summer 2011

Here is another story about Tibetans and their infatuation with the Rolex: My dad and his older brother fled Lhasa under the thunder of cannons reaching India exhausted and broke. The bag of Tsampa and butter the two youngsters had hastily packed before their escape were used up, all their money too. The brother then sold his Rolex so they could carry on. When Tibet fell, the Rolex became their lifesaver.

My uncle is not into pomp nor does he feel the urge to impress others with expensive objects but many years after my dad's passing we decided to pool in money and buy him a Rolex as a gift for his 70^th birthday - not nearly as extravagant as the ones I hand carried to Tibet, but a Rolex nevertheless. It was a symbolic gesture that all the hardship he and my dad had to go through and the loss of the family's material possessions were a thing of the past. The handover of a Rolex underlined that they were back on track. Over fifty years of a family's history summed up by means of a watch. That's the power of the Rolex.

Before I ham it up too much: I would never wear a Rolex. The design is old-fashioned, oversized and overdone for my taste and comes at a ridiculously excessive price. When I think of the typical Rolex clientele, outrageously wealthy, fake-blond former Eastern bloc ladies come to mind, wrapped in fur head to toe, killing time in some posh European mountain resort. But that's Mountain Phoenix hypothesizing and not that she has the problem of being stuck with a Rolex :--)

In Tibet it seems to be a guy thing with the Rolex standing for values such as fortitude and authenticity in a time when trust in authentic brands is low and forgery is something like a national pastime. I heard fathers usually pass their Rolex on to their sons as an heirloom. Values and feelings associated with the Rolex are perhaps a bit like what early ads of the Marlboro man convey - of course without the health hazard: Freedom, male-bonding, solitude, simplicity and inner peace. And while not every Tibetan Rolex-wearer falls for the romantic, adventurous and legendary appeal of this watch, but simply wears it as a status symbol like wealthy Chinese or my Eastern bloc ladies, its appeal endures through personal family stories and the common misfortune that befell the Tibetans.


So wanting to own an expensive Rolex brought in from faraway lands is perhaps also a yearning for the good old days when things were under control and manageable? 

To Tibetans with their traditional weakness for chunky jewellery the Rolex is perhaps just the must-have even when most don't dwell in Himalayan heights any longer where perfectly calibrated watches become crucial. 

Often we don't have too many good stories left to tell each other these days. For this reason alone Tibet's historical love story with the Rolex deserves to be remembered and retold.  An old flame never dies.

Nostalgic greetings!

Mountan Phoenix

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