Bod la 'gro
This summer I went to a place called with many names. Some call it Tibet, some China. But this leaves us geographically uncertain, and with political allegiances. Some refer to it broadly as the Tibetan cultural zone or as historical Tibet. But this precision makes for quite a mouthful. Whatever you care to call it, this summer I went with nothing more than a backpack, a notebook, and change of clothes. I traveled with Tibetan poets and discussed modern literature, witnessed an angry monk tear down posters of Mao Ze Dong in a bookstore, observed scriptures being block printed in Derge, slept in a tent with nomads, held an audience with Khenpo Sodargay of Serta, and returned home with a suitcase full of texts as if I were a lotsawa of old. Now, this isn’t because I’m an important somebody or in any way special. Instead, it is because this land and its people are. What I would like to share here is that, if you consider yourself a...