Musings on life and how I choose to interpret it…

Stay steady that’s the rule of the book. You will not get wavered, but follow the scent of the swayed. I have a picture in my head of the wonderful days ahead, but they’re not. They’re not.

You can leave, you know? SFT will go on. There are some of us who are lifers. I think you need to see a therapist. That’s my suggestion.

Forgive the sins of the past, but don’t let them back to haunt you. So many presents in my insides, it’s so amazing. Yet all I’ve known is to disappoint them, and they do not take these presents lightly.

What have you got to show for? You’re out of college for most of it, and people don’t even seem to acknowledge all the time and effort you put into this group. What was the point of it all?

Do you make a purpose out of this life? Can you shape a cloud out of smoke and show them signs of desperation, euphoria and ennui? What gives and who takes?

But you know, there are some people in Parkdale who are white. So maybe we should consider that as well.

The alleys are dark and the pavement is slick with my desire dripping bit by bit. When it rains, it pours. When it burns, it burns. The sounds of the gutter will follow your footsteps into the unexplored and the unsteady.

Don’t tell me how to do my job for Tibet. If you haven’t burnt your finger in the movement, then please keep your thoughts to yourself.

We make hay out of the spoils of life. We make do with what we don’t. I own nothing. I belong only to your perception.

You don’t know how to garden? And you got hired?

There is a softness in here where you strike it feels like I’ve given into the force from underneath so that you can see me falling from all the way above.

When I tell you to do something, just fucking do it! Okay?!

Everyday feels like I have something to offer and something to take. But when I ask I have already refused your offer. Not because I’m humble but because I’m scared.

I think that Chinese lady is mentally handicapped. I tell her to do something and she just doesn’t listen to me. Is there anyone here who can speak Mandarin?

But I am a child, as are you, and as you fade so will my ignorance. I have bought a house by the cliff and the views are phenomenal. I just want to savour it before I bring it down to sea.

I disagree. I’d much rather engage people who can help this organization rather than the people who live in this community.

Hold the fort for the dead. Cry a slogan for you who passed away. Shed a tear for no one in particular. No one thinks of you in context anymore.

Who cares if we have a diverse board or not? It’s not like we’re going to put our pictures up online.

Do you carry the burden of those you care for? It’s a question that nobody does. It’s an act that everyone questions. The trick is not to question the unquestionable. The way is to answer it on your terms. We only love you. I’ve only known you for so long and so little.

I’m the boss here! Gelek listens to me. YOU listen to me!

I’m going to sleep because there is no seed inside the fruit inside the bowl. I’m going to sleep because I know you will be there for me.

We’ll start a group together, baby. We don’t need them.

Show a way. Be an example.

You’re okay, I guess.

It begins with a whisper. A murmur that escapes like steam from an open sauna room. It grows quietly, collecting the apprehensions and memories of lost years. It drips through every crack, through every pore in the surface, and infects it with an unmistakable hint of Clarity.

It shakes the foundation. It breaks a dam. It corrodes fear and eliminates doubts.

This thing, this surge, this fuel that ignites a movement and sweeps a generation along with it, it feeds off and into the nectar of Things To Come. This elixir inebriates an individual’s hesitancy, and jolts it with an electric shiver that tingles the fingertips and swells the chest till the heart thumps against it with such an aching vigour that your hands tremble and your sight turns tunnel vision.

Read the rest of this entry »

Wow. Words can barely encapsulate the admiration I have for these activists for taking the action right into the heart of the beast by hopping half-way across the globe and setting up tent at the base of the world’s highest mountain and THEN sticking it right into the faces of those Chinese expedition team-members. Man, oh man. Words cannot do justice. At least not mine, in any case. So here’s the video:

More about the action here. Thank you Tendor, Shannon, Kirsten Westby and Laurel Mac Sutherlin. Hope you’ll all be fine and just, thanks again for putting yourself in line for the millions of Tibetans who want an Olympic torch to grace the slope of the Mt. Everest of only a Free Tibet.

It happened sometime in the middle of the March 10 rally as our procession was slowly turning the corner from Queen St. and heading north of St. George St. towards the Toronto Chinese Consulate. I was leading a pack of hyperactive, bratty kids – some barely out of pre-school – and I was thinking to myself that this wasn’t a good route at all, that we were going through a residential neighbourhood with a general exposure level of almost nil. Zilch. Some people dumping their weekend house garbage and recycling materials stared at us curiously, but otherwise went about their ways. Some looked from their windows and balconies, wondering what this long line of colourful flags and people clad in dresses were up to on this Saturday afternoon. Put bluntly, we were shouting to no one but ourselves.

So, as I was leading the line, minding the kids and trying not to get pissed off at whoever orchestrated this rally route, a small Tibetan girl tugged at my jacket and asked me impatiently as little children are wont to do, ‘Are we there yet?’

Are we there yet? A question so simple would require a rejoinder equally straightforward. But seeing as to how I had to constantly make sure that the children weren’t getting too close to the leading van and also not straying too far from the others behind, I ignored her, distractedly. The chorus, inevitably, soon followed. Are we there yet? Are we there yet?

I tried the soothing way first. ‘Not too long now, children, just another two blocks and you’ll see.’ ‘Come on, now! Let’s keep those feet rolling.’ And ‘Do you want the old people to go by us?’

It worked for a few minutes before they eventually caught up to my sweet nothings and demanded how long exactly this block I was referring to was. I then had to adopt the stern drill sergeant stance: glaring at them whenever they raised their hands despondently or accused me of lying. It didn’t work for long either.

It was then that I decided to get a little thorough with the kids. I slowed down to their trots, and tried to converse with an especially petulant and annoyed little boy. He had been screaming as fervently as he could for the past hour or so, and now that he was a little tired and bored, he had understandably deduced that this long walk wasn’t really as fun as it had originally started out as. I tried the peacekeeper way.

‘How goes there, kid?’ I elbowed him.

‘Dunno. When are we getting there?’ He asked a touch irritably.

‘It won’t be long now. See that light over there? As soon as we cross that, it’ll just be a block or so away.’

‘You said that about the first light. And the next one. And the next one. ’ He frowned and added, ‘I think you’re just lying to us.’

I bit my tongue and abated this swell of accusation about my supposed mendaciousness. I tried again. ‘You know, as soon as we get there (and it won’t be long), I’ll treat you with a cup of chocolate.’

The little kid ignored my olive branch offering and instead confirmed his suspicion about my dubiousness with his colleague next to him. They nodded gravely and quietly marched along.

I wasn’t going to let them slide by with such a pernicious attitude towards me, and the Chinese Consulate was close so! I sidled up next to him again, although that isn’t quite exactly how you would put it as he was barely up to my chest. He didn’t look up at me, choosing instead to stare at his dragging feet.

‘Do you know why we’re here today?’ I asked.

‘Yeah, about China’s taking over Tibet and stuff.’ He mused on it for a while and continued, ‘We’re here to free Tibet, aren’t we?’

I beamed and poked further, a little hopefully, ‘Do you know what’s happening in Tibet right now?’

‘Not really. I don’t care, really. What are we doing here anyways? I’m tired and I wanna go home.’

Sensing a dead end again, I quickly followed, ‘You know, every step that you take today means that one more Tibetan in Tibet won’t have to suffer for long.’

He finally looked up to me and asked in a suspicious, yet entirely childlike way, ‘Really?’

‘Yeah, man. Whenever you walk in rallies and shout the slogans, more people will know about what’s happening in Tibet and eventually, people will start to realize that what’s happening in Tibet is wrong.’

‘How does that help Tibet? It’s not like we’re shooting and bombing the Chinese.’

‘Like this: every time another person knows about Tibet suffering, they can act in ways that can help Tibet and the Tibetans.’

‘Like shooting the Chinese?’ He asked a little hopefully.

‘No, no. We don’t shoot the Chinese.’ Why not, asked collectively by some kids from behind. ‘Because that’s not the way Tibetans are supposed to solve our problems. Because that’s what the Dalai Lama told us to.’

Why, they prodded further; their inquisitive nature now taking over their exhaustion as always. ‘Because we don’t believe in harming other people. Because that’s not the right thing to do and there are other, better ways of solving problems.’

‘Yeah right,’ some snarky kid from the back.

‘No, because, as soon as you start harming the Chinese, by shooting at them, bombing them, whatever, you are encouraging the use of violence and bloodshed. Killing and harming aren’t the only ways to solve problems.’

‘Because, when you harm someone, you will have to pay for it later. Everything you do now will somehow end up getting back at you.’

How so, was the question this time.

‘I don’t really know,’ I said, quite earnestly. ‘Just remember that for every person you harm, that person or that person’s children will try and get back to you in the future.’

A distinct murmur spread across the precocious group and I was preparing myself for another barrage of rhetorical, existential inquiries when the consulate building mercifully came into view. This seemed to shut them up better than any sweet currying I’d attempted earlier.

As they disbanded quickly as they’d assembled, with that surge of energy that always burst forth whenever there were springs to skip across or snow to make snowballs into, I sighed a relief that I tried to mask as best as I could.

I found a ledge and tried to lean on it, tired from all that coordinating and convincing. The little kid from earlier approached me and handed me his placard. ‘Thanks,’ he said quickly.

‘No worries,’ I replied, hoping now that he would allow me some few minutes before I have to start packing things up.

‘Do you need any help collecting all your signs?’ He asked.

I smiled. ‘Sure.’