We hate the rain when it fills up our shoes.
But how we love when it washes our cars.
So goes a song I’ve heard recently. One of the interesting experiences I’ve had of late is walking through Mcleodganj during a downpour. It’s the first of many this monsoon season, and while it most definitely filled my shoes with water and other really yucky things, the feeling was quite incredible. I left my rain jacket in Los Angeles (how ironic), but since we had a lunch set up to meet a former political prisoner, I simply wrapped my scarf around my head and ran out into the street, dodging traffic, people and cows along the way. I arrived completely soaked.
Over our meal, this man with extremely powerful and oddly joyful presence spoke about his life. He was captured by the Chinese government for participating in a protest, imprisoned, and tortured. He was finally released thanks to Amnesty International, and afterward he walked from Tibet to Dharamsala, where he started his life over as a refugee. I peered out the window to the mountains that frame this crazy little city. The idea of walking through them, away from all that is familiar, seemed unreal to me, and yet I know it is the reality for many of the people I pass everyday.
He has written 13 books on the topic of his life, struggle and the spirit of the Tibetan people. He travels, telling his story, not as a weepy narrative, but as a torch for the spirit and memory of Tibetan culture. It is a service to others. It gives him meaning.
This idea of finding meaning in service has been on my mind a lot lately. I recently had a friend tell me that he felt that the world wouldn’t miss him if he disappeared. I wondered if he had done anything to make the world feel his presence. There are many ways to do this– some involve making lots of money, or using our knowledge and social capital to gain power. But for me, I’ve chosen altruism– making my presence known by serving others as best I can.