Loving-Kindness

This blog entry is not going to be all that hunky dory of a topic, but it is something that has been germinating in my mind for a long time now and I think is an important one. Plus, what is life without a bit of balance right?

I’d like to start out by saying (disclaimer tone) that Sri Lanka is an incredible country, there is no doubts about that. Its scenic overload, fresh coconut curries, and, for the most part, incredibly welcoming people are unparalleled by most other places I’ve been to. This little teardrop island packs a lot of punch in the regard of awesomeness. It is also generally a safe place (Mom, this point if for you). It is a communal society where people are invested in the lives of their neighbors, friends and families and once you are included in one of those groups, people will break their backs to make sure you are fed, clean and happy. Often I find myself overwhelmed by the incredible generosity of people I just met.

At this point one might wonder “well then, Kelly dear, if Sri Lanka is so darn dandy and all, would you ever consider living there?” The answer to that question is yes, EXCEPT (and the emphasis is huge here) for the way men have been taught it is appropriate to treat women. Usually I would go on to make another disclaimer that “well, not all men, that kind of blanket statement is unfair” but to be honest, it is far more of a culturally ingrained mentality than that, so deeply part of the way things function in Sri Lankan society that it even seems to transcend the most decent and ethical of chap. To put it pointedly: sexual harassment in Sri Lanka is unreal. Absolutely unreal. And yes, yes, out of all of my travels to and fro across this globe, I do understand that countries have different gender roles and the relationship between men and women are not going to be the same as what I am used to. But honestly, out of every country that I’ve been to, Sri Lanka is hands down the worst when it comes to rampant sexual harassment of women, both local and (perhaps especially) foreign. I’d even go as far to say that it is worse than India and Ghana (the two other places that this has been a problem) COMBINED. Yeah…for those of you who know or have experienced what it is like there, that is not a small number.

Let me begin by some specifics (and blame it on the science, but I relish these kind of data collection opportunities). The past two days I’ve keep track of the number of cat calls, sexually suggestive comments, hand gestures, and exposure to gentlemanly private parts (yes, oh yes) that I get between my house and the local super market 30 minutes away. I feel like it is important to note that the road that I take is a back road in a residential and generally well to do neighborhood. I have grouped the comments to their most relevant category.

Very forward “Hi”/ “Hello”: 11

“Nice”/ “Nice______”: 6

“Hey, Sexy”/ “Sexy!”: 5

“Come!” “Come here!”: 5

Baby, where you going”/ “Hey baby”: 3

“Sweetheart”: 2

Male genitals: 1

This is one hour of walking over a two-day span of time in a relatively secluded area. This does not include figures from riding buses (groper’s paradise), going on trishaws (a constant battle to defend why I do not want to marry you), and walking to the university (where I have been flashed countless times). A week or so back my friend was stuffed into a public bus and where the bus conductor proceeded to run his boner along their bodies as he collected the bus fare from passengers. Although I am incredibly fortunate to not have been touched by anyone (which would result in their imminent death), the point I am trying to make is that this is not an uncommon thing. The verbal abuse especially.

I think that there are several reasons for this. The first is historical. Sri Lanka in many ways is a very modernized society, but it is also a state in transition, especially after the civil war. One residual aspect of a more traditional worldview is an emphasis on male dominance. That combined with having one of the world’s highest rates of alcohol abuse explains why Sri Lanka also has one of the highest numbers of domestic abuse cases in the world. Being a foreigner only adds to this problem for two reasons: 1. I am fleeting. Most assume that I have no family connections here and their actions will not be reprimanded by the collectivist society. Sri Lanka is a small island, everyone knows everyone, which is why being an outsider to this system makes the think they can get away with a lot more, and 2. Pornography. This point came as an “Oh my God! Why did I not think about that” moment when a fellow Sri Lankan male friend of mine and I were talking about this issue. Despite pornography being a federal offence, most men’s only interaction with a white woman is through the porn’s sites on the internet. Alongside the exported American media they see, which, let’s be honest folks, is basically pornography , their primary interpretation of white women is that we are ready, willing and non-discriminating with our sexual desires. This has very real repercussions. For a long time I did not understand why they were so obsessed with us foreign ladies, but it is because more often than not me walking down the street to go to the supermarket is not just me going to the supermarket, it is me caked in their fantasy and expectations of who white women are that results in the transmutation of me into not just Kelly-on-a-stroll, but a Sex-Goddess-From-Outer-Space-Here-To-Please-You. Strong words? yes. Slightly exaggerated? sadly only slightly.

So what does one do about it?

I’ve oscillated from getting violently upset and yelling back at them, to looking at my feet and passively walking by (like most Sri Lankan women do), to learning Sinhala phrases to rudely snap back, to not going outside at all. But what I’ve learned (aside from the fact I am really bad at sitting still or being passive) is that any kind of attention only feeds it. So, after a lot of thinking about the issue, I’ve been working with what I set out to Sri Lanka to accomplish: a study on compassion. In Buddhism there is a phrase “May you be well, may you be happy.” It is a part of a meditation called metta, loving kindness. And although there are some things that are intolerable and would warrant other action (when verbal harassment turns physical for example), this method has had beautiful resultsRather than getting upset or walking shamefully by, I look them in the eye and say (either to myself or out loud) “May you be well, and may you be happy.” I've started to look at these guys as husbands, grandfathers, brothers and Dads, not just ugly, awful human beings. And what I have seen as a product of this is incredible! . I’ve realized that these guys have actually been the best teachers of compassion and loving kindness I’ve encountered in Sri Lanka. My walk to the store, my bus rides, my trishaw conversations have become a practice, an embodiment and opportunity for compassion. And that means, in turn, each time they call out at me they give me a gift, and for that I am grateful to them. It is circular. The more they enable me to practice, the more I am grateful to them, the more loving kindness I have to give. Interconnectivity at its best. The other benefit of this method is the changes I have seen in the way this physically manifests. When I see a large group of preteen boys ahead, as I walk towards them I send them kindness and keep telling myself may they be well and happy, and by the time I reach their group the anticipated chorus of rude remarks that I have grown so accustomed to there is only a mild trickle of one gutsy boy in the back, the rest just stare blankly as I walked by. Its not full proof by any means. But the point is I have seen a difference. I don’t know if it is because I am viewing things differently or I am giving off some kind of funky pheromones. Regardless, I’ve learned that although I cannot change a culture, I can change the way that I interact with it. There is a lot of power in that.

I suppose the other moral of the story is that you find what you are looking for in the most unexpected places. I came to Sri Lanka to find compassion in Theravada Buddhist monks and have found it in the cat calling men on the streets. How beautifully ironic is that?

So much to be learned from the mundane.

May you be well and happy :)

Love,

An-Ever-Learning-Kelly

Another Year Has Come and Gone

Watching the sunset on the 2^nd day of the New Year. ‘Tis the season for reflection falalalalala. Looking back on 2011 I can be nothing but grateful. I have graduated college, worked incredibly hard on the GRE, applying to graduate school and research, made new friendships, fostered the old ones, won a Fulbright, traveled to Japan, India and Sri Lanka, had the blessing of participating in my mom’s lovely wedding, and, most of all, encountered so much, both difficult and beautiful, that has deepened my understanding what it means to be a good human being. My resolution for this next year: take that learning and implement it. There are others (15 to be exact) saved in a Word document of trivial things I want to accomplish this coming 365 days, but to be honest, if I can accomplish this goal in even the slightest form I am a happy lady. Putting what I believe in into practice. Enough philosophy for this lass, give me some sweet, sweet praxis!

In terms of an update: the few weeks have been a hodge podge of running around, Christmas parties, Buddhist monks, and travel. We just returned from Colombo where I rang in the New Year with my toes in the Indian ocean surrounded by a group of individuals who have been nothing short of inspiration since coming to Sri Lanka. Last year I spent New Years Eve alone, fasting, and meditating. This year I spent it surrounded by people who I have grown so much appreciation for. I think if anything is indicative of a shift in worldview over this past year this might be it. As nice as introspection and retreating might be, I’ve learned, at least from my tiny perspective, the meaning of life is connectivity with others. Therefore, I happily thank the circumstances that have allowed me to be where I am.

For Christmas a few of the other Fulbrighters, two of our Sri Lankan friends and Mike, a fellow American now residing in Kandy proper, all came together for what we called “An Ugly Moo Moo Party.” Similar to the uniquely American obsession with “Ugly Sweater Parties,” we decided to host a Sri Lankan flavored get together by encouraging the proud display of ugly housedress attire. My poor fashion sense, potentially shamefully so, was the source of inspiration for this idea, ever since my purchase of a certain orange moo moo the first week in Sri Lanka. Decorated with square snowflakes (because we forgot how to cut them), fake tinsel, and a branch (yes, just a branch, i.e. fragment) of a pine tree our landlords elusively found for us and left on our doorstep, and two dirty ankle socks we colored red with our names on it for stockings—the party was a hit. I made mulled wine and sweet potatoes and Bryanna made her infamous pumpkin pie.

Before Christmas we (Mike, Bryanna, Malia, Kelly and myself) partook on the revered climb to the top of Sri Pada (Adam’s Peak). Sri Pada is a cone shaped mountain in central Sri Lanka, famous for being the location of religious relics for Buddhists, Christians, and Muslims. To complete the hike before sunrise we set off around 1:00 in the morning, following a lit path of over 5,200 stairs, dotted with temples and avid devotees along the way. Despite the rain and frigid winds we saw everything from flocks of bare footed monks, grandmothers being carried up by their sons, a man with a catheter, and Buddhist with white strings they tied at the bottom of the mountain and strung all the way to the top of the 7,000 foot peak. When we arrived to the top we waited for the sun to rise, the winds to pick up and listened to the chanting from a puja inside the temple where Lord Buddha’s left footprint is said to reside (the right footprint is somewhere in Thailand. Yes, the physics of this is baffling to me as well). Not only was the journey epic in it of itself, but I was so very nourished by being surrounded by mountains. Roasting marshmallows in the fireplace of the hotel to make Sri Lanka style smores was also a crowning moment of the trip (shockingly, it was THAT cold).

Today I went to a Dana, direct meaning: generosity, at my friend’s Ken and Vishaka’s house for several monks passing through. Since monks are not supposed to deal with money a Dana is equally a giving of kindness to them through the donation of food, as well as a social occasion for swapping the dhamma. I was able to meet an American monk, now living near Colombo at a temple, who was very interested in my project and a former counselor and social worker himself. He told me about a meditation center in Colombo geared towards lay meditators that might be a good place for my research. One of the major roadblocks I am facing here is actually finding people who meditate! You’d be surprised how incredibly rare intent practice is being a Buddhist country. I keep joking that I came to Sri Lanka to find out that I would have an easier time finding participants in the USA. I am meeting with him and one of our mutual friends for lunch tomorrow to discuss this prospect. Regardless, mere exposure to so many interesting concepts and people is such an opportunity. I feel like my understanding of Buddhism, as both a religion and a method, has developed so much since being here. And although not much has transpired in terms of quantitative data collection, I am positive my ability to be a sensitive researcher in this field in the future is going to benefit greatly form all of these experiences. Learning, learning, learning.

This next month I plan on tuning my research design and finding proper places for testing, as well as welcoming my Dad and his wife June to Sri Lankan soil for two weeks (YAY!). There is so much to look forward to. And although this next year has so many scary unknowns in front of me ( i.e. not even knowing in what part of the continental US I will be living in) I am excited to see what happens. Sometimes there is great grace in letting go and seeing what presents itself. So with that I let off a big sigh and smile at the coming days.

I hope this year brings happiness to you all.

Great love from Sri Lanka.

Kelly

Only Once

After about a month of not writing, it is clear that my mastery of procrastinatory behavior is still at an all time high. Sorry for the lack of postings friends; I honestly don’t know where the time is going! Although I still have 5 months in Sri Lanka I am amazed that rather than the “9” button or “8” button on my keyboard, it is the “5” symbol that accurately represents the amount of time before I have to say goodbye to this beautiful country (at least temporarily). If any of you have some kind of unspoken deal with God or any of his friends, let me know, I’ll willingly pull a Sri Lankan and slip him a feel hundred rupees to slow down time just a bit. Just throwing it out there…

Despite the past month whizzing by, it has been fantastic. I suppose that is where the euphemism comes from after all. As far as actual events that have happened since the last time I wrote it is hard to even begin. Ranging from the usual Sinhala lessons, Jataka Tales classes, and Dānas, to the not-so-usual late night clubbing in Colombo with Afgan-Canadians and Marines, being invited for dinner at the Iraqi Ambassador’s house, meeting many beautifully minded monks, making a 1,000 year old Buddhist recipe recorded in the Pali Canon, and learning how (and by that I mean attempting) to slackline with a new friend— things have been going pretty darn swimmingly. Instead of glossing over them, however, I am going to be contended with enticing you with such a list and focus on one the most striking event that has happened this month (and simultaneously quite possibly the least action packed): a meditation retreat.

The center is about 2 hours away from Kandy, sandwiched between tiers of tea plantations and a pine forest on the side of a mountain. Despite its enticing location, to be honest, as I boarded the bus to go there I could not help but feel a bit skeptical. Even though I plan on my life’s work to be intimately involved with Buddhism and its respective philosophy, I consider myself-- and as of recently (blame Stephen Batchelor) quite avidly--a meditator, not quite ‘Buddhist.’ I am not sure if it is my own personal exposure with Buddhist practice, being involved with a particular approach that on a spectrum of religion is as far removed from dogma or religiosity as possible, or if it is my current experiences with Sri Lankan Therevada, although beautiful in its own accord, much more of a political infrastructure than a contemplative practice in my opinion, that made me feel this way. For whatever reason, going to this retreat center was a challenge for me. But, like many challenges, it turned out to be an incredibly fruitful experience. The teacher, Upal, is a lay meditator (meaning not an ordained part of the sangha, and therefore, a bit removed from its cultural activities). It turns out that 20 years ago (that tells you how long this guy has been at it) was selected as a participant for one of the first EEG experiments on Buddhist meditators. As a result, he was quite excited about my experiment and openly expressed interest in assisting the project. I had to assure him that my time there was for “inner research” but that I would come back to do the other kind. I plan on returning after the Christmas festivities die down, this time with a recorder in hand to document our conversations. The retreat itself was really good for me, allowed me to see some missing parts of my own practice…but I wont bore you with those details. The highlight of the retreat was a chance encounter with an astro-physicist from Malaysia. After the evening meditation we both decided to go out and look at the constellations. She showed me the 7 Sisters, Taurus, and divulged passionately facts about the universe that made my head spin (partially due to the fact that there are so many big rocks and scary space things spinning around one another our there!). But as it turns out, she had to quit her job teaching children about the night sky in Malasiya because of a cut in government funding and become a business analyst for a large company. It made me so sad. I thanked her for her passion and we both retreated to our rooms. Coming back from the bathroom, however, I looked up into the sky and it was a full lunar eclipse directly above where we were standing. I cannot express how eerie the feeling is to see something that that without the least bit of forewarning. Entirely unearthly (badumchick). I hurriedly knocked on her window and we both dragged out plastic chairs to the garden and meditated together for the hour and a half it took for the moon to come out of darkness (cough obvious symbolism cough). In Sri Lanka the full moon is an auspicious occasion, known as Poya Day, where all shops and business close down. To witness a full lunar eclipse at a meditation retreat, in Sri Lanka at just the right moment with just the right person did indeed feel auspicious. I could not help but think of Gary Snyder's poem "Once Only" (http://wenaus.org/poetry/gs-onceonly.html).

I think this universe is great. End of story.

This week a bunch of friends and I are headed to Nuwara Eliya, a tea plantation area in the highlands, and then onwards to climb Adam’s Peak, Sri Lanka’s holy mountain. It is tradition to climb the mountain during the night and to arrive at the summit at dawn. I am so excited to get out into some mountains and play….I think I have been missing Colorado this time of year a bit too much. Although Sri Lanka does not really boast the best snowshoeing, I’ve been promised we get to see Buddha’s left footprint along the way, which will also suffice.

When I get back I am really going to hunker down on research (fingers crossed!), am starting Pali lessons at the university, teaching English lessons for a Korean nun’s niece, and getting ready for my DAD and JUNE to visit in a few weeks! So much to be thankful for.

I miss you all and am wishing everyone wonderful holidays from afar.

Kelly

Island Time

I am currently sitting over a steaming bowl of tamarind chickpeas and listening to Buddhist chants ebb through my window from the nearby temple. Evening has set in on yet another Sri Lankan day of running about to and fro from office buildings, stores, administrative posts and bureaucratic stepping stones, only to succeed in a single goal: accomplishing absolutely nothing. For days we’ve been trying to get library cards to the university, a swimming pass, internet and trivial things like buying vegetables or meeting with the head of a department. After days of not understanding why the one person who needs to sign the one paper that would allow me to accomplish the measly task at hand is perpetually not at work, I come to the realization: relativity is at play. Sri Lanka is profoundly, inexorably and unavoidably engulfed in what is known as “Island time.” Island time is by no means a rare phenomena, and in fact, is a quite prevalent feature of ocean dwelling landmasses and otherwise. A mixture of culture, ample relaxation, heavy dosages of heat and the incessant reliance on old-colonial-paper-work-run-bureaucracy are several factors that I have identified as primarily contributors to this very real Einsteinian distortion. For the control freak or easily flustered this kind of lifestyle might be the tipping point for a near emotional breakdown, but to be honest, I find myself relishing in its absurdity.

Island time example #1: This past week I’ve finally met my advisor from the psychology department, a recommended Fulbright contact I have been trying to get in touch with since my arrival. As it turns out, the email I was given was wrong and the number I had been given for some reason was for a different department’s secretary. It was not until I had the fortuitous luck of literally running into her in a hallway that we were able to meet at all. At that point I introduced myself and once she realized who I was, hurriedly ushered me into her office across campus. “Oh wonderful Professor! We’ve been expecting you!” were the greeting words, setting off the initial “Hmmm there must be some confusion here,” voice in my head. As the conversation progressed and I assured her I was only a measly undergraduate student here for independent research, not worthy of such a title and totally unable to teach, the realization set in: there was a massive miscommunication at hand. Finally, after an hour of explaining the difference between a student scholar (research) and a senior lecturer (a US professor selected to teach for a year in their field of expertise) her conclusion was: “Oh, no matter, how many classes do you want? Four? Five?” After, and in true Sri Lankan style, negotiating my class load from 5 to a Cognitive Psychology course for second year students the discussion was over. I was told to come back on Monday ready to lecture without the slightest idea about what, where or for how many students. And obediently I came back Monday morning ready to teach my first class, only to find out that the Head of the department had decided to take a vacation to Colombo and the class schedule had not been posted yet. When I went to the secretary’s office (the silent but definitive magic makers of a bureaucratic society) to inquire about this confusion, she told me not only was Cognitive Psychology not on the list for courses this semester, but that students were not going to be registered for another 1 week, which after further inquiry turned into another 2 weeks. The fascinating part of this delay is that the university has already been postponed for over 2 months due to consecutive strikes by staff and faculty.

Ode to Island time!

Despite the fact I think I am incredibly under qualified to teach in the first place, I am excited to have the chance. It is my dream to teach and research at the same time, so having the opportunity to do that is something I am looking forward to. Despite the small frustrations of never knowing when things will actually happen or simple things like being told that I am not allowed to see the final examination worth 60% of the student’s grade, I feel like I am learning so much through the minutia of every day interaction... most of all the virtue of patience. Even when I may for the first time be considered a teacher, I am equally a student— as it should be. :)

Love to all.

Homes, Holes and Happenstance

Hip hip hooray! I have finally moved to Kandy for the rest of my time in Sri Lanka! Three cheers for a little less transiency. Colombo has been great, but I am happy to finally be somewhere a bit more permanent. Annnnnd to compound the joy of prospective stability, after a month of searching for a house, we (another Fulbrighter and myself) have found a place to live. Alas! We are living in what is known as an “annex,” a very popular Sri Lankan phenomenon, where part of a house is rented out for short periods of time. Annexes can vary dramatically between being a detached “servant’s house,” only sharing property with the family, or it can be as intimate as living inside someone’s house with a room to call your own. The place we’ve decided on is a happy medium between the two. We have two bedrooms, a small kitchen, a long corridor hallway and a living room that are all built on the side of a house that is built on the side of a cliff. If this was not already enough of a bizarre set up, smack dab in the middle of our kitchen floor is a hole leading down to a narrow set of black spiral stairs and into a separate room with a small medicinal herb garden. It feels like something out of Alice and Wonderland—a rabbit hole in our very own kitchen. After trying to decide what to do with this space, either a meditation area or a dining/pub/hang out room, we’ve gone with the latter. The reason being, our next-door neighbors just so happen to be 1. A Buddhist school and 2. A massive stupa. Much like a mosque’s call to prayer, in the morning the temple blares chants from loud speakers, echoing across the nearby hills and directly into our annex. As a result, our entire apartment may as well be a meditation room… whether we like it or not. :)

The past few days in Kandy have been wonderful. The day I arrived I ended up meeting some friends of another friend’s friends (i.e. the social matrix that all of Sri Lankan society is embedded in and the means by which everything seems to be accomplished) for a class on the “Jatakas,” the stories of Buddha’s past lives. The people who were holding the class are Buddhist scholars from the US living in Sri Lanka and have written a book about the Jatakas. Seeing as they were expatriates themselves, I drove their house for the class thinking that the majority of the audience would be primarily foreigners (Kandy has a surprisingly well linked expatriate network). Much to my surprise, however, I did not walk into a room of expatriates, but a room of smiling bhikkus and bhukkunis (Buddhist monks and nuns) from Malaysia, Bhutan, China, Japan, Laos, and Myanmar. Ken and Vishaka (the authors) have been English teachers in Asia for over 30 years, so part of the class is to not only talk about Buddhist texts, but to help new student to the University with their English. Many of the monks and nuns there were also students working under the same advisor at the University as me. Afterwards I walked home with ne of the monks from China, who is doing hi PhD in Buddhist Psychotherapy. Sometimes I am taken aback by how widespread the interest in the relationship between contemplative practices and psychology are. We talked excitedly all the way back home and have since been pdf swapping.

The next day I was invited to go to the International Buddhist Center with the same group of students for another class about Buddhist economics. Again, not knowing exactly what to expect, I drove up to a temple outside of Kandy. Although we talked some about the readings that was given prior to the class, we ended up playing “Buddhist Trivia” for the majority of the time. Not only would I be bad at a game called “Buddhist Trivia” (and yes someone actually did manufacture this) in a regular setting, compared to these students bad was an understatement. It was wonderful. Despite the fact I was the clear loser of the game, it was an endless source of laughter and a prime learning experience.

To completely contradict my expression of the “joy of not commuting to Colombo” any more, tomorrow I leave for Colombo yet again. Haha. We’ve been invited to attend the “Marine Ball,” which is a celebration put on every year by the US Embassy to celebrate the Marines and their hard work. Much like many of the US’s ever so wise allocation of resources, the ball from what I hear is nothing less than an extravaganza. Dancing, food, drinks, processions (did I mention Marines?). It should be fun. All of us Fulbright ladies have bought saris to wear to the event, which will be the first time I’ve worn a sari since I was 16. We’re hoping to find someone in Colombo to help us tie them, considering negotiating such a massive piece of fabric is not only daunting, but near impossible for the average Westerner.

After this weekend we’ll move into out apartment and then real research will begin. But in true Sri Lankan style, you never know what the next day will bring, let alone next few months, which is also precisely why I am so grateful to be here. Life is one adventure after the next.

I hope everyone is well and love from afar!

Kelly

Babies and Broad Strokes

I am listening to the call to prayer as the monsoons rage outside. This is our final weekend of language training and last few days in Colombo together before we scatter across the continent for our respective projects. It is hard for me to believe that almost a month has passed. Times flies, I suppose. The past two weeks we’ve been commuting by train between Colombo and Kandy. In Kandy I’ve been staying with Bryanna’s (the other Fulbright researcher in Kandy) host mom from her time here as an exchange student. The experience living with a Sri Lankan family has been irreplaceable. Every morning we wake up to a slew of boiled beans, coconut curries, spices and tea. An hour or so later Sheshan, a 1 ½ year old boy arrives at the front door yelling one of the four Sinhala words he knows “Balla,” (dog), “thatthi” (granddad), “aya” (brother) and “ali” (elephant). Sheshan is our host mother’s grandson and he spends the day at the house while his mom teaches English at the University. I’ve never had the chance to really be around a kid his age, apart from the occasional babysitting back in high school, so I’ve been relishing in the opportunity. Sitting at the table with him propped up on one knee, a scoop of rice in my hand, whilst attempting to bribe him to eat his food by inventing comical dances and songs related to how fun eating can be, reaffirms my desire to be a mother someday. There are so many lessons to be learned. Annnnd if baby humans was not enough…our host mom decided to adopt a new born Pomeranian the first week we arrived (and if you know me at all, you know that this warrants excessive amounts of joy and squeaking). Playing with Mimi (a perfect name for the puff of fur that is a puppy Pomeranian) while our host mom is busy chopping away jack fruit from the garden is not a bad life at all.

The last week two of the other Fulbright girls, who will be based down south, came up to Kandy with us. It was the first time I’ve had the chance to go from a potential tenet to a sightseeing tourist while being in Kandy. Seeing the city through a different set of eyes was really nice. We went to the Temple of the Tooth, an elaborate temple in the heart of the city where allegedly Buddha’s tooth is located, an elephant orphanage outside of the city, and the largest botanical gardens in Asia—all of which have reaffirmed my love of this country. Sri Lanka is breathtaking.

I continue to be busy meeting people and learning more about the different avenues my research can take. Once we settle into a house (hopefully within the next few days) I look forward to starting to meet with people and learn more about where I’d like to do my work. The other day I had my first meeting with my advisor, an 85 year old Buddhist monk and Pali scholar at the University. We only met for a few minutes, but I ended up talking to several other Buddhist monks who were pursuing their Phds, one whose focus is on the psychological impact of meditation. In the midst of our conversation I was taken aback by a moment of inner celebration, realizing how satisfied it is to finally be doing the kind of work I love. I look forward to the coming days.

I hope everyone back home is well. Once things are a bit less busy I hope to blog on a regular basis, hoping to avoid posts like this one that are littered with a lack of detail and miss so much of the smaller moments I’d love to share. But until then, love to all!

My Roots Have Grown