Columbia in Rio
India_Ghillanylehar_defining
I took this photo on February 17th, at Nishugu, a Tibetan Buddhist ritual. The history behind this festival is intensely complex, but in short, it represents a cleansing and a new beginning before Losar, the new year. Monks (the ones in the ceremonial yellow hats) and laypeople build a massive bonfire in the courtyard of the Dalai Lama’s monastery. Prayers are said, horns and drums are played, and massive effigies are burned, representing a destruction of evil. Though I sat at least 100 feet away, my face was blasted with warmth as the pyre went up in flames. When I left for study abroad, I was feeling utterly lost at Columbia. After three years in New York, I was worn-down and stressed out from putting too much pressure on myself to succeed. In India, living with Tibetans who fled their homeland, I had the amazing opportunity to get completely immersed in a culture — and also to get some perspective on my own life. Gratitude is such an important component of Buddhism, but it was all but nonexistent in my life at school. We rarely take the time to marvel at our luck, that we have all that we have, our basic political rights and freedoms, our lives. At Nishugu, many laypeople will write on small pieces of paper to throw into the fire. People write down things that they want to change in the coming year, or sicknesses and demons they want to exorcise. I tore a page out of my notebook, and I wrote my wish. I threw my scrap in the fire and watched it turn to ash, blowing towards the peaked, snowy Himalayas. My confusion gave way to hope. The fire roared in my face again, and it felt like New Year’s Eve.
India_Ghillanylehar_defining
I took this photo on February 17th, at Nishugu, a Tibetan Buddhist ritual. The history behind this festival is intensely complex, but in short, it represents a cleansing and a new beginning before Losar, the new year. Monks (the ones in the ceremonial yellow hats) and laypeople build a massive bonfire in the courtyard of the Dalai Lama’s monastery. Prayers are said, horns and drums are played, and massive effigies are burned, representing a destruction of evil. Though I sat at least 100 feet away, my face was blasted with warmth as the pyre went up in flames. When I left for study abroad, I was feeling utterly lost at Columbia. After three years in New York, I was worn-down and stressed out from putting too much pressure on myself to succeed. In India, living with Tibetans who fled their homeland, I had the amazing opportunity to get completely immersed in a culture — and also to get some perspective on my own life. Gratitude is such an important component of Buddhism, but it was all but nonexistent in my life at school. We rarely take the time to marvel at our luck, that we have all that we have, our basic political rights and freedoms, our lives. At Nishugu, many laypeople will write on small pieces of paper to throw into the fire. People write down things that they want to change in the coming year, or sicknesses and demons they want to exorcise. I tore a page out of my notebook, and I wrote my wish. I threw my scrap in the fire and watched it turn to ash, blowing towards the peaked, snowy Himalayas. My confusion gave way to hope. The fire roared in my face again, and it felt like New Year’s Eve.