Manliness now
Though bearded thou art, scruffy,
Thy goatee sometimes waxen goofy,
Thy moustache a worn sallow walrus,
Thy eyes bleary, wriggles insecure, a ruse --
A ruse, a dissimulation, so womanly.
A brand new narrative
My life, my fate as a political refugee
I present, by chance, not thru PowerPoint
Or other portals coveted, by 'I flee'
To let them bask in their venture joint,
To accept my own fate as mine, a guest, free.
Self-love is nothing other than self-esteem in the real sense of the word, for someone who can't love himself or herself can never be in the position of loving others. If self-love is about caring oneself more or less in a physical way, self-esteem is in a psychological way so far to the point of being able to let oneself go into meta-awareness now and then on one's mental state, especially when the adrenaline of a destructive emotion like anger is running in one's nerves. However, mere-self-love is the source of every ill that we can see in this mere-self-interest-starved world, where caring for others is like a stranger. Though what is called 'beauty' does lie solely in in this empathetic tendency, this poor world is just after physical glamor or skin-deep or image-perfect one, so matter-of-fact in this search but pretentiously showy in doing for others. Charles Darwin names the latter as doing something good for 'the fear of what others will say', not in the name of morality or religion or being civilized or cultured.
As in Tibetan Buddhism, the word 'ཉིད་' has both excluding 'གཞན་ལྡན་རྣམ་གཅོད་' and including 'མི་ལྡན་རྣམ་གཅོད་' connotation. Mere-self-love 'རང་ཉིད་གཅེས་འཛིན་' has the excluding sense of omitting others but oneself, the ugliest of the ugliest.
In this modern world predominantly defined by Western culture and lifestyle and ideology like democracy, equality, freedom of speech-thought-faith, fraternity, the highest form of being civilized is gauged by how women and children are treated. Though nothing is perfect, anything can be ameliorated. Likewise, something very important has to be added to the hallmark of its form of being civilized. That's nothing other than treating a sick one that's taken care of so far. That's about having a doing, secure governmental mechanism of looking after the aged people as well as having a de facto social aura of respecting them by the younger ones who are to go through the same stage sooner or later. Such a sublime sense of treatment and respect is one of the highest forms of being humane and civilized, I think.
When I leave and let go of, I do so with a prior notice in the form of a long silence, the lacuna that you can't get hooked onto in any ways whatsoever, a secrecy, a mystery that I want to keep sequestered even from myself sometimes. That's what I want to add as a form of obituary to the loss of thee, His Eminence Ngari Rinpoche chok, the younger brother of His Holiness the great 14th Dalai Lama of Tibet. Two elder brothers and one elder sister of thee already passed along the path that way..., my ultimate Guru, and now thy younger brother, your childhood playmate back then against a background looming with great uncertainty or human-created-doomscape.
After all, it's all about having a pithy knowledge of any in a nutshell. Here, it's about getting in the same way Tibet's history as an independent nation state as per both the ancient and modern convention of presenting as a doing, groundbreaking narrative. So it goes on so well with an ontological finding in terms of observer and matter, and that, so unconventionally, of both being there in a dreamy, sensitively wavering state cast forth by the observer's own caprice, delusive way of seeing and rating as otherwise, so reliable, concrete, uncompromising, sort of eternal... Yes, you should be able to put anything in a nutshell to be able to grasp, mind, coax over as you wish. Here, I want to remind you that if you've finished reading Voice for the Voiceless by His Holiness the Dalai Lama and Tibet Brief 20/20 by Michael Van Walt Van Praag, move on to reading Tibet was never Part of China since Antiquity by professor Hon-Shiang Lau. So we can sieve the gist into a nutshell, the mundane side for the world at large. The other side isn't for a commoner but for an eligible receptacle.
The question is about her name, namely that's Tibetan by origin and can be connoted in Tibetan only. As we have heard about a Tibetan named Penpa Tsering from the states detained at a Chinese airport and repatriated to the states, for they, the officials, had only the name to zero in on..., the name of the political leader of Tibetans in exile. So, as per the case, they, those robotic officials, might have thought that she is a Tibetan living in exile, namely in India and holding an Indian passport. By and large, it can be gauged what can be the case of being a Tibetan in Tibet under the totalitarian rule of CCP: the bigger picture that encompasses the serious, forced, systematic Sinicization of Tibetan children and youths in those 'boarding schools'. The treatment of her for her name can reflect a heinous abyss and that of the obliteration of a unique racial identity from the surface of this life-supporting, blue planet.
Read:
The silhouettes of brushy trees against the opal evening sky, partly crisscrossed by trails of airplane smokes and gangs of pigeons making for homeward where could be, the monotonous routine but of so much priority like cognitive inertia lets us behave ourselves to its tune, the silhouettes of brushy trees against the opal evening sky some time after the sunset in a corner of Notre belle France. And, when I notice it in a parking lot buzzing and teeming with vehicles outside a supermarket, I've been composing this sentence in my head, now seemingly coming into a tight shape, now loose until I can make it thus by dealing with it in the form of letting my fingers peck over the keyboard of my notebook. (Sorry I don't have the timely awareness to capture the scene with my phone camera, to deck out this post.)
