Sri Lanka Journal - Entry #3

[Note: To begin this series with Entry #1, scroll down.]

It is Saturday and the plane is 30 minutes from landing at Colombo. This flight began like the other marathon--several minutes of seat-shuffling--but this aircraft has more leg room and so I get a better night's rest.

And now I am here. Bhante (see photo) met me outside the terminal, which is clean, air conditioned, and 1st world. His driver (see photo) Sadath was orbiting the terminal and came quickly when Bhante summoned him by cell phone.

Colombo, the Sri Lankan capital city, is Asian-metro with a touch of Mexico-style poverty. Lots of open-front workshops with sparks from men grinding metals and sidewalk sales nooks stuffed with small items, soft drinks and lotions and packets of dry noodles, like a Sri Lankan version of a convenience store. The streets teemed with motor bikes and Toyotas, plus swarms of 3-wheeled cars that seemed to constitute the local taxi corps.

We made a few business stops as Bhante organized his event for next Wednesday, February 25. One stop was the HQ of the Sri Lankan National Lottery Board, where I met Ashok Witharana, whose title is "Additional General Manager." (See photo.) The AGM is a big supporter of Bhante and it was obvious from the deference he showed that my friend the monk was indeed, as his official title indicates, "venerable." The Lottery Board is housed in a concrete edifice that looks like an old government building anywhere in the world, except it sits with its back to the beach and the blue-green Indian Ocean. I got my first glimpse of this new ocean (for me) out of the windows of Ashok's second-floor office. He exchanged a few pleasantries with Bhante, then a young Sri Lankan girl and her family shuffled in to meet the Venerable guest. (Bhante, of course, not me.) They were Buddhists, so one-by-one they snuck in a full bow to the floor to touch Bhante's sandals, a gesture of ultimate respect.

The little girl was about eight or nine, dark eyed and keely intelligent. She had just earned a Lottery Board scholarship to help her family pay for expenses as she continued her education in private school. Her speciality, I learned, was English, and she brightened when I spoke directly to her in my American accent and thanked her for studying my native language.

.After another winding trek through Colombo's maddening traffic, we arrived at the Vishva Niketan Center (see photo), which is a smaller, Sri Lankan version of California's Asilomar. Lovely tropical grounds, scents of incense and curry in the distance, and no air conditioning or screens on the windows. You get a mosquito net and a fan.

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More later...

Sri Lanka Journal - Entry #2

[Note: To begin this series with Entry #1, scroll down.]

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The flight from LAX to London Heathrow was a little like taking your honeymoon in hell: the company was nice, but the accomodations were excruciating. Nature and my healthy appetite have conspired to give me the kind of body that is expressly not built for extended airline travel: very long legs and a wide waist. When the nice flight attendant tried to provide alternative seating for me, it was a choice between mismatches. I could sit in an exit aisle, which offered extra leg room but had rigid arm rests—the kind that can’t fold-up—which did not allow my wide hips to exploit the roomy advantage of a vacant seat beside me. Or, I could opt for a row with tuck-away arm rests but cramped leg room; if the passenger ahead tried to recline, I could tuck my feet under the seat and have his headrest in my lap, or just sit straight up and prevent the other seat from reclining, my knees tight against the seat in front.

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Thanks to the incredible kindness and patience of the Virgin Atlantic crew (and a light load of passengers), I literally went back and forth among four different locations before settling on the lesser of multiple evils.

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The overnight flight was basically sleepless, and now I'm sitting in a pub at London's Heathrow Airport, nibbling a sandwich and chips (french fries). While eating, I watch BBC television. And now there is “breaking news” flashing CNN-style across the bottom of the screen: The Tamil Tigers, a Sri Lankan terrorist militia, have staged an air attack on the capital city, Colombo. At least 38 people have been wounded. The airport is closed. Power is off in the city. I look down at my boarding pass, and it reads London - Colombo. This just keeps getting better and better…

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I did some quick online research at an Internet kiosk and learned that the Tamil Tigers are a terrorist organization, and the attack was an amateur-hour operation with a couple of light airplanes. Then I called my wife, Carol-Jean, in Kansas City to reassure her that I wasn't flying into a combat zone. She listened quietly and then told me about the sudden death of a Unity Institute student, Jim Pearce. He had come through cancer surgery with flying colors. Everything looked clear and bright. Then he died. I was shocked. And suddenly my complaints about discomfort and potential dangers on this trip seemed petty and petulant. I asked CJ to convey my deep sense of loss at Jim's memorial service. I realize again how good it is to have a partner like her.

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I am on the Sri Lankan Airlines flight now, half-listening as the pre-takeoff video tells me how to unbuckle a seat belt and where the life vests are stowed. I'm a theologian, but have no cosmic answer about Jim's death. Life happens. Then it ends. We respond with faith. He was a really good guy. Would that people will say likewise when our time comes.

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More later.

Sri Lanka Journal - Entry #1

[The following posts were written as they happened.]
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I must be crazy. At sixty-two years old, I’m on my way to the other side of the earth, to a third world country with an active civil war, and all that “Prayer for Protection” stuff notwithstanding, I’m a little frightened. Not so much because of the physical danger--my rational mind knows the safety level of this trip is roughly comparable to spending the week in a major US city--but because I will be off balance over there, living with locals in a culture I do not yet understand. True confession time: I am a European-American, through and through. Sure, I love to study world cultures and have a special warm spot for Buddhism, but I am not harboring any illusions about being comfortable in all parts of the world. It is one thing to have an intellectual and spiritual affinity for people of other lands, but to actually spend time there at the native level--eating all kinds of foods, living under all kinds of conditions—raises multi-culturalism to a whole other order of magnitude.

Actually, I'm not a total stranger to the far side of the world. Three of my six children were born in Germany; I lived in Korea for 15 months and in Vietnam for a year. But when I have gone overseas in the past it was as a soldier, moving within a military subculture which kept me safe inside an American bubble and took care of my daily needs. All I had to do was relax, do my job, and "the system" took care of me.

Now, I travel alone, and I don't even have control over the itinerary. I am a leaf on the wind. At my age, that is not a comforting image. So, yes. I am a little frightened tonight as I await the boarding call for the flight to London and thence to Sri Lanka.

Today’s Daily Word was written for me: .

“My prayers reach out, near and far, to bless my loved ones. I look at the first glimmer of the moon in the evening sky and know that it is the same celestial object that shines in the evening sky above my loved ones. And I may be thinking particularly of one who is a world away, saying good morning to the rising sun as I am saying good evening to the setting sun. Still, I know in my heart that we are in one world and one in Spirit. Wherever we are, the Christ in me greets the Christ in my loved ones. We share a spiritual connection that neither space nor time can interfere with. I imagine my prayers taking wing, reaching out to bless those I love.I pray, affirming always that we are aware of our oneness in Spirit, and that each one is safe and healthy, happy and fulfilled.” ..............................................(Daily Word, 02-19-09) .

Wow. More later. Probably with red wine over the Canadian arctic.