Ladakh or "Little Tibet"
An inspiration for our own future
“Centuries of ecological balance and social harmony are under threat from the pressures of Western consumerism.” Helena Norberg-Hodge first published Ancient Futures in the 80’s which introduced me to ecological issues and inspired me to visit Ladakh one day. Twenty years later my youngest son George returned from a tour of India, including Ladakh, and told me I must meet the Ladakh grandfather Tashi Rabgyas with whom he stayed. When George’s own grandfather died last year he left one thousand pounds for each grand child. George and his brother Ed. said that they wanted to use their inheritance to take me to Ladakh to meet the family.
The main road to Leh from Manali is billed as the second highest and most dangerous road in the world. We travelled over this road by bus to reach Leh, and remembered those who did the journey on foot or horseback as we passed some on bicycles. Somewhat nervously equipped with warm clothing in case the vehicle broke down, we also carried bananas and coca, a homeopathic remedy for altitude sickness. The scale of this part of the journey was epic and impossible to convey in words.
On arrival, through the magnificent Leh gateway we finally emerged from the bus and I was left with the bags to drink Chai whilst George and Ed. went to find the Ladakhi grandfather’s home. In a surprisingly short time they escorted me and the bags to the family, where George was greeted like a prodigal son. As his mother, I received more tea and a really warm welcome. We were to “hot – bed” in the family’s spare room for the next week. I was able to go on an uphill climb to the Skanska Gompa early morning and so usually went to sleep not long after sunset; whilst my sons often walked into Leh old town in the evening and then joined us for freshly made flat bread at breakfast.
One of the first things that struck me on my arrival in Ladakh was the wide, uninhibited smiles of the family we stayed with. On the afternoon of leaving my home for Bristol and Heathrow some strong sensation made me run around my garden gathering seeds, naming, sealing and finding a safe place for them in my very small backpack. The family referred to me and the mother in the home as “Amelay” (as we are both mothers) and she was delighted to receive the seeds from my garden. As we left she gathered seeds from her garden for me. Her identity appeared directly linked with the close bonds with her family and community which are reinforced by the Buddhist emphasis on Interconnectedness. The family’s attitude to life and death seemed to be based on an intuitive understanding of impermanence and a consequent lack of attachment. Rather than clinging to an idea of how things should be, they were blessed with an ability to actively welcome things as they are…………………………
I had the privilege to experience another, saner way of life. I experienced living with neither waste nor pollution, where the community was healthy and strong, and the adolescent son of the family was never embarrassed to be gentle and affectionate with his mother. The respect that this family offered me as I practised meditation each morning changed how my sons saw me; and the journey gave me a much better understanding of the exploring and excellent young men who are my sons.
Healing happened in this intense and short journey both at the personal and ecological level. By leading the simpler lives of a low-carbon society, we draw nearer to the abundance of peace, freedom and true community. Leaving me with the question: what does simplicity mean in our complex world – is it a lifestyle option, or is it more than that?
To quote the Dali Lama on Ladakh “No matter how attractive a traditional rural society may seem, its people cannot be denied the opportunity to enjoy the benefits of modern development. However, development and learning should not take place in one direction only. Amongst the people of traditional societies such as Ladakh’s there is often an inner development, a sense of warm’ heartedness and contentment that we would all do well to emulate.”
“Centuries of ecological balance and social harmony are under threat from the pressures of Western consumerism.” Helena Norberg-Hodge first published Ancient Futures in the 80’s which introduced me to ecological issues and inspired me to visit Ladakh one day. Twenty years later my youngest son George returned from a tour of India, including Ladakh, and told me I must meet the Ladakh grandfather Tashi Rabgyas with whom he stayed. When George’s own grandfather died last year he left one thousand pounds for each grand child. George and his brother Ed. said that they wanted to use their inheritance to take me to Ladakh to meet the family.
The main road to Leh from Manali is billed as the second highest and most dangerous road in the world. We travelled over this road by bus to reach Leh, and remembered those who did the journey on foot or horseback as we passed some on bicycles. Somewhat nervously equipped with warm clothing in case the vehicle broke down, we also carried bananas and coca, a homeopathic remedy for altitude sickness. The scale of this part of the journey was epic and impossible to convey in words.
On arrival, through the magnificent Leh gateway we finally emerged from the bus and I was left with the bags to drink Chai whilst George and Ed. went to find the Ladakhi grandfather’s home. In a surprisingly short time they escorted me and the bags to the family, where George was greeted like a prodigal son. As his mother, I received more tea and a really warm welcome. We were to “hot – bed” in the family’s spare room for the next week. I was able to go on an uphill climb to the Skanska Gompa early morning and so usually went to sleep not long after sunset; whilst my sons often walked into Leh old town in the evening and then joined us for freshly made flat bread at breakfast.
One of the first things that struck me on my arrival in Ladakh was the wide, uninhibited smiles of the family we stayed with. On the afternoon of leaving my home for Bristol and Heathrow some strong sensation made me run around my garden gathering seeds, naming, sealing and finding a safe place for them in my very small backpack. The family referred to me and the mother in the home as “Amelay” (as we are both mothers) and she was delighted to receive the seeds from my garden. As we left she gathered seeds from her garden for me. Her identity appeared directly linked with the close bonds with her family and community which are reinforced by the Buddhist emphasis on Interconnectedness. The family’s attitude to life and death seemed to be based on an intuitive understanding of impermanence and a consequent lack of attachment. Rather than clinging to an idea of how things should be, they were blessed with an ability to actively welcome things as they are…………………………
I had the privilege to experience another, saner way of life. I experienced living with neither waste nor pollution, where the community was healthy and strong, and the adolescent son of the family was never embarrassed to be gentle and affectionate with his mother. The respect that this family offered me as I practised meditation each morning changed how my sons saw me; and the journey gave me a much better understanding of the exploring and excellent young men who are my sons.
Healing happened in this intense and short journey both at the personal and ecological level. By leading the simpler lives of a low-carbon society, we draw nearer to the abundance of peace, freedom and true community. Leaving me with the question: what does simplicity mean in our complex world – is it a lifestyle option, or is it more than that?
To quote the Dali Lama on Ladakh “No matter how attractive a traditional rural society may seem, its people cannot be denied the opportunity to enjoy the benefits of modern development. However, development and learning should not take place in one direction only. Amongst the people of traditional societies such as Ladakh’s there is often an inner development, a sense of warm’ heartedness and contentment that we would all do well to emulate.”