Lee and the Lesson of Laa/Lee in the Land of Laa
Some years ago I set out with a group of travelers to visit the enchanting land of Laa, which lies among the distant mountains. To reach there we climbed lofty cliffs and scaled towering peaks, traversed forests, waterfalls, and narrow ridges, until we arrived in a hamlet nestled in the highest valley in the world. We had finally come to the heart of the land of Laa.
Together we marveled at the sublime beauty of the place. Golden sand lay beneath our feet, covered with low green bushes spangled with brightly colored flowers which could only grow at that altitude because of the special magic of the place. Snowy peaks held the valley in their embrace. In Laa there was the purest air and the most beautiful view in all the world.
Each morning we rose to gaze at the sunrise, the glittering sand, the flowers glowing in their brilliant shades, and the sparkling white mountains. In the evening we lingered with the last rays of sun to admire the reddening sand, the flowers stained orange, and the mountains tinged with pink. We didn't want to miss even one note of this symphony of beauty. It was like living inside a fairy tale. A story I once heard described Laa as a place situated at such a tremendous height that all the worries and fears were afraid to venture there, and now that I was in Laa I understood. We truly felt free, happy, and full of vitality. Until one day…
We had hoped to learn about the culture of the people who lived in Laa, about their customs and way of life which were so different from our own. We visited with a monk who was also a local guide. He told us that the people of Laa built small temples throughout the region so that the monks of Laa wouldn't forget their way of life on their often months-long journeys when they were far away from home. Tiny flags fluttered from the temples, decorated with words of encouragement and blessings to bring joy to the wanderers and raise their spirits so they wouldn't lose heart during their travels.
For some reason, the words of the guide distressed a member of our group named Lee. She sat up straighter and said, "Excuse me sir, but all that sounds quite silly to me. The culture in which I was raised taught me that we don't need temples everywhere to remember our tradition, for we learn how to keep it always in our hearts. And we have no need of colored flags to cheer us during difficult times, for we have special prayers for that purpose. Therefore, sir, your culture is not as developed as ours!"
The local guide was not offended, and in the manner of the people of Laa he remained calm and at ease, responding respectfully to Lee's words, although they may have struck him as unpleasant. Myself and the other members of the group felt uncomfortable, but the serenity with which the monk accepted Lee's outburst smoothed over the moment for us. We also didn't want to be unduly critical of Lee. After all, each of us has the right to express our opinions. And so we discussed the matter no further.
Several weeks later it was time for us to leave. One fine morning we packed our belongings and prepared to embark on our homeward journey, which would take us many days to complete. After walking for several hours we realized that two people were missing. It emerged that Lee and another member of the group had hurried on ahead. They started out at the head of the group and quickened their pace until there was such a great distance between us that we had lost sight of them.
As is the normal practice in such cases, we broke up into smaller groups and set out to search the area. We combed the surroundings for the entire afternoon to no avail, repeatedly calling their names. But in the early evening the wind picked up, and our cries were lost in the gale. The temperature continued to drop and a member of our group, a guide who had traveled in the area before, warned us that a storm was on its way. Our hearts were heavy with worry, as the nights in the high mountains are bitterly cold, especially in a windstorm. Just then conditions worsened as the gusts of air whirled with grains of sand and visibility was diminished.
Evening fell and we began to shiver. "We won't be able to remain out here much longer," said our friend the guide.
"But we can't stop the search," protested the others, "We can't abandon them out here on a freezing night."
"If we couldn't find them in the light of day," the guide replied, "Then there's no chance that we'll locate them at night, when we are tired, cold, and caught in a sandstorm. We must return to the village and ask the locals to help us. They know the area well and we can resume our search at dawn."
Several people disagreed, but when darkness fell and the sand pricked our skin like so many tiny needles even they sagged with exhaustion and were forced to agree. Dejected, we made for the village, and went straight to the home of the monk and local guide where our story tumbled out. He promised to round up his friends and continue the search at first light.
It was one of the hardest nights of our lives. We were overcome by fear about the fate of our friends, as well as sorrow and helplessness. Recollections of stories about other travelers who had lost their way in those mountains were no help at all, for few have survived a night in those snow-capped heights, with no food or shelter. I knew I wasn't the only one familiar with those stories, but not one of us referred to them. We ate our evening meal in silence, each of us deep in our own thoughts. It was very difficult to fall asleep, but in the end our weary bodies compelled us to sink into a dreamless slumber.
We set out again at sunrise, led by the monk and two others from the village. The three strode surefootedly among the hillocks of sand formed by the storm, as we followed behind. After several hours of walking one of the locals stopped and pointed upward. Coming up behind him we followed his gaze in astonishment. There was nothing we could discern which distinguished that rise from any other. The three consulted among themselves and it appeared that they were about to climb toward the hill. The guide in our group, who had a rough understanding of the local language, translated what he had heard: "The first one said something like, 'If they aren't there, they aren't anywhere,' the second man agreed and added, 'The next closest hill is too far away.'" And then the three began to climb swiftly. Unable to comprehend the significance of the exchange, we simply followed at their heels. Certainly none of us had a better idea.
As we reached the summit we immediately understood why they had insisted on climbing up to it. On the level ground we found a small stone structure. We surged toward the shelter and there we found our friends! Lee and her companion sat motionless inside the stone temple with their arms wrapped around each other, cloaked in the local flags whose fabric had offered them some protection from the cold.
We moved as one to embrace them, breathing an immense collective sigh of relief. The three men from Laa waited politely at the entrance and helped us to carry them down to their magical village. And that's how two women became those rarest of travelers who lost their way and managed to survive the night in the highest mountains in the world.
The following day, after they had rested, eaten, and regained their strength, we all went once more to the home of the monk and local guide.
"I don't know how to thank you sir," said Lee, as she inclined her head toward him, pressing her hands together in the manner of the people of Laa. "I feel as though I was so stupid before. As the sky darkened and we were still lost outside, my friend and I began to lose hope. We squatted on the ground, exhausted and helpless, and deep down I wondered whether all this had happened to me because of what I said to you, and how I spoke about your culture with such arrogance and indifference. In my heart I begged for forgiveness, wishing that I could take back my words, and I hoped I would never hurt anyone's feelings again. I realized that what I had said was the result of ignorance, and I was truly sorry. I understood that there is goodness and beauty in every culture, and that I never should have expressed myself so inconsiderately, and I prayed for forgiveness. Then suddenly, the last rays of sunlight illuminated something colorful fluttering on a hilltop. Mustering what remained of our strength we climbed toward those bright spots of hope, until we recognized the pretty flags and the shelter which you built here. The temple fulfilled every need you described. It provided us with refuge, hope, and joy the like of which I have never experienced before. I beg your forgiveness…" she concluded, tears spilling from her eyes.
The monk's countenance shone with kindness as he listened quietly. When Lee had finished speaking, smiling gently, he looked into her eyes and said, "Help exists in every place my child, especially for those who seek it with all their heart. In every culture it appears in a slightly different guise, one which suits a particular group of people and the environment in which they live. I deeply regret the hardships that you experienced. Still, sometimes it is the difficult experiences which help us the most to see beyond our differences. That is also a part of that good help which is here for all of us.
A few days later, when the weather cleared, we packed our belongings once again to set out on our homeward journey. I kept stopping to look back from a distance at the enchanted village of Laa, which now appeared so tiny, and yet had led to such an enormous transformation in all of our hearts. There wasn’t a person among us who had not been deeply moved by our experiences in Laa. As I walked, I found myself reflecting on the amazing coincidence that it was Lee who had lost her way, and in the magical morning light, surrounded by the enormous golden mountains, under the deep blue crystal sky, I felt my heart swell. I felt (and even should the feeling fade, it would in no way detract from the significance of that moment) that perhaps there are no coincidences, and everything is touched by that good help, available to us all.
The End
– Based on a true event which took place in Ladakh, India in 2009.
Together we marveled at the sublime beauty of the place. Golden sand lay beneath our feet, covered with low green bushes spangled with brightly colored flowers which could only grow at that altitude because of the special magic of the place. Snowy peaks held the valley in their embrace. In Laa there was the purest air and the most beautiful view in all the world.
Each morning we rose to gaze at the sunrise, the glittering sand, the flowers glowing in their brilliant shades, and the sparkling white mountains. In the evening we lingered with the last rays of sun to admire the reddening sand, the flowers stained orange, and the mountains tinged with pink. We didn't want to miss even one note of this symphony of beauty. It was like living inside a fairy tale. A story I once heard described Laa as a place situated at such a tremendous height that all the worries and fears were afraid to venture there, and now that I was in Laa I understood. We truly felt free, happy, and full of vitality. Until one day…
We had hoped to learn about the culture of the people who lived in Laa, about their customs and way of life which were so different from our own. We visited with a monk who was also a local guide. He told us that the people of Laa built small temples throughout the region so that the monks of Laa wouldn't forget their way of life on their often months-long journeys when they were far away from home. Tiny flags fluttered from the temples, decorated with words of encouragement and blessings to bring joy to the wanderers and raise their spirits so they wouldn't lose heart during their travels.
For some reason, the words of the guide distressed a member of our group named Lee. She sat up straighter and said, "Excuse me sir, but all that sounds quite silly to me. The culture in which I was raised taught me that we don't need temples everywhere to remember our tradition, for we learn how to keep it always in our hearts. And we have no need of colored flags to cheer us during difficult times, for we have special prayers for that purpose. Therefore, sir, your culture is not as developed as ours!"
The local guide was not offended, and in the manner of the people of Laa he remained calm and at ease, responding respectfully to Lee's words, although they may have struck him as unpleasant. Myself and the other members of the group felt uncomfortable, but the serenity with which the monk accepted Lee's outburst smoothed over the moment for us. We also didn't want to be unduly critical of Lee. After all, each of us has the right to express our opinions. And so we discussed the matter no further.
Several weeks later it was time for us to leave. One fine morning we packed our belongings and prepared to embark on our homeward journey, which would take us many days to complete. After walking for several hours we realized that two people were missing. It emerged that Lee and another member of the group had hurried on ahead. They started out at the head of the group and quickened their pace until there was such a great distance between us that we had lost sight of them.
As is the normal practice in such cases, we broke up into smaller groups and set out to search the area. We combed the surroundings for the entire afternoon to no avail, repeatedly calling their names. But in the early evening the wind picked up, and our cries were lost in the gale. The temperature continued to drop and a member of our group, a guide who had traveled in the area before, warned us that a storm was on its way. Our hearts were heavy with worry, as the nights in the high mountains are bitterly cold, especially in a windstorm. Just then conditions worsened as the gusts of air whirled with grains of sand and visibility was diminished.
Evening fell and we began to shiver. "We won't be able to remain out here much longer," said our friend the guide.
"But we can't stop the search," protested the others, "We can't abandon them out here on a freezing night."
"If we couldn't find them in the light of day," the guide replied, "Then there's no chance that we'll locate them at night, when we are tired, cold, and caught in a sandstorm. We must return to the village and ask the locals to help us. They know the area well and we can resume our search at dawn."
Several people disagreed, but when darkness fell and the sand pricked our skin like so many tiny needles even they sagged with exhaustion and were forced to agree. Dejected, we made for the village, and went straight to the home of the monk and local guide where our story tumbled out. He promised to round up his friends and continue the search at first light.
It was one of the hardest nights of our lives. We were overcome by fear about the fate of our friends, as well as sorrow and helplessness. Recollections of stories about other travelers who had lost their way in those mountains were no help at all, for few have survived a night in those snow-capped heights, with no food or shelter. I knew I wasn't the only one familiar with those stories, but not one of us referred to them. We ate our evening meal in silence, each of us deep in our own thoughts. It was very difficult to fall asleep, but in the end our weary bodies compelled us to sink into a dreamless slumber.
We set out again at sunrise, led by the monk and two others from the village. The three strode surefootedly among the hillocks of sand formed by the storm, as we followed behind. After several hours of walking one of the locals stopped and pointed upward. Coming up behind him we followed his gaze in astonishment. There was nothing we could discern which distinguished that rise from any other. The three consulted among themselves and it appeared that they were about to climb toward the hill. The guide in our group, who had a rough understanding of the local language, translated what he had heard: "The first one said something like, 'If they aren't there, they aren't anywhere,' the second man agreed and added, 'The next closest hill is too far away.'" And then the three began to climb swiftly. Unable to comprehend the significance of the exchange, we simply followed at their heels. Certainly none of us had a better idea.
As we reached the summit we immediately understood why they had insisted on climbing up to it. On the level ground we found a small stone structure. We surged toward the shelter and there we found our friends! Lee and her companion sat motionless inside the stone temple with their arms wrapped around each other, cloaked in the local flags whose fabric had offered them some protection from the cold.
We moved as one to embrace them, breathing an immense collective sigh of relief. The three men from Laa waited politely at the entrance and helped us to carry them down to their magical village. And that's how two women became those rarest of travelers who lost their way and managed to survive the night in the highest mountains in the world.
The following day, after they had rested, eaten, and regained their strength, we all went once more to the home of the monk and local guide.
"I don't know how to thank you sir," said Lee, as she inclined her head toward him, pressing her hands together in the manner of the people of Laa. "I feel as though I was so stupid before. As the sky darkened and we were still lost outside, my friend and I began to lose hope. We squatted on the ground, exhausted and helpless, and deep down I wondered whether all this had happened to me because of what I said to you, and how I spoke about your culture with such arrogance and indifference. In my heart I begged for forgiveness, wishing that I could take back my words, and I hoped I would never hurt anyone's feelings again. I realized that what I had said was the result of ignorance, and I was truly sorry. I understood that there is goodness and beauty in every culture, and that I never should have expressed myself so inconsiderately, and I prayed for forgiveness. Then suddenly, the last rays of sunlight illuminated something colorful fluttering on a hilltop. Mustering what remained of our strength we climbed toward those bright spots of hope, until we recognized the pretty flags and the shelter which you built here. The temple fulfilled every need you described. It provided us with refuge, hope, and joy the like of which I have never experienced before. I beg your forgiveness…" she concluded, tears spilling from her eyes.
The monk's countenance shone with kindness as he listened quietly. When Lee had finished speaking, smiling gently, he looked into her eyes and said, "Help exists in every place my child, especially for those who seek it with all their heart. In every culture it appears in a slightly different guise, one which suits a particular group of people and the environment in which they live. I deeply regret the hardships that you experienced. Still, sometimes it is the difficult experiences which help us the most to see beyond our differences. That is also a part of that good help which is here for all of us.
A few days later, when the weather cleared, we packed our belongings once again to set out on our homeward journey. I kept stopping to look back from a distance at the enchanted village of Laa, which now appeared so tiny, and yet had led to such an enormous transformation in all of our hearts. There wasn’t a person among us who had not been deeply moved by our experiences in Laa. As I walked, I found myself reflecting on the amazing coincidence that it was Lee who had lost her way, and in the magical morning light, surrounded by the enormous golden mountains, under the deep blue crystal sky, I felt my heart swell. I felt (and even should the feeling fade, it would in no way detract from the significance of that moment) that perhaps there are no coincidences, and everything is touched by that good help, available to us all.
The End
– Based on a true event which took place in Ladakh, India in 2009.
