In 2009, BCMT set a conservative goal of $25,000 for fund raising with something very specific in mind: take our service to the community global. Early in the year, we jumped on the bandwagon of an alumna, Maria August, who had been teaching massage to Tibetan refugees in Dharamsala, India – really making a difference in that community. Her students were learning quickly, getting jobs, and hungry for more.

So a team of us, 10 faculty, staff and alumni started fund raising to support her efforts on a larger scale. We raised funds individually and by participating in larger group efforts such as the Massage for Peace clinics in the spring. By September, we’d met our goal and were on our way to Dharamsala (via Chicago and Delhi) to teach 20 Tibetan refugees the basics of massage therapy.  I still can’t believe what we accomplished in such as short period of time. We raised enough to cover the trip and then some – a downpayment on giving back far into the future.

Crib in Baby Room, Tibetan Children's Village, Dharamsala, India

If there’s one thing I learned about this experience, it’s this: we all want to make a difference. It’s joyous to give back to the people, animals and plants we share the planet with. Given the opportunity and support, we can and do rise to the occasion. At BCMT, we’re looking at 2010 as another great year to serve locally and globally. Our latest local initiative is an internship at the Acorn School for Early Childhood Development. Students (supervised by Massage for Peace instructor, Gaye Franklin) will provide Peaceful Touch to little ones getting ready for nap time. Yup, getting a good night’s sleep or a siesta in after lunch, is yet another benefit of  receiving regular massage.

Sweet dreams,

Carol Brunelli, Massage for Peace Coordinator

How can I look at joyous healthy children playing on a well equipped playground with proud doting parents looking on, and not think of the young naked children I saw in India running around an open trash area near the side of a busy street rummaging for food or begging with outstretched hands for something to satisfy their hunger?

How can I enter a large open market filled with fresh wholesome food and not think of the marketplace of those vendors in Dharmasala sitting cross-legged in a space just wide enough for their gaunt bodies and long enough to display their meager offerings of a dirty bundle of scallions or a torn basket of fly infested potatoes and cabbage?

How can I turn on my faucet and flush my toilet at home and not think of the filthy gray contaminated water running in a deep ditch alongside the narrow streets, while a dozen thin rusted metal pipes poking out of the ground nearby convey this unsanitary water to the community?

How can I walk through my tree lined neighborhood of comfortable homes and cars in the driveway, and not see in my mind’s eye the massive tall concrete structures in India, with each designated dwelling no bigger than a small bedroom where an entire family of adults and children exists cramped everyday?

How can I not breathe in the fresh aromatic smells of a Colorado mountain morning and not remember the dank pungent odors of cow and dog waste and exposed trash wafting from the streets when I made my way to the school in Dharmasala?

How can I teach another student in a massage class and not see and feel to my core the enthusiasm, shear joy, and excitement of the Tibetan refugees who came each day to my class with a kind of thirst for knowledge I had never experienced in all my years of teaching?  This, despite their history of struggle and adversity that scars them physically, but ceases to define who they are.  Their smiles and voices will always ring in my heart, and continue to teach me about the profound resilience of the human spirit.

These sights, thoughts, and smells will forever be a part of me.  They will serve as reminders of a short period of time in my life when I dared to venture out of my comfort zone of my home, my community, and my country, and step into another world where living day to day took on a whole new meaning.

- Gaye Franklin, Massage for Peace Ambassador

I think we’re all excited and surprised that we already have an article on the Lha website.  Surprised in that nothing moves fast in Dharamsala; coffee = 45 minutes, a meal = 3 hours.

I guess news of our visit travels a bit faster, thank you Lha, we appreciate the recognition for Massage for Peace.  The more awareness we create the better; creating peace one massage at time.

Click here to read the article on their website.

I speak English very well after 45 years of practice, and about 15 years as an ESL teacher.  I’m happy to report that  it’s coming in handy in Dharamsala. While the rest of the crew is teaching massage or introducing monks to their first massage, I’m talking – and listening. Turns out I listen pretty good.

Today a Buddhist nun, Sonam, made my day.  She was beaming just a few minutes into our chat when she realized I could understand what she was saying.”My English no good. Many teacher no understand.”  I didn’t realize I had any special skill, but I guess my ear has been trained by the hundreds of Asian, European, African and Latin America students I’ve taught over the years.

Tibetans like Sonam understand a lot, too. The teachers she’s referring to are volunteers – people from all over the world – who come to English conversation class at Gu Chu Sum (and several other locations throughout Dsala). The volunteers speak Australian, American, the Queen’s English, and some hybrid-English versions, too.

Sonam asked if I was coming back next year. “My English very good in one year,” she said. “I write to you. You come visit my nunnery.” That settles it. Massage for Peace, Dsala 2010 here we come. — Carol B.

One day in Dharamsala feels like a lifetime  – a sweet lifetime. Today Becky and I enjoyed the company of Tibetans at work: at the tiny Shop no 5, the Tibetan Artesans Coop, and the local Tibetan Children’s Village. Shopping for towels to solve a training challenge – a shortage of sheets and expensive laundry services – we sorted through the towel selection at Shop no 5. Actually, we cleaned the place out. We needed 22 towels – thin and quick to dry – and that’s exactly how many we found. It was a big purchase for the tiny establishment, and the shop owner, Tenzin, treated us to milk tea. We took photos (we’ll upload them when we get back to Boulder and quicker computers), and chatted with her and her mother and their smiling, dollfaced niece/granddaughter.

Our shopping spree was preceded by a huge morning – a visit to the local Tibetan Children’s Village. Our tour guide, Nyima, patiently answered our questions about its history and development. We were touched by her story and that of other Tibetan children who “lost” their parents when they set out for India via the Himalayan mountains and Nepal. Their parents loved them so much that they sent them away – to India – to seek out education and opportunities denied to them in their home country. A huge sacrifice for them and a huge gift for their children.

Back from our jaunt to TCV, we stopped by the Tibetan Artesans Coop to pay for the rugs we’d picked out the day before. The sales manager, Tsering, took note of our interest in the artistry that goes into creating the handwoven rugs, and offered to show us more of the workshop. We headed to the basement, and we were greeted by a roomful of spinners and weavers working on custom orders -all with Christmas deadlines. We hope we were a pleasant distraction for them rather than an annoyance.

We finished up our “work day” with an English conversation class at Lha. There were at least 40 Tibetans and volunteers packed into a 12 x 12 room. I was waved over by a couple of Buddhist monks. They were not what I expected. They were so easy to talk to although one asked me pointblank, “What does Buddhism mean to you?” I kept my answer short and sweet. A smile and a nod seemed to indicate I did alright.

If I had to use one word to describe a typical day for us in Dharamsala, it would be: abundant. Tomorrow’s another day and we are already counting our blessings. – Carol B.

This is the question that I’ve been asking myself about how I will fully describe our experience at the Tibetan Children’s Village (TCV).   For me, it was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life; one that I hope will change me forever.  Not fully understanding the flight of the Tibetans before coming here I feel that today has given me an inside look into the lives of those affected by this tragedy.  It also gave me a real experience in love, compassion and understanding.  These children are well cared for, happy and learning to be students of the world. Teachers would be a better way to describe them, teachers  that I feel we could all learn so very much from.

Despite their separation from family and treacherous journey through the Himalayas to freedom TCV is educating each and every child to be a servant of the world.  There is no entitlement here; what we find here is simply a chance to live a life of freedom and opportunity. To give back through their education, to give thanks for their blessings and understand that there is good in all, even the injustices of the world.  The level of acceptance that I witnessed today was overwhelming.  With over 1,000 children living at the TCV location we visited; financial support is a must from the outside world.

We were given a personal tour by Niyma who is one of the people in charge of sponsorship.  She was quite gracious in answering our questions and providing much insight into the once devastating but now beautiful lives of these children.  TCV was breathtaking;  situated on the side of a mountain it is pristine in its cleanliness and surrounded by inspirational messages and vibrant gardens.  We visited the homes of the children, saw their toothbrushes, face clothes and shoes.  Read letters to their parents posted on the walls, parents whom they will most likely never see again.  We visited the ‘baby home’ and held back tears of joy as we entered the nursery of cobalt cribs each comforted with a stuffed animal and pink blankets.  One of the cribs revealed a sleeping baby whose breath I will never forget the sound of.  There were a few of the younger children in the courtyards with their house mothers.

We stood high upon one of the verandas and watched the older kids play in the school yard; soccer, badminton, table tennis; laughing and playing like all children should.  Among them were their canine comrades sinking up the joy and living off the message of hope.

A message that I’m not sure I will ever fully process and an experience that I can only hope will change me forever.

Where to begin? Where to end?  I have no answer to these questions, but what I know for sure is that today, I learned about beauty.