myitta po gya ba
left for the Lake District thinking of Guernica, and came back from it thinking about Burma -- that place whose word for "to boycott", thabeik hmauk, is synonymous with "to upturn one's alms bowl"; that place where the idea of religious warfare and leadership is a world apart from the violence and bombs of the Middle East; that place where a rallying cry might sound like "myitta po gya ba!", or, "send your love (to the protestors)". One feels, when watching the jittery videoclips and blurred images pouring out of Burma, the frailty of flesh; one understands, truly and all of a sudden, the immense fragility of peacefulness confronted by power. Burma shows that the response to violence is not always (or even most fruitfully) violence. It shows us a face of religion unlike any we've inherited from freedom-fighting, crusades and jihad -- inscrutable because it has become alien, heart-breaking because it has always been beautiful. It's a strength beyond might -- when faced with one's oppressors, not to load one's gun and don the bulletproof vest, but to turn one's alms bowl upside down, lay it on the ground, and pray.