Let Love Rule We caught the train from Xian to Lhasa. A 33 hour, rough and ruddy railroad journey stretching almost 3000kms across the land in a jam packed locomotive stuffed with a motley heap of Tibetan and Chinese people of all walks of life, but who collectively seemed to be gnawing on sunflower seeds and ruthlessly spittin' the husk. The long hours were spent in the crammed carriage with very few places to stand and less places to sit, breathing in a nasal violating pungent combination of mothballs, cabbage, ciggies and a very generous dose of human shit and urine due to the lack of balance involved in the mobile squat toilets.. The inquisitive local travellers who we share our carriage with, but with non of whom we share a common language, are funny, generous and kind which we promptly discover through our own methods of communication, and the salivating sight of the desolate yet subliminal Himalayan moon like landscape out the window, stirs the sweetest sensations of excitement. Tibet is a country I’d been seething to visit for its intriguing people, strange culture, other worldly practises and convoluted religion, since childhood. I was wrapped to finally be making the trip. China has occupied Tibet since the 1940’s and to the day it is still blazingly obvious that this is a place where no medium divides the disturbing and violent collision of these two vastly different cultures. Traditional, spiritual old world Tibet meets modern, atheist super power China. It's not pretty. To say the very least. Lhasa, Tibet is a place of wildly spiritual significance to the Tibetan people. I stand in the middle of The Jokhang, the spiritual centre of Lhasa and one of the most sacred places for Tibetan Buddhism, shocked at the contrasts of my surroundings. It’s patrolled by heavily armed Chinese military who at random snap into drill and ceremony, surveillance cameras are everywhere and X-ray machine check points are the only way to enter. We’re also warned monitor our conversations as anyone could be a government spy. But, all this goes unseen by the thousands of peaceful pilgrims who’ve travelled long and far from throughout their Himalayan homeland to be here today. As my full attention warily shifts to the pilgrams, the military become invisible to me too. Offerings of dried juniper and incense burn intense, and thick hazy clouds of it waft in hurried whisps through the streets like crazed apparitions. I’m sure it’s contributing to the creeping headache and nausea I’m experiencing. Jokhang Temple is infront of me, as are many scrappy and weather beaten intrepid Tibetan Buddhists who prostrate in laborious rhythmic motions, seeking to attain forgiveness for their earthly sins. The area is packed with an unusual, magnetic flow of pedestrian traffic that I’m noticeably going against. I soon realise this is the trail of one of the ‘Kora” the sacred pilgrimage walks, that must be done clockwise. I almost feel like an intruder as I gaze at these people who waddle past slowly in colourful family clusters while entranced in a state of spiritual awe. They mutter hypnotic mantras in haunting, low tones while their prayer wheel -seemingly fasted into their fists, swing around methodically, sending prayers to the 4 winds to deliver to all mankind. The irony is unbelievable. Snot nosed, wind burned, red cheeked babies swaddled in bright bundles, adorn the backs of their parents, who are dressed head to to in that famous traditional Tibetan fashion of bright multi-coloured, patterned clothing, draped in beads of amber and turquoise. They’re visually fascinating. Though busy in prayer, as we pass by one another, they look at me as I look at them, in a kind of wonder. One kind soul recognising another. I must have shared a face splitting smile with a thousand people in the time we spent wandering The Jokhang. This situation to me is absolute testimony to the enduring human spirit, when you let your life be governed by love and kindness. Trapped in their country between the vulgar walls of oppression, it’s still love and hope that shine bright. What can’t be touched, can’t be taken. Love. LET LOVE RULE.