We hear the word "refugee" so often these days, I wonder whether we now even stop to think about what it means.
Imagine: There is so much violence and strife in the place where you live that you feel you have no choice but to abandon your home. You flee, perhaps at great risk, to someplace you hope is safer. If you are fortunate, your loved ones flee with you; or maybe circumstances are such that some have no choice but to stay behind.
I just completed my eighth year of documentary photography of the small but active Tibetan community in Seattle. I'm around my Tibetan brothers and sisters so much, I must admit that I sometimes forget that nearly all of them have some kind of history as refugees. Our world has so many places like Tibet where people experience oppression, that word too can lose its impact.
Yesterday I photographed the Seattle Tibetans coming together at their Buddhist monastery to celebrate Losar, Tibetan New Year. The morning was prayerful (photos above. ) But, once prayers were done, folks milled about outside the monastery, and the afternoon was festive. It was a mild, almost spring-like day, and people visited, spun prayer wheels, and sang Tibetan songs. Barley flour was tossed into the air, a Losar tradition.
What you see here is the resilience of the human spirit, and the efforts of a people who will not allow their culture to be erased.
