My enemy is my own anger.

“I know all that’s true, but…”

“But meat is so tasty!” The young monk finished my sentence, breaking into a wide smile that accentuated his sharp cheekbones. His eyes shone with genuine amusement, instantly relived of the gravity they held as we discussed the case for vegetarianism. Although he was a teenager when he made his dangerous Himalayan trek to escape Tibet and enter a monastery, he didn’t give up meat until recently. “Once I fully understand that my body can be nourished without harming that other body, if I know I will stay alive without killing, it is bad for my karma to keep doing,” he explains in near-perfect English.

We met at Lha Social Work’s daily English conversation hour, where Tibetans, Australians, Canadians, one traveler from Finland, and we Americans sat in small circles and shared our thoughts on hobbies, politics, and lifestyle choices.

“You live in China? What is it like there? Have you been to Tibet?” A 29-year-old woman, also a refugee since her teen years, breathes this last bit excitedly, her eyes twinkling with envy, until I explain that I live very far from there, and foreigners are only allowed to go with a special permit as part of a tour group, which is very expensive. Still, the fact remains—I can go to her homeland legally, if with some effort, while she risks imprisonment or execution if she tries to return.

She and the monk are surprised to hear that many of my Chinese friends disagree with their government and don’t hesitate to dissent, at least in conversations with foreigners. They’re also interested to know that I couldn’t read anything about Tibet or Dharamsala without using a proxy to avoid government censors. As I explain my work in China and my motivation for going, I’m a little anxious. I knew this would come up, but I hadn’t envisioned the reality of looking into the deep eyes of two refugees on my third full day in India, explaining my relationship to their oppressor. Do they think I’m an ally to their enemy? Am I?

The monk seems to sense my discomfort. Without prompting, he offers his own beliefs about enemies, not arrived at without some effort. “My enemy is my own anger,” he says. “The Chinese have done bad things in Tibet, but the Chinese people are not my enemies. My only true enemy, keeping me from happiness, is my own anger.”

Less of a pilgrim than many of the dreadlocked, prayer-bead clasping Westerners in Dharamsala, I really just came here to be useful. So while it shouldn’t, jumping so quickly from politics to inner peace throws me. Really, he just takes out invasion and occupation on himself? Again sensing my unease, the wise smile returns, the big laugh as he clarifies, “Of course, it isn’t ever easy.” This student of Buddha confesses that sometimes, even though he knows violence will never beget peace, he is hopeful when he hears of Palestinian action against Israel (Local sentiment seems to stress solidarity between the situations in the two nations.)

As the hour ends, I concede that I have a lot to learn. Not least of all, some yoga basics would help me sit cross-legged for an hour like my partners without my toes falling asleep and my hips throbbing. Inner peace may follow.