Where are your songs, Joni Mitchell, now we need them again (and again)?

This article contains amateur levels of discussion on politics, sociology, philosophy, ecology, futurology, and spirituality (using amateur in the worst possible sense). The reader is warned to have a mental bucket of salt on hand to throw over statements that get too crass, or contentious.

I had arranged with the travel agency upstairs, to make a trip out to visit Qinghai Lake with a driver and car. As we travelled I started to gain some of the intensity of feeling about the area I have previously felt on my earlier trip.

The Qinghai Lake trip was both a disappointment, and a showed me a little more of why I am doing this trip. The lake is one of the world's largest bodies of inland salt water, is one of the largest bird breeding and roosting areas in the world, home to literally billions of birds, is the place where SARS (I think) and H5N1 bird flu (certainly) viruses first made their presence known to humanity. It is a remarkably beautiful place, though like all inland water scapes, can be a bit boring. The best analogy I know to how it looks is Poole Bay, with the cliffs replaced by snow capped mountains. For centuries, at least, it has been one of many profoundly spiritual places for the people of Amdo, and the whole of Tibet.

The Chinese have been expanding their population at a rapid rate over the last century and more and their current path in providing for such an expanding population has been phenomenal economic growth. This in turn has generated a substantial middle class, with both disposable income, some free time, and the ability and willingness to spend money on taking the family out for the weekend or to some tourist attractions. One of the government responses has been to greatly increase tourist services and attractions, in particular within the areas of China that have very low population densities - Qinghai prime among them.

So where I was delivered on my day trip out was the new tourist attraction of Qinghai Lake. In one sense this was fair enough - it was certainly where the vast majority of Chinese visitors would want to end up. It is an important site - it has been nominated a tourist site of national (and international) importance. However, at least in the short term, it is unlikely to become internationally recognised - it is too focused on meeting the needs of the internal Chinese Tourist industry, and the floods of new internal tourists. This is of course sensible for what they are trying to achieve.- all the facilities that can be provided for tourists. These extend to a new dock, and marina. Several really quite large cruising vessels - though all of the "yogurt pot" variety - a term I have taken from the Inland Waterways of the UK, where it is a derogatory term for fibre glass cabin cruisers. The vessels on Qinghai do fit in this category, but some of are very big of their type. Other features are the quad bikes for hire; the tandems for hire; the electric vehicles to ride round the site; and lots and lots of other tourist benefits.

BUT - and this is where my head and my heart start to ache - they have turned the whole of Tibetan culture, religion, life style, and farming methods into exhibits in a craft museum. It was this realisation that made me start thinking about what is going on culturally, governmentally, and globally. There is no right or wrong in these situations, but there are only problems arising from the solution virtually the whole of the human race has adopted - growth, both technical and economic; consumerism, the global market place and so on. While these are providing an increased standard of living for huge swathes of the world population there is no clear path forward to prevent the despoliation of the planet. Certainly, the argument of some, to return to a simpler world; a world of less need; and older, simpler, values cannot happen. Who is going to be the one to say "I'll throw away all my comforts, and technological toys - and would YOU mind telling the families in China who work in a factory making the gadgets that they are going to be out of a job". I certainly am not going to say this - though I have simplified my lifestyle considerably by living on a boat; my love of gadgets and communication has been shown by my intent to blog on what I am doing. This has shown me their importance, and I don't want to give up more.

Why all this navel gazing. Simple. In spite of all the tourist developments and clash of different interests: I felt something about this landscape, mountains, lake, every aspect of it, that spoke to me to a degree similar to that I felt when I first visited this part of the world. I have realised that what I feel is a visceral attachment to the actual land. Though Tibetan culture is entrancing, and beautiful; though Tibetan Buddhism is one of the great world resources of spiritual insight and mind training; though the fauna and flora of this part of the world is unique, varied and surviving under unimaginably hostile conditions; these are all icing on the cake; for me what matters is this piece of land. I can only talk in metaphor (not my natural method of description) and only in rather trite metaphor at that. The way it feels is that there is a hole in my heart that is filled when I am in this landscape. When I am not in the landscape the hole is there, but it is barely noticeable - the vast majority of the time totally imperceptible. Moreover, I feel, in the piece that fills that hole, the effects of man on the land as twists at my heartstrings. I feel a part of this land, and this land a part of me. It is natural to feel that I would not mind dying in this land if it were my time to die. If I did die in this land I would like to be returned to the land by having a sky burial - though I understand this is an honour reserved for very enlightened folk, so probably no luck there. (A sky burial, for those unfamiliar with the term, is "burial" by being butchered at a high pass, or high peak, and then the pieces left on poles or rocks to attract and feed the vultures and eagles and other carrion birds).

Of course, all this introspection leaves me with a bit of a puzzle. I have heard of spiritual attachment to the land as part of some of the great reservoirs of spirituality - particularly in shamanic traditions. The well known traditions where this is a substantial part of the tradition are (some) North American Indians; the Maori; and Australian aboriginal tradition. In all commentary I have seen (discounting the 95% that is kooky; or a con; or just plain barking), this part of these traditions is recognised as a corner stone of the tradition. However, it is also described as arising from multi-generational, deep cultural absorption from living within and being part of the landscape, and cannot be transferred or synthetically generated. Nobody can, in this sense, become an Indian, or a Maori, etc. But I am not a Tibetan. I have no Tibetan ancestry (that I know of for at least seven generations). I have no cultural, ethnic, linguistic, educational links of any kind, except those of very recent adoption, with Tibet.

None the less, I assert that I am a part of this land, and this land is part of me.

So what does this great revelation mean? Absolutely nothing. When I am away from this area I never think like this, the concepts are rather shaky. The link has no great cosmic significance. It has no meaning. It does not provide purpose, or meaning to life. It does not affect my behaviour, my ethics, my view of life, the universe, and everything. (Though it has been influential in feeding into my impetus to come on this journey).

But I feel this land.