Being here in McLeodganj, close to the Tibetan community in exile, has me reflecting on the roots of CCARE and the personal donation from His Holiness the Dalai Lama that helped bring this work into being 20 years ago, an origin that feels especially resonant where exile, resilience, faith, and community are so present. It reminds me that struggle takes many forms across a life, not from a place of comparative suffering but from a deeper awareness of our interconnectedness, and that compassion asks us to recognize the humanity in one another while also noticing the state of our own energy, attention, and inner resources.
Even at a conference built for reflection, life can feel frenetic, as we move from one session to the next and climb the foothills of the Himalayas amid the honking traffic, much as we climb the never-ending ladder of academic and professional life toward the next goal, the next responsibility, the next measure of impact. Yet compassion requires more than motion; it requires presence, and sometimes that is as simple as stopping on the trail long enough to take in the view.
During my sabbatical here four years ago, I met with Yangten Rinpoche, who noticed my phone and remarked how it had become far more a smart computer than a device for making calls, then asked, “What happens when the phone runs out of battery?” I said I would charge it, and he replied, “It becomes a useless piece of metal.” I have thought about that often. We are never useless, and our worth is not measured by our output, but when we do not rest and recover, our ability to serve, connect, and respond with compassion diminishes.
When we pause, we are not stepping away from the work; we are returning to the conditions that let us do it with clarity, humility, and care.
So as summer arrives, may you find moments of solitude and grace, and, as the author John Mark Comer puts it, allow your soul to catch up with your body.
With gratitude,
Al’ai Alvarez, MD
Director, CCARE
