More of Tibet

Best Momos ever, in Tibet

Glacial Valley on way to Dzogchen, Tibet

A quick stop to spin the prayer wheel and circumabulate the stupa on the Trola Pass

Sick and trying to Practice without any Power in Cold Dege, Tibet

Local Tibetan Women passing by in Dege, Tibet

Few more shots of Tibet

Sunset in Ganzi, Tibet

In the glacial valley outside Manigango, Tibet

Enjoying a break in Kangding, Tibet

Ganzi, Tibet

Ganzi, Tibet

China

Jenn unhappy in the wholesale district, she thought she would be in shopping heaven

Freshly blackened corn on the cob for your dining pleasure, a great roadside bus snack, like popcorn that never popped

Mynah birds in the park, I'm not sure what they were saying

Leshan Buddha, the worlds largest Buddha at 12om

Another giant Buddha at Leshan

Anything Really is Possible in Samsara or No I'm Not Good For Eating

Yesterday I was sitting in a circle of grass at the top of the rice paddies, writing the following:


the woman cutting the grass with a sickle. the wind. the bleating black goat. the long crazy bus horn. the chirping of crickets. the huge praying mantis. my wet hair drying in the sun. a slow headache brewing. the cook carrying squash from the garden, black soil clinging to it's fur. the women with shawls wrapped around their waists. the clothes I want made. children's voices echoing across the valley. and that goat. walking behind that running rooster on the shortcut to town this morning, a thin string trailing from it's leg. the furry chickens in the garbage, in the gutter. the lowing of cows. the hawks circling overhead. the wind. the sun. feeling a little sick. the dirty children. a girl washing at the outdoor spigot this morning. a leaking nose. the drums in the night. and the rustling of leaves. I need a plate. I need a cup. I need some dishsoap that's not a cake. I need some cake. I need some books. I need a movie. I need poetry. Two girls jumping rope with a chain. Am I catching a chill? My hair almost dry. All the pictures. Lakpa said his uncle's house was robbed one night when he slept at a relative's. The robber took everything--even the new underwear--leaving his old dirty ones in their place! Loppon said thieves dig up the sandalwood trees at Namdroling. I told how a robber crept through our house in the night. The clicking of the thresher? Avoiding milk tea making me sad. They're beating the ?stalks of ri...


So I wrote the above. Was in the middle of finishing that last sentence when BAM! something incredibly hard hit my head--so hard that the impact pushed the top half of my body forward. "What the fuck?" I yelled--pissed, thinking someone had thrown a rock at the back of my head--a big one. I quickly turned my head--no one there. I turned back around and saw a gigantic hawk flying a bit in front of me and immediately realized what had happened...


A giant hawk flew straight into my head. And it realy really hurt.


I don't think American hawks do this.


My head really fucking hurt. I decided I needed to go see Keith right away and as I walked to him--my head aching and burning--I imagined blood dripping down my hair. I mean, when a hawk divebombs your head, it really hurts. I can't emphasize this enough.


I burst into the Vajrakilaya shrineroom. "A hawk just flkew into my head!" I said.


"What?" Keith laughed.


"It just flew into my head!"


"That's great!" he said.


"Great? What are you talking about?!" I exclaimed.


"I think it's a good sign."


"A good sign!? How is it a good sign? It really hurt me! I just can't believe it!"


"Yeah, it's weird," he said and kept on with his writing. I, on the other hand, might have been in shock.


"Can you look at my head?" I asked. He gave it a cursory glance.


"Nothing," he replied. But it seemed to be hurting more and more with each passing minute and I really didn't think he understood the enormity of what had just happened! Keith kept writing and suddenly I was crying.


"What's wrong?" he asked.


"I'm really upset! A hawk just flew into my head and my head hurts! And also I just took a shower and washed my hair and now I have hawk germs!" I sobbed--perhaps a bit dramatically. But really, I do spend an inordiante amount of time here trying to keep myself, my clothes and my few possessions clean. And the last thing I needed was a hawk flying into my head. I really was distraught. I'd been having such a beautiful time sitting there writing in the sun. And then BAM! Like a ton of bricks slamming into my head. I felt like it was a metaphor for this whole trip...


But what really drove me to distraction was people's reactions to this incident. Soon after the tears, as K was taking me back to the room to my complaints of, "I'm lucky I didn't get whiplash!" and "I could've gotten a concussion from that thing!" we came upon Tsering and Lakpa. I told them what happned. But they didn't seem surprised--or impressed. "It thought you were something," Tsering sniffed, nonplussed. "Very brave bird," Lakpa commented.

"Brave bird!" I laughed. "I just can't believe it--have you ever heard of a hawk flying into someone's head before?"


"Birds of prey, you know?" Lakpa said. "Sometimes vultures, they take people's eyes."


"What!?" I squealed.


"When they're dead!" Keith laughed.


"No, alive. birds of prey, you know?" Lakpa said in his Indian accent, bobbling his head at me...

The Whistle

As Maya showed us our room at Khenpo Namdrol's guesthouse for the first time, she handed us two large skeleton keys, cautioning us to always keep the door to our room locked, as well as the outside hallway door, AND the sliding red metal gate. "Hmm...that's a lot of locks!" we thought.

That night, Khenpo sent Lakpa over, the Nepali worker monk who speaks English and went to Catholic school, to our room to explain about which lights worked on the battery when the power was oof. Lakpa requested that we, "On," the porch light each evening so the night guard could see around our building. As the light is directly outide our window, we weren't too pleased, but "On," it we did. Lakpa reiterated that we must keep the doors and gate locked at all times, as our building was, "On the main road," he said, pointing to the small apth running next to our guesthouse and down through the rice paddys. "Many thieves," he said. "But don't worry, the night guard has a whistle."

Then, two days ago, Lakpa announced at dinner that he was moving onto our floor that night--to sleep in the kitchen and make sure robbers didn't take any supplies from the nunnery being built behind the guesthouse. "So you're going to stay up all night looking out the window?" I asked. He said that no, he could sleep.

After the first night, Lakpa reported there'd been no robbers. Then, this morning at breakfast when I asked how he'd slept last night, he said, "Very well thank you."

About fifteen minutes later he told me, "Oh, there were thieves last night."

"Thieves!?" what happned, I asked in surprise.

"There were three, but they ran away."

"Three? Trying to steal the rebar?" I asked.

"No, they broke into the temple!" he replied.

I'd heard the guard blowing his whistle in the night, but thought nothing of it as the guard blew his whistle a great deal each night. "To make sure the thieves know he's there. If they hear his whistle, they won't come," Lakpa had told me.

But come they did--jumping the gate, breaking the lock on the temple door, and scattering the mandala and it's pearls all over the floor. But then, the night guard whistled...and they ran away empty handed.

This One Goes Out to My Fellow Retreater-ers

Everyone knows that it might be a few days or it might be a week, but soon enough, despite the prescence of His Holiness, despite the fields and the wildflowers, despite how happy I am to be there, Jenn needs to get away--go to town, go to Walmart--anything. Or you'll have a super sourpuss on your hands.

Likewise, here, as on retreat, I live on the edge of jewel-like fields of flowers, awaken and fall asleep to the sounds of dharma. But...

I also sleep on the hardest bed imagineable (upon K's examination of it today, it appears to be stuffed with some sort of woven grass), my pillow is a tiny camping sort as they seem not to make or sell bed pillows in Pharping. And just as I'm about to fall alseep each night, crazy drunk guy begins his obscenly loud yelling. Oh and don't forget the incessant nightly barking of dogs. At this point I plug my ears until the shouting ends (possibly hours later). Then, when I'm finally asleep, the three year retreatants begin some sort of puja--more plugging of ears. Finally, I sleep until 3, when the 3 yr retreatants again start playing horns and drumming damarus. Back in go the earplugs, and back to sleep until 6AM, when AGAIN with the drumming, and also, now there's an incessant tape of mantras emanating from the temple. Seriously, you all better think of what it would be like to awaken in Amitabha's Pure Realm!

So anyway, sometimes it all gets to be a bit much. But what really sent me into a sourpuss spiral last night was to be given nettles and ground maize for dinner, for there to be maggots in our bar of chocolate (brought up from Kathamndu), and for Keith to be doing a 7 day retreat which involves refusing to walk the dark 10 min. to town with me for some sustenance other than nettles (he's not leaving the grounds all week!)!! All this and you've got one sour Jenn!

Oh, I forgot to add, I have no book to read except The Words of My Perfect Teacher, I've been doing lots of Vajrasattva, and all eyes are always upon me (nuns and Nepali builders constantly staring up through our windows)!

I am surrounded by dharma dharma dharma--in the day, in the night. In every direction I look there's a monastery, a monk or a nun. All I have is dharma and my mind. There is no escape!

Some More Tibet Photos

In Retreat with Khenchen Namdrol

After 2 days in Pharping, visiting the caves of Guru Rinpoche and performing an 8hr Guru Tsog with Ralo Rinpoche's monks, me trying to keep up reading only in Tibetan, ringing my bell and rolling my Dharmaru we decided we should got to HH Penor Rinpoche's Vajrakilaya retreat center and see if Khenchen Namdrol was in residence. Khenchen Namdrol is one of the three most senior and realized Khenpo's (scholar) of the Palyul tradition that we practice under HH Penor Rinpoche. Khenchen Namdrol is know for his mastery of the study and practice of Vajrakilaya and the foremost teacher of the Guhyagarbha tantra (the root tantra of Nyingma Mahayoga).
We arrived at the retreat center which is on the edge of town, down a winding walkway on the endge of a hill amidst fields of yellow flowers overlooking the Pharping valley. We entered the retreat center grounds and were met by Maya the Sherpa woman who maintains the temple and attends to Khen Rinpoche. She told us that Khen Rinpoche was in retreat and not available, we told her we were students of HH Penor Rinpoche and if possible we would like to meet with Khen Rinpoche. She spoke with him and we were asked to return the following morning between 9 and 10am.
We came back the following day and Maya asked us to wait in the temple for Khen Rinpoche. As soon as we entered the temple from the fornt door Khenchen Namdrol entered from the back door, we offered three prostations and a white Katak each. We had met him briefly before in 2005 when we visited Pharping and also last summer in Upstate New York at HH Penor Rinpoche's retreat center when he had come to visit HH. We reminded him who we were and we talked for some time. I then asked him if we would be able to receive some teachings from him while we were here in Nepal. He said the time was difficult now as he was doing retreat and also working on many projects. He is currently constructing the entire Shi Tro (100 peacfula and wrathful deity) Mandala in elaborate array of statues that will be housed in a new temple. He has 3 bhutanese men living in the retreat center making the statues from clay dug right out of the ground at the retreat center. We saw some of the statues in there early stages and they were amazing, how clay/dirt had transformed into these elaborate deities with all there various ornamenations was amazing.
I then showed him my text that I received in Dzogchen Monastery and he looked it over carefully, he told me it was a very profound Dzogchen text and written by one of the great masters of the Dzogchen lineage. I asked him if he would consider explaining this text to me. He thought it over and asked me how long I would be staying in Nepal. I said we were planning to attend the Rinchen Terzod in Mindroling Monastery in November. He said that was not enough time but that the Rinchen Terzod would not be translated and that it may not be that beneficial without clear understanding of the empowerments being given only in Tibetan. He said we should consider staying here longer and hinted that he would then possibly give me this teaching.
He then asked us to come and stay at the retreat center. He asked about the practices we had received from HH Penor Rinpoche and then offered us an invitation to a teaching he will be giving in California in May. He will be teaching on one of Longchenpa's seven treasures and this particular text goes into great detail on the Dzogchen practice of Thogal. He said this teaching is closed and only those with his expressed permission will attend but that he would like to invite us to attend free of charge and that he thought it would be very beneficial for us, he thought more beneficial than attending the Rinchen Terzod which surprised me. We accepted botht the invitation to stay at the retreat center and tentatively accepted the invitation to the teaching in may depending upon time, money and unforseen factors.
The following day we moved into the retreat center and it began to sink in just what we had stumbled upon. First our living situation is ideal, we are in a newly constructed guest house inside the retreat center compound that has some 20 rooms and it is completely empty, we are the only people to ever stay in this house other than the 30 westernerns who attend Rigpa Shedra for 4 months each year. They stayed here last year before it was completely built. It has recently been finished, freshly painted and now we were staying here. We have a beautiful room that overlooks the retreat center and off into the mountains, we have a balcony to relax on and the entire rooftop. The bathroom is western with hot showers, sink, toilet etc. The living situation is nothing compared to the ideal practice environment.
I have the rooftop, where no one can see to perform my morning and evening Dzogchen practices which Khenchen has authorized me to practice on the roof. I have an entire temple for just Jenn and I to practice in, it consists of a 20 or so foot statue of Guru Rinpoche consecrated by HH Penor Rinpoche over a 3 day Puja, wall murals depicting the life of the buddha, the 8 manifestations of the Guru, the 25 disciples, the 8 Herukas , the Lama Gongdu deities, the 16 offering goddesses and the painted mandala of the 100 peacfula and wrathful deities. Here we do bodhisattva vow, lineage prayers, Guru Yoga and Shine practices, it is an incredible space and we remain undisturbed in there.
Three stories up is a complete Vajrakilaya shrine room and I am the only one who uses it. Everymorning I do my Kilaya practice for about 1 and 1/2hrs. All the offerings are perfectly arranged and replenished each morning before I arrive. The entire mandala of vajrakilaya is painted on the walls according to the Ratna Lingpa Tradition that we practice. Each deity is clearly depicted and labeled, it has improved my visualization practice tremendously. Not to mention the blessings of HH Penor Rinpoche and Khenchen Namdrols own practice in this temple and the numerous Kilaya pujas that have been performed here. In addition the retreat center is a stone's throw form Yanleshod cave where Guru Rinpoche attained enlightenment and the Asura cave where he practiced Vajrakilaya to completion.
Our Mandala of players on the stage at the retreat center is exceedingly small. There is Khenchen Namdrol who awakes at 3am to perform his daily retreat practices and emerges at 10am to discuss various projects with Tsering the office secretary. He then enters back into retreat until 6pm when he comes to the courtyard in front of the temple and is available to answer our questions and offer his insights about the retreat center, his projects, etc. Hopefully this will be the time when we will receive some teachings from him. There is Maya who is the shrine keeper and Khenchen's attendant. There is the cook who cooks us three delicious fresh meals every day and two teatime chai and biscuits. There is Lopon who teaches the Shedra students when they come and has offered me copies on mp3 of all the Shedra classes so far. There is a Nepali man who tends the garden and there are 3 Bhutanese men working on the statues. There are 7 monks in there last 2 months of 3yr reteat who are never seen and never leave the retreat house and our old lama who turn the prayer wheel constantly day and night. Thats it, so practically speaking, durring our practice day there is no one around and we just practice and take meals without distraction will all the necessary supports for each of our individual practices readily available. Only by the Grace of HH Penor Rinpoche is this possible. It is easy to practice 8+ hours a day and still have time to read Dudjom Rinpoche' Fundamentals and History of Nyingma, relax and spend quality time with Jenn. It is a paradise.
Khenchen has offered that we stay here until Dec 15th when the Shedra students arrive and take over the place, we are still deciding between remaining here in retreat or heading to the Rinchen Terzod, I am waiting for some sort of sign, if Khenchen agrees to give us some teaching we will certainly stay. For now we will just relax in this effortless retreat that his Holiness has seen fit to place us and wait for the next move to make itself evident.

Don't Be Surprised

In Pharping, when you're walking up the street and you happen to see Khenpo's shabje, Dawa Norbu (who you accompanied on a 10 day pilgrimage in a tiny van across India the last time you were in Asia three years ago).

Don't be surprised, that Puri Sherpa in the kitchen is such a wonderful cook and everything you eat is fresh and delicious. But the night before you're taking a special trip with Keith to Kathmandu for a Vajrakilaya statue, chocolate croissants, counters, soap and dinner at 3rd Eye, you find yourself hanging off the edge of your bed in the middle of the night retching into a plastic bucket for the 15th time in five hours and it's 3Am and the 3 year retreat monks are blowing horns and drumming drums and binging bells.

Or when at 10 in the morning after sleeping a few hours and walking to town with Keith for some hot Tibetan bread, you happen upon Khenpo Namdrol holding an umbrella over his head, by 2 other lamas, sitting in fine chairs next to the edge of piles of trash, performing a fire puja--with Palmo sitting directly behind them looking regal as always and holding a lit pack of incense--and Khenpo looks questioningly at you cause he told you to catch the bus first thing in the morning right after breakfast so you could get a seat. And then when you walk back by after breakfast 20 minutes later, everyone is gone, as though it was a dream. Just a small smoking pile left.

Or at the ducks happily splashing in the gutters.

And maybe you hear a strange moaning coming through the window of your room and when you walk outside for lunch, there's a young Nepali boy, the strange sound coming from his mouth, carrying a placard that explains he's missing his tongue and can't talk and please give him some money.Nad later when the grumpy nun who won't say hi to me tries to shoo him away he opens his mouth and points to the stub.

Or as you eat your breakfast of masal omelette and chai, the little girl at Sikkim restaurant dances naked around you, puffing out and pointing to her belly.

Or at the goat family marching down the road.

Or at the giant pig scratching himself on the socor goal.

Or if Chatral Rinpoche, the most elusive Dzogpachenpo drives by you as you're joking with your husband walking down the street.

Don't be surprised!

More Tibet Photos........

This must have been at the beginning of a bus ride--not 12 hrs in!


When Keith alerted me to the fact that this man was taking our picture on his cell phone, I took his.

This guy asked to have his photo taken on the street in Derge.


The printing press monastery, Derge.

Me, Chatral Rinpoche and Several Thousand of my Closest Friends

Chatral Rinpoche is arguably the greatest living master of the Dzogchen tradition, at 96yrs old he is one the last of his generation of yogis. HH Penor Rinpoche, Chatral Rinpoche and Dodrupchen make up the very short list of completely realized masters of Dzogchen. I have always wanted to meet Chatral Rinpoche and receive some teaching from him but he is as reclusive as he is famous and meeting with him is nearly impossible. The mantra immediately issuing forth from anyone's mouth who is asked about Chatral Rinpoche is "no one sees". We have some connection with him from our previous visit to Nepal when we visited his monastery but at that time he was staying in Siliguri, India for the winter and we were not able to meet with him. Back in America we spent some time practicing with Ralo Rinpoche and I became friends with his Shabje (attendent), he told me when I come to Nepal he will introduce me to Chatral Rinpoche, he said he was very close with Chatral Rinpoche's daughter, Sarwaswati and she controlled who see and does not see Rinpoche. He said it is very difficutl to meet with him but he would be able to help.
So when we arrived in Nepal the quest was on for me to meet this incredible yogi and receive some teaching. When I arrived in Pharping I found that he was indeed staying here though not at the monastery but at a hermitage outside of town. Again I was assured by everyone I asked, "no one sees". I went to Ralo Rinpoche's monastery to see him and his Shabje but they were still in America and I had no way to be introduced to Chatral Rinpoche. We stayed at Ralo Rinpoche's monastery for a few days and soon Ralo Rinpoche arrived but unfortunately his Shabje had stayed in America and will be ther for the next 3 months. (DOOH!)
As if reading my mind and my longing to connect with Chatral Rinpoche, Ralo Rinpoche (a very old and respected ngakpa yogi) who is very close with Chatral Rinpoche reached into his bag that he had placed beside him and scooped out a few large handfuls of Mendrup. Mendrup is a sacred substances prepared according to ritual by high lamas and distributed to practitioners as a support for their practice. Mendrup is said to increase realization and meditative experience and just carrying a small amount is said to offer great protection. Mendrup is often placed in holy objects such as statues and amulets etc. HH Penor Ripoche has told us that the benefits of mendrup prepared by a great lama are inexpressible. Usually these high lamas oversee the production of the mendrup (accomplished medicine) and perform the ceremony. In this case however, the mendrup was none other than Chatral Rinpoche's and Ralo Rinpoche assured me that the mendrup he was giving us had been actually prepared by Chatral Rinpoche's own hands. I do not exagerate when I say there are many a lay Tibetan practioner who would trample over you just to get a glimpse of this, much less to actually take some of this medicine.
Ralo Rinpoche gave Jenn and I some mendrup to take then and then packaged a generous amount for us to take to support our practice. I felt our connection with Chatral Rinpoche strengthening and became hopeful we would indeed meet him. I asked Ralo Rinpoche if we might meet with Chatral Rinpoche and he casually told me where his hermitage was. I thought, "it can't be that easy". We headed off, the place where he was staying was not exactly easy to find but we managed to blindly make our way there. We saw a closed gate ahead of us and I was sure this was the place. Jenn said the gates closed forget it, I didn't care I approached the gate and it opened without resistance. I walked through and there I was inside his mandala, a small, very small temple was there and a house, there was an old monk watering plants and I walked up to him. I told him in Tibetan we were here to see Chatral Rinpoche and he acknowledged this was the place and pointed to the front door of the house. Is he here now I asked, yes he said. This was going way too well to be true.
We walked to the front door and I excitedly approached but Jenn was more hesitant and felt we were intruding, surely we were but how else will you meet with this great being. As I approached the door, before I could even knock a small boy appeared and we said we wanted to see Chatral Rinpoche, he gestured us in. As soon as we entered a woman came from around the corner and said, "yes" questioningly. Again I said we are here to see Chatral Rinpoche, and much like the line "you'll shoot your eye out kid" form A Christmas Story, she uttered the dreaded, "No one sees" (DOOH!). But at the same time she gestured for us to enter another room, inside was a white woman in Tibetan cloths, who questioned us about where we were from and who our Lama was. We told her our guru was HH Penor Rinpoche and she was surprised, the small boy returned and offered us each a banana, "a Chatral Rinpoche banana I thought" I must be becoming obsessed I thought. Then entered a Tibetan woman and she asked the white woman who we were and who our lama was. The white woman gestured for us to stand and introduced the woman as "the sublime daughter of Chatral Rinpoche, Sarwaswati". I told her we were here to see Chatral Rinpoche and wished to offer him a Katag. She looked us over and say we could not see (check and mate I thought). It was just as everyone had told me, "no one sees" and certainly no one gets teachings. A Tibetan man in town told me he had only seen Chatral Rinpoche once in his life and that was from a distance and he tried ceaslessly to meet with him. Why should I be any different I began to think. But then Sarwaswati said, Tuesday 9:30am you come here. (WHAA!)
That was just a few days away and I was gitty with excitement. On Monday the day before the meeting, we were walking back to Khenpo Namdrol's retreat center where we are staying from dinner and Jenn and I were teasing eachother and fooling around as we walked home. She was mocking me and I was mocking her and we were laughing. I was imitating her chomping on her gum and dooing a little dance, my mouth open wide and acting a fool when right then Chatral Rinpoche drove up. I frooze, mouth wide open looking like an idiot and there he was less than 2 ft away from me in traditional Nepali driving style (the closer the better). He was in the passenger seat on my side of the road, in his red wool hat, dark sunglasses and long white beard. My mind stopped, I instantly recognized him but it took time to compute and then he was gone. There it was the first in person sighting of this great Lama. I knew the next day we would see him.
On Tuesday morning when we arrived at Chatral Rinpoche's home it turned out that not only was I here to see Chatral Rinpoche but so were several thousand people. He was going to give a lung (loong) and blessing. I was not disappointed at all. Seeing Chatral Rinpoche is one thing, but receiving a teaching from his is even rarer. We took our seats right in front of where he would sit on a small balcony to give his teaching. I went to his front door and just before I knocke Sarwaswati answered, she said, "your here" I said, "yes, here is a Katag and offering for Rinpoche, can we see him" She said, "yes you can see him when he comes on the balcony, sit over there". I thanked her and we sat up close and waited. While we waited, we received many generous gifts from Chatral Rinpoche, we received more mendrup, we received a beautiful picture of Rinpoche, we received a copy of the text to keep that would be transmitted, we received a blessing cord from Chatral Rinpoche and we were offered food and drink. Behind me thousands of Tibten monks and nuns and ngakpas and lay people began to pile in. A table was arranged just in front of us for objects to be blessed by Chatral Rinpoche and I placed my new bodhi seed mala that I got near the cave where Guru Rinpoche practiced Vajrakilaya on the table to be blessed.
We waited in the hot sun, watching all the people, I had never seen anything like this except when HH Penor Rinpoche would give a large empowerment in India. After some time Chatral Rinpoche appeared and took a seat in front of us. A large group of monks made an extensive Mandala offering and we all chanted along. Chatral Rinpoche then read from the text we were given and performed the Lung (reading transmission), he read for a while then offered a few words of auspiciousness and blessing. I stared at him for the longest time, just like HH Penor Rinpoche something was entrancing about his presence and visage. His voice was deep and coarse and carried across the crowd. He stood up and looked at all the disciples gathered and wished them all happiness, he leaned over his balcony and blessed on the objects on the blessing table including my mala (prayer beeds). He then blessed the crowd of people by chanting prayers and throwing rice on our heads.
He then was gone back into his abode, I felt totatly satisfied, not only had we seen Chatral Rinpoche, we had received the Lung, we had a blessing cord, we had received some mendrup, I had the text that I could study and practice and we had a beautiful picture from him to place on our shrine. As I approached the blessing table to get my mala, a feeding frenzy had broken out, people were diving over eachother and trampling just to get a grain or two of rice that Chatral Rinpoche had thrown. I thought he had given so much but it is so rare to see this Lama and so rare to get a hold of anything he has blessed that these pilgrims were anxious to get whatever they could. I also found a small piece of rice that had fallen on my mala and ate it. I grabbed my mala and Jenn and I squeezed our way out and back to our quiet retreat center with Khenpo Namdrol.

The Sublime Saraswasti

Two mornings ago we had a whirlwind lama tour. First Keith and I met with Khenpo Namdrol in the morning. He had lots to say and also persuaded us to move to his beautiful, quiet guesthouse. Then in the afternoon we met with Ralo Rinpoche and his wife, who had just come back from the U.S. Afterwards, we walked to Chatral Rinpoche's house--finally figuring out where it was (this is in itself is a long story starting three years ago).

It was a walk by gigantic pigs in the street; a black cow nuzzling the feet of a passed out man lying in the grass on the side of the road; by goats; a small boy selling bags of bright pink cotton candy, hung from a tall pole he carried; and raw sewage flowing down the street.

After walking past his lane and then back, some Tibetans pointed us toward his gate, saying to go in. We got the go ahead from an old monk tending some plants and then from the glowing little boy who opened the front door. But as we hurriedly put our zens on, a woman came to the door saying, "No one can see." But then she told us to come in. We were all prepared with khataks in hand and were ushered into a room where a western woman in a maroon chupa sat on the floor in front of some pechas. She asked who gave us our robes and said incredulously, "Really!? Penor Rinpoche is giving out ngakpa robes!?"

Then a Tibetan woman came down the stairs holding a tea cup and looking sternly at us. "Whose disciples are these?" she asked the white woman. "This is the Sublime Saraswati, Chatral Rinpoche's daughter," the white woman said, hurriedly standing. "Tell them to come Tuesday," the stern sublime daughter said imperiously, as though we were not there. "Okay, when?" Keith chirped. The sublime daughter siad 9:30...

Oct 10, 2008 Snowlands Restaurant, Pharping, Nepal

They sell khataks here, packets of spices and soup noodles. And all my hair is turning white. They have a fridge, and they sell glass bottles of coke.

Here, the weather is beautiful. Sunny and warm, maybe eighty degrees.

Huge ducks wade in the gutters, walk by your side to breakfast. There are black goats in gardens. Pink, purple and orange flowers everywhere. Women in saris and chupas.

And in Pharping, there is no escape from dharma, especially staying at Ralo Rinpoche's guest house.

So happy here after the noise of Kathmandu. Arriving in the dark after a taxi ride up the mountain. Today, some small children called hello to keith and I as we were walking to lunch from the bazaar. Then they ran to us, thrusting huge orange marigolds into our hands. After I took their pictures, they gave us sticks of banana gum.

The Lung cont.

We were speeding down the off road of the Tibet-Schiuan highway into the fields of Manigango in our little toy van. The road quickly disappeared beneath our wheels and we undulated over mounds of dirt toward Dzogchen Monastery. All trace of buildings disappeared and the rolling hills were dotted with black nomad tents billowing smoke and endless herds of yak grazing on the green. We were surrounded by large mountains on all three sides and heavy clouds began to loom overhead. I was desperate to get to this monastery carrying the loss of not making it to Palyul but I kept my eye on the storm hoping it would wait for us to traverse the pass. The roads in Tibet often fluctuate between paved and non-existent, this road was dirt but seemed ok if it would hold up. I asked the driver " Di Lam Ya Pon Dug" ( Is this road good?) hoping to find out some information about the next 1hr and 1/2 of travel. He said, " Di Lam Ya Pon Min Dug" (this road is not good), "Pem Po Jab" I said (sucks to be us). He barreled on and we climbed and climbed and climbed in our little van and the road roughened and roughened. Like so many times before in eastern Tibet I got the feeling we were out there, out there in the wild. As we climbed it began to rain and the road started to turn to mud, I wasn't too worried we would make it there but I began to wonder if conditions would permit our return. The pass was beautiful and nerve wracking, the rain remained fairly light but still taxed our barely functional wind shield wipers.
After about 2hrs into the mountains we saw the Dzogchen Village, bordered by large Stupas. We descended into a glacial valley (altitude unknown, later we learned higher than even Derge). We travelled through the little village and into the monastery compound. The grounds were untamed and wild, hermitages and temples seeming built right into the mountain side. There was a monastery, a shedra (monastic college), a nunnery and a retreat center, all complete with their own temples and communities. The retreat center was surrounded on three sides by a glacier. There was a large tent community of pilgrims and lay Tibetans residing outside the retreat center constantly engaged in practice. There was an undeniable energy in the entire valley and Jenn found it a bit overwhelming, I felt like I wanted to stay here forever.
We had so many temples to choose from, we were not sure where to go first and our driver didn't offer much advise. I pointed to a smaller temple straight ahead and we drove there first. We gathered our camera, our katags our texts and anything else we might need and headed toward the temple. As we walked toward the temple compound three monks mounted the hill and I asked them "Di Gompa Ka re re?" (what temple is this). They told me " Di Shedra Gompa Re" (this is the monastic college temple. They instantly became our guides, one monk happened to be the key holder of the temple and let us in. We were alone in there with the monks and we began to do some practice together. The temple was beautiful and ornately decorated, the head Lama's (Dzogchen Pema Kelsang Rinpoche) picture sat on a large throne.
My Tibetan language skills improved miraculously as I somehow communicated with the monks who we were, where we had come from, what we were doing there, etc. I somehow understood when they told me they were students of the shedra and that they would take us to see the sacred spots of Dzogchen. One of the monks ran to his room and returned with mendrup (a sacred medicine made in the monastery and taken as a blessing pill to increase the experience of practice). He also gave us a picture of Dzogchen Pema Kelsang Rinpoche. I asked if we could meet with the high Tulku and they said yes and pointed to the retreat center.
The three monks then guided us into the hillside explaining to me (I couldn't beleive how much I was understanding) and I translated to Jenn, all the sacred spots here. We first went to the rock where Shri Singha meditated on his way from China to India to meet with Manjushrimitra to receive the Dzogchen teachings. Shri Singha is one of the most revered and historical figures of Dzogchen. Next they brought us to Patrul Rinpoche's cave where he worked on composing one of his famouns texts. Paltrul Rinpoche was one of the most famous Nyingmapa meditators of his time and composed many elegant texts explaining the view, meditation and conduct of our current tradition of practice. They then took us to a large rock where Khenpo Ngachung had revealed a terma (treasure teaching) on Dakini (enlightened female) practice directly from the rock.
Now this pilgrimage to Tibet had taken root in me, we were here at the places I had read about, paying homage to the lineage masters of the past and connecting with the living tradition of today.
We then headed to the retreat center and on the way down the road I saw a large rock with a painting of Vajrsattva on it, I told Jenn, " I have to go there before we leave". We visited the retreat center and cirumambulated the temple, we spoke with some more monks and arranged to meet with Dzogchen Rinpoche. We waited while he remained in meditation but the clouds continued to loom and Jenn urged me to head back. I conceded and gave an offering to one of the monks to deliver to Dzogchen Rinpoche for me and we headed toward the car. As we were heading away from the retreat center I saw the large painted rock again and asked the driver to stop.
I was sure this was a spot where I would find some holy object, cave or other pilgrimage site and climbed up the steep hill to the rock. I snapped a photo of the beautiful painting and a lay Tibetan man appeared from behind the rock. He laughed at me and pointed up the hill. I pointed in the same direction with a questioning look on my face and he nodded and pointed again. I climbed the hill, short of breath and the car disappeared behind me, I figured there was another cave this way. As soon as a mounted that hill another lay Tibetan man was there and he pointed up at a small hut, again I pointed and he acknowledged. This must be the cave of so and so I thought. I reached the steps of the small wooden hut stuck right into the mountain and looked back one more time at the man and he gestured for me to enter. I took off my shoes and walked up the steps.
As soon as I crossed the threshold I saw a yogi/monk sitting in his bed/meditation seat, he looked at me with some strange recognition and smiled. I offered three prostrations and entered at his request. I offered a katag and he smiled and we talked in my broken Tibetan. He was attended by a monk from the monastery and was remaining in retreat in this small cabin. It was just four walls maybe 5ft by 6ft with only a bed/cushion inside. I mentioned Dzogchen practice and he looked at me straight in the eye, he held there for probably 10sec, it seemed like over a minute, I didn't blink and I felt like he was looking right through me. He smiled and reached into his bed, he pulled out a text. He asked me to read the title to him in Tibetan and I did, this pleased him. He then said, this text is very very profound, written by one of the great lineage holders of Dzogchen and contained the pith instructions of the Dzogchen path.
He began to chant invoking the blessings of the lineage masters of Dzogchen and his attendant shrunk out of the cabin and we were alone. He performed further prayers of aspiration and then began to transmit the text to me (LUNG pronounced LOONG in Tibetan). I sat silent and listened to the transmission, dark fell and he read from the text in the dimming light. I soaked in the sounds of the dharma and soaked in the ambiance of this small hermitage and this man. Why was he giving me this transmission, could this really be happening, here at Dzogchen Gompa in eastern Tibet tucked into the side of the mountain overlooking the whole of the monastery and the glacial valley, I was sure this was why His Holiness Penor Rinpoche said it is the right time for me to go to Tibet, despite the fact that His Holiness Karma Kuchen told me it was not a good time to visit Palyul.
I had come to Tibet to visit Palyul, but Tibet had different plans for me, both Penor Rinpoche and Karma Kuchen were right and in this moment I felt like I had accomplished my goal of the pilgrimage to Tibet. How all the causes and conditions had to assemble for this moment to take place.
The yogi/monk explained he was the Dzogchen Khenpo Pema Ranjung and placed the text on my head. He wrapped the text in a white silk scarf and handed it to me. He asked me to spend the night there but I had to apologize, we had to get to a lower altitude and I knew Jenn was waiting. He said no need to apologize and we dedicated the merit of the transmission together. He said he hoped we would meet again and I agreed. Then I was off as quickly as I had came and this short dream was over.
As we headed back up the mountain I was still trying to process what had just taken place as I held this text on my lap. As we climbed in our little van the road had washed away quite a bit and the clouds loomed all around. Jenn began to recite mantra and I just relaxed knowing if we were to slide of this mountain now it was what was meant to be because we were certainly meant to come here. As we reached higher on the pass we were swallowed by a cloud in a complete white out and the driver burst into mantra, at that moment I was a little worried.

In This Moment

I can't believe my incredible good fortune--sitting here in this rooftop garden at Hotel Magnificent View, in Kathmandu. It's around seven in the morning and the birds are going crazy.

In China, there was never any garbage on the streets. It was orderly. There were trash cans and people in orange vests sweeping with twig brooms taller than themselves day and night.

And on the bus along the Tibet-Sichuan Highway from Kangding to Chengdu, there were strange Tibetan music videos and billboards of smiling Tibetans next to military personnel. Huge sacks of fresh walnuts for sale, kiwis and kiwis and kiwis. In Chengdu there was pomelo fever and a strange fancy Pizza Hut. They count out Keith's money on an abacus at the Air China cashier's window.

In China I never felt at peace.

A man who works here wearing a huge red tikka between his eyebrows just came over and wished me a Happy ___ I'm not sure what--some Hindu holiday--part of Dasai. He told me he can't wait to go to his family's home today where they will sacrifice an animal and after, eat. He says the Muslims are so bad because they slit the neck, letting the animals die slowly--but the Hindus just kill with one fell swoop. Then he told me I can take my breakfast here on the roof if I wish...

Anyway, here in Thamel, in Kathmandu there is everything one could need or want--the most delicious food from every country, kind smiling people who also speak Englsih, beautiful things for sale, mountains, bookstore after bookstore, masala chai and lemon sodas, thangkas of Buddhas even in restaurants, the smell of incense covering any stink of garbage or shit. And always, three men in yellow loincloths, turbans and orange tshirts with shriveled legs, crawling in the dust on hands and knees. And the street children begging, little boys huffing I'm not sure what from plastic bags.

And if you walk away from Thamel, down any side street, you will see huge mounds of garbage by the sidewalks, speckles of blood beneath your feet, dirt everywhere--covering all the plastic buckets and hair clips and things for sale in the bazaar, Hindu temples and dogs, scattered marigolds, pig heads and kite string shops.

But, Kathmandu is noisy, hectic, poulluted. And soon enough, I will retreat to Pharping--up in the mountains.

A Trip to the Derge Hospital

Keith was definitely sick.

We were at 13,200ft--even higher than Lhasa--what felt like the highest city in the world--in Derge, Tibet.

In Derge, rich looking women wore black velvet aprons over leather chupas. Gobs of coral and turquoise in their hair and ears, silver sheathed daggers hung from waists.

In Derge, sweetness. Smiles and tashi deleks. All the children laughing, calling hello after us.

The people of Derge had cell phones and TV's, electricity and washing machines.

But what maybe they didn't have the need for, and certainly did not have, was adequate western health care.

Keith had been coughing and coughing and I was starting to get sick too--so we decided we should get checked by a doctor. Easier said than done.

Down in the hotel lobby we asked the Tibetan girl manning the desk for a menkang (hospital) or menpa (doctor). "Meo, meo" she kept saying in Chinese, although ironically, there was an ambulance parked directly outside.

Next to the front desk, there was posted a sign with numbers to call for tourist information, medical emergencies, first aid, etc. We'd tried these numbers from the phone in our room--but to no avail--after two weeks in China we still couldn't figure out how to use the phones. We gestured for the girl to call one of the numbers on the hotel phone. She kept chanting, "No, no," shaking her head.

At this point I was overwhelmed by a sense of fear--we were so far from anything and we just couldn't communicate--what if something seriously bad happened! I must admit, I succumbed to tears (not the first or last time on this trip). At that moment, two Chinese men came into the lobby, curiously eyeing me. Keith tried to tell them we needed a doctor and miracualously, one of the men knew that word in English. A look of recognition passed over his face and he wrote something on a piece of paper for us, gesturing for us to show it to a taxi driver.

So we hailed a taxi and were driven just about 2 minutes up the road to what looked like an abandoned building, with a gate drawn across the entrance. "That place?!" we gestured in disbelief. The driver shook his head yes.

So we got out of the taxi, not a person in sight. Keith pushed the gate open and we stepped through the threshold. It sort of looked like it could be a hospital--or maybe once was. There was what looked to be a pharmacy in front of us-but not a soul around. "Hello!" Keith yelled, and after a few minutes a Chinese man came down the stairs. He gestured for us to follow him across the street and down the stairs into another abandoned building and up some stairs.

He led us into a cold, dingy-walled room. There was a large aluminum ketttle on some sort of tiny burner on the floor next to a TV broken in half. In front of a window were two desks pushed together piled with stacks of papers. And seated facing each other at the desks were two people in white coats--a Chinese man and a Tibetan woman. They appeared to be doing paperwork and didn't look up when we entered the room, continuing with their paperwork.

Our escort finally got their attention, speaking rapidly in Chinese. The woman stared blankly at him, then us, then laughed. The man kept on with his work, ignoring us altogeher--a frown darkening his forehead. Keith looked through his guidebook for the words for sick and we showed them our card from the Global Doctor clinic in Chengdu that asked in Chinese if they would please call their number (the clinic had told us their nurses could translate for us 24 hrs a day). Finally the male doctor looked up, appraising us with a disgusted look on his face. Then all three shook their heads saying, "Meo, Meo." "We're sick," I futiley said, and yes began to cry.

Although my tears caused the two doctors to look even more disgusted by us, they luckily seemed to move our escort as he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number. But alas, his phone didn't work. So he made the woman get out her phone and this time the call went through! She spoke in Chinese and then passed the phone to Keith who tried to explain our situation to the nurse.

After about 45 min. of back and forth on the phone and Keith prodding the doctors to check our vitals--a very cursory listen of our lungs with a stethoscope and a checking of blood pressure, the female doctor kept furrowing her brow, jotting words on a sheet of thin prescription paper, then scratching them out and shaking her head. She'd intermittently say something to the male doctor who would ignore her and keep writing. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he gave a deep sigh, stood up and examined my lungs.

After another forever of suppsed consultation on prescriptions (without any word about why or what), the escort and female doctor ushered Keith outside and told me to stay where I was in the room with the surly male doctor, sitting on some sort of desk against the wall.

The kind doctor and I spent a silent 30 minutes together. Him doing his paperwork, me rubbing my mittened hands together to stay warm--wondering where had they taken Keith and why wasn't he coming back...

The Lung, by Keith

Well even the best laid plans often fall through. We had been in Derge for more than 3 days and as I circumambulated the Derge printing press where over 70% of the extant Tibetan Buddhist literature was stored, it became painfully apparant to me that 70+ year old ladies with canes and a severe limp were lapping me. I began to think maybe the altitude is getting to me (4,000m or 13,200ft). We were doing our best to rest before heading to our final destination in eastern Tibet, the mother monastery of Palyul. We were a mere 4hrs away by hired car but my head cold had progressed to a chest cold and sleep was getting more and more fractured. Jenn began to experience worsening breathlessness at rest and began to develop the early symptoms of the same respiratory infection I was trying to fight off. We were really enjoying our time in this cultural center of Tibetan Buddhism, hanging out at an elevation 1,500ft higher than the claimed rooftop of the world in Lhasa.
We went to bed planning to take a car the following morning to Palyul and I was sleepless with excitement. My excitement was superceded by Jenn's anxiety as she felt she was continuing to worsen with the head cold and breathlessness. I also developed a deep cough and awoke suddenly feeling short of breath and had to prop myself up in bed. We agreed to visit the doctor in the morning and decide from there whether we would be able to leave today for Palyul or continue to wait for the cold to pass before heading onward.
We got a real wake up call when we tried to find a physician and realized facilities were inadequate and english was non-existent. My rudimentary Tibetan had helped us with bus connections, hotel reservations and keeping ourselves nourished with food, but explaining complex physiologic processes and symptoms was not happening for me. (To hear more about the horrific visit to the doctor see Jenn's recent post)
Finally we were told not to continue onward and instead to head back down the mountain to Chengdu as quickly as possible. I was devastated I had travelled all this way and used every resource I had to get us this far and I was so close to Palyul I could almost reach out and grab it. I talked it over with Jenn and it was clear that continuing on would only put us in greater danger and further from any reasonable medical care. We decided we would have to head back and I had to give up my attachment to attaining this goal of pilgrimage to Palyul.
I was happy with what we had seen and how far we had come, with only my limited Tibetan skills and no outside help with regards to how to get from A to B, we had made it Derge some 30hrs drive from the nearest city. We had seen the Nyingmapa monastery Dorje Drag and several others along the way. We visited Derge and the priniting press and had seen an area of the world I had always wanted to see, yet I still felt something was missing, somehow I had not done what I had come to do. I felt I was just to fixated on the goal of reaching Palyul and practicing in our teachers home monastery. I had to let it go.
We decided we would hire a car and head 8hrs to Ganzi and put some distance between ourselves and the high elevation of Derge. I remembered that a 2hr detour from Manigango on the way to Ganzi would put us at the most famous Nyingmapa monastery in all of eastern Tibet, the famed Dzogchen Monastery. Through our previous practices in the Dzogchen lineage of Longchen Nyinthig we had a connection with Dzogchen Monastery and decided we should make the detour.
Unfortunately travelling back to Ganzi required another harrowing trip over the Trola Pass (5,000m surrounded by 6,500m peaks). This time in nothing more than a minature toy car version of a van with wheels that looked like they had been stolen from a wheel barrow. We decided this was what was meant to be and headed of with the driver up, up and up some more. It is clear that all roads in Tibet go up, even the one's that are taking you down, and you never go up just a little, you go up until you are all the way up. The driver spent most of the trip with his head out the window looking at the tires, tires I thought would never support this little van all the way up that pass. He didn't seem to think the tires would hold up either. Every time he leaned his head back in the window, I would say "Di Motar Ya Pon Min Dug" (This car is no good) and he would laugh, "ya pon dug" (Its good) followed immediately by sticking his head back out the window and staring at the tires.
We arrived in Manigango 4hrs later and visited the holy lake of Yilhun Lhatso. We trekked on horse back to the glacial lake and were surrounded by mantras carved into the stones. There was a large stupa and countless prayer flags fluttering in the wind. It started to seem like we were heading toward something instead of away from it.
It took quite a bit of convincing to get my driver to agree to the detour to Dzogchen but finally he conceded and we headed west into the mountains. To Be Continued.

Derge, Tibet 13, 800 ft

No, we're not in a temple--this is the restaurant where we ate thukpa and more thukpa.


Mantra streetlights!


Outside the monastery that makes 70% of all Buddhist texts.


The ubiquitous thermos!


View from downtown.

Now

Here in Kangding, I have no idea what day it is. I'm at the Tibetan restaurant downstairs from the hotel. Drinking Lhasa sweet tea from a tall clear glass while Tibetan music plays noisily. It's cold. I'm warming my hand on the glass. I have a headache. Outside the street is bustling with honking cars. I'm waiting for my breakfast of scrambled eggs with tomato and tibetan bread with yak butter.
In Kangding, street vendors sell potato slices on skewers roasted in hot oil. Girls have unbelievably long pony tails. The Tibetan waitresses sing while working. The streetlights have mantras on them--prayers glowing in the dark. There are Chinese shops of jewelry and tea bowls. Malas and rugs. A whole shop of bizarre plastic curtains--all hanging throughout the store so you have to walk through as in a maze. Tea shops full of smoking men in suitcoats. A whole shop of stuffed, standing Tibetan antelop wearing yellow khataks.

Trola Pass 5,000m (16,000+ ft)

Trola Pass 5,000m (16,000+ ft)

Disclaimer these pictures are not nearly as scary as the actual pass, durring the worst parts there was no chance to take pictures

In Ganzi the 2nd Time Around

Ganzi

After a 12 hr bus ride!

Take 2! Kangding to Ganzi