Only in Bhutan

                                                will i ride in an ambulance to the airport

             
                on the way, stop at thangtong gyalpo's monastery outside paro, next to the highway

  

       

            follow keith across a bridge made of the original iron chains forged by thangtong gyalpo

hike a short path up to the monastery, only to be greeted by a vicious snarling teeth baring dog at the top

luckily, the ambulance driver accompanies us, fending the insane dog off with a small branch torn from a bush. the caretaker of the monastery opens a giant wooden door and leads us inside to the shrine room, then up two flights of seemingly ancient wooden ladder type stairs, up to yet another shrine room whereupon we are blessed with thangtong gyalpo's wish fulfilling walking stick. back outside, the caretaker's wife gives us tiny oranges from the tree in the courtyard. where else but in bhutan could all this happen on the way to the airport!?

Tharpaling

k and the kindest monk looking quizzically at the clouds

 longchenpa staue on the top of the mountain above tharpaling

it was slightly treacherous up there!

view from the top

finally at the top--12,000 ft

sweetest of old monks pointing the way to the place where longchenpa wrote half his dzo dun

tharpaling monastery

 the foreboding weather

spot where longchenpa used to teach

The Phallus Reigns Supreme

Some surprising sights painted on the side of houses and shops in bhutan!

Tamshing Lhakang, Bumthang

i'm wearing pema lingpa's chainmail!

in bhutan, you're not allowed to take pictures inside temples. pity, because in this monastery, there is a guru rinpoche statue made by a thousand dakinis!!!! absolutely amazing...

Mebartso!

mebartso--the burning lake in bumthang

we stood on the slippery rocks in the rain, staring down into the pool which pema lingpa dove into, finding his ter. and then along came this man in red, excitedly pointing out all the things one can see in the water--zangdopalri, khataks and who knows what else (as he was speaking dzongkha or maybe tibetan)--alas, i saw nothing except rocks and a small bird with a pink tail flitting back and forth. the man scampered about the slippery rocks in blue plastic sandals, kindly and tightly holding my hand, leading me along the rocks to point out this and that, depositing me under the overhang of a cliff where guru rinpoche used to meditate, beckoning me to drink some of the water, to soak my head with it...after, the monk we were with asked to see the hut where this yogi lived, above the lake. we walked by the rock where he sits to practice, amongst hundreds of tsa tsas...until we reached his tiny temporary log house (he moves from sacred place to place, practicing), a cooking fire smoking beside it. "he's a chodpa," the monk told us. "he sits next to the water at night and practices." the monk beseeched him to sing a bit of chod for us and he kindly began, expertly turning his snakeskin drum back and forth, ringing his bell, blowing his thigh bone horn, there beside his hut...so so inspirational! who practices like this nowadays!?

back from bumthang

and so we've returned

after clouds, magnolias dripping

a conch that flew through the sky

a car whipping through pine, bamboo, rhodedendron
creeping through snow and mud

a chorten that subdued a demoness,
a statue made by a thousand dakinis,
a walking stick that grew into a tree,

a lake which hid a treasure

Wordless

Tshelung Nye

Here, cars drive civilly in single file, not swerving about each other and honking their horns like maniacs as cars are wont to do in Nepal and India. There are crosswalks and garbage cans on the sidewalks, next to open sewers. The post office sells stamps of Buddhas. The city is full of teenagers in tight jeans. Apartment buildings are painted with pictures of elephants, monkeys, horses and Kalachakra symbols. Butcher shops are closed and the selling of meat is banned for this entire first month of the new year! Furthermore, in this singular country, Guru Rinpoche and Yeshe Tsogyal spots abound...

A short distance from Thimpu, you turn off onto, yes, another rocky dirt road in, yes, another tiny car. You take this road up, yes, another mountain, for about an hour and a half--making your way through mud and slushy snow, getting out to move logs aside--the taxi driver reassuring you, "this is nothing, mam," until you reach the "parking lot," marked by a few prayer flags.

A short walk up a hill and there it is--Tshelung Nye--a place where Guru Rinpoche spent 4 months meditating. A place where a sweet monk, teeth red from doma, will usher you into the shrine room where a lama and men and women are practising, staring at you as you try to make offerings to the shrine which includes a small Guru Rinpoche statue--a ter Duddul Dorje pulled from a large boulder near where Guru Rinpoche meditated.

The monk will then usher you outside to a small table where a tea party for two has been arranged with a large tea pot, fancy red cups, cubes of sugar, a small creamer of milk and an old tin of what appears to be puffed rice coated in butter.

At this Nye, there is a small hut built where Guru Rinpoce meditated. There is a giant boulder from which the ter was revealed. There is a spring of long-life water made by Khandro Yeshe Tsogyal. And then there are 18 other spots, too! An indentation in a rock, made by Guru Rinpoche's elbow, his bathing pool, Yeshe Tsogyal's bathing pool, his head imprint, a rock in which he imprinted his mala, and oh so many more I can't seem to remember! Such an amazing place!

Although mind you, it somehow took us leaving three times, coming back three times and requesting the red-teethed monk three times, before he actually decided to take us up behind the temple to show us the 18 sites. He dashed through the forest, alongside a clear rushing creek, jumping from rock to rock as though a wood sprite. And at each spot he insisted we pose so he could take our pictures for us. So sweet.

And that was Tshelung Nye. Oh, and when we got to the bottom of the hill, our taxi driver looked relieved to see us. He said someone had told him we had already left. "Where could we have gone?" Keith laughed, gesturing to the forest and the fact that we were in the middle of nowhere on the top of a mountain. "In the jungle there are plants that if you touch, they make you crazy so you don't know where you are and you get lost," he said. Oh.

Samten Ling

If you follow the dirt road past the national museum in paro, up, and up, switchbacking over sharp jutting rocks until you wonder how the small car you are in can possibly continue making the trek, and finally you make it to the top of the mountain, you will come to one of the eight Longchenpa spots in Bhutan--Samten Ling. Stepping outside the car at 10,000 ft, the valley of Paro spread below, the air practically pulsing with blessings, tall prayer flags fluttering, you will know you've arrived.

A small white temple next to apples trees, a brown horse walking by. Longchenpa's walking stick that grew into a tree. A motley crew posing on the land where 100 dakinis have meditated...

thimpu

where i sleep like the dead...the stupa shines in the dark, horses walk the street, men wear gho's, and blossoms bloom.