Drak Choeling

     Six months ago Kinsang was a clean shaven monk entering the Drak Choeling retreat on the cliffside above Jakar, Bumthang. I'm still processing in my mind the rainy afternoon we spent together. What possesses a young man's mind to enter an almost three years long silent retreat? How different is this man's mind from mine? 

A short story from the day helped me to see into a small window of understanding: I offered a small chunk of my cheese to Kinsang  as we shared lunch. I assumed that after months and months of rice, cabbage and dried noodle snacks he would devour it ravenously. Rather, he took my offering and slowly nibbled away, seeming to take little pleasure.

I understood his acts as an illustration of The Middle Path. Months of suffering on the chill cliffside in the monsoon, gathering fire wood, praying, brought little complaint. "It's difficult, but it's OK" he said. Sweet cheese brought seemingly the same response - nibbles and a soft "Thank you." A man living inside The Middle.

Eight months from now Kinsang will begin the silent part of his time at Drak Choeling. This time now is just a warm-up. Three years, three months then three weeks will pass as he prays and prays and prays. 1,000,000 prostrations. He will not speak to or meet a soul outside the drak.

We hiked over to the cave where Guru Rinpoche, who gave the gift of Buddhism to Bhutan, spent his time of retreat. We sat in silent awe then joked about how Rinpoche had also given the gift of a crooked cypress tree branch to the chillups (foreigners in Dzonka language) so they wouldn't tumble off the cliff.

We did a lot of walking around Bumthang during our week there in mid-September. Among all the remarkable people we met and mind blowing days we had, this man and this day will stand out. I will always wonder if I could last a day living Kinsang's life. Could he last a day living mine? Anyway, I think we could be friends.

Maybe the last monk at Lhe Lhakhang

Young monks in the post thunderstorm chill.

Tuesday morning prayer group.

Dragons everywhere!

At Guru Rinpoche's cave.

Rooster

A young monk learning to play the flute.

The old suspension bridge on the way to Ngang Lhakhang

Tenchuu Goempa

      A part of me wanted to stay with Tashi at Tenchuu Goempa, though I know I wouldn't have lasted a day there. The monastery lays in partial and unsafe ruin like many in this area - the victim of fires, earthquakes and poverty. Still, Tashi chose this place for it's auspicious setting, tranquility and remoteness.

Tashi

     A story Tashi told us is telling. He chooses not to use the  electricity at the goempa for two reasons, the first is selfish. When the lights are on at night, people in Hatey a thousand feet below in the valley will know he resides there and come to seek his wisdom, stealing precious time from his prayers and studies. The second reason is more poetic. Electric light attracts moths in the evening, he explained. The moths die slowly below the lights, which attracts the ants. Tashi sweeps daily but refuses to bring harm to the sentient beings on the ground below the electric lights. Thus the conundrum.

Hatey from the hillside below Tenchuu Goempa

     You can do the math. Tashi prays three times a day for three hours. That's nine hours of sending good thoughts to the wind and wishing for peace and goodness for all sentient beings. The day we followed the trail uphill to Tenchuu he'd cut his morning prayers to two hours because of a headache. As we wandered the overgrown grass outside, he heard our voices and came out to greet us. Visitors are almost non-existent and though we broke his quiet time, he was quite happy to share morning with us.

Walking home from Tenchuu Goempa, we met this woman with her harvest.

Stone markers on Chele La

 

     The lama at Jametoe Goempa, an hour and a half walk down valley on an overgrown trail, allows Tashi to stay alone at Tenchuu to study. If he leaves, most likely, the dogs and woods will slowly take over. The prayer flags will send their last wishes to the wind and the rusty wheels will no longer turn.

Sending prayers to the wind

     Tashi Delek, Tashi

A Short Pilgrimage to Gurugang Goempa

     Gurugang Goempa is gone. Perished at cliffside during the 2013 earthquake. As we sped by on the bus during our Sunday pilgrimage, none of our fellow riders could suss out where were going or what we doing. Turns out we were searching for a church that wasn't there.
        After hitch-hiking backwards we found the monasterys' remains and the monks who persisted on site in the make shift temple. After prayers, we found our selves in the village of Bithekha where hundreds of locals watched an archery match and enjoyed a long glass of ara.

I imagine that this man has seen a few archery tournaments at Bithekha.

On the cliffs' edge, after the 2013 earthquake, this is what is left of the Gurugang Goempa.

Shoes off at the monastery is the rule.

Parts of Bhutan really are rainbows and butterflies.

Young children at the archery tournament.

Archery is the national sport of Bhutan, and they are serious about it!

Roadside prayers on the way home.

Tractor on the road home.

The cows own the road in Western Bhutan.

Ooi! There's a Sentient Being in Your Offering!

A fly in your soup, or beer, takes on a different meaning in Bhutan. Here are some photos from daily life in this Buddhist Kingdom.

Stairway upstairs at Soenam Zinka.

Young monks prepare for a Puja on the birth anniversary of Guru Rinpoche at Jaemto Goempa.

Leather shoe on the stairs in Hatay.

Horns at the Jaemto Goempa wait to blow prayers to the wind. When I ask what is being prayed for the answer is most always "blessings for all sentient beings" or for those who speak English, "World Peace". What more would you ask for?

During the monsoon, as it builds slowly here in the Haa Valley, the green is building as well, day by day. Rain at some point every day seems to fill the spaces between the green with green.

We visited three Goempas or remote monasteries on the anniversary of the birth of Guru Rinpoche, each with a different flavor. At Tsenka Goempa, we were invited into the Puja, which felt like a drunken family Thanksgiving reunion. The others were more reverent affairs where women were not allowed and protocol strictly observed.

Bucolic Hatay. Just a short walk from the gate that separates Bhutan from Tibet. When we tried to pass through, the guard awoke from his nap and asked, with a smile, that we desist. China, it seems, is beginning again the testing of waters that signals claims on Bhutanese territory.

Even in this peaceful nation, cats and dogs fight like cats and dogs.

On my walk home from work after a difficult day, smiling children bring me back to center.

Melam Chembo

     The Je Khenpho, like Tibet's Dalai Lama, is the supreme religious leader of Bhutan. His visit to Haa occurs during the week long festival called Melam Chembo. Imagine Woodstock for  Buddhists. Today was the first day of the celebration and I took a few photos. I'll rise tomorrow at 4:30 am to hope to pray with the masses and The Je Khenpho.

Prostrating his way thru Melam Chembo. I've seen this man praying both in Paro and in Haa Town.  To protect his body from the rigors of day long prayer he wears a leather apron, wooden blocks on his hands and knee padding.

Tea Time

If you know me at all, you will know how difficult it was for me to sit cross- legged for an hour and a half this morning. Both physically and mentally. Watching this woman count her prayer beads gave me a different focus

Early morning prayers with Je Khempho. The devotion and reverence is striking.

Young monk with a sub machine gun.

Monk Life

A young boy with his family during tea time

Melam Chembo is a time for prayer and celebration. And socializing and catching up with friends.

Haa Town

  During the last two weeks, Haa has been glorious. Morning clouds or light dawn rain give way to sunshine and cool mountain temperatures. The early evening light has taken my breath away at times and my walk home from work has provided opportunity for photos of both people and landscapes. Here are a few from last week.

Dragon carving at the White Monastery

I watch this couple circling the chorten in upper Haa Town each evening as I walk home.

The Black Monastery through the trees above Dumcho

Sometimes a portrait just does not work out. But there is still a story to tell.

Wild white roses on the trail to the Black Monastery

Buddha Sangay

Keeping it real with a mouth full of doma pani. Though cataracts cloud both eyes, the road crew Captain always sees me coming and greets me with a stout handshake.

Scarecrows are abundant in the fertile fields of Haa.

Though remote, Haa has its own version of "Gangsta Culture"

House painting in downtown Haa. Yes, that's what you think it is. To learn more about phallus symbology in Bhutan check out Drukpa Kunley, who subdued a demon of Dochu La with a magic thunderbolt of wisdom

Prayer flags send blessings to all sentient beings on a small bridge on the road to Shekata Monastery