MY FAVORITE MONK – EYS

Yeah! It is almost the beginning of September, and you know what that means… Some of my favorite people in the world are returning to the area.

Last year, we got to spend a whole lot of time with the monks of Drepung Gomang while they were here in the U.S. on their annual Cultural Tour. In fact, I think we spent half of last summer playing with the monks, going to ceremonies and performances, trading language skills back and forth, and just generally having a wonderful time. We ended up on many interesting adventures with them, and I am very much looking forward to their return.

One of their first stops this year is the Tibetan Cultural Center for the dedication of the Chamste Ling Temple with His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Though I would very much like to go to this, and would very much enjoy meeting H.H., I’m not sure that I would be able to withstand six hours in the sun with five thousand other people. All in good time…

The Dalai Lama’s brother, Rinpoche Thubten Jigme Norbu, lives in Bloomington at the Tibetan Cultural Center. Last year, my partner and I were his guests for a weekend, which was a total surprise to us. (As I said, we ended up on many interesting adventures with the monks last year.) I was very gratified, and somewhat vindicated, to know that the Rinpoche spoils his cats every bit as much as I do. We were eating breakfast with him, and it became apparent that if one of the cats stole your seat when you got up to get more orange juice, then you would just have to find another seat. They were hand-fed at the table by Rinpoche, and it was obvious that they were fed A LOT.

In a very surreal moment that weekend, my partner and I found ourselves sneaking into our cabin at three in the morning very quietly so as not to wake Rinpoche’s Rotweillers and therefor him. We had spent most of the night watching a never-ending game of endurance basketball between the resident monks of TCC and the “away team” of the monks from the home monastery in India. At three in the morning they were still at it – there were unconscious monks sprawled all over the floors until early the next afternoon. It is one thing to sneak into the house when you’re sixteen, trying very hard not to wake your parents, but it is another thing entirely to find your self engaged in the same act as an adult, though now you’re trying not to wake the Dalai Lama’s brother.

And how do we end up in places like this? Well, you’d have to talk to the monks. They have this way of looking at you and saying “You’ll come with us, won’t you?” that is just impossible to refuse. Sometimes you know where they’re taking you and other times it’s a complete surprise. Add to that that they learned how to drive in India, and you had just better buckle up and hang on for the ride.

The tour group spent two weeks at a local Tibetan Dharma Center, making a sand mandala, and just generally hanging out. They had no public appearances during that stay, so we got to know them very well. They are quite shy, quiet and formal at first, but once they warm up to you they are very open, fun, conversational and just generally a joy to be around. On that particular stay, a few of us got together and took them to the Newport Aquarium, which they enjoyed very much. Afterward, we all went to Waffle House, and yes all of us wore the hats. (For many of them, it was only the second time they had ever been to a restaurant – the general consensus was that is was “much better than McDonalds.”)

Most evenings, though, they made dinner, which was a noodle and vegetable soup called Tin Took. I watched enough to be able to recreate it at home, though my first attempt at hand-thrown noodles was a disaster. They were more gooey, doughy blobs than noodles, but the spices and broth tasted correct. The next time they were in town, they showed my partner exactly how to throw the noodles and had him assist them. Though he was not as fast as they (imagine a martial arts film of noodle making), he got the idea down enough to make them at home.

In the evenings after dinner, one of the favorite past-times was chanting. My partner is fairly practiced at Tibetan chanting, and because of that, he was quite a curiosity. During the ceremonies we would attend, he always chanted right along with the monks – not something they are accustomed to Westerners doing and which they seemed to enjoy a lot. At one closing ceremony, in fact, they were “short-handed” since many of the monks had other obligations. They told my partner that he should have just sat in the front with them so that they would have had an even number.

At any rate, in the evenings they would chant at him, correct his technique, and see how loud they could get him to do it, which always resulted in much coughing and laughter. That was the one difference between him and them – man, can they get some volume. On the other hand, he also knew how to do Tuvan throat singing, which most of them had never heard. They were fascinated. We had so much fun sitting around laughing together as one after the other would try to imitate his sounds, usually with many humorous results. One of the monks who was especially adept at chanting, made the deal with my partner – “Next time I Tuvan, you Tea Puja,” which is a traditional ceremony that they do with tea, prayers and chanting. He even sat down to go over the text with my partner so that he could keep up his end of the deal.

The second time that they were in town, they had several public engagements so it was a much less intimate and relaxed visit. My partner was the cultural liaison for them at many of the events since there was a definite language barrier between most of the monks and the patrons, and people always have tons of questions. They did two sand mandalas in town, which if you have never seen one in person, is more than worth the time to check out. The closing ceremonies, especially, are really something to see. There is chanting and music, and if space allows, they get out the BIG HORNS, which I started calling “god charmers.” Then, after the build-up, they brush away all the sand, usually to the startled gasps of many of the viewers who are often wondering aloud how they’re going to preserve it.

There are several points to this whole procedure. For one, it recognizes the impermanence of all physical things, no matter how beautiful, well-constructed or time consuming an endeavor. Secondly, each of the mandalas has a particular significance – it is the construction of a sacred space within which is housed the archetypal existence of an ideal / celestial being representing compassion, healing, etc.. In order for this energy to be released to the area and to the beings who live there (which is the point), the mandala has to be deconstructed. The sand is then taken to a body of water and dispersed. In that way, the same energy is carried though the water and to all of the beings who live in the ocean, which is where so much of life on this planet resides.

The closing ceremonies are my favorite part. While many people are gasping with shock, I am smiling in way which nearly cracks my face. It is, to me, one of the most beautiful and moving events I have ever witnessed, and last summer I got to see it six or seven times. What a rush…

The first time that I saw a sand mandala dispersed was at the local college from which I graduated. It was with a different group of monks (with which we have also since become good friends) and took place in the lobby of the student union. As they did the chanting in preparation for the dispersal, I saw people sort of bob back and forth in unison, like waves of some unseeable energy was washing over the crowd in perceptible rhythms. As they were taking the sand to the closest body of water (a pond in this case) I whispered to my partner, “They really are doing what they say they’re doing.” He just nodded and continued to hold the stick of incense one of the monks had handed to him.

One of the most memorable scenes from the ceremonies last year occurred at a local park. They had constructed the mandala in the art museum, then carried the sand down to a nearby lake. As they were standing around chanting, ringing bells, and playing the horns, two Catholic nuns were walking around the lake from the other side. It was raining lightly with a slight billowing breeze, and there was something so perfect about the sensation of the moment – it was absolute sacred beauty. A friend of mine who was visiting from New Orleans took a picture of that moment, the most amazing postcard for happiness I have ever seen.

Though sand mandalas are typically always disassembled, there is a very rare preserved mandala at a local Gomang Dharma Center. It is the one which the monks constructed last year on their first visit, and it is on display for those who have never had the opportunity to see one. It will not be there forever (then again, what will be?), but it is there for now.

Aside from the mandalas, the monks also give cultural performances where they do excerpts from several of their traditional ceremonies. Some are music and chanting only while others are music and dancing with wildly creative costumes. Some are sacred in nature while others are secular celebrations. It is a rare opportunity to see the costumes and dances of Tibet, a culture traditionally very insular, isolated and ancient. The people of Tibet had deep shamanic roots before Buddhism was introduced there, and rather than abandon those roots, the two traditions were melded together. This is very apparent in their ceremonies, costumes, music and dance.

One of my favorite parts of these performances (and of all their rituals) is the music. I just love it. For some reason, it makes me want to dance, which they find interesting in someone from my culture. I often had front row seats for these performances, and nearly had my head knocked off during one by the surprisingly sudden sound of one of the long horns. I had crouched on the floor in front of the stage to take a picture of Thubten from the angle of being at the bottom of the horn, when he suddenly let loose its roar. I jumped and nearly fell onto my backside on the floor, a spectacle which he seemed to utterly enjoy. He managed, somehow, to keep playing while he laughed.

Often, though, I would stand at the back of the auditorium and dance where no one could see me. To many people of this culture, their music is arrhythmic if not downright discordant, but I absolutely love it. The first time I heard the oboe-like instruments play in person, I got uncontrollable tears in my eyes. It causes a feeling inside of me that I have never experienced with any other sound, and I never grow tired of hearing it. At one performance in Bloomington, I had the even rarer opportunity to go outside of the auditorium and dance to the music barefoot, in the grass, under the stars, in a thunderstorm. Wow. I mean wow – what an experience.

So now they are on their way back to the U.S. for another grueling round of tours. It is certainly work, and surprisingly enough, three of the monks from last year will be coming around this year again. (Usually, they take a break because it is such tiring work.) Thubten, the one who almost knocked me over with the sound of the horn and who spent so much time working on chanting with my partner, will be coming. The last time we saw him was in Pittsburgh at the end of their tour last year, and the normally shy and reticent demeanor of what one usually expects from Tibetan monks was totally set aside as he rushed toward my partner when he saw him (our visit was a surprise), threw his arms around him, picked him up, then proceeded to carry him around for a couple of minutes. Dorje is also returning – quiet, gentle, intelligent, and tremendously computer savvy. So is Gyaltson, the soup master. We are very much looking forward to their return, meeting the rest of this year’s group, as well as hearing news of our friends from last year. We were invited to come to India to visit them, and they told us how to go about arranging that with the Indian government, as well as important information about flight arrangements. We are planning to go as soon as possible… though with the new and very exciting events which have arisen in our lives, it may be a few years until that sort of travel makes sense.

So why do they do these tours, which last months, take them away from their studies, and are generally exhausting? The purpose it three-fold – First, it is a way of raising awareness and educating others about the Tibetan people and their plight to hold onto their vanishing culture. Invaded by China in the middle of the last century, they have endured many hardships and attacks upon their people and culture. That is why their monastery is in India – in order to be a practicing monks, they have to first escape across the Himalayas, which in itself is a treacherous and life-threatening journey, in order to practice their religion of choice.

Secondly, they want to share their culture, beliefs, and practices with people, not only to raise awareness, but because their way of looking at reality may be of benefit to many people. (One way I have heard some Tibetans put the Chinese invasion into perspective is to see it as the universe’s way of getting them out of Tibet to share their message and knowledge with the world.) That is one of the most refreshing things about being around them and hearing their stories – though many of them have endured violence and hardship that most Americans only hear about on television, they are still calm, loving people without a shred of anger in them. They truly see the “big picture” and have compassion for all beings, including ones who have hurt them terribly. They carry no resentment or hatred, and make it very clear when they discuss anything political that they have no ill will toward the Chinese people at all. (In fact, one of the monks from last year was Chinese. He ran away to practice Buddhism with his Tibetan neighbors – so much for the assimilation of Tibet.) They non-violently ask for freedom of speech, religion and basic human rights, but they are not willing to kill others or engage in violence to these ends. They are, as far as I’m concerned, the most rational human beings I have ever had the good fortune to meet, and I for one am glad that in this time in history they are out in the world sharing their perspective.

And, unlike many groups which would be considered “religious” in nature, they care nothing about converting anyone. (I have explained it by saying that they are much more interested in a world with more Buddhas, not more Buddhists.) In fact, one of the basic things which they reiterate in their talks is to never take what anyone says as “the way it is.” Rather, you should consider it for yourself, apply the idea to your own life, examine its validity and see if it works for you. If not, set it aside. In other words, always think for yourself.

The third reason for their tour is to raise money to support the growing refugee population in India. There are more than fifteen hundred monks at the Drepung Gomang monastery in India, as well as other non-monastics who flee Tibet and look to the monastery for assistance. The monastery was not originally built to house such a large group, so many improvements have had to be made in recent years. Also, “American dollars” spend in India in a way which is nearly inconceivable to us. (We learned this when discussing the financial end of what it would take for us to stay in India for a few months.) Despite the financial need, they never “charge” for anything. Often, the events are co-sponsored by American organizations which do require an admission fee for the use of their space, but teachings are always free. Donations, while certainly appreciated, are never expected.

So, in just a few short days, they’ll be back. I am very much looking forward to seeing them, catching up on news of our friends from last years, and seeing what kinds of adventures we end up having this time. My partner’s Tibetan is a bit better than mine, though I can say such things as “hello,” “good-bye,” “I’ve had plenty of soup,” and “please bring me a yak.” However, the language barrier was never much of a barrier with them – it is amazing how much can be communicated through hand gestures, a few common words, smiles and good will.