Yatra Journal

Happy Man is here, anyways and the train adventure south...

2009-04-26T01:26:00.000-07:00

Ah, Goa. What can you say: cresent shaped beaches pushed up to the bathwater-warm Arabian Sea by millions of gracefully arched palm trees. This tourists' heaven is compounded by the relative permissiveness of the culture of the only state that was never colonized by the Brits and is now a classic easy going southern mixture of Portuguese Christianity, some Hindus and Muslims, and pervasive catering to the whims of the tourist culture (i.e. the regular Indian modesty expected of women is seemingly on hold here where white women go freely on the beach in their bikinis or even topless). Michael and I found a cheap flight from Delhi and on arrival quickly made our way through the dense humid heat to Palolem, one of the southern most beach towns in Goa, that I had been to with Emily two years ago. We checked ourselves into a palm frond hut with a balcony up in the branches of the jungle, and possessing the two necessitities of a high powered fan next to the bed and airy mosquito net. From that first evening on through the next week, the days and evenings seem, now in hindsight, an indistinguishable and thoroughly pleasant haze of swimming and catching waves for hours in the warm ocean, wandering the beach, napping in the shade, languidly drinking fresh tropic fruit juices, punctuated only by our nightly dinners at the place we discovered the first night where we were offered "the coldest beer on the beach" (which we found out not only to be true but also turned out, delightfully, to be the cheapest) by a Himachali man named Pani, who prefered to be known as Happy Man. We couldn't help going back every night to sit with our feet in the sand both facing the ocean at a low table and drink cold beer with the fresh seafood. Our long, relaxed conversations peppered with little visits from the waiter who would wrap up most interactions by saying "Happy Man is here, anyways!"

faced comatose 'station master' lolling with his feet up in front of a television that we were on our own. Then on the train platform we made friends with a young Indian yoga instructor on his way to Kerala who assured us that we just had to get on the train and he'd help us sort out the rest. But the ways of the Indian railway system are forever mercurial and inscrutable: when the train did appear on the dark track it stopped for only a minute, in which we ran down the length in disbelief tryingAfter a week of beach and sun and the tourist bubble, our skin brown and starting to get a little used to the heat, we were ready to move south to Kerala where my uncle lives in Kochi. We had booked train tickets a week before, but the day we were supposed to leave our spots where still waitlisted at around 56 and 57. After a bit of research and some thoroughly vague advice from a travel agent we decided to just get on the train and just work it out with the conductor if we were not able to get seats in the sleeper class we were hoping for. We took a rickshaw around 10pm to the sleepy little railway station in Cancona a few miles away after a last beer at Happy Man's hoping to get more information. It became clear as soon as we approached the puffy to open one locked door after another before it started up again leaving the lot of us huffing and puffing, looking at the tail end of the train disappear into the night. Now it's the middle of the night, we are sleepy and still cheerfully relaxed from our week at the beach and we take the advice from our young friend and the apparently lobatomized 'station master' to catch the next train coming through which would at least take us to Mangalore. And take us to Mangalore it did. We jumped on when it came, only to find each car packed full with sleeping bodies, a few on each berth and the rest on every available floor space... except at the end of the cars next to the ripe and rancid toilets! So that's where we spent 6 hours, intermittently sitting propped on our bags with scarves over our assaulted noses or standing in the open door of the train watching the slightly lit curve of the train lead its way down the track, the hot southern air and thick tropical vegetation rolling past in the moonlight. The rest of the time I wheedled and argued with the hassled conductor, bargaining our way out of a fine for having no ticket. Our Indian friend ended up being just argumentative but no help, but after a night of cajoling and demanding, in the early morning light as we finally rolled into Mangalore, the conductor sat down with us and told us about his family, his love-marriage and decided not to charge us anything at all, after all. In Mangalore, 100 rupees bought us both tickets on the slow trains down to Kochi (one with seats by the window, one spent mosty up in the luggage rack) and we arrived hotter, more tired, stickier than any other time on this entire trip, and also some how still thoroughly cheerful. [We didn't find out until later that our original waitlisted tickets were never accepted so we were refunded that amount, which means that we ended up paying only 100 rupees ($2 USD) to travel over 400 miles and almost 20 hours.]

Tso Pema\ Ronge Visit

2009-04-26T01:14:00.000-07:00

Moving on from our home-stay we had two more destinations left in Northern India before going south to Kerala to visit Corey's uncle Neal or as he is now known Swami Paranatmandananda. Our first stop was Rawalsar, also known to the Tibetans as Tso Pema. The focal point of the area is a lake in the center of a small valley, and it is said that Padmasambhava (Indian Buddhist saint credited for bringing the teachings of the Buddha to Tibet) meditated in various caves in the surrounding hills.

There are many stories of wondrous miracles which took place there, such as Padmasambhava's footprint in the solid rock wall of a cave as well as legends of how he created the very lake itself.

The whole area is full of temples of not only Buddhist persuasion but of Hindu and Sikh as well. The place is rich with devotion, and, if the Lonely Planet guide book is a credible source, has been ruled by many different peoples over its long history. The first thing you notice as you approach along the windy hill side road is an approximately 100 foot tall statue of Padmasambhava gazing down over the lake. Upon seeing the statue I felt simulatiously in awe and like I had made it to the Buddhist version of Disney Land.

Accommodation is scattered around the lake, and Corey and I chose to stay at the Nyingma monastery by the lakes edge partly because the price was right and partly because we wanted to investigate a stupa which was built on their property by Trungpa Rinpoche after he escaped from Tibet and before he moved to the west. We both seemed to be a little startled by what I described as being "back in India" after our somewhat mythical stay in the mountains. Our room was mediocre at best, and it appeared to be a theme in that monastery as many things were left unattended. Not least of which was the stupa which was practically renovated on top of while rubble surrounded the rest and cobwebs sealed the cracks in the rusty defunct door. India's special ability to combine the sacred and profane without apology.
Despite the pain of alternation we enjoyed our stay there quite a bit and there was certainly something intriguing about the place. We also happened to be there on Trungpa Rinpoches Paranirvana which pleased me immensely. After spending the better part of the day trying to hunt out these caves using the conflicting and basically useless information that most people where giving us, we found a quite place on the back side of the hills facing the unthinkably large mountain range which stand as the gateway to Tibet and sat for a while.

After just a couple of days we had to head north on a four hour local bus ride to visit my extended family Noedup and Rinzin Ronge. Both of them had trained as Thangka (traditional Tibetan Buddhist scroll paintings) painters, and after working for many years Noedup followed his dream to create a painting school or as he told me, "Some people don't know how to retire."

Inaugurated as the Shambhala Arts School, it is set in a town called Bhuntar which also has the only airport in that area. The hospitality was amazing, especially the morning and afternoon tea which was brought to us where ever we happened to be on the compound. We spent most of our time catching up we each other and walking around the property.

It turns out that the land which the school is on was actually donated by a family friend and teacher to the Ronge family named Chogyen Rinpoche. His story is an interesting one because he was born an Indian national in the northern part of Himachal Pradesh where there is a long history of Indians practicing Tibetan Buddhism as it used to be a part of Tibet a long time ago. So right outside of the painting school is a very beautiful monastery in the later stages of construction. The highlights of my time there would have to be playing with the Didi's children who call Noedup grandpa and a spontaneous final banquet the night before we left where we got a traditional drinking lesson from a visiting Bhutanese sculptor who was working on some projects for Noedup. One drink when you first see each other, another to honor the celebration, another after you finish dinner and finally one for the road. We all sprung into a talkative and festive mood and I was so glad to have gotten to know these men on a deeper level then ever before.

Our next task was to get from the top of the subcontinent to the bottom by way of an overnight bus to Delhi followed by a domestic flight to Goa (spending five day there to you know just check it out) and finally a train down to Kerala. After hearing so many positive things about southern India, I was very excited to go and continue our rumblings across The Great Mother.

Good Food/Cheerful World

2009-04-18T22:55:00.000-07:00

"The Great Escape" is the name of the home-stay near the Kullu Valley that was our next destination after leaving Bir, but to even name the place seems unnecessary. Tucked away in a remote and tiny village near the Himalayan National Forest, the home-stay run by Raju and his wife has purposefully never advertised. Despite their lack of ambition and because of its intimate setting and magnificent food, word of mouth recommendations keep them basically full most of the year. Corey, Emily and I embarked on the five hour car ride optimistic that the place would live up to its reputation as we all felt ready for some rest.
Before we could get there though we had to pay our penance to the Indian Gods of travel (obviously) by waiting out a 5 hour traffic jam approximately 1 hour away from our final destination on a somewhat precarious two lane cliff side highway. The cause of the exaggerated halt was a large crane trying to retrieve the wreckage from an accident 3 days prior where a truck had fallen down the ravine. Of coarse everyone waiting had to get out of their cars and walk down to stare at the crane and its painstakingly slow operations. This turned into a rather humorous scramble back to the vehicles when traffic was finally allowed to pass. We spent the time telling jokes and taking pictures. As the hours dragged on and our hunger increased we made the stupid mistake of talking about the best food we had ever eaten. Our sense of humor started to dwindle and I could feel both the ladies becoming increasingly more cranky.

Luckily for us the wait turned out to be a small trouble compared to the absolutely wonderful time we had staying there. The food ( home cooked, and plenty of it) turned out to be the best on this trip. All the ingredients seemed to be so fresh and vital that we almost felt like we were hallucinating. Many times our joy would give way into hysterics, and all three of us would be doubled over laughing hard enough to cry. The setting seemed completely improbable in India, especially the crystal clear and clean river that was falling from the western Himalayas and running directly next to our room. In fact, to even get to the Raju's place you have to be curried across the river by way of a metal basket hanging from a thick cable connecting either shore.

We spent our couple of days there hiking trails in the National Forest, over enjoying our meals accompanied by fresh home bottled apple juice and praising our good fortune for getting to be in such a place together. Our nights would drag on until past 1 a.m. talking by the fire pit listening to the crackle of the wood from the apple trees burn, and talking about any and everything that would come to mind. I think we all kind of felt like slightly different people as we left. I certainly felt like I left a piece of myself there, some kind of Walden or mountain man alternate reality in which I would live out the rest of my days tending to the orchard and becoming ever more intimate with the deep and penetrating calls of the mountains and river.

2009-04-12T23:42:00.000-07:00

Outside the gates of Deer Park Institute in Bir.

On the paths through the fields behind the Old Lhabrang where we were staying.

The view west toward Dharamsala from Bir.

Mani stones on the path past Chokling Monastry in Bir.

Translators galore.
Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche enjoys the conference in style.

Bhutanese media covered the conference.

Tea in Paprola with Emily.

Wyatt's gorgeous garden where we stayed at the Old Lhabrang.

One of many raucous dinners we all made at the Old Lhabrang.

Holi colors and offerings.

Wyatt and Elise on Holi.

Wyatt and Lata on Holi.

Mikey shows his Holi colors.
Paloma.
The other Corey.Em.John.The real Michael.

Bir part 2: Conference and Beyond

2009-04-10T22:25:00.000-07:00

*(pictures to follow shortly)

With all the preparations in place, including ear plugs with instructions, Deer Park Institute sat ready to host some of the biggest names in Buddhist translation. The purpose of the conference was to initiate a group dialog that would address the most pressing issues surrounding the preservation of the Tibetan Buddhist cannon. Such topics included the waning interest among the younger generation of Tibetans in their own language and culture, as well as the loss of many old masters and the dwindling number of people who can read and understand the classical Tibetan which much of the scripture is written in. Other topics included obstacles to translation such as funding, issues of working together and much much more. Corey and I were poised to document the goings on, and there was certainly a feeling of historical importance that was swelling in atmosphere.

The event was catapulted into action by an extremely well worded and inspiring opening address from Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche. Following his lead, all the participants really launched into the discussions, and by the end of the first day they had set the lofty goal of having the entirety of what exists as the Tibetan Buddhist cannon translated in 100yrs. Corey and I were on from morning till late at night juggling still/video cameras, various audio equipment and whatever technical needs that arouse. It was definitely a lot of work, especially after traveling for three months where our only job was to look at things, but after it was over we felt very glad to have had the opportunity to contribute in some way.

One of the most enjoyable elements of the conference was that DKR (Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche) and the Khyentse Foundation had brought in a professional "facilitator" named Ivy.
She ran the event in a strict and somewhat corporate way and it was very humorous to see high level Buddhist teachers, and translators of greater and lesser celebrity all have to wait their turn to speak with hands raised similar to the way school children do. They were an extremely lively and opinionated bunch to say the least, and their discussions spilled out of the meeting room and dominated their meal and free time.

The conference ended on a high note as the participants were granted an audience with His Holiness the Dali Lama. They were quickly bussed off to Dharamsala, while back in Bir there was still work to be done. Both Corey's and my services were solicited( Corey's photography and my DJ skills) for the wedding of a young Bhutanese man named Pawo and a young Taiwanese lady named Stephanie. Both of them and their families have been long time students of DKR, and Rinpoche orchestrated the entire day and night down to the last detail as well as hosting it at his house. The wedding was light hearted, kind and outrageously photogenic. Here I will let Corey's pictures tell the rest.

As the king of non-stop activity, DKR began a Vajrayogini Drupcho (approx. eight day long Tibetan Buddhist puja) the following day. Corey and I were very lucky to be on the list of allowed persons so for the next week we spent our mornings at Deer Park in the computer room editing the footage from the conference into a four minute piece for the Khyentse Foundation, and our afternoons were spent in the depths of ritualistic Buddhism in a small room full of curious and beautiful people.

After two weeks of non-stop activity we bid farewell to the sweet and peculiar town of Bir, and to some new and old friends. Persisting in his kindness, DKR sent us packing with his expressed appreciation and some gifts of incense, malas, and small porcelain animal figurines (a cat for me and a frog for Corey). We drove out of town with Emily Crow on board for a couple of nights at a highly recommended home-stay near the Kullu Valley. I felt fairly tired but also blessed, and I was full of appreciation for the connections I had made.

Bir part 1 (pre conference)

2009-03-23T07:43:00.000-07:00

Well it has been quite a busy month for us, and the fun has not stopped yet. The beginning of March was mostly spent helping the good people at the Deer Park Institute get their place ready to host what turned out to be a very successful conference. Inspired by the energetic, mischievous and ultimately wonderful Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche, "Translating the Words of the Buddha" brought many luminaries in the world of translation to the small town of Bir in Himachal Pradesh. Gene Smith, Bob Thurman, Matthieu Ricard, John Dunn, Peter Skilling (via video from Thailand) to name the first few that come to mind.

Our tasks before the conference ranged from interior decorators, lifting things and moving them to other locations and preparing to be a two person audio/visual team with the charge of documenting the conference. It wasn't all work though and we spent some relaxing moments with our dear friend Emily Crow sipping chai and musing over the display of our lives.

We also took some time to trek up to a near by waterfall in the wild of the foothills of the Himalayas. A group of younger travelers and residents of Bir who are all students of Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche started to coalesce, and within a week some strong friendships had formed. It was quite a joy for me to get out from under Shambhala brat domination and meet some very beautiful and dedicated contemporaries. It was this group who would take these hikes up to the mountains, cook dinner together and talk into the evenings. On one excursion up the mountain trail we actually found a full grown leopard who seemed to have fallen from the cliffs of the waterfall, and lay dead in the pool of water at the bottom of the fall. She looked so powerful it was hard to imagine that she could have made such a mistake as to slip or fall. We pulled her out of the water (because the stream turned into drinking water down in the village) and said a few prayers. We were all kind of jazzed to be that close to such a powerful animal, whom if not dead would have made the atmosphere of the encounter much more serious.

On the whole Bir is a strange place with a bizarre mixture of Rinpoches (OT, Dzongsar Khyentse, Dzigar Kongtrol, Choling ext.) displaced western dharma students, Tibetan refugees, local Indians and of course rice paddies. We have enjoyed staying put and digging our heals in a little bit with idea of giving back in sweat what we were so fortunate to receive from all of you which is this pilgrimage experience. Deer Park Institute is a compelling place to visit. With the subtitle "A Center for the Study of Classical Indian Wisdom Traditions," it rubs against the tendency to become some kind of Tibetophile and opens up the context of Buddhism in a larger way which I quite enjoy. It is quite a beautiful thought that the teachings of the Buddha are coming back to India, and that some teachers have the vision to include the natives in this movement.

It has also been enriching to have the space to reflect on our journey thus far. My gratitude is so great, as well as my wonderment of all the causes and conditions that have brought me here. We have also been blessed to spend a good deal of time with Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche,

who's humor and unpredictability makes for a truly enjoyable experience. Bir reminds me of Crestone or Shambhala mountain center in that most everyone knows each other, and besides the worthwhile endeavor of dhamra practice, not much else is going on. I hope the pictures help to fill the image.

Of course the conference that happened here was quite bustling, so I will give that its own blog entry.

Tashi Delek and No Losar

2009-02-20T23:08:00.000-08:00

The signs and posters were up everywhere: "No Losar! " and "No Losar Celebrations to Our Solidarity with Tibetan Martyrs." Really no New Year's celebrations? At first Michael and I were a little dismayed but it soon became clear that this effort was drawing much needed media attention and this was an effective way for communities both in Tibet and in exile to express their horror and protest the ongoing human rights violations occuring under Chinese governance.

(Locals walking by the huge No Losar posters on the front of the Tibetan Youth Congress building down the street from our guesthouse.)

(A poster hung from barbed wire on the walkway through the woods around the Dalai Lama's residence- an enlarged photograph of a bare chest pierced by a bullet hole. The caption reads: "A Ngapa Amdo person was killed under Chinese force March 16, 2008.")

The violence continues in Tibet with Chinese soldiers gunning down a protesting monk as he set fire to himself, just last week. And needless to say the tone in Dharamsala / McLeod Ganj, the Indian site to the Tibetan Government in Exile was sombre. Nonetheless the place is fairly indefatigable, lively and bustling and Michael and I had a great time for the almost two weeks we were there.

There was much relaxing, meeting of fellow travelers from around the world (including a regular mealtime companion in his 80's from New Orleans named Tom), and long walks on mountain roads in the area. One of the highlights was making friends with Tahir and Raj, young Kashmiri brothers running the rug and shawl shop next to the fast internet spot on Temple Rd. Tahir's idealistic sweet kindness was well matched by is younger brother's playboy good looks and flirtatiousness. Many hours were spent drinking tea on their stoop and in the shop taking about the difficulties and charms of life. We got a broad history of challenges that Muslims have faced in the area, a series of insistent invitations to visit Kashmir, and a lexicon on inspirational mottos about love and friendship delivered by Tahir with a sparkle in his eye. The redheaded fiesty and funny Carrie Marks was with us for much our time in McLeod and was the object of much attention from the Kashmiri brothers and all their friends!

(Carrie and me in Tahir's shop- Raj in the mirror taking the photo.)

(Michael and slow moving path-hogger on the Dalai Lama residence kora path that we liked to walk.)

There is a lot more to report from our stay in McLeod, like probably most significantly Michael's meeting with H.H. the 17th Karmapa and, maybe less importantly, my love of veg momo soup. But I will leave this post as it is, for now, and only say that we left McLeod happy and well-fed, took a local bus (actually 3 buses) to the little village of Bir Tibetan Colony a few hours away, and are now contentedly and busily engaged in tasks great (preparing to document a massive conference translator bigwigs) and smaller (hanging art in the dining room) at the beehive of activity called Deer Park Institute. More soon...

More Photos

2009-02-20T00:32:00.000-08:00

Below are pictures from Kathmandu

Below are pictures from Lumbini and Kushinagar

Below are pictures of Varanasi and Sarnath

Offering

2009-02-18T02:12:00.000-08:00

Here is a simple poem that I wrote after an audience with H. H. Karmapa

Aspiration/Fulfillment

Across the waters, plains, trees and on and on
Across the tumult of hope and fear
Across the boundaries of life, death, time and love
I sit with you for a moment
For a smile
And the expanse of space immeasurable

Oh Karmapa
You who fulfill all wishes
I am left without question or answer
I am left alone with the murmur of my mind
But to see you smile at me
I am cheerful beyond reason

I am a foolish jittery child
I am awakened potential
I am a free man inside of this trap
Everything is as it was before!

I set my intention to see you, and then
I made it to your sitting room
It is possible!
Because it is possible, because of
you
I now switch my intention
May all beings without exception
Be liberated from the agenda of ego, the clumsy mistake of brilliance
and rest with complete ease
For as my father said
The self described "honkey wangpo"
The heart son of the madman of love
"Beyond that, there is nothing else to wish for."

Michael Rigden Rich
Feb 17th 2009

finally a few more pix...

2009-02-13T04:57:00.001-08:00

This little Tibetan run internet place is letting me upload photos like a charm, so I've posted a few more (adding them to go along with previous posts- see below...) while I sit here with Michael and Carrie Marks. Now I think we're going to go have Indian food for dinner, for a change...

Some Highlights

2009-02-13T03:47:00.000-08:00

Going back through the catalog of pictures from our arrival moving forward. Please look for more here over the next week.

-Michael

New Delhi Sky Line
Afternoon Monklets during the Kagyu Monlam, Bodhgaya

"Unit of Drala" store front sign, Bodhgaya
Stray Monklet, Kagyu Monlam
Prostrations, Mahabodhi Temple, Bodhgaya

Josh Pressman and the throngs waiting for H.H. Karmapa

Steve Brooks overlooking ruins of Nalanda Universtiy Corey doing the same
Steve Brooks sitting in a cave on the path to Vulture Peak Photos in the midst of devotionals, Vulture Peak Mountain, Rajgir in Bihar

Kathmandu and back

2009-02-10T04:38:00.000-08:00

Full on a good meal and an outstanding chocolate-walnut brownie, and all wobbly-limbed from two days of travel, which brought us to McLeod Ganj (aka Dharamsala) this afternoon, I realize I might have some difficulty summing up our time in Kathmandu. But I'll give it a stab...

A similar feeling of wobbly limbs delivered us into Kathmandu Valley, after what turned out to be about a ten hour bus ride on the rickety bus from Lumbini. The bus never emptied out but it was frequently packed to overcapacity for hours at a time as we stopped often on the windy road to pick up and drop off passengers on more local trips. The wild-eyed ticket-taker whistling and pressing his own honking switch and sometimes climbing from the open door up the luggage-laden roof to take what seemed like catnaps while the bus sped along at whatever speed it's huffing engine could take us. The rock hard seats took at toll on our tailbones but the drive was gorgeous, on a road that hugged the curves of a turquoise mountain river banked in sandy white, and bridged by the occasional unfathomable hanging wooden footbridge strung high over the river from one mountain side to the next. We arrived safely that evening at the reliable and wonderful Dragon Guesthouse in Boudha (one of the more famous Tibetan neighborhoods of Kathmandu) and then treated ourselves to what seemed like a Western dinner of fish and chips and a few beers at a fancy restaurant facing the Boudhanath stupa.

The next day we walked up to Pullahari Monastery, seat of Jamgon Kongtrul Rinpoche, about an hour walk through outlying villages, rice fields and what seems like a dirtbike course and small everygreen forest where truent teenagers and young lovers hang out. There we ran into Tom and Jacquie Bell, old friends of my parents (Jacquie was also my third grade teacher) who are there doing a Buddhist studies course.

While we were having lunch with them we recognized (or were recognized by) a British Buddhist nun named Ani Chudrun whom we had seen at the Karmapa's teachings in Bodhgaya and who had also been at the Karmapa's teachings in Seattle last year where she introduced herself to Michael by saying that she recognized his voice from The Lion's Roar (a documentary about the previous Karmapa) which includes interviews with Michael's dad, who apparently had a very similar voice. After lunch we got a great tour from the Bells of the astoundingly artful grounds and facilities, and meditated in the shrine room with heartbreakingly beautiful the gold and jewel encrusted stupa where the previous Jamgon Kongtrul was apparently cremated.

Changing gears from being Buddhist pilgrims to being book researchers for our ongoing project about social entrepreneurs and innovators, we spent the next few days meeting, interviewing and photographing the brilliant people at ECCA Nepal. In true acronym-emracing Nepali style this stands for Environmental Camps for Conservation Awareness, and was started by a group of young friends twenty-one years ago to promote environmental education and practices for young people and communities around Nepal. We were drawn to want to profile this group after we read about their Solar Tuki project with makes available solar lamps (named after the traditional kerosene tuki lamp) as well as other simple solar powered appliances through entrepreneurial and community based micro-finance systems to mainly rural villagers who do not have electricity and suffer great expense, health, sanitation and social costs when they do not have an alternative to kerosene. But although this project is amazing in itself, we also found out about a whole world of other programs the people of ECCA have successfully fostered, from drastically improving school environments to spearheading nationwide river monitoring and environmental clean-up. Their own office building runs on solar and uses rainwater reserves and recycles gray water runoff. The people we met at ECCA were knowledgeable, kind, insightful, impressively dedicated and completely inspiring.
Hopefully we can post some more photos and interview snippets here soon... (Angel Chitrakar showing us the solar appliances on the roof top of the ECCA building.)
(The staff of the Old House Cafe using the SOlar Tuki in their kitchen in Patan.)

The Solar Tuki really could benefit not just rural villagers but every office building, shop, restaurant and household in Nepal that is now operating on a rotating schedule of 16 hours without electricity every day. The effects of this were hugely mitigated at our luxurious digs at the guesthouse, where the lights, waterpumps, etc. ran off generator power for a few hours after dark, but there is no doubt that life after sundown is fairly shortlived and we were early to bed almost every night, carefully planning out our next day around the power schedule.

On one day with very few useable hours of power, but what turned out to be some sort of religious festival day (and, it should be said a day that Michael just wanted to take it easy), I suggested that we take a taxi a few kilometeres out of town to visit an ancient Vajrayogini shrine. We didn't find out that it was a festival day until we ran into a huge traffic jam on the rural road to Sankhul (the town at the base of the temple's mountain). We decided to get out and walk along with whate seemed like every other person from every other vehicle on the road and then just meet our taxi the town to get a ride on the way back. We walked the 4 or 5km just to get into the town with huge throngs of people on their way to some other riverside temple; the road packed with exhaust spewing cars buses, tractors, and motorcycles, and people of every age pushing down the narrow road through rice fields and little towns.
Then we finally got to the town and the Vajrayogini temple turned out to be 2km up the mountain, mostly by a steep set of stairs. It being Saturday and this somewhat mysterious holiday, the stairs were heavily trafficked with families, teenagers, pilgrims, old men and women in highheels. The actual temple turned out to be somewhat strange, an old stupa style building with a small door into a dark room with a super old effegy of what looked like a round girl with a red-painted face. Everyone was making puja offerings of colored powder, marigold flowers, incense and money, throwing it into the door at Vajrayogini's face while a young man with a stylish bandana on his head inside the door seemed to be helping make sure the thrown offerings were making it to where people wanted them to land. Outside there was lots of Newari men singing and hitting drums unmelodically and people lighting butter lamps. All very strange and then we went up some more stairs to discover a very workable teashop seemingly in the middle of nowhere where we had tea and potato chips some sort of fried donut thing. We did eventually find our cab driver back in Sankhul who told us that it had taken him 2 hours to get there from where we had gotten out to walk. Yikes. But getting back went smoothly and with little traffic. All that and Michael had wanted to take it easy...

All in all it was heavenly to be in Kathmandu with its hubbub and intricately ornate architecture and interweaving of cultures and ethicities. And Boudha was a little haven for us, a little cobble-stone village becoming ever more modern and commercialized (both conveniently and heartbreakingly). Although we may actually became just a wee bit complacent or even bored there I think we were both a little sad to leave. We finally got a look at the breathtaking snowcaps of the jagged Himalayan peaks over the cloud and inpenetrably hazy pollution cover as we flew out over the Kathmandu valley and south west, back to Delhi.

As of yet, we still haven't been able to find enough bandwidth to upload any of the many photos we have to go with these posts. (I did try to provuide some visual accompaniment with the links here) Hopefully Dharamsala, the town where you seem to be able to get anything, will provide...

"Hope"

2009-02-06T03:22:00.000-08:00

After gathering ourselves from our bazaar and somewhat tedious journey (I just finished reading Born in Tibet again so I'm reluctant to think that my journey is at all difficult), we set out to explore the new development in Lumbini. Beginning around what is thought to be the exact birthplace of the Buddha is a development complex that has two parallel rows of monasteries from various nations stretching out approx. two miles. It is quite a beautiful plan (which is a work in progress) and the area exudes a certain peacefulness. While the monasteries are very grand, especially the Chinese and Thai, the star of the show is the park and ruins of the exact spot of the historic birth. Inside a protected enclosure you find the remains of a structure dating to the 3rd century C.E. Among the remains is a peculiar "marking stone" which is encased in glass, but I failed to absorb the full details on the stone. It seems like it may have been placed there under the direction of the King Ashoka given the dates floating around and the obvious connection of having one of the famous Ashokan Pillars close by. The place has a strong feeling of history not only of time but of reverence and prayer.

(Michael has much better photos, but here's one just to give you the feeling...)

We spent a total of three nights in Lumbini and enjoyed a sense of relaxation. It was particularly amusing to rent bicycles and spend time cruzin' the scene, man. We developed a warm relationship with the owner of our guesthouse and spent some time laughing about the idiosyncrasies of certain groups of travelers. The most humorous of which (especially to our owner, Jupiter) was the young travelers from France. With a powerful consistency they show up with hippy/rave culture clothing, smoke a lot of pot, drink a lot of beer, feed their munchies and giggle to each other till all hours of the night. Jupiter compared the laughing fits of these young French to that of small school children who laugh for no reason. He acted this out using the example of laughing at a dog for wagging his tail. "Of coarse dog wags tail, that is what dog does." I found it to be a very accurate rendition.

Through working out the details of our transportation to Kathmandu with Jupiter, (some 10 hours on the traditional jam packed local bus) he began to ask us about Obama. Being cut off from our injection of highly intellectual and liberal news from various New York dealers, it was great to hear about various stories through the lens of this sweet and upright Nepali. He was very impressed by some kind of press conference addressing terrorism, especially how clear and well spoken he was in explaining the difference between the religion of Islam and those who choose to push their agenda by the mindless slaughter and destruction. This made him hopeful to hear our president be able to hold a mature and thoughtful view, and not just lump Muslims and terrorists together. Concurrently I had just finished "Dreams From My Father," which is a stunning read and an extraordinary window into the complex mind of our president. It was particularly great to read about his time as a child in Indonesia. The landscape he was describing could easily have been the very one we were now traveling through. It was a great feeling to think that our president had such expansive and lived experience.

The morning of our departure from Lumbini Jupiter had a serious look on his face and told us he had some bad news. He told us of how he had just heard on the news that an American who had been laid off had killed his family and himself in a fit of despair. This news was very upsetting to him, and he wondered out loud why the man hadn't moved to Nepal where it is very cheap and stated that he would have given the man work at his guest house. We also learned that morning that he and some others had gone to the birth place of the Buddha and lit a butter lamp on the night of the American election making prayers for Obama. Touched by this man's genuine heart I reached into my bag and offered him my Obama campaign pin which had the bold type word "hope" written simply. His face lit up and he held the pin over his head calling out the word inscribed. "That's it," he said "Hope!". We bid him farewell and tumbled down the road continuing our adventure.

"The Hem of His Garment"

2009-01-30T03:38:00.000-08:00

"If I could just touch the hem of his garment, I know I will be made whole." --Sam Cooke

We have now been to the four major Buddhist pilgrimage sights and are resting our bruised tail bones (more on that later) in Kathmandu. The trek to the last two sites of Kushinagar and Lumbini began with a six or seven (or was it eight or nine?) hour train ride from Varanasi up to the crossroads town of Gorhakpur. From there we could take an hour and a half bus ride to Kushinagar come back and arrange our trip to the Nepal border and on to Lumbini. Corey and I bought "open" train tickets, and the officer told us to get on the train where we like and pay the conductor the difference. We ended up in some indecipherable class, which was very workable, and hoped for the best. The conductor never did come around, but we ended up paying our extra dues by being the "on train" entertainment for the locals. Many questions like, "is this your wife?" To which I replied, "of course, my of wife of two years now." Then the follow up, "So how many children?" I said that there were no children yet. "Oh that is terrible. What is your salary?" Hoping not to disappoint again I stated
confidently 60,000 US per year. I only got quiet nods, and it seemed like I was out of the woods. It was not so. "Come sit here next to me, friend." I tossed my head into a couple of traditional wags and took my place next to him. "Tell me, friend, was yours a love marriage?" With a smile and wonderment that such a question even exists, I declared in the affirmative. This tickled the whole crowd which had amassed at least twelve people by now. Just then a couple of women came through playing a hand drum and singing songs asking for alms or "baksheesh." A few of us gave a little and the atmosphere was very lively. Just then a wry smile washed over my new friend and he asked me if I would be so kind as to sing them an American song. "Oh, no," I said claiming my voice sounded like a howling dog, and howled to drive the point home. But they were not quelled and Corey was egging me on. "Come on Michael, just one song." To the request that I sing a love song, I launched into "These Arms of Mine," by Ottis Redding and took it as far as my vocal cords could. After the hooting and applause died down, I politely asked for baksheesh for my efforts. Another laughing fit ensued. Finally they were quelled, full as if after a feast with stomachs aching and eyes gleaming from laughter. I was allowed to return to my seat after a few pictures to commemorate the performance, and our new bonds of friendship. Looking across at Corey, I realized that no one was more tickled then her, and I was pleased to have brought a smile to her face.

more than generous just the day before on the and Corey and I sat contemplating impermanence at the supposed sight of the Buddha's cremation. As at Bodhgaya, Vulture Peak Mountain, and Sarnath these places attract many local Indian families for weekend get-aways. The crush of,From Gorhakpur the journey to Kushinagar was relatively painless, minus a wobbly stomach, "hello friend, which country? How long in India?" is almost abusive to a private fella like myself, especially after feeling that I had been train. Then of course they must have a picture with you. One picture each and there are twenty of them. Barely escaping with flesh still attached I turned to Corey and pronounced, "No more friends today." Funny to see my first real emotion around my western idea of personal space. Despite the various encroachments, Kushinagar proved to be an evocative place, especially the centuries old and few meter long golden Buddha in the reclining, or dying pose, which was actually excavated from the area. The layers of history and poignancy of the moment lay like a blanket on my mind.
(Michael being lectured on Buddhism by one of his new teenage "friends".)
(The public toilet in Kushinagar.)

We woke up they next day back in Gorhakpur on the 26th of January which happened to be the day Indians celebrate their Independence. Our guest house was directly behind the military base and we were woken early by the mic tests and the wails of a Felliniesque marching band. Everyone was in a festive mood, and most of the shops were closed. This presented a problem because the information we had been given about crossing into Nepal was that you needed $30 in US cash as well as two passport sized pictures to stay in the country for 30 days. We spent most of the day waiting for our truly bootleg pictures to be produced (we had only one left each after needing pictures for the most random things). This put us at the Sonali border crossing at dusk, later than I would have liked given the hour and a half left to Lumbini (the birth place of the Buddha). Quite confident in our research, pictures and dollars in hand, we approached the officers only to find out that the new government had changed the criteria in the last month or so and now we need $40 each and only one picture. All the time waiting for the pictures was apparently for naught. With only $60 in U.S. (three twenties) we decided on the spot that we would opt for the 15 day visa which cost $25 each. Pouring over the money, the officer decided that one of our twenties was not acceptable due to the smallest rip. You can't be serious. With all the dirt that goes on, our tiny and I mean tiny rip was going to keep us from finishing the pilgrimage at Lumbini. After a bit of pushing back and forth they relented that we could pay in Rupees and charged more than the exchange rate for sure. Trying to collect our humor, we thought, "well at least we got through."

Walking out of the immigration office we were immediately approached by endless taxis. All of which were telling us that the local bus (40 rps.) had made its last daily run to Lumbini, and we would have to take their car (500 rps.). With a healthy amount of distrust we avoided the taxis, and climbed into a packed jeep (10 or 11 people at ten rps. each) for the supposedly ten or fifteen minute ride to the next town and bus junction for Lumbini. Pitch black, cramped and in a total dead-lock traffic jam, the jeep ride took closer to an hour. Finally out of the jeep and walking to the bus stop letting the feeling return to my legs, we were again approached by a taxi driver. This time we were five feet away from the bus stop and still he persisted that the last bus had already left and his car was the only option. Feeling my skin thickening with almost every moment I said, "first we will find out if that is true." Of coarse we walked the five feet to the parked bus loading up for Lumbini. Like victorious travelers we boarded the bus. The bus driver seemingly so sweet, "yes sir, yes madam, I will take you there no problem." Only it was a problem as we unknowingly wizzed by our guest house and continued on for several miles to the last stop. The tiny village had only one guest house, which happened to be owned by a friend of the bus driver. Unwilling to be taken advantage of, tired, and in my case getting pissed off, we refused to stay there and demanded to be shown where our lodging was. Nonchalantly turning his head away from us, the owner of the guest house waved his hand down the road which we had come in on then turned and walked inside. Standing at the edge of this very small village looking down a pitch black road with no lights or town in sight, my stomach drooped. I reached for my pocket knife and and told Corey that I couldn't trust anyone else and that I would protect us and get us their myself! Ultimately less dramatic and more wise than myself, she promptly turned around to find the bus driver and demand he take us back. By this point he had slipped into the darkness of Nepal's electricity crisis (16 hrs. a day of power cuts) not to be seen again. "Then we will pay someone to take us," Corey said and we went about asking the villagers if anyone spoke English. One man did, Chinca, and he explained that there where no cars available in this small town but that he and his friends would ride us and our luggage on the back of their bicycles. The rest was a dream. Gliding through the night on the back of a bicycle powered by a man half my weight. Spontaneous memories of my childhood (the last time I have been ridden on a bicycle) playing through the movie of my mind. Dodging questions by the Hindu villagers like ,"Muslims are bad people, no?"

"Can't say I've met them all," I said. Privately I contemplated, "where the $%#@ am I." After the day of cramped travel ending with the hard steel of the back of a rickety bike, my haunches throbbed for sure. Making enough racket to finally get the attention of the man running the Lumbini Village Lodge, I turned to offer some money to our cheerful and goofy escorts. They refused making claims that we were guests to their village, but I would not budge. I grew up with Italians, Jews and Tibetans, there would be no defeating me. Our guest house and owner turned out to be very friendly and comfortable, although he couldn't understand why it had taken us so long to arrive? We'll tell you about it later.

Corey and I dropped our bags in the room and spent the next hour staring at each other and coming down from our adrenaline rush. "Now I can say that I've been to India and Nepal," I said. We laughed for awhile and proceeded to have a wonder filled conversation with many feelings and insights swirling in the dream landscape our minds had become.

Report from Shiva's City

2009-01-23T06:42:00.000-08:00

1-23-09

It has proven to be quite difficult to think of what to include in these posts. This country is so vivid that I begin to feel that I should include everything or just forget it..........I think something in between, some kind of stream of thought is how it has to work. Since Corey last posted we have hunkered down at the Shanti Guest House in the "old city" of Varanasi with all the backpackers. It is sweet to hear everyone from varied countries making friends through the medium of broken English. Varanasi feels like the quintessence of the Indian experience with bodies burning, everyone pushing their wares (especially silk and hash), huge cows block the extremely narrow streets, monkeys thieving (we saw one snatch a pack of cigarettes and promptly put four in his mouth the right direction), gangs of red mouthed men chewing and spitting the famous Varanasi 'pan,' and so much more.

We witnessed the birthday of our beloved Corey and forged out for a night boat ride gazing back at the oldest living city in the world. A truly unforgettable sight. Unfortunately our gusto has been tempered by a nagging cold/flu which we undoubtedly picked up in Bodhgaya at H.H. Karmapa's teachings. A shrine room full of coughing westerners, we probably would have stood a better chance drinking from the Ganges. I was not at my most tip top for her birthday and I hope to make it up to her when we have fully recovered. Four days ago we collected our dear friend from Shambhala Mountain Center Carrie Marks from the Varanasi airport. Her red hair and big eyes reminding me of my own arrival in India only three weeks back. This place learns you quick. She only stayed a few nights and moved on her way to attend teachings from Mingyur Rinpoche in Bodhgaya. We also bid farewell to our spontaneous, intrepid travel companion and human Indian encyclopedia Stevie Brooks. Only before he left we made the trek to a fancy hotel, sat in the bar and watched as our President took his oath of office. All the locals have been very eager to talk with us about Obama. "Good man," "honest man," "very good for India," they say. Seems that he not only has America's hopes but those of the whole world on his shoulders.

Rousing ourselves, two days ago, we made the trip to Sarnath to pay our pilgrims respect to the old stupa at Deer Park. As with Bodgaya, I was struck and then touched by the ordinariness of these sights and places. Buddha's so called last words running through my mind, "Tell the people that an ordinary man was born and discovered the awakened state." Suddenly I found a tear falling during my meditation thinking of the simplicity of our deepest human wish to be free from the struggle to maintain our existence. But I digress. We then made the small walk over to the V.V. Thrangu Rinpoche's monastery in Sarnath called Vajra Vidya. I took refuge with him a dozen or so years ago and was hopeful for another meeting. As it turns out, Rinpoche was in Hong Kong but H.H. Karmapa was staying for a few days and giving a blessing. A bit of good fortune to clear up our congested heads.

We are now pulling up our boot straps and looking north toward Nepal with a stop in Kushinigar. Hoping to still be able to post with Nepal's new energy crisis mandating 16 hours of no power. We are a little weathered by very cheerful and closely watching as this remarkable trip continues.

2009-01-18T23:57:00.001-08:00

Here's a smattering from the last few weeks (I added some to Michael's first post, below, from India, too, from the train...):

This is a long shot of the Kagyu Monlam- this is just a little portion of the sea of monks surrounding the Karmapa teaching from underneath the Bodhi Tree.

All these boys came running to have their photo taken by the squeaky old farris wheel behind the tibetan market in Bodhgaya.

Indian cop doing his job guarding the view at Vulture Peak mountain near Rajgir.

Muslim holiday celebrated with the loudest music you've ever heard and mock fighting with flourescent lighting tubes, observed from the roof of Deep Guesthouse in Bodhgaya.

A little view of the kite flying roof tops of Varanasi...

More photos soon...

on to the city of kites...

2009-01-15T03:54:00.000-08:00

Well, we left Deep Guesthouse in Bodhgaya at 4 o'clock this morning, zipping through the Bihary dark in our little autorickshaw, picking up sleepy, scarf-wrapped men from the side of the road on the way to the train station in Gaya. (One of them had apparently little control over his sleepy self and couldn't help himself from staring at a white lady like me while attempting to vaguely place his arm on my leg- until he was scolded by yours truly and started minding his own business!)
Our two weeks in Bodhgaya was stellar in all respects. Sitting around the Mahabodhi temple hearing the handsome and humorous young Karmapa teach from the shade of the Bodhi Tree to the artfully arranged sea of maroon and saffron robed monks was, needless to say, a great way to spend our mornings. And evenings were often happily spent on our rooftop eating an unusually yummy veg thali and drinking too much tea. The Nepali Tibetan family and one Bodhgaya native running to brand new rooftop restaurant seemed to reciprocate the crush we developed on them- the older Tibetan mama bringing us special blessing cords for our wrists and endless pots of complimentary green tea.
The last few days we walked through the village in the morning to Tergar Monastery for the Karmapa's teaching for westerners, that Michael summarized above. Having gotten lost in the mini-sized and twisting lanes our first time through the little village behind the touristy and pilgrimy mayhem of the Bodhgaya, we ended up rounding a corner into what was basically someone's backyard- the teenage girl sitting on her back steps started laughing at as as soon as she saw us: two tall Ingies, so obviously lost and pointed us the right way. After we found our way, it was a great short cut: a gauntlet of cows and children yelling "hello, how are you!", practicing their school English on us. I especially liked the squatting pantless babies with balaclavas, the mounds of puppies and the one chicken dyed hot pink.
Also, we met up with the ever sardonic and thoroughly enjoyable Stevie Brooks, who was our thorough historical tour guide on a day trip to the ancient university of Nalanda and up Vulture Peak mountain near Rajgir- and who is hopefully going to meet us in Varanasi tonight. We ended up actually loving Bodhgaya but were happy to leave that dusty little town this morning.
Despite some phone mix ups, a steady man named Laxmi appeared in the crowd on the platform when we arrived here a few hours late and guided us reliably to our guesthouse above Manikarnika Ghat with its smoke rising for its many pyres of flaming wood and bodies. We dropped our bags in our room overlooking the smooth wide Ganga and went up to the roof, where we saw that the city was confetti-ed by a sky full of many colored kites from every conceivable roof top. Laxmi had told us today was a festival of kites and he was right.
Still no place to upload photos but soon...

Day Two "Living the Dharma"

2009-01-13T05:14:00.000-08:00

*These are my notes from the second day of teachings from H.H. 17th Karmapa

Day Two
-Morning Talk
His Holiness Karmapa began the day by talking a little bit about a publication he created for proper conduct regarding the protection of the environment. He stressed how important it is to protect the environment and that doing so is an extension of our vows/wishes to benefit sentient beings. The book has five major points. Point one: Trees and forests must be cultivated and not mindlessly cut down. (I should say that most of this is perhaps common knowledge and that the publication is meant to be distributed to monasteries around Asia to try and effect some change in the cultural habits in India, Tibet, China ext.) Point 2: Protecting water sources, especially in Asia because the Himalayas provide water for a very large population. Point 3: The well fare of wild life. There is a strong push for vegetarianism from His Holiness and he asked us to consider all life of the animals as well as the amount of resources that are used in raising livestock for consumption. Point 4: Waste management. He said that Buddhists should be an example of good practices. He said that in Bihar (which is quite filthy) if the Buddhists would put their trash in the bins that maybe it would catch on with the rest of the population. Point 5: Climate Change. We should pay extra attention to ways in which we can minimize our footprint.
He then said that he wasn't feel that well and that if he tried to talk on one subject that it would be too boring so he decided to just spend the rest of the time answering submitted questions. This model continued for the duration of the day. Most of which turned out to be kind of tedious like "If we watch His Holiness Karmapa on a dvd and he is doing an empowerment, does that mean we also received the empowerment?" Some of the highlights (from my point of view obviously) were:
Q: How does fear arise.
A. Fear is a by product of the skandhas or the development of the self as a permanent entity in our minds. The antidote to this is to study and contemplate the teachings of dependent arising or interdependence. So if you really look at the development of what we call ourselves then there is no one thing that exists independently from the rest and no one element that is permanent. Therefore, if there is no solid entity there then there is nothing to protect or be afraid of.
Q. You talked yesterday about desire and attachment, can you discuss working with anger.
A. Anger is a very obvious thing to recognize, so in that way it is somewhat easy to work with because you don't have to look very far to first recognize and understand when it is happening. His Holiness said that what he finds difficult is that when he gets angry it is hard to let go of the reason, or the feeling that you deserve to be angry because of such and such a thing. He said that it helps him to think of great teachers and teachings and their example inspires him to let go of his anger. He also said that it is sometimes good to start to think about all the things that bother you because then you wont fixate on one thing and soon your aggressive energy will dissipate. He told a story to illustrate the point: A sheep herder got mad at one of his sheep for something and hit it with a stick. But that started a chain reaction with all the other sheep and they were all startled and acting out. He then had to try to hit everyone of his sheep and he soon wore himself out and collapsed laughing at himself.
Q. Please explain the antidote or slogan "victory and gain to others, loss and defeat to oneself"
A. He stressed that this slogan is about trying to train one's mind to move away from always thinking about one's own benefit. He said that you don't actually take on all the suffering, and that if the Buddha would have taken all the suffering that he would have just been sick all the time and that his students would spend all their time trying to collect enough tissues. He then said that in terms of implementing this slogan that one has to use wisdom and critical intelligence. You have to understand that what you are giving away will be useful and not harmful and that you are willing to give it away so that the act of giving doesn't cause too much discord in your own life.
* I will end with a slightly more humorous one
Q. Your Holiness, I have always wondered why people look the way they do. Why some people are beautiful and others ugly. Do you have anything to say on that.
A. His Holiness said that in Tibet they say that if a person has big ears it is because when they where young they misbehaved a lot and the teacher was always pulling them around by their ear. He went on to say that what we consider beautiful is usually cultural and that those conditions play a big role. He then conceded that their is some karmic element and used the example of the bodhisattva Avolokiteshvara. He said that Avolokiteshvara was always smiling with a lovely face because of all the good deeds done and merit accomplished.

*As always forgive the spelling and grammatical errors, I went to public school in California.

Living the Dharma

2009-01-12T04:18:00.000-08:00

*Here are my notes from the first day of H.H. Karmapa's teachings to western students entitled Living the dharma. The summery is my own and not the words of His Holiness.

Morning Talk
-His Holiness began buy defining the practice of dharma as including formal practice (of course) but also more than that. Dharma practice is something that transforms our mind, like working skillfully w/ negative emotions. That kind of thing is not confined to formal practice alone. In his own life H.H. Karmapa said that as he gets older his schedule is more packed with responsibilities and he has less time to do formal practice. So he has made his main practice thinking of others as much as possible during the day. He emphasised thinking of people in a "lively" way wherein you see them with your eyes and feel like they are there. He said by really thinking of other people a lot during the day, that our minds naturally turn towards dharma and that transforming negative emotions is easier. He contrasted that by describing how selfishness and selfish thoughts keep our dharma practices stuck and we don't develop spiritually. So with little time to practice formally we can keep a dharmic lifestyle by continually considering others. He went on to explain that the development of compassion is the essential point, because compassion is what unlocks the dharma and makes it a real and valuable experience. In that way Bodhichitta is like a wish fullfilling gem, because when we experience bodhichitta our doubts are cleared away and we find real meaning in our lives. H.H. Karmapa then made the point that whether we are talking about dharma or our temporal lives, it is important to have a clear view and deep understanding of what we are doing and why we are doing it. If we have that depth of understanding then we will have less doubt and discursiveness and our practice will have more of a living quality. So real compassion which is like a wish fullfilling gem arises from integrated understanding and not just a conceptual construct. In order to develop that kind of deep understanding then studying the dharma and receiving instructions from qualified teachers is important. He finished by say that qualified teachers a hard to find, especially ones who you can truly take refuge in, so he suggested learning from teachers with good knowledge and then applying what you have learned from them. Taking instructions from the phenomenal world, such as watching the seasons change and contemplating impermanence.

Afternoon Talk
-The main theme of the afternoon was the importance of still maintaining a formal practice, but that it didn't need to be confined to a shrine room or something like that, but could happen throughout the day. He laid out an example of a possible daily schedule. His Holiness suggested that it is good start the day with meditation, sitting upright and letting your mind relax and be still for a little while. He said this would be a good time to do what ever formal practice you are doing. He also said that it is very good to finish your practice by making a strong intention for your day. When you arrive at work you should take a minute or two and just relax your mind. Let yourself fully arrive at work. He then suggested that you think that what you are doing is use full to sentient beings and that while you are doing it you will try to do your best job. When you finish the day and arrive home, it is very important to spend time with your family or living partner and make your household a loving and uplifted place. He said this is important because the love generated in the home will bleed out into the activities outside the home. Love and the development of compassion being synonymous with dharma practice. Then he said to take a load off. Give yourself some personal time to let your mind relax and to establish that space of relaxation and peacefulness as your inner home, or the place your return to again and again. He then went on to discuss the main obstacle to finding this restful mind as being desire and attachment. He said that other obstacles are more fleeting, but desire and attachment are basically there most of the time. In order to work with desire we need to investigate it fully and understand how it arises and what its qualities are. Desire has the quality of completely taking over ones mind so that we no longer see the object of desire as having any faults, but completely perfect and absolutely necessary to posses. He made a big deal out of pointing out that when desire takes over our mind like that then we are like slaves and have lost all our freedom of choice and ability to relax. So in order to transcend this time of wanting and attachment we have to come to the understanding that the object of desire does not possess any intrinsic "desirability" but that the desire is completely self generated. If we see that it is just our mind which is creating this desire then we can move towards letting go of the need for that particular thing. He finished by adding that going to the extreme of some kind of forced austerity is not helpful either. So it is not the desire that is the problem, only our enslavement to the desire.

*please forgive the grammar errors.

Landed

2009-01-05T04:18:00.000-08:00

- "What have I done?" So surreal when thoughts produce action. You think, "I want to go to India," and then at some point you arrive. 2008 gave way to 2009 somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. In a somewhat hilarious display of European civility, the captian on our Lufthansa airlines 747 announced, "I am sorry to imform you that our company failed to stock enough champagne for everyone on board. Obviously we are very embarrassed about this. We hope you will bring in the new year with a glass of white or red wine, beer, baileys or congnac. We ask for your forgiveness." Both Corey and I forgave them several times over.

New Years day began with some Nuremburger sausages and eggs courtesy of Kafer's Bistro in the Frankfort airport. After breakfast the time drag set in and we slept for most of our seven our layover, as well as most of our seven hour flight to New Delhi. I received my first authentic Indian bobble head from the customs officer. Such a non confirmational look on his face as he hands me back my passport, I was reminded of Trungpa Rinpoche and the way he would say, "Good Luck." After collecting our bags and changing some money it began. Our hired car and driver cruzing along in a complete fog and mist singing, laughing and letting us know, "I really like your tips," and "I love tourist money." I figured that was true and decided not to argue that point.

One half day in New Delhi enjoying chai and korma, and then the train. The train? Is that our train? No, does our train still exist? Oh, yes no problem only four hours late. Finally on the train shacked up in a cabin with two Spanish women who couldn't speak any English. One could speak French and faster than a speeding bullet Super Corey comes to the rescue. It would turn out that they too were going to the Monlam. Brave souls what with having no English or Hindi. They called Corey their angel sent from Buddha, I have often felt the same way. Corey's kindness was returned when we finally arrived in Gaya around midnight and we were offered a ride in the two ladies hired car. How a 17 hour train ride becomes 29 hours somewhere along the route is beyond me, but then again this is India.

We have now been in Bodhgaya for two days, and it has not failed to live up to India's reputation. I have seen my first holy cow, leg-less beggar, random person pooping, and sea of saffron robes prostrating to the Karmapa underneath the Bodhi Tree with the great Mahabodhi Temple looming in the backround. Chaos and bliss alternating like the chin of an Indian man when you ask a question.

I promise pictures as soon as we find an internet hutch that will accept our request to plug into the USB port. Seems simple, but you know. So more to come, and I will close by saying both Corey and I are so happy to be here.

-Michael

Yes, We Can......Go to India

2008-12-08T20:41:00.000-08:00

Greetings all,

There is not much of interest on this here blog, but in a month ...... A huge thank you to all the people who helped make this possible. I would especially like to thank the Milani /Thornton clan for their generosity and love. If you haven't read it, I have provided a link on this page to the article Denise wrote called "The Dharma of Cancer." Thank you to Jim and Terry Colosi, Don Tatum, Steve Brooks, Louis Fitch, Jeff Scott, Peter Volz, Mike Smith & the Trident employees, Lady Rich (Mom) and Palden Ronge, Vajra Granelli, Uncle Earl, Sherab & Judi, Sky Brooks, Vajra & Cara & Stella Rich, Jill Cohen, Mark Thorpe & Picturewoods, Jetha-Lucas-Liza, Jesse & Heather Grimes, Robbie Rettmer, Bernie & Trudy Walter, Sol & Ulrike Halpern, Liza Mathews, Heather Phillip, and Ken Ketchum for your support. It is due to all of you that this trip now has legs to stand on. Another heartfelt thank you to our dear friend Janos for his generosity, accommodation and help to keep our relative realty from falling apart while we are away. My apologies if I have forgotten anyone, I'm sure I will remember on the airplane and feel lame. I would like to invite everyone to visit us here from time to time and see the latest photos and read the latest stories. You can also sign up on this page to receive an email every time we update the blog.

Much Love,

Michael