kohoco

Some brief history before the interesting dispatch from Tibet below:

"In the late 1950's, during the lifetime of the Supreme Abbot, Chokyi Gyamtso, Trungpa XI, the Surmang Monasteries were destroyed by the advancing Chinese Armies. Trungpa escaped to India avoiding the holocaust that destroyed 90% of Tibet's monasteries, leaving most of the monks imprisoned or executed, including Trungpa's own teachers. What little was left in 1958 was completely sacked during the ten year 'Cultural Revolution' (1966-1976). During that period of time, remaining buildings were razed and other sites sacred to the Tibetans were plowed under. The accompanying commune system, and the ensuing famines, resulted in widespread hunting of wildlife. This hunting decimated almost all the wild ass, snow leopards, bear, etc."

Trungpa ended up escaping the country in 1959 and he lived for a short time in India before making it to England and then to the U.S. His fascinating escape can be read in his book Born in Tibet. Not just for Buddhists. Once in the U.S. he taught until his death in the late 80s, founding what is called Shambhala, which is now led by his son, the Sakyong, who now runs marathons in the U.S. to raise money to send back Surmang in an attempt to rebuild a monestary there.

The note below is what happened in the area where Trungpa was from in Tibet when his son, the Sakyong, stopped in for a visit.

"SHAMBHALA NEWS SERVICE SAKYONG PILGRIMAGE DISPATCH SIX, SURMANG GIVES THE CHABJE SAKYONG A TUMULTUOUS WELCOME.

Surmang turned out in full force this Sunday, 26 September 2004, to welcome Chabje Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche. Afer ten hours of travelling over extremely rough terrain (some stretches without roads), the Sakyong and his party reached the Surmang Valley at 3:30 (15:30 hr.) in the afternoon. Word of his arrival had spread through the valley. The first sign of the greeting that was awaiting the Sakyong were two truckloads of people who suddenly rushed toward his car as it made its way through the winding valley.Twenty-five minutes later the Sakyong's cavalcade rounded a curve on the road. In front was spread out the full panorama of the official "outer" greeting. The entire motorcade was circumambulated by several hundred people in procession, most dressed in traditional costumes and making offerings of all sorts. They then formed up into a procession of welcome that stretched for more than a mile along the winding road. It was led by a convoy of over one hundred monks and lay people on motorcycles festooned with flags, brightly colored flowers, and ribbons. After the motorcycles came four large detachments of a hundred horseriders on brightly caparisoned mountain steeds festooned with brilliant ribbons and bells. Following them were bright blue open-backed trucks filled with hundreds of local people waving white and yellow khatas. A police chief brought up the rear of the procession as it made its way to an "inner" reception.

In a large meadow filled with local people, the Sakyong and his entire party were offered milk tea, yogurt made from dri milk (the dri is the female of the yak), bread, sweet biscuits, and softdrinks. The ceremony was led by Karma Sengay Rinpoche, who spent years collecting the teachings that the Vidyadhara gave in the years before he escaped from Tibet. For the final two-kilometer (approximately one and a quarter miles) approach to the monastery's main shrine room, the horse riders formed a procession. They rode ten abreast behind the Sakyong who led them on a whitemare, flanked by officers of the Dorje Kasung in uniform.

To the sound of gyalings and drums, the Sakyong was greeted in front of the monastery by a procession of monastics -- the first two carrying Shambhala flags -- who led him to the main shrine room. The "secret" welcome took place in the main shrine room where the monastic community made a large mandala offering and presented khatas to the Chabje Sakyong (the term by which he is know: Chabje is the Tibetan honorific meaning "Holiness"). The lay community then streamed through, making offerings of welcome. En route to the shrine room, the party passed the site of the Dudtsi-tilshedra construction. The work was clearly ahead of schedule. The Chabje Sakyong is expected to inspect the site in the coming days. Dispatches from Surmang -- which is not on the Chinese electricity and phone grid -- are being sent for the next few days by satellite phone. (This message is from the Shambhala News Service.)

Come all the way back to the beginning. Things seem the same, but there is the not-so-subtle shift. Here we are then, with our feet planted, a new red Hurricane pram-mobile, supped up with a flashy rain tarp and sweet suspension. You should see the way the sucker corners (actually it takes some effort to make the thing turn).

I wanted to tell so many stories, but find it difficult to do much in the way of online musings. In fact I could get sucked right into all the housework, gritty day-to-day necessities. Under the right circumstances (deep meditation practice, inherent wisdom, and newborn care) the more mundane aspects of life, like vacuuming, cooking, cleaning the toilet etc., take on their own richness and are complete. Nothing is really a pain in the ass, is it, if you get right down to it?

Again, everything seems the same, but it is not. There is a rootedness, a tie to where you are. And a simultaneous understanding and heartfelt forgiveness to the parents of the world, for all their efforts. That’s a relief.

Alice and I went for a long walk in the Krkonose Mountains one day before Isadora was born. We looked at the map later and counted about 6 kilometers, but it sure felt longer, especially with Alice’s belly swinging merrily from side to side. I could hear the sound of water sloshing, like lying the in the hull of a ship listening to the waves slap wood.

At first we stuck to the trail, but then a long row of raspberry bushes seduced us away and across a wide field filled with clover. At that point there was no going back. Despite my best efforts, I could not convince Alice to go back the way we had come. So we set off up the side of a grassy slope and into the forest. Our pace was slow and measured and soon the sun was making its way towards the other end of the sky. For a while we lay on the grass and watched the gliders circle overhead. The airport was next to our pension and served as a kind of reference point. But soon even they disappeared for the day as the sky deepened orange and all got much quieter.

Alice is no wizard at directions. She tries her best, but often it seems to me that she’s following a more intuitive path (or maybe purposely screwing us up?), one that answers a question different from the one that’s on the table, namely: How do we get back? I had the feeling that something else was at stake. So we trundled on into the wilderness, cutting across fields in search of an elusive road that we both suddenly imagined would take us back to the pension. We did find a road and took it, walking under the tunnel-like trees that lined it. The branches stood like soldiers along the narrow road, their branches interlocking overhead. It got much darker and the sound of sloshing seemed to echo with more intensity. I tried to look calm and control my thoughts. There was no one around anywhere. She’s practically ready to give birth. What, am I gonna have to bite through the cord. Alice on the other hand looked content and peaceful. After we discovered that the road was, in fact, taking us away from our destination, we laughed nervously at our silly mistake and had to set off across the fields once again. Now it was getting late and we were most certainly lost, though I think we both knew the general location of the pension, it was over a few hills with many properties, forests and natural barriers between. Alice wanted to continue cutting across the unknown, down a farmer’s field and go where we hadn’t gone yet. I was adamant that we go back to a place where we had been and knew and from where we could find our way. In the end, we just got more lost, before popping up in known territory. We made it back fine and said good-bye to where we had spent a week of peace. The moon at this point was nearly full. There was a raw kind of ripeness to this time.

When we left the next day, I accidentally took the room key with me. Once home, we went outside to hang the laundry, closing the door behind us. When we returned we realized that Alice had left the key in the opposite side of our super-high-security door. We had now moved beyond what is normally a controlled situation. All the carefully packed bags, papers and passports were left inside the room. Our birth plan, ideas about how things should and could go, was safely packed in the pockets on nice cotton paper. We were locked out in our slippers and T-shirts. Not even the fire department could get in, as Alice stood in the hallway rubbing her belly and answering their questions.

That night and early morning, as we were swept up by the forces of the unknown, playing each moment as it came along, I could only be grateful to this excellent woman who constantly shows me how to stop controlling and predicting, to let go for a moment and let life take care of itself. And it does, it’s quite a thing.

Anybody in the room ever changed a diaper?

Another question. Are you ever amazed by what your friends do when you're not around? Check out this amazing story by Scott M. as he tracks down and busts the "piss-thrower" of his Tulip Cafe. His tenacity in the situation left me in awe.

It's been a long haul, but yesterday Alice gave birth:

It's a girl and her name is Isadora Simone Buehler.

Many stories around the birth, but that's for later. Thanks to many of you for your help these past months. Time to do a little celebrating, no?