Fire puja chocolate croissant

CN

We walked up the forested path to the regional mountaineering center where of us  did a session on the steep lattice ladder, then to Lhamo's croissant bakery, where they ushered us into the upper room, where we sat on cushions and waited for the croissants to come out of the oven, surrounded by pictures of their home in Tibet they left 20 years ago, walking over high Himalayan passes to India. They have a seven year old daughter, who kept peeking into our room, fascinated to see Emily. 

These are the old faded prayer flags on the roof of the bakery, which the kind, calm, owner gave me. Every time I see him, he wants to tell me about a talk he is listening to or a book, today when we paid he said, my mind gets so narrow when I have to count money. 

Hunting for the carved stamps on the side of the road. 

Impressions of the fire puja, a strange and hypnotic combination of deep voices, chanting prayers, while the repairs continued on another level with the blows of a repetitive sledge hammer, "truth comes in blows" 

like a performance piece or a zen Buddhist koan, connecting the sacred to the mundane.  Monks dressed in maroon robes with flashes of orange chanting ancient sacred incantations, over the sledge hammer base line, while the young monks downstairs continued their clapping exchanges, clap, laugh, clap, all of this is outside on the temple interior porch looking out over the distant mountain. Lots of fire, burnt offerings.

The shoes the monks wear are varied, and interesting. 

The roof of the temple.

Out hotel looks so grand at night.

Nadi Waterfall

We left around 6:00 AM it was very humid, a heavy atmosphere and walked up and up hoping to find Nadi. We came to a house in what seemed like a village and asked a sleepy girl, where is Nadi? She pointed with her head, here. Soon I was surrounded by a pack of black scraggly dogs who were biting my trekking poles, which I had brought with the express purpose of fending of wild animals, except they thought it was a fun game, biting after the trekking poles. A couple in the little cafe were laughing, and turned out to be from Ohio.  She teaches monks about psychology, in the monastery, and invited us to visit the lecture, then we talked about what we would lecture about, with the monks. 

The beautiful cool trek to the river, where there was something like a waterfall, but hardly a waterfall at all, still a lovely place.

But a few of the black straggly dogs followed us the entire way. 

Trail signs...

 Clark shooting a goat, then watching the goat bite his finger, then taking these pictures...

Delhi to McLeod Ganj

Clark at work in Delhi. 

 Clark, said, "hard to explain the pandemonium that is Delhi, each street feels like a demolition derby, buses, trucks, handcarts, bicycles, wagons, motorcycles. mopeds, chickens, goats and stray cows. Yet oddly the perpetual cacophony of car horns bouncing through the narrow canyons was strangely soothing to my soul. Something deep inside me understands that kind of chaos"  In spite of the chaos, Clark's photographs always seem calmly composed.

 By contrast, the hillside in McLeod Ganj is quiet and serene, with pine trees and hills fading into hills fading into mountains.

It is also where his holiness the Dalai Llama lives. There is a 3 day puja going on, a constant chanting of deep prayers inside the temple, which we stayed and listened to.  Tomorrow we return for the fire puja.

The long awaited bus from Delhi to Dharamshala. 

people on the trail

Chamunda School Visit and Cricket

 We took a morning to visit the Chamunda school and teach some art classes, we were lucky Clark brought his camera, and was glad he was not one of the teachers because it looked so hard.

 I think it was a really good experience, because children are children.  But getting them to laugh is the key...and these children laugh really easily.

playing Cricket! all photographs Clark Goldsberry. Mahi is not impressed.







Rachel drawing at the Gyuto temple.    
                                       Emily who is very happy to eat white rice.

Playing Cricket

The cook at the hotel giving us a cooking lesson. Why not? After all we are the only guests in the entire hotel.  

Indian Holy Wisemen Worship Ma Anandamagee

The goal was to slow down and have a nice quiet day, and for nothing to happen. I suggested a 6:00 AM hike down to the village and then to the river over an old rusty metal bridge through the yellow rye fields, past the smiling children who are very good at saying good morning, on a footpath on the edge of the terrace and then down through the pine forest, weaving our way among elephantine boulders, "Clark, we are in India"' carefully making rock cairns on the way down so we could find our way back. Nothing much happening, found a small pool among the boulders to wade in the glacial water.

We found our cairns, back to the village, hey, should we stop at the Ashram? Dressed in long flowing robes, the French Canadian named Hasmoke, asked us to stay for tea, introduced us to the very tall Swamigee. I should grow my hair so long I could make a ponytail. Hasmkoke told us a long story about Ma Anandamayee, the Indian saint they worship or revere as an example. Then the Swami-ji invited us to the yoga shrine room, and started playing his organ piano instruments reminiscent of say, Iron Butterfly, with a song to go with it. It was hypnotic and intense. They said we are welcome to come back for the big feast and unveiling of the statue in a few days. 

Notes on walking...Thich Nhat Hanh ...few people realize that joy needs to be cultivated and practiced in order to go...there's a belief that happiness is not possible here and now, so we have a tendency to run into the future in order to look for happiness...the act of walking will water the seeds of peace that are already inside us...if you empower your feet with the energy of mindfulness, your feet become Buddha's feet...when we walk with others the collective energy of mindfulness is very powerful. It helps heal everyone...we build the future by taking care of the present moment...

walking down to the village,  through the pine trees.

rock cairn

The Swami-ji

photograph Priscilla Stewart

photograph Clark Goldsberry

photograph Clark Goldsberry