30 April 2009 - 8:31pm Comments Off
[pg 2 of 22]

Andy, Switzerland


The caravan moves through miles and miles of space and time, flies across oceans and traverses endless plains. All these hours in the open leave you raw and confused, until one morning you tumble from a dusty bus and stagger up the stairs to an open door. Then – dark and comfort and chants that will follow you through all the coming days: three thousand monks, tidal wave of red robes rising from the ocean of contemplation; Gaden prayer hall resounding with the miracle of arrival. After all this time on the highways and low ways of distraction, the mandala of one-pointed prayer takes you in like a mother and the air becomes medicine. How wonderful to disappear in this forest of bodies devoted to the end of suffering and to merge with the pujas of dawn.

Rays of morning catching in a beehive of wandering khatas and lighting the faces of the Masters…we offer robes and images; they offer their presence: a silence filled with vows of holiness.

If all together we could suddenly see

and the blindfolds of our endless wanting and

not-wanting would simply drop,

the blue ecstasy of space

and the rising sun of love

would look like your faces… pure beauty.

An hour at the feet of the Master is better than a million years of happiness: how stupid would i be to add a single word, except – thank you Gaden, unforgettable, indescribable, wholly holy Land of Bliss.


To see His Eminence Tsem Rinpoche in Gaden: I saw somebody returning to a home he never left, where he is recognised for what he is, not for all the funny ideas we may have of him, not for all the funny things we may hope to get out of him…

I endlessly rejoice in the testimonies of all the great Masters we met who told us that our Teacher is a Bodhisattva – may it make us finally steadfast in faith and service, and open our eyes to the truth of what it is we serve. Realising it is never a person, never a building we work for, but love, compassion, bodhicitta – what doubt can remain?

Sitting on the bed in the tiny old room where Rinpoche lived for years, in the happiness of studying and practising, was like time-travel into a past picture book of devotion and determination. To witness the deep respect and the high hopes the Monastery places in Rinpoche was like a looking glass into a future that itself is one never-ending journey of offering.

Surely I was not the only one deeply humbled by seeing our Teacher in the place he loves most and that loves him most.

Thank you Rinpoche…

Comments are closed.