Chapter 10
The group immediately fell in love with Kopan monastery. It was a little city, containing several thousand monastics and many lay devotees who went there for a few hours, a few days, or even a few months of retreat. The prayer wheel next to the office where people were welcomed and assigned rooms was so large it had its own room.
About twenty feet high, the beautiful red and gold metallic cylinder was centered in a room large enough for people to be able to walk completely around the prayer wheel and out the door again when they completed as many revolutions of the prayer wheel as they wished. A red metal railing was attached to the huge cylinder about three feet up from the floor so that one could hold on to the ring of metal and pull the prayer wheel around as he or she circled within the room.
This huge prayer wheel made Brother Francis think of some of the amusements that he would ride on as a child when they went to the amusement park on a school picnic. Bells jangled as the prayer wheel spun. Perhaps that auditory trigger was what evoked the memory for him. One of the monks assigned room numbers to each person and led the way to their quarters in one of the retreat houses.
After they had walked about ten minutes, people in the group began to wonder just where they were going to be located. At one point they passed a very dilapidated guesthouse and hoped against hope that they would not be housed there. Fortunately, they were relieved to see that their monastic guide continued right past the dilapidated guesthouse to a very new building. They later learned that the building was so new that this group of six people from American was the first to be housed in it.
The building was bright and clean and had several large common rooms on the first floor. Up a wide staircase was a second floor with six large rooms each containing three or four beds. The six pilgrims paired themselves up in the same fashion as at their hotel in Kathmandu. After the guest master monk had left the building, the six friends tiptoed out of their rooms into the spacious hallway, smiled, and did a group hug.
“Wow, that was close,” said Chantal. “I wasn’t sure where we were going to be housed but I was bracing myself for the worst.”
After washing up and a brief nap the group headed to the dining hall. There were, in fact, several large dining halls. They found the appropriate building after a walk of about eight minutes, but walked into a large room filled with about a thousand young boys in maroon habits.
“They are little ‘monkettes,’” said Mani with a sigh. The air was charged with the electricity of youth, and all of them pointed up to the ceiling as if to say you need to go to the next floor. Out went the gaggle of travelers, up the steps, and there they found a similar room to the one below, but this one was filled with adults. A thousand or so grown up monks, and a few hundred lay people, inhabited this space.
The room had a large outdoor patio covered with an awning that would be a delightful place to eat in the daylight. Several large urns of tea were placed somewhat precariously upon a large table in the center of the dining hall. On the next table pots and pots of rice and vegetables emitted aromatic smells.
Mani had done some fancy footwork in arranging for a birthday cake to be brought to their table. It was Flo’s birthday and it was celebrated in grand style here on the other side of the world. The cake looked much like an American birthday cake but the icing and colors were much more vibrant and alive. Candles were lit and the group sang to their birthday girl. All of the monks and guests stopped in mid-chew and stared, their eyes wide with wonder. When the song was over the little group clapped, and then the entire dining hall filled with people began clapping. They weren’t quite sure why they were clapping but they seemed to be enjoying themselves just the same.
Francis remembered that clapping could be a sign of welcoming to the Buddha or welcoming to a guest. Whatever symbolism one associates with the clapping, all of it was very positive indeed. The birthday cake was a large square sheet cake, which could easily be divvied up into about fifty pieces. The entire group turned into brain surgeons with large and awkward looking knives as they cut the cake. Each of the six travelers took a few pieces on paper plates and wandered through the dining hall giving out cake to whoever seemed interested. When they got back to the table there were still a few pieces left for them to enjoy.
Flo’s eyes were moist. She told the group, “I will never ever forget this most wonderful birthday. Thank you so very much.”
Tibetan names were all running together in their minds. The guestmaster monk, no one could quite remember his name, who had taken them to their wonderful new quarters, appeared at their table. He told them that the Abbot of the monastery was having a service of blessing that evening. If they wished they could bring a kathak with them and take it up during the service to have the Abbot put it over their necks as a sign of welcome and blessing.
Everyone was excited about being part of such a ceremony but it was Mani’s turn to be a bit under the weather.
“I’d like to be there but I’m just soooo tired. Would someone please take a kathak with him or her and have the Abbot bless it for me?”
Flo volunteered. She had been given an injection of new life through her birthday party.
Yak butter lamps flickered as the five dear friends entered the temple. About three thousand men, women, and children--lay devotees as well as monastics--filled the huge prayer hall. Drums and cymbals were being pounded which, at first, sounded harsh to Western ears. This was what eventually lulled the entire assemblage into an altered state of consciousness. The added chanting only deepened the surrealistic quality of the adventure.
The Tibetan Abbot began teaching. From time to time the guestmaster, who always seemed to be there when needed, would translate a phrase or a few of the words. The Buddhist theme of developing compassion for all sentient beings was being expounded upon. One way to develop this intense compassion was with the help of meditation. The Abbot spoke briefly about the positive benefits of meditation and welcomed the group of six travelers from America, who would be receiving some private training on meditation during the next two days.
Deeply moved, the five pilgrims simply looked to the ground, greatly humbled and awed that they would be singled out in such a celebration.
Everyone in the hall then was invited forward to receive a kathak of welcome from the Abbot. In the midst of the crowd, on the way to the Abbot, the guestmaster walked up to Flo and told her that she had two kathaks draped over her folded hands rather than one. Flo explained that she was bringing a kathak for a friend to have it blessed by the Abbot. The monk smiled kindly and mentioned that this was not necessary. Blessing is available for all and one need only be open to it. Hmm, Flo thought to herself, this is a little different from we Papes.
The monk continued, “If you wish, however, feel free to take both scarves with you.”
One by one, the American travelers approached the Abbot with the silk scarves draped over their folded hands. The Abbot took the scarf and placed it around the neck of the traveler, something like the way one would wear a scarf in the West or similar to the wearing of a liturgical stole during a religious celebration. The whole experience took on the ambience of a wedding, funeral, Bar / Bat Mitzvah, confirmation, ordination, profession of monastic vows, and Baptism. The inner connectedness of all things sacred was very apparent, along with the healthy desire to stay rooted in one’s own spiritual tradition.
The crowd dispersed into the night in an atmosphere of relaxed silence. The American travelers walked back to their guesthouse at a leisurely pace, each savoring the events of the day. They walked as if they had lived here forever, feeling completely safe and welcome. When they arrived at the guesthouse, a large beige dog, as welcoming and friendly as he was huge, stood by the doorway they were trying to enter. They each patted him and made their hellos. The dog seemed to communicate that all was fine and that you can go in now. One by one they did so. It didn’t take long for any of the group to fall asleep. Mani had been asleep for several hours already.
Francis woke about four in the morning. He quietly got out of bed so as not to disturb Krishna, who would probably be up shortly anyway. He made his way to the common showers. He shaved without cutting himself, which is a blessing, because it took him a few minutes to remember where he was when he first woke up. He quickly showered and returned to his room.
Francis dressed in casual clothes and began tiptoeing out of the room when he heard Krishna say, “Good morning, my brother.”
“Good morning back to you, my friend. I’ll see you at breakfast.” With that, Francis closed the door behind him and quietly descended the steps to the first floor of the guesthouse. As he tried to open the door, he realized that there was something in front of it and that the door would open no more than a few inches. As he pushed a little, the object blocking the door moved a little. He pushed a little harder and all at once was free. There, standing in front of him, and looking up at him, was the huge beige dog that had welcomed him the night before. The dog had been keeping guard throughout the night at the door of the guesthouse. Francis smiled and patted the dog gently on the head.
“Don’t get too frisky Brother dog. St. Francis of Assisi is the patron of animals. The patron of my monastery is St. Francis de Sales--but I am still grateful for your vigilance.” He made his way along the dark road and down to the large temple once again. Entering it, he sat quietly in the light of the yak butter lamps. He meditated and then prayed some of his Office by heart.
After being in an altered state of consciousness for he didn’t know how long, Francis stood up and then did a little yoga. No one was in the temple yet so he was sure he was not disturbing anyone. Francis did the Sun Salutation yoga asana and then the Five Elements form of qigong.
Feeling invigorated in body, mind, and spirit, he made his way to the outdoors where the first rays of light were streaking the sky with color. He sat quietly on a bench not too far from a colossal incense burner, about the side of a little cottage. It was about ten feet tall and had smoke billowing out from the top of it. The big contraption created a plume of smoke that was healthy enough to power a locomotive. Since Francis was upwind of this, he enjoyed the aroma of it without feeling like he needed to cough or gag. Brother Francis continued his meditation in this healing and peaceful atmosphere.
Eventually one of the little boy monks, a child of about ten with a shaved head and maroon habit on, crossed the courtyard in front of the temple. He struggled with a huge wash basket full of something between his arms. The little boy walked up to Brother Francis, bowed to him, and turned on an electric smile. He used his eyes to point to the contents of the basket as if inviting Francis to help himself. Francis looked down to find hundreds of delicious looking cakes generously imbedded with raisins. He took the one closest to him and bowed to the young man. The boy nodded to the basket again as if inviting Francis to please have another. Francis happily obliged. The two had communicated on a deep level, sharing Spirit and sharing food. The little boy wobbled off with his burden toward what Francis took to be a common room in a large building near the temple. Evidently the little monks were having a collation prior to their time in the temple and breakfast.
Francis wondered about the tradition of taking boys and girls at so young an age into monastic life. Certainly this would never happen in the Roman Catholic tradition today. It did happen in the Middle Ages, but that custom has long been abandoned. Even having high school students enter a junior seminary or live in a convent or monastery as an Aspirant has been discontinued almost completely.
The children certainly look happy and free. He was sure that, for many of them, life here was better in terms of food, clothing, education, medical care, and housing than it would be otherwise. What about the theology of call? Wasn’t a vocation, a God-given invitation rather than an attempt to gain security?
Perhaps God’s hand was in this too, just in a slightly different fashion. Who said we all have to look the same or be the same?
Drums thundered through the monastic compound. I much prefer a bell, Francis thought, as he landed back on his bench--it’s a little less jarring. But whoever said we all have to be the same?
The Christian monk stood up, stretched, smiled, and peacefully walked across the courtyard and re-entered the temple for a different experience of Morning Prayer. It was a lot louder and more energetic than he was used to at his monastery. It did, however, wake him up and get his day going. The smell of incense wafted through the temple and mixed with the ”aroma” of yak butter. In a smaller space the yak butter might be difficult to take, but here there was lots of air and the aroma of incense and it was fine.
After prayer the community made its way to the dining room, the little monks in the lower dining room, and the older monks in the upper dining room along with the guests. His five fellow travelers caught up with Francis in the dining room and took a table in the awning-covered patio for breakfast. As they ate their Asian fare of steamed vegetables and breakfast soup, their eyes gazed out and drank in the beauty of the mountain around them. Surely this was a magical time and place in the life of each one of them.
Their attentive guestmaster appeared at the table and invited them to join him for a walk to the nunnery. He said that there was a community of several hundred nuns who lived just down the road. They had invited the Americans to visit, have a tour of their monastery, and join them for mid-morning tea. The seven people met in the temple courtyard shortly after breakfast and began their walk over a somewhat rocky road downhill toward the nunnery.
On their way they passed an older women carrying two large buckets of water to her little home. Francis smiled at her and took one bucket from her, David took the other bucket, and they walked the few remaining steps to her house and left the buckets there for her. She smiled and bowed to the group as they left. The woman stood in front of her house continuing to wave like a loved one or family member would do when someone from the household is off on a journey.
Chatting amicably with one another during their twenty-minute walk, they arrived at the nunnery in what felt like minutes. The nuns all seemed young. Many of them appeared to be in their twenties or thirties, but the group later found out that a number of them were in their fifties and sixties--the older ones just looking very young. There were two young nuns, little girls of grade school age who, like their contemporaries at the men’s monastery, were there to become nuns.
The community members helped support themselves by making incense and the travelers were taken through the incense factory, given a tour of the library, and then given time to pray in the quiet of the large temple--complete with more yak butter lamps. The temple seemed just a tad cleaner than the monk’s temple. Francis found this throughout Asia. Sometimes the contrast was quite dramatic, the monk’s communities not having temples quite as clean as the nun’s communities. Some things are universal.
After two hours of touring, talks, and prayer, the group joined some of the nuns for tea. The tea was delicious, plied with ample amounts of milk and sugar. Francis had several cups of this delicious brew, as did most of his group. He probably wouldn’t sleep for a week with all that caffeine and sugar in him, but he enjoyed every moment of it. Later the nuns who were students, perhaps a thousand of them, filled the courtyard to do their debating.
In the Tibetan monastic tradition, the monastic person in formation learns about the teachings of the Buddha, the Scriptures, and other holy books partly by debating about them in small groups. The students are given topics to debate on and assigned different sides to take as they debate. The debater slaps his or her one hand with the other when making a point and inviting another from darkness to light, from confusion to enlightenment.
After the slap, which is a kind of cognitive shock treatment, the hand is slid up the inside of the arm toward the shoulder. This combination of fast and slower moves made Francis thing of the yin and yang of Chinese medicine and of life.
The guide gathered his flock together, reminding them that they too had a class. They walked back to the monastery and shortly gathered in one of the smaller temples where a nun was prepared to teach them a very fascinating form of meditation.
The six members who were traveling together were shown into a small temple along with three or four additional guests who were there as individual retreatants. A woman in her late forties entered the room. She had short brown hair, closely shaven, almost to her scalp. She wore a long maroon dress and sandals. Her smile and deportment suggested that she was very happy to be with this group. Everyone stood up and said hellos to this Buddhist nun. The nun had grown up in Switzerland, became a Buddhist, and moved to this monastery some twenty-five years ago upon entering monastic life. Her name was Ani Karen. She explained that “Ani” is the title one would give to a Buddhist nun and used much like “Sister” would be used for Western Christian nuns.
The group sat down, trying to settle in on pillows placed in a variety of unstable formations. Ani Karen said that if it was too uncomfortable for people to sit in that fashion, that they were welcome to sit on a chair, or lean up against one of the six square pillars that were part of the structure of the temple.
Brother Francis was in the back, struggling to settle into several pillows when Mani invited him to move forward. She hollered back to him that he was not very visible and therefore probably couldn’t see the instructor very well. Francis was just as happy to stay in the back but the whole group said that they wanted him to move forward so that he could see well. Francis cooperatively picked up his pillows and walked to the front of the group and sat down. He began to arrange himself on the pillows. By force of habit he slipped his fingers within his waistband to arrange his clothing and everyone burst out laughing. The monk was certainly startled by this and asked the group to let him in on the joke. It turned out that as he adjusted himself, a little bit of the waistband of his “Fruit of the Looms” was very visible. When he finally understood what the group was chuckling over, Ani Karin smiled and quietly said, “People certainly get to know one another very well on a trip like this, don’t they?” Everyone laughed even harder, including Brother Francis.
As people settled into a more contemplative mode, the nun began to talk about meditation in general, its benefits along with its challenges. She outlined various common practices such as styles of posture, breathing exercises, and objects of meditation that might be used, some of which could be mental mantras or imagery.
Now the people making up this group were not expert Buddhists by any stretch; most of them were probably committed Christians. Ani Karen believed that an ancient Buddhist meditation practice known as Tong Len would be the most interesting practice for the people gathered. The English translation of Tong Len is “giving and taking.”
The Buddhist practitioner explained that, “In the West, I understand, it is very common for people to shy away from the negative energy, or contaminated qi, of others. Even healthcare practitioners, energy medicine healers, and medical qigong doctors, have a certain resistance to healing when the negative energy of another is present in large proportions. They practice lots of ways to shield and protect themselves from this negativity.
“An ancient Eastern sage, for example, might visualize a bucket or cauldron of flames on the floor next to him or her as the healer works with the person in need of healing. The sage would pull out and throw into the cauldron the negative energy to be burned up.
“The practice of Tong Len, then, is respectful of this avoidance of negativity, but moves into and deals with the ‘unhealthy’ qi or suffering of others in a very direct fashion. In Tong Len, there is a conscious choice to collect and take in, albeit momentarily, the negativity of the other.”
The lecture certainly caught the attention of the people in the room. The Tibetan Buddhist nun was right on target with the differences between Western approaches to energy medicine and some of the practices of the East. A few of the listeners fidgeted a little bit in an unconscious expression of resistance and tension about what was being stated.
Ani Karen suggested that the group take a little break, and promised that when they re-gathered she would lead them in a Tong Len meditation if they were interested.
During the brief break, David said that he didn’t know what any of this was about; he had heard people talk about such things and was willing to go along for the ride, so to speak. Chantal was a little more cautious but always an adventurous person, plus her psychological research background made her curious. Mani was definitely and chronically cautious. The approach Ani Karen was describing flew in the face of everything that she had ever learned or done. Flo was a nurse and very focused on keeping any kind of disease at bay, be it psychological or spiritual. Krishna trusted in God and God’s many manifestations and was very open. Natural healing had always been an interest of this Western-trained physician. Brother Francis was captivated by the idea. It was he, in fact, who suggested the topic of Tong Len for the group. The handful of other guests were perhaps not as informed about the topics under discussion and saw it simply as another type of meditation.
When the break was over, the juggling for comfort on the pillows began anew. This time Brother Francis was careful not to adjust his shirt and waistband prior to the class! Ani Karen’s deportment was even more serene and focused at this point. She began to talk about the practice of Tong Len, explaining that there were many forms of it and that this was a rather simple beginning class that could lead them very deeply into a new way of relating to what is sacred—as well as more deeply into the suffering intrinsic to life.
She invited the group to sit comfortably and to take some gentle relaxing breaths. She suggested that people either close their eyes or leave them slightly open, just enough for some light to get in so that they would not fall asleep. If anyone kept his or her eyes open, Ani Karen suggested that the person gaze at a spot on the floor several feet in front of oneself.
She invited the people to think of someone who was sick or dealing with an emotional problem, perhaps even think of the pain of the entire world. She said that it was sometimes more helpful in the beginning to think of a specific person, maybe sitting in their living room with them in an invisible fashion. Perhaps it was an older aunt, a parent, or a friend who would come to mind.
“Use the gift of your imagination,” she counseled. “If you are not a very visually oriented person, simply think about that person or situation. Some people can make pictures in their mind easily, others have a stronger sense of sound or smell, or a feeling in the gut. One is not preferable to another, simply use the gifts you have-- the way you are wired, so to speak..”
The room held a palpable sense of silence and focus. The serenity of Ani Karen penetrated into the heart of each person in the red and gold painted temple.
“Now think of the person you chose and invisibly sit or stand with him or her, perhaps in their homes, and visualize the blackness that runs through their body—a representation of sickness, evil, or pain that this person has had to deal with in the past or is presently dealing with. See this blackness circulating through the person you have in mind and begin to invite that blackness to move out of the body through the nostrils slowly, like smoke or ink.
“Have this negativity float upward and cleanse the person as it is expelled through the nostrils. This may take some time. We will pause for ten minutes or so to allow you to move into that process…. As the black inky substance moves up and out, it collects into an olive-shaped image in front of the person you are thinking about. This is thought to be a condensed form of the suffering of that person floating out in front of them.”
The room moved into an even deeper silence for about ten minutes when time and space was suspended. Geography also disappeared.
Eventually Ani Karen spoke again, very gently, “This is the part that Westerners would call ‘dangerous.’ I am going to suggest that you allow the olive-shaped form of evil and suffering to begin to liquefy, change again, so that like smoke or ink it can move forward and into your nostrils. Please do not do that now.
“Let me continue explaining, she cautioned, “As the black smoke moves in through your nostrils and down the throat toward the heart, just let it go at its own pace, perhaps using the breath as a type of pump, so that each inhalation takes in the evil a little further.
Here we have the heart of the matter. When the smoke reaches your heart, let the very beginning touch of that smoke upon the heart ignite the negativity like a case of dynamite or a nuclear reaction. Then let that fire move up and out to the rest of the olive-shaped image of evil and burn it up in a nanosecond. In that way, the negativity is not taken into you in a permanent way but is dissolved.”
Ani Karen invited those who wished to do so to begin that process. The atmosphere of suspense and tension was palpable. After a few moments, several of the people jumped on their cushions or in their chairs. An energetic connection with the entire universe was happening, along with a bonding to all the suffering that people have had to deal with. Francis saw in this experience much about the heart of Christ and his passion. He also saw the compassion of anyone who would dare to pray in such a fashion.