Dreaming Of Danzan Ravjaa

Monks and Dates

Thought that title'd get yer attention. But it ain't those kinda dates.

A cascading series of snafus had me on the phone all day yesterday between the National Geographic Museum and the Atlanta Mongolian art show organizers and while, believe me, you do not need to know the gory details, the upshot is this: The Atlanta concert of Ensemble Khan Bogd has been shifted from February 11 to the 15th. Venue details, etc. to follow soon. If you happen to live in the DC area, the ensemble will be part of a Mongolian cultural festival at the NatGeo Museum on the 11th, being organized by the Mongolian Embassy. More details will follow soon.

Now, I know I have readers far and wide, so here's an appeal for bright ideas. Ganna's ensemble, who are truly top-notch (I saw them in Mongolia as you may recall) are in the States through the end of March. They are looking for performance opportunities within reasonable driving distance from DC (or from the previous night's gig.) And by "reasonable", I consider the 10-hour haul to Atlanta not unreasonable. So email me (link under the image, upper left) if you have some contacts I might pursue on their behalf. If some deep-pocketed presenter wants to fly them somewhere (like, oh I dunno, Honolulu?), well, we'll consider that too.

In the meantime, the organizer for Oglethorpe emailed me this morning with this excellent article from the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. Strangely, though, his email had graphics of two thangkas, but the link doesn't. So, through the magic of cut and paste, here are a couple of examples from the upcoming substitute show with the original captions-- like Glenn said, as good or better than what was originally coming:

"Collection of Alan and Denise Farancz

This painting by Palden Llamo is one of 70 Mongolian works coming to Oglethorpe University. A Mongolian political crisis canceled the original show, but collectors delivered what may be an even better one."

"Collection of Alan and Denise Farancz

Distemper, a technique of mixing color, glue and water, was used in this work by Gyalpo Ku Nga, circa late-18th century."

Cool Mongolian Runnin's

Glenn Mullin, who apparently has accomplished a siddhi in intercontinental cultural organization, sends this email about the renaissance of his Mongolian Buddhist art exhibit in Atlanta:

"My greetings from Mongolia.

As you probably know, the Mongolian government collapsed on Jan 13th, and as a result our efforts to bring over a Mongolian exhibit to Atlanta for a Feb 12th opening were thrown into a deep freeze. The Minister of Culture has to sign off on all national institute artifacts leaving the country, and he, along with the PM and ten others, were all sacked.

I called Don Rubin in NY and asked if he and Shelley could come to the rescue. Like the true heroes they are, they agreed, on the condition that I curate it from their private collection and not pieces they have donated to the [Rubin Museum of Art]. (The RMA is presently taking down and putting up two shows, so involving the RMA staff would be a major problem to the timeline.) Don graciously also offered to phone other collectors of Mongolian art. Back in Atlanta Lloyd Nick, the [Oglethorpe University Museum of Art] director, has worked around the clock to bring it all together.

As a result, we have come up with a spectacular substitute show, at least as good if not better than the original. The reality is that much of what existed in Mongolia was destroyed by the Communist purges of the 1930s, so more great Mongolian works exist outside the country than inside it. American private collectors have made a great contribution in this way to preserving this rare and spectacularly beautiful art form.

It looked like packing and shipping the art from NY would mean a delay of the opening, and it was tentatively rescheduled for the 26th. Getting a booking on truck equipped with all the facilities for handling fragile art is not easy. It looked like the earliest we could get was the 11th, for a 15th or so arrival.

But then somehow miraculously Don was able to get a booking in Feb 2nd, for a 6th delivery, making the 12th opening possible.

Please rejoice and spread the word. Mongolian enlightenment comes to Atlanta on Feb 12th. Be there for the exciting opening."

Now, I have a rôle in all this. A while back, Glenn asked me to put together some Mongolian performers for the opening and a separate gig at Emory. I did so, but now it’s becoming more of a “thing.”

My go-to guy for Mongolian culture is Gankhuyag Natsag (“Ganna”), the wonderful artist who lives here in the DC area and was one of our original connectors to things Mongolian. Well, coincidence of coincidences, he just happens to be providing performers for the National Geographic Museum’s Feb. 10th opening of an exhibit of Mongolian ethnic dolls and tsam dance masks and costumes. NatGeo is coughing up the dough to fly from Mongolia five musicians and dancers from Ganna’s Ensemble Khan Bogd so the Atlanta gig promises to be quite the hootenanny. Looks like I’ll be driving them down for performances at Emory on Feb. 11, the Oglethorpe exhibit opening on Feb. 12, and a possible additional gig at Oglethorpe on the 15th.

In addition, Emory will host me on Monday the 13th giving a PowerPoint presentation called “An American Monk in Mongolia: Buddhist Revival in the Heart of Asia” and Glenn will also give a lecture, not sure where yet, on the 14th. So if you’re anywhere in the Atlanta area, or know folks who are, I hope you’ll take advantage of this unusual opportunity to connect with authentic, wonderful Mongolian culture.

If you’re a bit west of the Mississippi, Palzang is giving the same PowerPoint presentation at the University of Las Vegas this Saturday, with a possible reprise in Santa Barbara, CA, in February.

I'm also hoping beyind hope that I can sneak out to the Piedmont National Wildlife Refuge with a local expert while in Georgia and see the endangered Red-cockaded Woodpecker!

A Small, Good Thought

A little over a year ago I had a small idea about how to help a few kids in Mongolia. It needed the participation of my cousin Ryan who, bless her big heart, saw the potential and ran with it. If you've ever doubted the irrepressible power of compassion, or how one good thought can produce a mountain of joy, grab some hankies, click here, and doubt no more.

Humpty Dumpty, Personal and Political

Typing that title made me think of the old Digital Underground jam The Humpty Dance with the immortal lyric, “My name is Humpty, pronounced with a Umpty.” Oh, and "I get stoopid, I shoot an arrow like Cupid, I use a word that don't mean nothin', like looptid." Rest of it’s too raunchy to quote here, but hilarious.

OK, well, anyway, I’m back in Maryland and safely re-installed in the temple at KPC. Man, was Oklahoma an education, on so many levels. I will say that the Cancer Treatment Center there rocks. Compassion pervaded the whole staff, from the docs right down to the housekeepers and drivers (I was picked up in a white stretch limo, first time in my life.) Their aim is to treat the whole person, and eliminate as much stress as possible other than the disease you and your loved ones are coping with. Yeshe emerged about 1000% better than when he went in. And every other patient we spoke with was similarly grateful for the level of care and treatment they were receiving.

A couple of days before our departure, we met with Yeshe’s oncologist, who showed us the computer images of his MRI and CAT scans taken just after he was admitted. First of all, what a miracle that technology is. You ever see that imagery before? I hadn't. Blew me away. But secondly, yikeroonies was Yeshe in tough shape. Cancer activity pervaded his skeletal system, with particular damage in his upper vertebrae and left shoulder. The vertebrae showed degeneration to the point of pressing against the spinal cord (a primary cause of his loss of arm function) and threatening collapse, which would have resulted in paralysis at best. In addition, he had multiple ulcers in his GI tract, was severely anemic and, just to put the cherry on top, had pneumonia.

The docs ordered radiation treatment, administered by their spankin’ new TOMO machine that made you feel like you were in sick bay on the Enterprise, to arrest the more severe tumor developments, and hormone therapy for the systemic cancer spread. That, combined with a zillion and two pills, supplements and potions that we needed to devise a complex Excel spreadsheet to keep track of, nutritional counseling and excellent food, naturopathy, mental and physical therapy, and the dubiously helpful and off-key Singspiration! on Thursday nights in the dining hall (when I suggested a rousing “What a Friend We Have in Buddha” one lady at my table scowled and through pursed lips muttered, “To each his own”), well, what need had we of all the king’s horse or his men? Yeshe had been admirably put back together again.

Mongolia, on the other hand? Not so sure. We hear plenty about Mongolia when all our media embeds need to do is haul their doughy rears off Air Force One, snap pics of Dear Leader posing with Mongols in old warrior costumes, and dutifully take dictation about “heckuva job with your democracy, thanks for the troops, we’re your friend, honest, you find any oil in the Gobi yet? blah blah blah”, but when this just-praised democracy starts to go to hell a mere six weeks later? Barely a peep. Even Auntie Beeb can’t dig up a decent correspondent to sort out the issues.

I can report that there has been some collateral damage from the collapse of the coalition that formed Mongolia’s government, namely Glenn Mullin’s tour of Mongolia’s Buddhist art treasures. He writes in with the following (I like his final sentiment):

“My greetings from Mongolia.

Here things are personally good, but unfortunately my work to bring an exhibit of masterpieces from the Zanabazar Mongolia National Museum has fallen apart. Last week the government collapsed, overthrown by the old Communist Party. The PM and all chief ministers were sacked.

This makes a major problem for my exhibit, which was slated to leave the country ten days from now. By Mongolian law the Minister of Culture has to sign off personally on any art from any national museum leaving the country. In that there is no longer a Culture Minister, and there probably will not be one for several weeks, all such activities have come to a halt.

Therefore the day after the collapse the Ministry phoned me up and informed me that things would be indefinitely postponed. Certainly nothing can happen for the Oglethorpe opening on Feb 12th.

This part is a bit sad, but will probably have a happy ending. I emailed Don Rubin in NY, who has a strong Mongolian collection both privately and in his Foundation, and of course also has the Rubin Museum of Art collection at his disposal. He has agreed to supply a good selection of Mongolian art from these three sources to Oglethorpe in Atlanta in time for the Feb 12th opening, if I’ll still do a catalog. Let’s keep fingers crossed that his Board of Directors endorses his idea.

Anyway, one tries ten good tasks and eight or nine work out. One or two falls to obstacles and hindrances.”

I think, though, that his characterization of what happened is a little off. I’ve been trying to sort all this out, through both the media reports and private emails from friends in Mongolia.

Ten cabinet ministers, all from the Mongolian People’s Revolutionary Party (MPRP – former Communists whose party now more closely resembles Social Democrats) tendered their resignations last week including, I’m puzzled to say, our friend Sharavdorj, the Minister of Defense. They said it was because of inadequate efforts by the current government under the current Prime Minister, Ts. Elbegdorj, of the Democratic Party, to stem inflation and poverty (read Elbegdorj’s statement and other observations at Mongolian Matters.) Others allege that it’s a dramatic smokescreen to detract from anti-corruption investigations that were about to expose many upper-echelon MPRP members. One well-placed American friend in Mongolia writes in with this explanation:

“The anti-corruption investigations were getting too close to a lot of important MPRP members. Especially, the investigation of the city of Ulaanbaatar's land give aways was being investigated. The former mayor is now the party leader and likely next PM. So, to stop the investigations, the MPRP members of the cabinet resigned. Since they were over half the members, that constitutionally triggered the dissolution of the government. The MPRP is trying to get another party to join it, but it already has enough former Democrats who have joined the MPRP to form a new government with a bare majority. They will undoubtedly do so before the end of January. They former foreign minister Munh-Orgil has promised that the new government, what ever its composition will honor all of its commitments.”

Another American friend and longtime Mongolia resident echoes this in stronger terms. He points out that there was no urgent need to force this constitutional dissolution of the government, since the Prime Ministerial post was due to pass to the MPRP in June (September at the latest) anyway. He fears that backroom deals will result in a power-sharing agreement in which the evidence of pervasive, institutional corruption will be swept under the carpet. I hope he’s wrong and that everything comes out into the light. Otherwise, my fear is that the Mongolian people’s frustration at the real-life sufferings they’re experiencing because of such corruption will boil over into serious civil unrest.

On the other hand, he wonders whether Mongolians will react with cynical stoicism like they did when the country went without a Prime Minister for six months in ’99.

Mongolia Web has interesting coverage. Boy, the civil movements don’t want much, do they? “Fire every single official everywhere and have a national do-over.”

Mongolian Government Crisis

Yikes! An email from Glenn Mullin, currently in-country, informed me that Mongolia's government is on the verge of collapse. A Google search shows that this is of little interest apparently to the U.S. press, but there is some information. This Bloomberg piece contains the following:

"Mongolia's coalition government faced collapse today as lawmakers debate whether to accept the resignations of all of the cabinet ministers from the Mongolian People's Revolutionary Party, one of the two ruling parties.

Ten of 18 cabinet ministers resigned from Prime Minister Tsakhia Elbegdorj's cabinet yesterday, Luuzan Gov, a foreign ministry spokeswoman said in a telephone interview. She said parliament would vote today on whether to accept the resignations.

The MPRP, an ex-Communist party which has dominated Mongolian politics since the former Soviet-ruled country gained democracy in 1992, entered a coalition with Elbegdorj's Democratic Party after close parliamentary elections in 2004. The MPRP party controls half of the 37 seats in parliament.

The move by the MPRP prompted demonstrations by protesters in the capital Ulan Bator yesterday in temperatures that were well below freezing. Protesters stormed the party's headquarters, demanding that it take steps to reduce corruption and enshrine more benefits for social programs in the country's mineral law, said a report in Mongolian news Web site Olloo.com.

The MPRP moved to dissolve the coalition after Elbegdorj implemented measures aimed at rooting out corruption, said Sodontogos, a project manager with Ulan Bator-based Mine-Info Mineral Consulting Co. 'It's a crisis of governance,' Sodontogos said. 'The MPRP became concerned about the possible negative ramifications for their party's future.' "

One of the ministers who resigned is our friend Sharavdorj, the Minister of Defense. I'll try to get some firsthand accounts by email but Sharavdorj's wife is just about to deliver a baby, so we'll see.

This piece from the AP wire has a photo. You've got to be really, really worked up to have a street protest in the middle of Mongolian winter. They probably stormed the MPRP building just to get warm.

What Are You?

Coupla days ago, I did a brave thing. I climbed out my new friend Dennis’ massive, fully-loaded Dodge Ram pickup (hoping this’d give me a little street cred), hitched up my monk’s robes, and boldly strode into a Tulsa Wal-Mart.

I was poking around, waiting for a prescription, when Dennis saunters over and says, “You’re easy to find. Just hadda ask the pharmacy folks if they’d seen someone in Buddhist monk robes. ‘Oh,’ they said, ‘is that what he is? We was wondering.’ ”

That’s the gist of the overriding question for a Buddhist monk here in Oklahoma, not “Who are you?” but “What are you?” And the struggle seems to be between confrontation – it’s a deeply conservative place where Charismatic Christianity pervades all aspects of life – and the local tradition of courtesy. Big ol’ Bubba in the Standard Uniform – boots, jeans, big belt under paunch, plaid shirt, Stetson – came up to me in one of the waiting rooms, indicated my robes and asked, “Now what’s all this about?” I told him I was a Buddhist monk and smiled. Pause, processing. “Buddhist, huh?” Beat. Beat. “Well, welcome.” Whew.

Tulsa’s a place where the churches rival the Wal-Marts in size, and subjects and verbs are rarely in agreement: “Me and Jimmy come up from Wichita Falls yesterday”; “Them little buggers is cold, ain’t they?”

Yeshe and I are total anomalies here, virtually extraterrestrial. It’s hard to express how palpable the influence of the pentacostal church is. So many folks involuntarily stiffen and give us one of those tight, nervous smiles when we approach. But Yeshe and I both have senses of humor, and are trying to be good ambassadors. I think his monkey slippers have helped. The other night a lady from the RHEMA Bible College came to our dinner table to remind everyone that they were having a Healing Bible Class that evening. I asked her if Buddhist monks were allowed. She said, “Oh sure,” then added, “My husband used to be a Buddhist.” Well, I didn’t take that bait and offer sympathy for his backsliding (relax, kidding.) She didn’t know I’d just been taken to their massive complex to see their legendary Xmas light display (already taken down) and out of curiosity googled them. I’d taken a look at their “Tenets of Faith”, right up to this last one:

HELL AND ETERNAL RETRIBUTION - The one who physically dies in his sins without accepting Christ is hopelessly and eternally lost in the lake of fire and, therefore, has no further opportunity of hearing the Gospel or repenting. The lake of fire is literal. The terms "eternal" and "everlasting," used in describing the duration of the punishment of the damned in the lake of fire, carry the same thought and meaning of endless existence as used in denoting the duration of joy and ecstasy of saints in the Presence of God (Heb. 9:27; Rev. 19:20).

Part of me wanted to ask her if she really felt this would be how someone like, say, the Dalai Lama ended up, but I knew what a food fight that’d end up in, so I took Shantideva’s advice and made like a log on the forest floor.

Only one person has skipped the “What are you?” question and asked, rather, what is it that Buddhists believe. That’s Cyndie Browning, a local birder who took me out for a chunk of the day Sunday to scout out the prairie specialties. If Yeshe would be OK on his own, I had a few target birds in mind: Smith’s Longspur, Greater Prairie-chicken, Short-eared Owl, and several sparrows: LeConte’s, Clay-colored, Henslow’s.

Forget the sparrows, Cyndie said, they’re all down at the Texas border this time of year, and the owl’ll only show up at dusk. But let's see about your longspur and chicken.

Yeshe was in pretty good shape with nothing but mantras on his agenda, so after a hearty breakfast, off we went. Destination: the Tallgrass Prairie Preserve, located about an hour’s drive northwest of Tulsa. The drive there, through Barnsdall and Pawhuska, took us through habitat I didn’t expect – dense forests of stunted oaks. Cyndie explained to me that we were seeing the remnants of the “cross timbers” that Washington Irving traveled through in 1831 and described as “forests of cast iron.”

These cross timbers used to nestle in a bed of 142 million acres of tallgrass prairie. Through relentless conversion to farmland over the past couple of centuries, there is only about 10% of this original, unplowed prairie left, in parts of Oklahoma and Kansas. The tract in Oklahoma, now covering 38,700 acres, is owned by The Nature Conservancy and maintained as a preserve you can visit.

Just before we got to the preserve proper, we stopped at a promising expanse of shorter grass favored by longspurs. Sure enough, likely candidates twittered in overflight, headed for the other side of the road. I walked over and saw a cattle tank in the distance. I figured that with water being scarce in the intense drought Oklahoma’s currently experiencing, that’s where they’d be heading, so I hopped the barbed wire (trespassing barriers like that feels like a minor offense when potential lifers are involved, unless there’s a threat of getting shot at) and tromped on out. More and more longspurs, simply invisible with their camouflage, burst out of the grass to wheel and chatter overhead. I caught flashes of white on the wings that seemed promising, and settled down at the tank to wait. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before a few dropped in for a drink. Got the white wing slashes, warm buffy bellies, a bit of the face patterns. Put together with the flight call, there was no question: Smith’s Longspur, a bird I never thought I’d even have a shot at. The rest of the day would just be gravy.

The other highly sought-after bird in these parts is the Greater Prairie-chicken (yes, there’s a Lesser, just as sought-after, but further west.) Another local birder had suggested we look for it along the Bison Loop within the preserve. Now, I thought this was just a colorful road name. Nope, it’s literal.

In 1993, a herd of 300 bison were introduced to the habitat and it’s now grown to about 2000 animals. I have to admit, there was a real thrill produced in my East Coast American heart by seeing real bison on a real prairie and I made Cyndie stop a bunch of times so I could make woodgy-woodgy noises at them and snap photos. See if these don’t get you singing a verse or two of “This Land is Your Land”:

Alas, however, we looked and looked and, though I enjoyed the Rough-legged Hawks and Harris’ Sparrows, we were destined to leave chicken-less. They’re secretive by nature, unless it’s spring and the males are strutting on their leks, puffing out their colorful neck patches, and “booming” for females across the grassland.

Well, we almost went chicken-less. We did park ourselves at the Blue Stem Café in Pawhuska for a late Sunday lunch special of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, beans, candied apples, a warm roll, lemon cake and coffee. This fueled us up just right to head back to Tulsa via a slightly different route. We drove through Wynona, Hominy and Skiatook and one of them, can’t remember which, had a most remarkable, official-looking sign up as you entered town. It read:

A Town of Character
SELF-CONTROL
Rejecting Impulsive Actions

I wondered if they’d reject the impulse to ask a bald man in red robes, “What are you?” but I decided to drive on through and not test it out.

Coincidence?

I think not.

Here I am in Tulsa, OK, and man do I have a story to tell.

At both our temple in Poolesville, MD and the one in Sedona, AZ, we conduct 24-hour prayer vigils, the former heading into its 21st year. As part of that effort, we do special practices each day before which we read the names and situations from our prayer request list. These can either be written at the temples or sent in by email. The folks we pray for need not be Buddhist; we’re a full-service operation.

One morning I’m the umset, or chant leader, so one of my tasks is to read out the prayer requests. On the email page is a real heartbreaker. It seems a 17-year old Mongolian boy named Tsenguun had come to Oklahoma City in August to spend his senior year of high school as an exchange student. Early in the school year, he began to complain of knee pain. A doctor’s visit and subsequent tests determined that the source of this pain was bone cancer. As if this wasn’t bad enough in a teenager’s (and his family’s) life, further tests showed it had spread to his lungs, putting him in a much more serious category with a far slimmer chance of recovery.

The prayer request included a return email for his brother, who is at St. Mary’s College in Halifax, NS. I wrote, telling about my connection to Mongolia and explaining that not only were both of our communities praying for Tsenguun, but I had sent his story to Mongolia, asking the lamas at Khamariin Khiid to do special prayers for him and Asia Claus at Sharavdorj and Erka’s Children’s Stupa. We had a very nice exchange; naturally, they were grateful for the efforts on Tsenguun’s behalf.

Then, suddenly, I was asked to come to Tulsa to care for our monk Yeshe, who is dealing with his own cancer.

I emailed explaining this improbable occurrence. They wrote back right away that the family (Tsenguun’s mother and father have come over from Mongolia for the duration of his treatment) would like to pay me and Yeshe a visit. We got it arranged and this past Friday they drove on up. I met Tsenguun, his brother Bilguun, mother Oyonchimeg and father Ankhbayar. All of them are very well-educated, speak excellent English, and it felt like just meeting a branch of one’s own family. Here they are:

They had asked me and Yeshe to do some prayers for Tsenguun. We brought them up to the room and did an extensive set, giving Tsenguun an image of the Medicine Buddha and some dutsi (Dharma medicine), and copied for the family a short practice of Guru Rinpoche in Medicine Buddha form called Orgyen Menla. I then encouraged Tsenguun with a brief Dharma talk. They seemed so relieved and pleased to find Buddhist monks in Oklahoma, so far from home, and I acutely experienced again our special role and responsibility.

We went down to dinner, and as we talked, we discovered that the improbability of our connection was much more dramatic than we ever suspected.

At one point while we were chatting, Oyonaa (the nickname for Oyonchimeg) said, “You know, this past summer, we were down at Khamariin Khiid [Danzan Ravjaa’s monastery] and we saw two Western lamas there. Do you know who they were?”

“Yes I think so,” said I, “I think I know them very well. Was one kind of on the heavy side and did one look, well, like me?”

“Yes!” she said. “And Altangerel said there was a lama from Tibet.”

“Well, I think since we were the only two Western lamas in Mongolia that must have been us and the lama must have been Khamtrul Rinpoche.”

“Wow,” said she. “Unbelievable. Did you know we ate lunch in the same ger?”

And then we just marveled at how we could have met each other six months ago in the middle of the eastern Gobi desert and then again in Oklahoma. They believed in their hearts that it was all Danzan Ravjaa’s blessing after they had prayed there and at Khan Uul, the third Noyon Khutagt’s sacred mountain.

The connections deepened even more as I found out Oyonaa and Erka both grew up in the same place in the southern Gobi and were schoolgirls together.

So, I know our prayer list is growing long, but here is a picture of Ankhbayar and Oyonaa’s handsome son Tsenguun. He will undergo surgery today and his general treatment will continue through August. Please send him good thoughts for his full recovery.

Now, as far as Yeshe, he’s in just about the best care facility in which he could be. And it’s the case wherever he goes that folks are charmed by him. One funny feller, Dennis, here caring for his father-in-law, felt that an imperative aspect of Yeshe’s healing process would be sporting a pair of Monkey Slippers, complete with a button at the back of one of their ears that releases monkey-like screeches when pushed. Here he is sportin’ ‘em.

And here’s a close-up, cuz it’s Monday and you need to see them.

Check back in Wednesday. Bison will be involved.