Chaste by Goddesses

I’m having one of those nights where my head feels like it’s full of mashed potatoes and if the Buddha was sitting right in front of me and said, “Type a witty line and you’ll attain full enlightenment right now,” I don’t think I could pull it off. So we’ll do what we always do in these situations – post pix and decorate them with a few words.

I’m slogging ahead and not blowing off the blog – the general ennui in the comments is making me wonder if the Gobi stories are getting stale – because a couple of really monumental things happened during the latter part of this trip.

The day after, paraphrasing Palzang, “over the desert and through the bush, to grandmother’s ger we went,” I spent the morning (belly fulla kah-mel-nii meelk) walking the 3km to Shambhala and meandering back via the meditation caves. There’s little that lifts my spirit higher than time alone in the desert. Time alone anywhere, but especially the desert. Ever read Thomas Merton’s The Wisdom of the Desert?

The morning sun lit the Shambhala stupas just so:

Dipped on rides to Sainshand and woke the next day to see that piles of pilgrims were descending to get their new year off to a righteous start. Because the lamas were chanting prayers for folks in the Yellow Temple, everyone crammed in there, because everyone wants to "get" blessings. So I, contrarian that I am, sidled into the Red Temple to sit and do some special prayers for Amgalan, one of the boys we just sent to India, who I heard had fallen ill.

While there my friend Tsagaanderem wandered in, and agreed to take me to Sainshand if I could see my way to touring Shambhala and Khan Bayan Zurkh mountain beforehand. I love Tsagaanderem and his family so I happily agreed.

I had to wait for them to complete their devotions at the Khamar temples, so I returned to the guesthouse common room to curl up with my Chinese history book. Just as the Manchus were consolidating their Qing dynasty I was interrupted by a quiet, “Excuse me.”

I looked up and, I imagine, blinked stupidly a couple of times, as I was beholding a stunningly gorgeous young woman, adorned in turquoise brocade, asking me in excellent English if I had a little free time and beckoning me into her room.

Now y’all can just jerk the chains on your imaginations right now. I was a wee bit flustered and majorly on guard, but said lovely clarified that she was asking for my company on behalf of her two roommates (you jerk that chain again right now!) who don’t speak English, whose intent was entirely chaste, and who form the actual story here (I just heard a dozen fellas click to the next blog).

These two are deeply devoted Dharma practitioners who consider themselves students of Altangerel. What they wanted to discuss was the possibility of going to India to study at Penor Rinpoche’s nunnery there. Oh, I could have wept for joy. As we chatted for the next hour, we were joined by Dush Lama’s daughter, and another of Altangerel’s students, Odonchimeg. It’s not often a monk gets to spend the afternoon with five fabulous women and feel virtuous later – such is the magic of Danzan Ravjaa’s realm. Here they all are – the India aspirants are Tsetsegsaikhan (“Beautiful Flower”, second from the left, shyly hiding. She’s in the first group of 10 women who have been admitted to study at Gandan Monastery’s Buddhist University) and Narantsetseg (“Sunflower”, her hands folded in the middle):

Suddenly reluctant, I nevertheless departed with Tsagaanderem. When we got to the mountain, I saw that it had been festooned with new prayer flags and for only the second time in my numerous visits here I felt inspired to make the arduous hike to the summit, if for nothing else to work off some accumulated buuz. Here’s the spectacular ovoo at the top:

And the landscape caressed by prayers blown along the breeze:

And a new small stupa with the mountain looming behind:

And Erka and Sharavdorj’s stupa in the waning sun, linked by prayer flags to the ovoo atop Children’s Mountain:

That night, I checked into Shand Plaza and all they had was a “semi-deluxe.” Well, I plunked down my $35 (there was no other choice, but soon will be – Altangerel, in cahoots with Erka, is building his own hotel in town this year – and anyway I bargained them down to $20 later) and splurged for a private hot shower, Sprite in the mini-bar, and all the crappy Russian cable I could stomach.

Erka and Sharavdorj arrived late the next afternoon, bearing the objects for which I had mostly made the journey – the first six, freshly-printed texts of the Nyingma scriptures we are reintroducing to Mongolia. As I unwrapped one, I was literally moved to tears. It was perfect. The wrap, the hard cover, the paper, the printing – absolutely perfect. Zana, our printer, had exceeded everyone’s expectations.

The 262-volume collections we are offering are comprised of six smaller sets (see details here). Since Zana was not able to produce all the volumes by Tsagaan Sar, we decided that it would be perfectly fine and auspicious to make a symbolic offering of the first volumes of the six sub-sets.

The Ulaanbaatar-based lamas of Khamar’s inner circle arrived on the 8pm train, and as everyone gathered at the Danzan Ravjaa Museum a light snow – in the Gobi Desert – fell in a hush to dust the town in crystalline white.

For Tsagaan Sar, Altangerel had fashioned a special arrangement of many of Danzan Ravjaa’s own sacred objects, most of which I had not seen before. Visible here are his vajra, bell, damaru (hand drum), phurba (ritual dagger), meditation belt, and singing bowl:

After a warm social gathering, some of the lamas conducted a Chöd ceremony and tsog offering. After this, Sharavdorj held the six texts and made a fine speech presenting them to the gathering of lamas.

But the big day was the next day. That was the fourth day of Tsagaan Sar, special to Danzan Ravjaa for reasons that have yet to be clearly explained to me. Nonetheless, hundreds of people braved a bitingly cold wind to gather at Khamar early in the morning. It was then, in the Red Temple enshrining the exquisite Padmasambava “Statue of 10,000 Knives” that Sharavdorj formally offered the texts to Khamar’s abbot, Dush Lama. Again, he eloquently explained to the crowd about the importance of these texts being brought to Mongolia for the first time. As he finished I was startled and delighted by a robust and sustained “Hurrah!” from the crowd. Everyone accompanied their shouts with a traditional Mongolian gesture where both hands are lifted side-by-side, palms upraised, and rotated clockwise, symbolizing the increase and offering of all such auspicious things to all sentient beings.

Here is Sharavdorj in his handsome grey leather deel, just before making the offering, creating a moment that for me made all the work of the past two years more than worth it:

It was decided that all the scriptures, along with a complete set of the Kangyur (collected teachings of Shakyamuni Buddha) and Tengyur (collected authoritative commentaries on those teachings) – more than 500 volumes containing thousands of individual texts – would be offered in a grand ceremony on September 10th. There will be a major prayer festival then to mark the first anniversary of the opening of the Shambhala site. My one fervent prayer is that my own teacher might be present then.

The texts will be kept secure until they are formally installed in this new temple, to be built in 2008:

Comments

[Aarlene]

Amazing. Thanks so much for continuing to share this experience, even with a comment drought.
For me I haven't been feeling too comment-y but know that I read this often and am most often appreciative.

[Angie]

We are all feeling the blog-drought, I do read, but don't comment often, mostly based in my utter ignorance of Buddism. Your stories are fabulous.

[Vedran]

I see on photo of five ladys, first from the right has photo of Jetsunma in her hands? Beutiful...

[Palzang]

Great news! I mean both the presentation of the texts and the women going to Namdroling. Yes, it has all been worth it!

[tayloe]

I enjoy your site very much -sorry not much of a comment maker -even on the various knitting site I read-and I know and understand so much more about knitting than buddism!but I don't think there is anything more beautiful than pray flags against a blue sky-thanks for the photos!

[rho]

I always read and have lots of comments in my mind but luckily for you most times I censor myself before I hit Post. :D

I love seeing and learning about Mongoleeea (isn't that how Dulaaners are supposed to spell it) it is a beautiful country filled with incredible people that I meet vicariously thru you.

But then there are the really dumb questions I would ask or the strange comments -- like "I am glad to know that when you become a monk you don't stop appreciating beauty - like the woman in blue" which could be taken totally wrong by people who don't know my rather strange sense of humor.

So now you know -- am I still allowed to post? Please.....

btw spell check wants me to correct Mongoleeea to the correct spelling but it has no clue at all for Dulaaners...

[minnie]

i have discovered that since i started using bloglines, i tend to leave fewer comments. my apologies. however, i did have to say, i loved the pics of the prayer flags. the one made me think of indian whirling dervishes. they also made me think of kites. my inner 5 year old is coming out, lol.

[Carol]

I always read your blog. However at the moment work is swamping me under! So I am a bit behind. Can you forgive me? Some great pics with this post. I specially like the Gobi desert shot and the ovoo at the summit of the mountain.