« Stock Stories - Koa Kahili - An Uplifting Experience | Main | Stock Stories - Alan Brigish - The Ark of the Covenant »

September 23, 2005

Stock Stories - Koa Kahili - Tantric Chants

TANTRIC CHANTS
Investigating the Sangha

The rain fell from the gray heavens as I peered out from under my black umbrella up at the omnipresent eyes of Adi Buddha. The great stupa of Boudhanath stood before me ignoring the elements. Its bleached out and tattered prayer flags hung lifeless in the relentless summer monsoons. A passing figure clad in wet maroon robs walked by. I took the opportunity of asking the location of Kopan monastery. This unusually tall monk silently motioned me to follow. We started to circumambulate the stupa till the monk disappeared through a muddy alley that led into the twisting back streets of Kathmandu. I quickened my pace splashing through the raw sewage. After a short walk through the labyrinth of unpaved streets the monk stopped and pointed to a hill in the distance. He simply said, Kopan. Through the mist of the rain I could make out a steep hill that rose out of the rice patties and corn fields. The hike only took and hour as I meandered along the muddy road not knowing what to expect.

As I stopped along a narrow trail to admire the view and catch my breath I was amazed by the clean air. When I reached the top of the hill, monks of all ages and sizes ran around with saved heads wearing maroon robes. It reminded me of an old episode of Kung Fu. Over 200 hundred monks live and study at Kopan. The monastery was established in 1970 by Lama Thubten Yeshe and Lama Thubten Zopa Rinpoche as a site for the monks and nuns of Solu Khumbu and as a center for Buddhist study welcoming visitors from around the world. I checked in and was shown to my room. The accommodations were of a much higher standard then I expected. The room and toilet were nicer then my living conditions in Kathmandu and the food was a culinary delight compared to the curried eggs and bhat served at school.

Once in my room I took off my back pack and shirt, soaked in sweat. The rain had stopped and the humid air filled with the buzzing of insects. I lied down and took a deep relaxing breath. That was when the chanting started. The low guttural chants of Tibetan Buddhism vibrated through the building. The room I was staying in just happened to be above the prayer hall. Then the drums and symbols started in a hypnotic harmonious rhythm. I drifted off to sleep.

I awoke to the same chanting and went down stairs to investigate. It was around 6:00am and the morning prayers were just starting. I sat down cross legged behind a long row of monks, silently observing. The rich full tones of the young monks enveloped the hall. A little monk walked through the rows of his sleepy eyed brothers swinging a metal vase that overflowed with perfumed smoke. The incense smote the crimson figures as their torsos swayed to the rhythmic unobtrusive chanting. I sat in a trance, my mind floating along with the low tones. A hot butter tea was then brought in by a few monks who filled the waiting cups of the singers. About a hundred monks received tea from enormous steel tea kettles accompanied by a big buck wheat pancake. As we sat in silence for a brief moment the lama or teacher spoke a few words. The chanting then resumed with a renewed vigor. Two hours passed and my legs felt incredibly stiff. I was not use to sitting cross legged that long, and when the chant session ended I slowly stood up to put on my sandals.

Later that day as I took shelter under the edge of the monastery from a passing thunderstorm, I noticed the head lama was standing besides me. He greeted me with a big smile. I took the opportunity to ask him a few questions about Tantric Tibetan Buddhism. His answers were in the form of amusing riddles till I asked him who his Yidam was. (a personal tutelary and protective deity) He said it was me, and burst out in hysterical laughter. The lines of his face turned into a complex map of extreme joy. I had to laugh as well realizing what a precocious question that was. He finally calmed down after a few minutes and said his Yidam was Avalokiteshvara, the most compassionate of compassionate beings.

The next day while having breakfast I noticed another monastery on a nearby hill and decided to spend the morning on pleasant walk. As I cut across the steep terraced landscape, through authentic Nepali farms unchanged after thousands of years, I was filled with a great sense of peace. Stopping at an old abandoned farm house at the top of a lush hill, I leisurely smoked from an elegant little elephant pipe made of porcelain that I acquired at Svayambhunath, the famed monkey temple. I gazed in wonder at the valley below, absorbing the exotic geography, unique history, art, and culture that was sprawled out before me in vivid color. For the first time I began to realize where I was, but It still remained a mystery as to why I was in Kathmandu.

I reached the monastery of Pullihari excited, camera in hand, preparing to record the moment for posterity. The gompa did not fail to impress. It was built in 1992 and had the most amazing traditional art done in an extremely modern fashion. Appliqué tankas made form day glow neon colors took on a surreal and supernatural appearance. What a contrast from the tattered and aged paintings seen in Tibet. Tantra, at that moment came alive in the dawning of a new millennium. I was overcome by a new era of beliefs, where the west will play an ever increasing role.

That night as the tips of the swaying bamboo trees caught the last rays of golden light, the terraced landscape melted in a sea of emerald green. I lay in bed half asleep listening to the monks vigorously debate and chant beneath me. Then I heard a cat incessantly meowing as I drifted into another state of consciousness, pass the eight visions of the death process, through the mirage of clear light and meditative control. The cat’s cries and the monks chanting blended into a magical rhythm till I could no longer tell if the cat was following the chants, or if the meows were leading the monks. Ommm.

Posted by Pat at September 23, 2005 07:15 PM

Comments

Post a comment