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Published: August 6th 2005
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This is completely unrelated to the following entry, but worthy of interest and consideration:
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http://wwf.ca/HowYouCanHelp/DoNotDrill/letter.asp?campaign=anwr
Back to the hermits.
Samye temple is one of the great temples of T. It is certainly well-known and appreciated, and receives hoardes of tourists daily. One of the principle reasons of its importance lays in its orgins: although not the first temple or buddhist building in T, it was the first official monastery. And long ago, there was some great debate there between Indian and C buddhists, with the Indian faction winning out. Annnd, architecturally, people gasp over the impressive different styles, Indian, T, and C.
But I digressed from the usual reasons for going there. A friend had advised me that about 15kms from the impressive temple were a number of meditation caves on a mountainside. Too tempting to resist both the idea of cave-hermitages and individuals practising long-term meditation and full-out buddhism, I went afoot to the sites.
The walk is fascinating, crossing through unexpected desert terrain, of sandy lands, shrubs, and unbearable heat. Luckily, my hike was aided by some travellers who opted for the tractor-run to the mountain trails, and
desert hiking
From Samye temple to a mountainside of plant-buried hermitages, first one must walk through this arid landscape. Melting... they took my pack and sleeping bag with them, saving me from fainting into a crack in the dry grounds.
After passing through that surprising landscape, the trail continues up, past a recently-built (or re-constructed) nunnery and up a series of smaller footpaths. This is where the fun begins. It is truly like the Hobbit, with each narrow, overgrown path leading to a wooden door, a twig gate, and hole in the wall... Some of the hermitages are built of concrete and tin; others of twigs; others of stone; still others are mostly cave with a wooden door.
The area is not unknown. Tractors ply the sandy roads to the mountain base, where tourists can then climb and gape at the meditators. Yet, despite this, the 'hermits' were suprisingly friendly and unperturbed by my interruption. Quite a few invited me in for a seat and a slurp of tea. Most enjoyed looking at my phrasebook (as once again my efforts at Lhasa dialect fell on empty ears. Many of these monks come from all over Tibetan areas. Particularly, the older ones would not understand my attempts). One, the coffee-drinking hermit, tried to give me his supply of coffee.
cave hermitage
The first cave hermitage I saw, I was enchanted by its simplicity, remoteness, and dedication. Surprised both by his addiction and his willingness to give it away, I declined. He needs the caffeine more than I.
In the few cave-hermitages I visited, I saw walls with Buddhist carvings or painting, many Buddhist decorations and prayer aides, lots of candles, lots of tea. I did not see any DL photos, but after consideration I figured that they are just well-placed. These are serious Buddhists, and doubtlessly they have the photos. But given the number of tourists (who tend to be a C majority), it would be unwise to display the photos. When I consider those pics I saw in monks quarters or new T friends' homes, I realize that the circumstances were always in private invitation, not open-space romping.
The same friend who enlightened me to the caves had mentioned that it might be possible to spend the night up, up, up at a monastery embedded amongst these wonderful, basic dwellings. I had hoped to meet a T monk who'd travelled to India, said to speak decent English. Unfortunately, I was unable to locate him. However, upon reaching the point where there is a larger cave with a temple built around it, it began
coffee hermit
Despite being in the process of meditating, he invited me in and offered me coffee, of all surprises. Apparently, monks, too, have need for caffeine. to pour rain. A friendly monk showed me to a storage room next to the temple kitchen. I was delighted: it was dusty, dark, filled with wonderful old containers and secrets. Soon after, he returned and ushured me upstairs to a less-dirty, less-rodenty space of two rooms. In the first, a T family who'd come from Lhasa to stay 4 or 5 days and do pilgrimages around the many cave hermitages and chortens (stupas, a sort of buddhist monument, often housing some sort of important relic, found all over buddhist areas, different names for different countries). The second room, behind, was long and narrow, with a sewing machine and piles of blankets, apparently more of a storage room. Yet, the one bed next to the window proved a delightful place to sleep and take in the rain storm. Magic.
The family offered their sweets (most Ts travelling even short distances seem to carry a wicker basket full of sweets and dried yogurt cheese and nuts) and noodles, but again I accepted just a little as I would be leaving the following day, and they would be staying.
The next morning, rain stopped, I was able to further explore
coffee hermit candles
Additionally, he was well-stocked with candles, something I learned later that night is a necessity. those delicious paths and holes. Descending from my night's abode, I met the occupant of a stone-dwelling I'd spied from above. Another older monk from afar, he also didn't understand much of what I tried to say. He stayed in the dwelling built around one of Guru Rinpoche's meditation caves. The Guru is the bigwig, very respected, due to whom these meditation hermitages now exist.
Returning in the morning coolth to Samye, I had a few hours to look around the famed temple. And truly it is lovely and impressive in design and cosmic considerations. I wish that I'd had a guide or someone with insight, to help me to appreciate it further. But, for me the highlight was most definitely that mountain of eternal students of Buddhism, living in simplicity but in what seemed a fulfilling exisitence.
On the bus home, a Khampa T (from the Kham region of T, part of which is now considered Sichuan) showed me his many necklace adornments, pics of different important lamas, including his Holiness, the DL). Though, again, communication was difficult, we tried during the long ride back, and he mimed how it was forbidden to openly display pics of
coffee hermit cave
His hermitage, built into a cave, was of old wood, cement, and tin. The walls bore buddhist pictures and T writing. Small, but with stunning scenery out of his meditation-side window. the DL, using neck-slashing motions to emphasize his point.
Khampas, incidentally, have fascinating hair. Usually both men and women wear their hair very long, in a single braid, with red or black cloth braided into it. Then, it is wound around the head, ending in a black or red tassle, depending on where exactly they are from. Gorgeous.
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