Doorways and New Friends

I find myself drawn to doors. Each doorway in Tibet has its own beauty, its own paintings—flowers, symbols, colors. I find each new one beautiful and unique, and I’m drawn to photograph it. I’ve photographed closed doors, where the beauty of the door knocker and its attached prayer shawls are enough. Sometimes the doors are open and the scene behind the open door overshadows the decoration of the door. And sometimes a beautiful door leads to a lackluster courtyard. The past few days have given me time for reflection, and as I think about what I’ll do when I return to the States, I feel as if I’m entering a long hallway with many doors. There are many cities I’ve considered living in, though I love Chicago, and returning to live there is certainly not low on my list. I believe that there may be several jobs for which I am qualified, but I’m not absolutely certain that I could choose one right now as the one that is right for me. In which direction will I go? Behind which door is the career that will help me most to grow over the coming years? Will a brightly painted door draw me into a dull path, or will I find the plain door behind which lies an amazing garden? Only time will tell.

Tuesday morning, we visited the Sera Monastery. Feeling introspective as I have been, this was perhaps the most meditative experience I’ve yet had here in Tibet. The monastery was closed for 30 years, reopening in 1982, when monks once again came to inhabit its halls. We wandered into courtyards where monks wash their laundry, and I thought about these people who have dedicated their lives to studying, debating, and operating the chapels of the monastery so that the local people can come and make their offerings. At the printing house, we watched an employee brushing ink onto ancient scripture blocks, placing paper on top, and rolling over it to make copies of the scriptures. Some of the printing blocks housed in this printing house are hundreds of years old. At the chapel, we purchased a prayer scarf to take in to the Horse-Head Buddha. The monks blessed us with the scarf and offered us another knotted scarf to show that we had been blessed there. Local people stood in the line with us, some of them helped along by their family, some of them carrying babies who, on their 15th day, were being offered for a blessing. The children received a smudge of soot on their noses to show that they had been blessed. After we were given our scarf, we were offered the chance to put our forehead at the feet of the Horse-Head Buddha for good health. Inspired by the dedication of the people waiting in line, and the dedication of the monks giving all of their time to serve the people, I quietly laid my head on the stone.

From Sera Monastery, we drove out of the city and into the mountains. The van zig-zagged up the mountains, through a mountain pass, into another valley, and up yet another mountain. White structures became visible as we approached Drak Yerpa. As early as the 7th Century, the monks used the caves at Drak Yerpa for meditation and study of the scriptures. They carved Buddhas in the rocks there and made little chapels. When we parked, I pressed ahead of the group a bit and found a rock outcropping on which I could sit overlooking the whole valley. I sat Indian-style because my jeans were too tight for Lotus position, and closed my eyes. Focusing on my breathing as I’ve been taught in yoga, I slowly released all of the tension from my face, then my neck and shoulders. I released the tension of travel, of keeping track of business matters at home, of my uncertain future employment. By the time the group caught up to me, I was in a much better space to truly drink in the beauty of the day. The sky was still overcast as we visited several small chapels, and I made friends with one of the monks’ pets, a white goat. When I scratched behind his ears, he leaned into my lap, and when I stopped, he offered me his hoof, as a dog would offer his paw to shake.

We continued on to one more chapel, and just as I felt as though I’d seen enough Buddhas, we were finished, and spilling out on the grassy green of a hillside where Dalai Lamas, including the 14th (and current) had taught. Suddenly, a group of Tibetans were offering me crackers, and would not take no for an answer. Before we knew it, we were sitting among them, using Tse Tan as a translator to talk with them about our work in Beijing, about their retirement in Lhasa, about the beautiful weather. The sun took over and pushed the clouds away. They fed us crackers, yak cheese, fruit, bai jio (rice wine, a very strong Chinese alcohol,) cigarettes, and anything they had with them. They shared their rugs, the shade of their umbrellas, and the pleasure of their company. They taught us to say “cheers,” "SHAPTA!" as they shared shots with us, and the Italians, Canadian, Chinese, Americans, and Slovenian shared food, drinks, and laughs in the sun on a beautifully green hillside in Tibet.

John, Ethan, and I grew a bit restless and hiked around to the other side of the hill to overlook the valley. On the way, Ethan rode a yak, and we saw a few baby yak grazing. When we returned to the group, we spent another 30 minutes in the sun, and after offering Olympic pins and a million thanks to our new friends, we went back to the van. Most of us dozed on the ride home, as the climb up the hill to the different cave chapels had actually been quite draining. Amy joined us again for dinner, and we ate cheese momo and other Tibetan favorites at the Snowland Café. Exhausted, we tumbled into our beds, stuffed and satisfied after another amazing day in this beautiful place.