My Neighbor Next Door

Friends, I haven't told you about a friend next to my room. I'll introduce you to this person that I think you'll like. It has been completely three years since we knew each other. The monks, not to mention only students, even seniors know him because he is such a hilarious guy. We call him Pemba which of course is his good name. 

But frankly speaking, occasionally, this guy irritates me. I will share how he does this. 

Every morning, Pemba would knock on my window's glass while I would be busy with my prayer. When I look at him, he would show me his weird facial expressions to amuse me. I would smile if my mood is good otherwise he would see me in a different way. He hardly gets exhausted to keep me entertained but I get fed up, sometimes, with him.  When I show angered face, Pemba would pretend to vanish and reappear when he knows that I've restored into normalcy. Once again, I'll have to pretend to jump down the throat, to avoid him from my sight. I would giggle, then.  This is how two of us greet.

You won't believe me what kind of stories Pemba has and that I heard some of them from him. Although I can narrate all I won't for some reason. Those that I'm going to share are highlights of his life, so far. 

Pemba lost his mother at a very young age and was brought up by his father and elder siblings. His father got married to another woman and left, yet never missed affection under his elder sister's care. But mother is mother only. Nothing can replace her. You and I know that. Nevertheless he was sent to school though he was slower than rest of the mates. I was told by Pemba that he had to repeat each grades. Friends of his age left him and he had to cope with another batches. Of course he would easily cope up. His life took a different direction one day and that has changed a lot. He was traveling between Zhemgang and Gelephu in his cousin’s car. Upon regaining consciousness, he found himself in the bed and had a pain when he tried to move. So he asked sister, only to know from her that he had survived an accident two weeks back. He could tell me not more than that. Because he could recollect not beyond this. The luck has turned in a different form, I say, because it was that indelible incident which pushed him to spiritual path. 

It was not easy for him, especially when he had to study and do examinations in the monastic school too. Once, Pemba, just like any other monk, was assembled in the examination hall. He got dismissed from exam hall. He was laughing hysterically when he shared me how his teacher whipped him on that day. Why? You know, his shaky hands didn't allow him to write properly. Instead wrote a word and filled the space that was provided to accommodate whole monastery name. This infuriated his teacher. Logically I do not see fault with Pemba but that's how life is. Unfair! There should have been better options for him. Is written exam only an option? 

His story doesn't end here. Pemba enrolled to study in higher Buddhist studies which means he will have to face exam for next ten years. He will have to pass the grades in order to complete in time and it was obvious he won't make through such. However, he tried, he failed every attempted examinations for two consecutive years. Since examination is not ultimate aim of Buddhist studies, he was granted under special consideration and exempted from most feared challenge of his life. Today, he goes to the class regularly and receives oral transmission but I find him holding pen, mostly scribbling. He even goes to practice jaling-Tibetan Trumpet. If you cannot enjoy the fruit of success in this life, you've next life. He believes in this. 

To me, to you, to some of us, such kind of life will be harder. The way my neighbour handle his life is awe-inspiring. I see him living life in such a way that sometimes, I feel, his stories are meant to boost when I get low. 

Living With Fear

I do not remember when was the first time a fear has pinched me but learning philosophies to greater heights makes me to believe that fear was already in me from a time immemorial. It is quite crazy but then that's the fact. Needless to say, you and I've experienced fear in some point of our life. Isn't it? It is the fear of getting something, losing something, departing from dear one's, meeting unknowns, so on and on. Despite going through such kind of unpleasant feeling, we have lived our life, at least I consider that way and adjusted in every situations. Considering the fact, it is fear that shaped us and pushed us to arena of fearlessness. Maybe maybe not, as you read the lines on fear, your adrenaline rush gets activated for a valid reason that in one point of life you went through FEAR. Sharing your old memories gives you strength to face fear. Don't have to believe me. Go on and give a try. 

What's my biggest fear in life? Ask yourself. 

If truth be told, there was never a time in my life without fear, to make a long story short, at this moment, my fear is; are my sentences arranged correctly, what will others think if I write this way, am I justifying the meaning of fear as per other people's beliefs. Actually these thoughts keeps me going forward. Are the thoughts, which strikes me time and again, necessary? Not all thoughts are necessary but remember they're all part of journey. There is only one thing and that is to move with thoughts--thoughts of fear! 

Let me share an incident in my life that I have never forgotten till date. On the first day of my school, more than two decades passed, I wept like any pampered child would do. But I do not find any specific reasons on why I silently erupted into crying the very moment when I saw mother at a little distances away from me. It surely was a fear but what kind of fear? Right after assembly got over, I ran off to my mother and burst out into a louder cry. She patted at my back with a consoling touch and that I'll have learn to face fear in life. Those soothing touch from mothers' are the best remedy to heal any kind of wounds. Later I realised that mother's love isn't spoken often and that they can touch you even when they gaze. As of now, this is my oldest known incident which I can relate.

Simple Hot Stone Bath

What if I told you that we went for hot stone bath today? Normally this kind of bath are taken in winter and rarely one will come across a situation like ours. Any ways, ours was another unprepared plan and also for the fact that it is a month of sundays and I didn't want to waste it doing regular chores. It was also last night that I felt like bathing in a traditional way—which not only cleanse physical dirt but inner too. In brief, it cleanses diseases, so, many in the past had used this for that purpose. And I couldn't stop myself from believing as I've to go through such pains which needed immediate cure too.

Stupa on the way

But Today, in the early morning, I never thought we would manage to go since the weather was unfavorable. Slowly it became clear to me that today is the day. Of course I should not be too quick to judge weather as it is known for unpredictable from time immemorial. However, three of us decided to go to a stream below  the monastery where Gelongma Palmo is believed to have spent sometimes doing meditation. I was told earlier by friends about the menchu, I saw some monks going there for the same reason and frankly speaking, I was waiting for the right moment to knock. Glad to have done it today. Wow!

Stone's being roasted 

For many, at least I assume, taking hot stone bath seems to be expensive. If you read how we did, you'll not only be surprised but also want to try it as the earliest. By the way, this was my first try. 

Three basic things are, match box, knife (or axe if you prefer) and firewood. Rest we can adjust after reaching spot. But for us, we had to search firewood from nearby places and luckily we got enough to roast the stones. Otherwise it will be hard to get, especially dried logs in monsoon season. One of my friends had previous experiences and this eased us. He failed several attempts before making a fire as everything was wet. I washed tub while another one vanished into bushes to find extra firewood. It was also teamwork with mutual understanding that quickened our process. After roasting stones for more than 2hrs, I took the first chance to dip into tub and experience a wonderful medicinal bath I’ve ever tried. I was told that even lesser stones can easily heat the water in the tub if the stones are heated longer. It depends on stone's to heat the water. They've a direct proportion. Longer the stone heated means faster the chances of getting water hot. Adding artemisia plant make’s the bath aromatic one. 

Bath Tub

We should have taken hot tea and snacks, I wished on that tub. None of us carried any eatable items. It was heavy breakfast that kept us strong till noon. Maybe that's why we were not concerned about not bringing edibles. I would prefer to carry next time. 

After soaking for nearly an hour, I offered two friends who were waiting and were busy roasting stones. When I stepped out from the tub, as informed by a friend, giddiness caught me for few seconds. Could be a blessing in disguise? Because, usually, orally, religiously, I was told about such symptoms and it occur only when it works with your ailment. Maybe I heard it wrong. 

Relaxing myself

I pray this medicinal bath cures me in every sense. 

Finally, we finished everything and took lunch around 2:00 PM at my brother's home. 

Turning & Turning In The Widening Gyre Of Samsara

In loving memory of the old me, let me share an information which might not have much sense. One of the most widely celebrated day in life, in my observation, is the day when one is born. Fortunately or unfortunately, I never had an exact birthday. For this reason I'm excluded from celebrating birthdays. My dear mother confirmed my birth day somewhere in fifth month of a

Picture is the imagery of samsara

Tibetan calendar. Possibly it could be on first week of a July. Despite the fact of not having a recorded birthday, it never bothered me at all! I am a true believer of Brian Tracy’s, “It doesn't matter where you're coming from. All that matters is where you're going.” When someone teases me, I defend with wit and convince them that everyday is my birthday. However, there is one reason I found difficult to accept. Birthdays are one side of a truth. I've to develop an undiscriminating appetite to understand this fact. Let me disclose who I am today has a fear within me; the fear of death. The fruit of temporary achievement (living a materialistic life) didn't motivated me as much as fear has been a primary motivator. Fear has never held me back, indeed it has pushed me into a new environment. But death is not the sole culprit. It is birth which begins not only this unavoidable cycle but for everything we can experience in this world. Birth and death are inseparable. They're two sides of a coin. If so, why do I embrace birth? And why do I ignore death? Here too, I need a valid reason. I have an insatiable appetite for the eternal path and the possibility is seen although the track is obscure.

For the joy of human birth and the dreadfully felt fear for death, let me remind myself with the ticking of every second about the little time of life. It maybe a most cherished day but it is a day that adds fear in my chapter of life. Eventually and ultimately I can feel a happy birthday for I have lived these many days since score and seven years. I will continue to ponder the questions of birth and life and the cycle of living each day. And each year during the month of my birth I’ll look even more deeply into my thoughts of so many others who share the same questions, concerns and wonder at both sides of this coin called life on planet earth. The two sides coin of birth and death.

Confession #2

Pic: Google 

We were chanting the mantra of a compassionate Bodhisattva while thoughts in my mind, stupid mostly, kept me engaged the whole day. Of all the thoughts that came and passed, it was one kind of a thought that touched me truly and honestly. Situation let me to vividly remember my old bygone days and I realised my own cruelty. 

Thoughts are likely to strike your mind when you go through situations having similar connection or it can be otherwise.

My friends and I would always love to gather to discuss our next hunting spot. Frankly speaking, we didn't mind openly shooting stones at birds, harmless birds! As far as my memory is clear, I alone shot two birds with my own hands and with the catapults. 

My gosh! This story of going for hunting birds and other animals like deer, rabbit & squirrel is short, though not as short as you might know, but not habitually fishing story, even at my early twenties, eh! There was a time when smallest insects too had to be killed in order to get fish. There was a time when fight would broke out between friends when getting fish was not only difficult but risky too. There was a time when parents would punish us and teachers would openly insult us in the morning assembly. And all because we were fishing? Not necessarily but definitely when we were wrong in our actions. Wrong to take others life, wong even to kill a fly. Those were taught at home and school yet I paid less heed to what they told me. Maybe, may not be, those advices, I stored in my mind, what is scientifically known as subconscious level? I don't know. That might have played a role in the later part of my life? Still I'm not sure. If it worked that way, we should learn to keep advising younger generations, time and again. To some of you, I am more of a flattery, but that doesn't stop me from saying that I do not take meet anymore.

Whenever I chant or pray, thoughts comes one after another. And I'm so remorseful about my own action. Of course that can hardly recompense for all that I've done. Only almighty and my karma knows. I must pay for it. Those were the days when thoughts were immature and actions too. 

The Lord of compassion, Avaloketeshvara, pity me for my unknown deeds. Equally, I am regretful, for I shall bear nobody's but my own deeds. While my weep comes deep down from heart, I'm clasping my two hands, to get out of hell, even though I’m the perpetrator of a sin. Through you, my lord, I shall learn to render services following your footsteps, doesn't matter the output, even if it is tiny like the point of a pin.

Will I ever rid of cruel deeds?

My Friend Lost His Close Brothers To Canine Distemper

Early this year, I traveled to Samtse. It was just another unplanned trip that took me to the southern foothills. I had no specific reason for going, other than to meet my friends who had been expecting me for some years. As I write this, I already miss them.

It was my second time visiting Samtse, so I anticipated some confusion. To avoid this, I informed Deepen Raj Ghalley—whom I call by his first name only—to meet me at the bus stand, as another friend was busy teaching. Instead of picking me up, he asked if I would be comfortable going home with his mother, who works as a senior nurse at Samtse Hospital, since he had to stay with his two brothers. Two brothers? I thought to myself, surprised, but I didn't ask further. I told him I would be happy to, as his mother treats me like one of her sons. However, when I inquired at the ticket counters, the only available bus was the afternoon one. I didn’t want to wait that long, so I booked a seat on the Tendu bus, hoping to find a car once I reached Samtse town and catch a ride to Chengmari from there, avoiding the need to wait for his mother.

I must have been fortunate to get a seat on the Tendu bus, which meant I could get off somewhere along the way. However, the bus was old and worn out, and I had to adjust for at least three hours.

Deepen with Jomboo (left) and Jimba 

Deepen was waiting for me on the road. He knew exactly when the bus would arrive. After a brief two-minute walk, he led me to a newly built house off the road. Once inside, I quickly realized that his "two brothers" were Jomboo and Jimba—two little puppies, three months old, brought from Punakha. Judging by the kennel and the food, it was clear that they were treated no less than brothers by Deepen and his family.

I felt a bit awkward seeing Deepen dedicating most of his time to nurturing the puppies. Of course, he understood what was going through my mind. It’s not that I don’t love animals—I do. In fact, I have a story from when I was in second grade about how I cried after a little puppy suddenly died without showing any signs of illness. A few years later, I lost another puppy and went searching for it from village to village, but in vain. Only I know the pain I went through. It was then that I decided not to develop close attachments to animals, as I couldn’t handle the emotions.

But I also knew how much Deepen loved them. He slept with them, cleaned up after them, and played with them whenever he was bored. They meant everything to him. I’ve known Deepen since college, and everyone knew how lazy he used to be. I was surprised to see him wake up early at six o'clock to cook for his brothers. I was happy to see that he had picked up some good habits. If anyone deserved thanks for this, it was those two little puppies.

In addition to taking care of them, Deepen had started growing mushrooms on a small scale, with plans to expand the business if things went well.

Recently, Deepen shared me, in grief, that he had lost his two little brothers to Canine Distemper. The entire family was mourning their loss. I knew how much they loved the puppies, and even I was disturbed by the news. I tried to console him, but he was upset by the fact that many dogs were still succumbing to the infection and no one seemed to be taking the matter seriously. Something must be done to save the lives of these innocent animals. Too many dogs, regardless of age or health, have lost their lives.

At the moment, all he can do is watch helplessly as the dogs die

"I'm totally devastated, man," read Deepen’s WhatsApp message last night. It has been almost seven days since he lost his dear brothers, yet he still hasn't returned to normal.

I pray for their rebirth into a heavenly realm.

Deepen adopted two other stray dogs but already lost one to the disease. Blacky, in the picture, will be the fourth dog to die from the Canine Distemper. Can't imagine stray dogs situations! 

To Yangki, But Not Really

Dear Yangki,

One thing that seldom bothers me while writing is when I don't know how to start or where to end. Interestingly, I can gossip as much as you like in the middle. You are cordially invited to listen to my gossip.

Yangki, as I am writing a simple note to you, I am simultaneously breaking a promise I made to myself last night. I decided, and even told my friends, not to disturb me in any way for ten days, and I would live without contacting anyone. Things turned out otherwise. The main reason is that I have to submit my daily mantra chant when the concerned monks come during their scheduled time; in this case, I had to comply. Sharing some gossip now surely brings me relief for not getting the isolation I desired. Today, which is the third day, I completed one of the three mantras. It may sound strange, but I have much nonsense to share. To be precise, it is gossip! Please bear with me for a few minutes, even though you might have more meaningful tasks in your pipeline. 

On my first day, I woke up to the sound of a vajra bell and damaru, instead of my cell phone alarm, from a neighbor who lives downstairs. I reached for my phone to check the time, and unsurprisingly, it was near six o'clock. After tossing and turning for a few minutes, I managed to shake off my drowsiness. The alarm went off again, and I would have fallen back asleep if it hadn't been for the second reminder.

If there was something new to savor in the morning, it was a potato curry after almost a month for breakfast. I missed potatoes because, like most kids, I am still a potato lover. During my time as a cook (Soepen), during three weeks of voluntary service for Khen Rinpoche (or abbot to some), potatoes, onions, garlic, and pumpkin were never cooked due to health issues and religious beliefs. After enjoying the potato curry, I began my prayers and chanting.

Not long after I started chanting, a distant babble of conversation grew louder as it neared my dwelling, but I didn’t bother to intervene. One of them knocked on the door. They were highly learned monks accompanied by seniors. I nodded when the one who knocked asked if I was staying there. They left, and I felt frustrated. I craned my neck out the window to see if my neighbors were around, but no one was there. I hopped over to the window and locked the door from the outside, thinking no one would disturb me. But like Jerry to Tom, a second group came, and I overheard their conversation. I moved the curtains to let them know I was still inside. It wasn’t funny, by the way. There was no point in locking the door from the outside once they knew I was inside. A third group came and left. I unlocked the door from the outside, still feeling irritated.

My goal was to complete one mantra within three days, so I sped up my efforts from the second day. I wrote my name on a piece of paper and pasted it on the door, hoping to avoid interruptions like the day before. But the more I chanted, the less my mouth could manage. My thumb started aching after running over the beads hundreds and thousands of times. I felt like sleeping. Oh no! Maybe Mara was trying to thwart me? Above all, it is my untamable mind that needs attention. I couldn’t control it for even a few seconds. The harder I tried, the tougher it became. In a fraction of a second, my mind took me on the longest adventures I’ve ever traveled and ever will. Friends I departed from long ago, food I tasted in the past, places I visited, pranks I played, services I rendered, love I received, beauty I witnessed – all vividly resurfaced and triggered an adrenaline rush. I was alone in the room but fully engaged by my mind. The other friends I had were four statues: Sakyamuni Buddha placed on the top rack, and below, from left to right, Vajrasattva, Guru Nangsi Zilnön, and Avalokiteshvara. I watched them as if they were going to talk to me.

Honestly, I signed out of all my social network accounts except for WeChat and my blog, just to stay judiciously connected. In this way, I don't know what’s happening outside. No, I’m not Googling either. You won’t believe it, but I can still faintly hear my neighbor’s TV, though it requires focus. Since I chose to distance myself from any news, whenever I hear "Corona…" on BBS from downstairs, I chant louder – even louder if the sound is clear. For this reason, I am unaware of the current coronavirus cases. I hope and pray that everything will resume from where it left off. May it be a good and great leap, my dear.

Dear Yangki, I regret to say I’ve shared everything in a nutshell. I’m sorry, but most of my gossip remains untold. I didn’t lie, though. I won’t regret not revealing it all – believe me, too much honesty isn’t always good. Some stories aren’t meant to be disclosed, remember that.

Sitting the whole day between four walls, with thoughts racing through my mind uncontrollably and gossip popping up, perhaps it’s my responsibility to share it with you individually, Yangki.

Take care. See you soon.

Thank you,

Jamyang Loden.