Springtime & Loveliness
Springtime & Ares energy is definitely in the air, what with shoots pushing up through the ground. It requires a stubborn, young, bursting energy indeed to make that happen. The urge to create something or make something happen is so strong.
Here in the rather rocky Dharamsala area, springtime is beautiful indeed. In the agrarian valleys there are endless beautiful green fields of wheat, a nice contrast to the highest mountain peaks, which glisten with snow. The insects have also been coming out in record numbers. There are so many creamy-yellow butterflies flitting about that sometimes I think they're little blossoms falling from above. An abundance of lady bugs has us finding their little bubbly red bodies piddling about on the computer monitors at the internet cafes, skipping from head to head of attentively listening devotees of His Holiness Dalai Lama in the courtyard of Namgyal Monastery, and sometimes crushed from the scuffle of an abundance of people at the teachings.
But today was the last day of these spring teachings. So I bade adieu not only to the many Holinesses (Dalai Lama, Karmapa, Ling Rinpoche, and all the other lamas, whom I don't know) and the crowds of devotees, but also to our rituals together -- the prayers, the mantras, HHDL's jokes, the attempts to sit comfortably each day on the concrete, the steadfastness of being present whatever the weather, the tea offering, which is a blessing and sometimes (like on rainy windy cold days) literally a godsend, and of course the unbelievably dense crowds. It's like a concert in there! Except you have everyone, including babies and old ladies, beggars, devotees from Tibet, devotees (Indian and Tibetan) from all over India and local, foreigners in every form and personality from your over-stylish new ager to the quiet devoted types to your curious backpacker.
This time I was tripped out to see so many Mongolians and Asian Russians. Whoa! They look like they could be from Korea or China, but then they speak.... The funny thing are the Russian monks. They wear the same clothes as the Tibetan monastics, so there are sometimes confusions. ("Ani la, bala bala bala" is answered by "ni chevo ni ponimayu"). Haha. Funny thing, too, is that I understand some of it, since I took some Russian back in college when I thought I'd major in Comparative Lit with an emphasis on Nabokov and Dostoevski. Wow, how things change.
Anyway, the traffic jam of people (and those Tibetans push, man! Whoever said Asians were polite didn't understand), honking taxis and cows are probably only charming now that I don't have to go through it again (for the time being).
Mahayana Buddhism is way over my head most of the time. That’s to be expected, as it’s traditionally been for the monastics and learned Buddhist scholars. But I do learn, and what I can’t absorb intellectually, I do learn from just being there. In any case, it’s a privilege, and an interesting experience to be in on teachings to the monastics, and the special thing about His Holiness’ teachings is that he is able to teach at once to them and to ordinary laypeople from a huge spectrum of experience with Buddhism.
Trying to practice art here has been frustrating and edifying, I guess. After getting over the imperfections of my living space, and all the inconveniences that seem to eat up all my time, I discovered anew how difficult it is to paint in oils. It’s a huge luxury to paint! I finally “stretched” a canvas the other day, by nailing it onto a door-sized piece of wood. The wood is necessary, as all the houses are made of concrete and there’s no way of painting on the walls like I did before. That, and getting stretchers made here would be a pain in the ass. The painting process itself has also been interesting. The other day, I poured some of the turpentine into a small an empty plastic curd container. I usually do this with mineral spirits so I can quickly clean the brushes between color changes and so I can also have the option to thin out the paints when needed. Actually, unlike artists of olde, I never had to use turpentine before, thanks to Turpenoid and Gamsol. To my horror, the turp ate right through the plastic container and dripped all over the floor. Luckily I was outside and didn’t get too much of a headache from the noxious smell. This experience is making me rethink oils, perhaps for a little while.
On the bright side, a monk astrologer from Tibet told me that the best thing I can be doing as a career is my art. Why do I need affirmation of that from an astrologer? I don’t know. I think that truly the wish to be someone rich and/or famous is much too engrained in the consciousness of Americans. We can never be satisfied just getting by and being happy with what we have. For the working poor, perhaps it’s because we see that our government doesn’t truly look out for you when you’re down, and we always want a safety net. Yet, somehow, we also ask so much of ourselves. Anyway, somehow, hearing that calmed my career anxiety, and I’m looking forward to playing with collage and not taking my art so seriously.
Anyway, my time here is starting to become short, what with less than a month less. I definitely feel like I could use more time here, in terms of getting some of my goals fulfilled. But I think the swiftness of time is just something I’m more conscious of now, and there will never be enough time if I keep thinking about goals in that way. I am where I am for a reason. Always. In this last month, I’m really going to take advantage of the opportunities that are here. I will be reading lots of dharma books, taking hikes, taking more classes, and just observing.
Here in the rather rocky Dharamsala area, springtime is beautiful indeed. In the agrarian valleys there are endless beautiful green fields of wheat, a nice contrast to the highest mountain peaks, which glisten with snow. The insects have also been coming out in record numbers. There are so many creamy-yellow butterflies flitting about that sometimes I think they're little blossoms falling from above. An abundance of lady bugs has us finding their little bubbly red bodies piddling about on the computer monitors at the internet cafes, skipping from head to head of attentively listening devotees of His Holiness Dalai Lama in the courtyard of Namgyal Monastery, and sometimes crushed from the scuffle of an abundance of people at the teachings.
But today was the last day of these spring teachings. So I bade adieu not only to the many Holinesses (Dalai Lama, Karmapa, Ling Rinpoche, and all the other lamas, whom I don't know) and the crowds of devotees, but also to our rituals together -- the prayers, the mantras, HHDL's jokes, the attempts to sit comfortably each day on the concrete, the steadfastness of being present whatever the weather, the tea offering, which is a blessing and sometimes (like on rainy windy cold days) literally a godsend, and of course the unbelievably dense crowds. It's like a concert in there! Except you have everyone, including babies and old ladies, beggars, devotees from Tibet, devotees (Indian and Tibetan) from all over India and local, foreigners in every form and personality from your over-stylish new ager to the quiet devoted types to your curious backpacker.
This time I was tripped out to see so many Mongolians and Asian Russians. Whoa! They look like they could be from Korea or China, but then they speak.... The funny thing are the Russian monks. They wear the same clothes as the Tibetan monastics, so there are sometimes confusions. ("Ani la, bala bala bala" is answered by "ni chevo ni ponimayu"). Haha. Funny thing, too, is that I understand some of it, since I took some Russian back in college when I thought I'd major in Comparative Lit with an emphasis on Nabokov and Dostoevski. Wow, how things change.
Anyway, the traffic jam of people (and those Tibetans push, man! Whoever said Asians were polite didn't understand), honking taxis and cows are probably only charming now that I don't have to go through it again (for the time being).
Mahayana Buddhism is way over my head most of the time. That’s to be expected, as it’s traditionally been for the monastics and learned Buddhist scholars. But I do learn, and what I can’t absorb intellectually, I do learn from just being there. In any case, it’s a privilege, and an interesting experience to be in on teachings to the monastics, and the special thing about His Holiness’ teachings is that he is able to teach at once to them and to ordinary laypeople from a huge spectrum of experience with Buddhism.
Trying to practice art here has been frustrating and edifying, I guess. After getting over the imperfections of my living space, and all the inconveniences that seem to eat up all my time, I discovered anew how difficult it is to paint in oils. It’s a huge luxury to paint! I finally “stretched” a canvas the other day, by nailing it onto a door-sized piece of wood. The wood is necessary, as all the houses are made of concrete and there’s no way of painting on the walls like I did before. That, and getting stretchers made here would be a pain in the ass. The painting process itself has also been interesting. The other day, I poured some of the turpentine into a small an empty plastic curd container. I usually do this with mineral spirits so I can quickly clean the brushes between color changes and so I can also have the option to thin out the paints when needed. Actually, unlike artists of olde, I never had to use turpentine before, thanks to Turpenoid and Gamsol. To my horror, the turp ate right through the plastic container and dripped all over the floor. Luckily I was outside and didn’t get too much of a headache from the noxious smell. This experience is making me rethink oils, perhaps for a little while.
On the bright side, a monk astrologer from Tibet told me that the best thing I can be doing as a career is my art. Why do I need affirmation of that from an astrologer? I don’t know. I think that truly the wish to be someone rich and/or famous is much too engrained in the consciousness of Americans. We can never be satisfied just getting by and being happy with what we have. For the working poor, perhaps it’s because we see that our government doesn’t truly look out for you when you’re down, and we always want a safety net. Yet, somehow, we also ask so much of ourselves. Anyway, somehow, hearing that calmed my career anxiety, and I’m looking forward to playing with collage and not taking my art so seriously.
Anyway, my time here is starting to become short, what with less than a month less. I definitely feel like I could use more time here, in terms of getting some of my goals fulfilled. But I think the swiftness of time is just something I’m more conscious of now, and there will never be enough time if I keep thinking about goals in that way. I am where I am for a reason. Always. In this last month, I’m really going to take advantage of the opportunities that are here. I will be reading lots of dharma books, taking hikes, taking more classes, and just observing.
posted by sylviashines at 6:26 AM
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