My Student

I have been asked more than once, how my student Rinpoche became a high lama at such a young age. He was reincarnated and born as Rinpoche, so his status reflects his good works and pure heart of his previous life as the great teacher, or Rinpoche. I know him as a 30 year old monk who likes to eat meat, and read Frog and Toad stories.

Last night I asked him to tell me about his childhood. In accordance with the natural order, when an individual is born as a high lama their family suffers a great deal, this is so that good and bad remain in balance. Rinpoche was born in 19XX during one of the most oppressive times in Tibet, during this time individuals were not allowed to visit the monasteries and there were cut off from religion. At age two Rinpoche began to chant prayers, and speak about life in the monastery; prayers that had not been uttered his life time, and monastic life that did exist at that time. His father knew that his son was a reincarnated person and kept it a secret from the community and from the communists for 14 years.

During those 14 years mass starvation across Tibet, and across China, destroyed the population. Rinpoche’s family was no different, by the time he was 4 his mother, sister, and brother had died. He was left to take care of paralyzed father while his sister worked in the fields. When he was 16 there was a reasonable amount of freedom in Tibet and his father identified him to local monks. He was confirmed as a reincarnated Rinpoche. There must have been a great party at this point because when he is telling me this story he laughs and says that the village was very happy for two days. I believe him and wish I had seen it.

Three years later he made the dangerous passage to Nepal, it took him 18 days. When he arrived in Katmandu he learns that His Holiness the Dalia Lama has received to Nobel Peace Prize. He twinkles as he says this and his sincerity is palpable, he believes in good, and someday that there will be freedom in Tibet.

Press Pass

Today I went to get my press pass, laughing at myself—yet trying to be very professional. More often than not I find myself in this predicament, ie. suddenly being in a very real/professional professional situation where I am deferred to for very real/ professional decisions. For example, my first day of work. I cruse into the office a little late, check my e mail, chat- drink tea, check the internet for new news. Nothing, I sit around a little longer. Then my boss asks me if I would mind going to talk to a man abut his work. Nothing else is going on so I say I don’t mind. I climb to the top of the hill to catch a cab to the seat of the Tibetan Government compound. Suddenly I am in a rush, driving fast, honking, pausing patiently for cows in the road, it is all very exciting. When I get to the café I am supposed to meet this man at, I ask around, and he has gone. A bystander with a badge makes a phone call, and said to me he has stopped on the road we must go catch him. He runs away and I stand there, confused. He comes back on his motorcycle and I am supposed to jump on, so naturally I do. I am terrified,---yet trying to be very professional.

We run down a car that has Ghandi’s portrait affixed to the top and various other decorative elements. Dr. x gets out, he is the man I have been looking for and my first interview takes place right there in the street. He is a human rights activist who uses his own blood to paint pictures and write appeals to the Indian government. He shows me his work, I don’t want to touch it. When the interview is over he asks if he can give me a ride somewhere (we were still in no mans land) I say no that I will walk up to town from there. He insists that he is going that way and that I should get in the front seat of his car while he and his two assistants/translators are in the back with the baggage, I am not allowed to refuse. I get in. Going up the steep slope needles slide off the dashboard and onto my lap, I think of the other refuse in the car and I am happy it is a short trip. He brings me to the front door of my office and hands me a picture of himself with His Holiness. I bust into the office, and write my first report.

Graceland

I came home late in the afternoon humming Graceland, I was thinking about the shower I so desperately needed and was seconds from taking. There and been no water for two days and I was on a mission so I went right to my room without stopping to say hello to the family in the other room. A two minute lukewarm shower has never felt so great. I was happy, warmish, and cleanish, it was dinner time and I smelled garlic, so life was good.

Pushing aside the door hanging I went in to see my family. A monk was sitting with them talking. I was introduced to Rinpoche, he would like to learn English. I say that I can teach him, and I look over at my host father and mother and they are very pleased. Rinpoche believes that I can get special clearance to go to his office, I say I think that would be fine if someone would show me how to get there. We agree to have lessons every other day. It is a lot of work for me, but my parents are beaming so, I can’t help but to agree. My father, Rinpoche, and I eat dinner together in the living room.

When Rinpoche leaves my father looks at me and says, “very good, Rinpoche is one of the high lamas, and he is so good, and so well respected, that the Dalai Lama has given him an office in his private residence. This is very good for you, he is such a kind and happy man he will look over you as you look over his education.” The rest of the family ate dinner and discussed our visitor.

I went to bed thinking, what am I going to teach to a high lama? But, like my father said, I felt as if I was being looked over.