Early morning chanting. Prayer flags flapping in the wind. Daily hiking. Mountain views into Tibet. Teaching english to nuns. Reading about Tibetan Buddhism, their oppression, and the Dalai Lama's approach to non-violence. Celebrating the death of a nun's mom as well as the Tibetan New Year, Losar. Bigu Gompa was everything that we hoped it would be and more.
Getting their was tough. A bouncy 10 hr ride on roads cutting up a mountain. Piled in a bus that had to be from the the 60's. When goats were hoisted up top and led in the bus, I knew it was getting real. Needless to say, we were thrilled to start hiking the next day.
The hike to BIgu next day began at 7 am and it started easy enough, following a dirt road, meandering up a canyon. But after our first tea break, we left the road and headed up, up, up. We felt strong at first, but as the hours past, and all the lunch spots were closed, we continued on hungry and progressively more tired. Around 2pm, with Bigu in sight, the rain came, quicly switching to slush. Our wonderful guide Tashi, in trying to get us their quicker, took us down terraced farms, crossing a river on a suspension bridge, and then steeply up. Kelsey seemed to be fine but my legs were cramping every step. And every step seemed to be huge. Hands were numb. Stomach grumbling. Spirits low. But we eventually made it. It was obviously worth the effort. And after the hike, we had almost three weeks to dive into the life up their.
At the gompa, we had our own room, sort of. An old man lived through our room, so he continuously would be walking in. We shared no common language, so there was a lot of smiling and laughter. We also shared the room with a mouse that would keep me up at night. On the last night, the mouse tore through Kelsey's poncho-- some good-bye.
Mornings started early at the nunnery. Deep horns would blow at 5 am to wake you. Drums would start at 5:15 am. And puja began around 5:30. Puja is chanting and meditation. The nuns gather in the main gompa and chant together for 2+ hours every day. Kelsey and I would go most days. It was beautiful, though not easy for me to sit on the floor for that long. After a couple of days, our neighbor nun Nowang, taught us about the "Om mani pad me hum" chant with the meditation beads. As you push each bead through your finger, you quietly say: om mani pad me hum. This is a compassion meditation that literally means: embrace compassion for all living things. After learning this, Kelsey and I would sit together in Puja, both meditating on compassion. This daily experience fulfilled many of my motivations to come to Nepal. It was beautiful.
Teaching. Kelsey and I "team taught" all the classes. It was fun to see her in action and to share the expeience that way. The nuns we taught were a group of 8 early teens. While they were always laughing and chatting, they really wanted to learn. We worked on situational diaglogue- "Excuse me, can you show me where the toilet is?"- which, whenever we would see them out of class, they would practice. They shared insight into their Dharma lessons from their Rinpoche. It was clear that despite their age (early high school equivalent), they were on a deep spiritual path. Kelsey and I were both inspired by this. When they described the teachings by the Rinpoche, they mentioned that while he never laughs, his smile is bigger than words could decribe.
We also would walk down the hill to spend our afternoons teaching at the local Sherpa school. Walking onto the school yard, we'd be greeting by twenty young kids, often snot dripping and pooling down their face. "Good afternoon si-ir!" I'd be greeted as we shook hands officially. There would be a line of kids who were waiting for the handshake. Often, kids would get back in line 3 or 4 times for multiple shakes. Our classes with the oldest group were wonderful. The kids (9-11 yrs old)spoke Nepali, Sherpa, Tibetan and English all proficiently. They LOVED copying things down. So whenever we had to switch gears, we'd have them copy some long paragraph so that we could of what to do next. Teaching the youngest group was a different story. Lots of yelling. Bouncing. Jumping. Extra snot. One time, the class got so out of control that Kelsey just cracked up- uncontrollably- and started jumping along with them. When the Nepali teacher peeked in to see what was happening- well- it wasn't a shining moment for education but it was hysterical.
Our teachings were interrupted by the 4-day Puja. A nun's mom passed and the nuns would spend 4 full days in Puja. The chanting was different. It sounded celestial. It provoked calm and giving-in. We learned that the purpose of the chants was both to help the spirit leave the body as well as giving an offering to Buddha. I thought of the first time I was in Thailand when I stumbled into a cremation, which was a total celebration. It was then that I realized how differently BUddhists treated death. On that trip, I had thought a lot about the death of my mom. Once again, during the chantings, I thought of her intensely. I could feel her smiling, and I could see her.
I shared this with Kelsey. And on our next hike up the hill behind the nunnery (which we hiked almost every day), Kelsey presented me with a set of prayer flags. (These all have the "Om" prayer written on them, and when the wind blows, the prayer is let out into the air.) Kels said that since the place had been so powerful for me, as well as for her, that we should hang a flag at the top of the hill- where we have read, and napped, and thought.We found two nice trees to hang the flags between. Immediately the wind picked up and the flags began flapping.
Our teachings resumed only briefly after the 4-day puja ended because it was time to party! It was Losar, the Tibetan New Year. And for three days, the nuns went wild. Well not quite. But for only these three days they were allowed to listen to music, dance, and play games. And so we joined in- dancing, playing, singing. Some of the games were totally insane and impossible to figure out (like a rendiion of "kill the person with the ball"), and others were old throw backs, like Chute-n-ladders and Go Fish. The dancing was genrerationally segrargated. The teens somehow knew all the latest moves, while the older nuns were, not surprisingly, more conservative in their jiggy. We were excited to learn the traditional song and dance of Losar, which consisted of moving your right foot in and out like a slow version of hokey pokey without ever shaking it all about. Kels and I frequently would say "NGW" (Nuns gone wild) as we looked out at them playing and dancing mildly.
We left Bigu and returned to K'du shortly after the end of Losar. To summarize the experience in a few words, I'd choose the meditation mantra we learned: Om mani pad me hum. Compassion for all living things.
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