October 4

Through My Eyes

Saturday October 4

(We continue listening to the Dalai Lama as he describes his life at the Potala.)

" When Lobsang Samten was eventually taken away because the two of us behaved so badly together, these men were my only companions. But what companions they were! Despite their age, they played like children.

I was about eight when Lobsang Samten was sent to study at a private school. Naturally, this saddened me for he was my sole contact with my family. Now I only saw him during his school holidays at the time of the full moon. When he left after each visit, I remember standing at the window watching, my heart full of sorrow, as he disappeared into the distance.

Apart from these monthly reunions, I had only the occasional visits of my mother to look forward to. When she came, she was usually accompanied by my elder sister, Tsering Dolma. I particularly enjoyed these visits as they would invariably bring presents of food. My mother was a wonderful cook and was well known for her excellent bakery and pastry.

When I reached my early teens, my mother would also bring with her Tenzin Choegyal, my youngest brother. He is twelve years my junior and if there was ever a more unruly child than myself, then it was he. One of his favourite games was to take ponies on the roof of my parents' house. I also well remember one occasion when, as a small boy, he sidled up to me to say that Mother had recently ordered pork from the slaughtermen. This was forbidden for, whilst it was acceptable to buy meat, it was not acceptable to order it since that might lead to an animal being killed specially to fulfil your requirements.

Tibetans have a rather curious attitude towards eating non-vegetarian food. Buddhism does not necessarily prohibit the eating of meat, but it does say that animals should not be killed for food. In Tibetan society it was permissible to eat meat-indeed it was essential as, apart from tsampa, there was often not much else- but not to be involved in butchery in any way. This was left to others. Some of it was undertaken by Muslims, of whom there was a thriving community, with it's own mosque, settled in Lhasa. Throughout Tibet, there must have been several thousand Muslims. About half came originally from Kashmir, the remainder from China.

On one occasion, when my mother did bring me a present of some meat ( sausages filled with rice and mince- a Takster specialty), I remember eating it all at once, because I knew that if I told any of my sweepers about it I would have to share it with them. The next day I was extremely ill. Following this incident, the Master of the Kitchen almost lost his job. Tathag Rinpoche thought he must have been at fault, so I was compelled to admit the truth of the matter. It was a good lesson.

Although it is very beautiful , the Potala was not a nice place to live. It was built on a rocky outcrop known as the 'Red Hill' , on the side of a smaller building, at the end of the time of the Great Fifth Dalai Lama, who ruled during the seventeenth century by the Christian calendar. When he died in 1682, it was still far from completion so Desi Sangye Gyatso, his faithful Prime Minister, concealed the fact of his death for fifteen years until it was finished, saying only that His Holiness had embarked on a long retreat. The Potala itself was not just a palace. It contained within its walls not only government offices and numerous storerooms, but also Namgyal ( which means 'The Victorious') monastery with its 175 monks and many chapels, and a school for young monks destined to become Tsedrung officials.

As a child, I was given the Great Fifth's own bedroom on the seventh (top) storey. It was painfully cold and ill-lit and I doubt whether it can have been touched since his time. Everything in it was ancient and decrepit and, behind the drapes that hung across each of the four walls lay deposits of centuries-old dust. At one end of the room stood an altar. On it were set small butter lamps ( bowls of rancid dri butter into which a wick was set and lighted) and little dishes of food and water placed in offering to the Buddhas. Every day these would be plundered by mice. I became very fond of these little creatures. They were very beautiful and showed no fear as they helped themselves to their daily rations. At night, as I lay in bed, I would hear these companions of mine running to and fro. Sometimes they came over to my bed. This was the only substantial piece of furniture in my room , other than the altar, and consisted of a small wooden box filled with cushions and surrounded by long, red curtains. The mice would clamber over these too, their urine dripping down as I snuggled under my blankets below.

My daily routine was much the same at both the Potala and the Norbulingka, although at the latter the timings were brought forward an hour because of the longer days during the summer. But this was no hardship. I have never enjoyed getting up after sunrise. Once I remember oversleeping and waking up to find Lobsang Samten already outside playing. I was furious."

( Centuries of dust? That must have been something! I promise to add more tomorrow...)

*( please click here to read of the day with me )

* This is from the book Freedom in Exile The Autobiography of the Dalai Lama by Tenzin Gyatso, the fourteenth

Dalai Lama of Tibet.

Through my eyes

( Please see my spinning for you!)

( Tahshi Deleh gentle beautiful one! Kehrahng kusu debo yinpeh? I started our work by cleaning up the heaters for our studio then ended up working on the messy nucleus section. The dust there wasn't centuries old but it turned out to be a lot more work than I thought and once started took a long time to get straightened out! I completed it just a short while ago. It's good I'm working on this though. It will allow us to keep things cleaner by getting things off the floor and put away and give us more room for work on the land of Tibet and our gilding. Hopefully I'll get up to the Grove tomorrow. There's much to be done! I'll put this up for now so we can rest.

And so, as always we'll continue two as one on to tomorrow

my one gentle beautiful patient swift dream bright

long dark mane in sunlight

so for now I bid goodnight...Simjah Nahngo!)


	Through My Eyes Saturday October 4 (We continue listening to the Dalai Lama as he describes his life at the Potala.) " When Lobsang Samten was eventually taken away because the two of us behaved so badly together, these men were my only companions. But what companions they were! Despite their age, they played like children. I was about eight when Lobsang Samten was sent to study at a private school. Naturally, this saddened me for he was my sole contact with my family. Now I only saw him during his school holidays at the time of the full moon. When he left after each visit, I remember standing at the window watching, my heart full of sorrow, as he disappeared into the distance. Apart from these monthly reunions, I had only the occasional visits of my mother to look forward to. When she came, she was usually accompanied by my elder sister, Tsering Dolma. I particularly enjoyed these visits as they would invariably bring presents of food. My mother was a wonderful cook and was well known for her excellent bakery and pastry. When I reached my early teens, my mother would also bring with her Tenzin Choegyal, my youngest brother. He is twelve years my junior and if there was ever a more unruly child than myself, then it was he. One of his favourite games was to take ponies on the roof of my parents' house. I also well remember one occasion when, as a small boy, he sidled up to me to say that Mother had recently ordered pork from the slaughtermen. This was forbidden for, whilst it was acceptable to buy meat, it was not acceptable to order it since that might lead to an animal being killed specially to fulfil your requirements. Tibetans have a rather curious attitude towards eating non-vegetarian food. Buddhism does not necessarily prohibit the eating of meat, but it does say that animals should not be killed for food. In Tibetan society it was permissible to eat meat-indeed it was essential as, apart from tsampa, there was often not much else- but not to be involved in butchery in any way. This was left to others. Some of it was undertaken by Muslims, of whom there was a thriving community, with it's own mosque, settled in Lhasa. Throughout Tibet, there must have been several thousand Muslims. About half came originally from Kashmir, the remainder from China. On one occasion, when my mother did bring me a present of some meat ( sausages filled with rice and mince- a Takster specialty), I remember eating it all at once, because I knew that if I told any of my sweepers about it I would have to share it with them. The next day I was extremely ill. Following this incident, the Master of the Kitchen almost lost his job. Tathag Rinpoche thought he must have been at fault, so I was compelled to admit the truth of the matter. It was a good lesson. Although it is very beautiful , the Potala was not a nice place to live. It was built on a rocky outcrop known as the 'Red Hill' , on the side of a smaller building, at the end of the time of the Great Fifth Dalai Lama, who ruled during the seventeenth century by the Christian calendar. When he died in 1682, it was still far from completion so Desi Sangye Gyatso, his faithful Prime Minister, concealed the fact of his death for fifteen years until it was finished, saying only that His Holiness had embarked on a long retreat. The Potala itself was not just a palace. It contained within its walls not only government offices and numerous storerooms, but also Namgyal ( which means 'The Victorious') monastery with its 175 monks and many chapels, and a school for young monks destined to become Tsedrung officials. As a child, I was given the Great Fifth's own bedroom on the seventh (top) storey. It was painfully cold and ill-lit and I doubt whether it can have been touched since his time. Everything in it was ancient and decrepit and, behind the drapes that hung across each of the four walls lay deposits of centuries-old dust. At one end of the room stood an altar. On it were set small butter lamps ( bowls of rancid dri butter into which a wick was set and lighted) and little dishes of food and water placed in offering to the Buddhas. Every day these would be plundered by mice. I became very fond of these little creatures. They were very beautiful and showed no fear as they helped themselves to their daily rations. At night, as I lay in bed, I would hear these companions of mine running to and fro. Sometimes they came over to my bed. This was the only substantial piece of furniture in my room , other than the altar, and consisted of a small wooden box filled with cushions and surrounded by long, red curtains. The mice would clamber over these too, their urine dripping down as I snuggled under my blankets below. My daily routine was much the same at both the Potala and the Norbulingka, although at the latter the timings were brought forward an hour because of the longer days during the summer. But this was no hardship. I have never enjoyed getting up after sunrise. Once I remember oversleeping and waking up to find Lobsang Samten already outside playing. I was furious." ( Centuries of dust? That must have been something! I promise to add more tomorrow...) ( please click here to read of the day with me ) This is from the book Freedom in Exile The Autobiography of the Dalai Lama by Tenzin Gyatso, the fourteenth Dalai Lama of Tibet. Through my eyes ( Please see my spinning for you!) ( Tahshi Deleh gentle beautiful one! Kehrahng kusu debo yinpeh? I started our work by cleaning up the heaters for our studio then ended up working on the messy nucleus section. The dust there wasn't centuries old but it turned out to be a lot more work than I thought and once started took a long time to get straightened out! I completed it just a short while ago. It's good I'm working on this though. It will allow us to keep things cleaner by getting things off the floor and put away and give us more room for work on the land of Tibet and our gilding. Hopefully I'll get up to the Grove tomorrow. There's much to be done! I'll put this up for now so we can rest. And so, as always we'll continue two as one on to tomorrow my one gentle beautiful patient swift dream bright long dark mane in sunlight so for now I bid goodnight...Simjah Nahngo!)