November 1

Through My Eyes

Saturday November 1

(We continue at the Potala as the Dalai Lama describes more of his day! )

" Quite often I managed to eat this meal with one or more of my sweepers. They were voracious eaters, all of them. Their bowls were big enough to hold a whole kettle's worth of tea. Other times, I ate with some monks from Namgyal monastery. Generally, however, I shared my meals with just my three monk attendants and sometimes the Chikyah Kenpo, my Chief of Staff. In the absence of the latter, they were always boisterous occasions, and very happy too. I especially remember evening meals in winter when we sat by the fire eating our hot broth by the light of flickering butter lamps and listening to the moan of a snow-laden wind outside.

After eating I would go down the seven flights of stairs into the courtyard, where I was supposed to read scripture and pray as I walked. But when I was young and still carefree, I hardly ever did so. Instead, I would spend the time either thinking up stories or anticipating the ones that would be told to me before going to bed. Very often , these were of a supernatural nature, so it would be a very scared Dalai Lama who crept into his dark, vermin-infested bedroom at nine o'clock. One of the most frightening tales concerned giant owls which were supposed to snatch small boys after dark. This was based on an ancient fresco in the Jokhang temple. It made me very particular about being inside by nightfall.

My life both at the Potala and the Norbulingka was very routine. It only varied at the time of important festivals or when I undertook a retreat. During the latter, I was accompanied by one of my Tutors, though sometimes both, or other senior lamas from Namgyal monastery. Usually, I did one each year ,during winter. Generally, they lasted three weeks, during which I had only one short lesson and was not allowed to play outside, just long periods of prayer and meditation conducted under supervision. As a child I did not always enjoy this. I spent a lot of time looking out of one or the other of my bedroom windows. The one to the north faced Sera monastery, with mountains in the background. The one to the south faced into the great hall where the morning meetings with the Government were held.

This hall was hung with a collection of priceless, old thangkas, embroidered silk hangings depicting the life of Milarepa, one of Tibet's best -loved spiritual masters. I often used to gaze at these beautiful pictures. I wonder what happened to them.

The evenings during my retreats were even worse than during the days, as it was at this time that boys of my own age would drive their cows back home to the village of Shol at the base of the Potala. I well remember sitting quietly saying mantras during the stillness of the fading light and hearing their songs as they returned from the pastures nearby. On a few occasions, I wished that I could change place with them. But gradually I came to appreciate the value of making retreats. Today I dearly wish I had time for them.

Basically, I got on well with all my tutors as I was quick to learn. I have a quick mind, as I discovered with some satisfaction when I was put with some of Tibet's 'super scholars'. But mostly I just worked hard enough to keep out of trouble. However, there came a time when my tutors became worried about my rate of progress. So Kenrap Tenzin organized a mock exam in which I was to compete with Norbu Thondup, my favourite sweeper. Unknown to me, Kenrap Tenzin had briefed him fully beforehand, with the result that I lost the contest. I was devastated, especially as my humiliation was public.

The trick succeeded and for a time I worked very hard out of sheer anger. But in the end my good intentions wore off and I slipped back into my old ways. It was not until I was given my majority that I realised how important my education was and thereafter began to take a proper interest in my studies. Today I regret my early idleness and always study at least four hours a day. One thing that I think might have made a difference to my early schooling is some real competition. Because I had no classmates, I never had anyone to measure myself against.

When I was about nine years old, I discovered amongst my predecessor's belongings two old, hand-cranked movie projectors and several rolls of film. At first, nobody could be found who knew who to operate them. Eventually, an old Chinese monk, who as a boy had been presented by his parents to the Dalai Lama when he visited China in 1908 and who now lived permanently at the Norbulingka, was discovered to be a good technician. He was a very kindly man and very sincere, with a strict devotion to his religious calling, although, like many Chinese, he had a very bad temper.

One of the films was a newsreel of King George V's coronation , which impressed me very much with its rows and rows of splendidly uniformed soldiers from all over the world. Another contained intriguing trick photography that showed female dancers being somehow hatched out of eggs. But most interesting of all was a documentary about gold mining. From it , I learned what a dangerous occupation mining is, and under what difficult conditions miners work. Later, whenever I heard about the exploitation of the working class ( which I often did during the years to come), I thought of this film.

Unfortunately, the old Chinese monk, with whom I had quickly become very good friends, died not very long after this important discovery. Luckily, I had by this time worked out how to use the projectors for myself, and in so doing gained my first experience of electricity and the workings of dynamos"

( 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 one! Kehrahng kusu debo yinpeh? I set to work with our tree feeding gizmo. At first it didn't work! A nasty start with all the bags sitting there and more on the way. It has holes at the bottom of the container that the lime is just supposed to fall through. Because it was a fine powder it was just packing down above them and not falling through easily. For awhile there I was just running down the rows to get it to fly out like some sort of roving human dust storm! That got tiring quickly though. So then I just clamped some pieces of scrunched up metal screening to the shaft to stir things up a bit and it worked fine. I moved the bags to the ends of the rows with Mom's wagon of course. Mighty vehicle that it is it was able to move a few hundred pounds at a time down the hill.It sounds like a lot but this business isn't a major deal once you actually get the stuff. A grand messy business with clouds of powder everywhere! After that I went swimming! The water is quite cold at this time and the current is still a bit strong but it feels awesome after doing work like this. And so, two as one, we've put out a thousand pounds of lime already! You can see the collars all in place and the tree trunks painted. I've painted them higher this year with a heavier coat just in case it gets very cold again! Then I spent of time tidying up in our studio. Things are going rather well! I got done late so 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 November 1 (We continue at the Potala as the Dalai Lama describes more of his day! ) " Quite often I managed to eat this meal with one or more of my sweepers. They were voracious eaters, all of them. Their bowls were big enough to hold a whole kettle's worth of tea. Other times, I ate with some monks from Namgyal monastery. Generally, however, I shared my meals with just my three monk attendants and sometimes the Chikyah Kenpo, my Chief of Staff. In the absence of the latter, they were always boisterous occasions, and very happy too. I especially remember evening meals in winter when we sat by the fire eating our hot broth by the light of flickering butter lamps and listening to the moan of a snow-laden wind outside. After eating I would go down the seven flights of stairs into the courtyard, where I was supposed to read scripture and pray as I walked. But when I was young and still carefree, I hardly ever did so. Instead, I would spend the time either thinking up stories or anticipating the ones that would be told to me before going to bed. Very often , these were of a supernatural nature, so it would be a very scared Dalai Lama who crept into his dark, vermin-infested bedroom at nine o'clock. One of the most frightening tales concerned giant owls which were supposed to snatch small boys after dark. This was based on an ancient fresco in the Jokhang temple. It made me very particular about being inside by nightfall. My life both at the Potala and the Norbulingka was very routine. It only varied at the time of important festivals or when I undertook a retreat. During the latter, I was accompanied by one of my Tutors, though sometimes both, or other senior lamas from Namgyal monastery. Usually, I did one each year ,during winter. Generally, they lasted three weeks, during which I had only one short lesson and was not allowed to play outside, just long periods of prayer and meditation conducted under supervision. As a child I did not always enjoy this. I spent a lot of time looking out of one or the other of my bedroom windows. The one to the north faced Sera monastery, with mountains in the background. The one to the south faced into the great hall where the morning meetings with the Government were held. This hall was hung with a collection of priceless, old thangkas, embroidered silk hangings depicting the life of Milarepa, one of Tibet's best -loved spiritual masters. I often used to gaze at these beautiful pictures. I wonder what happened to them. The evenings during my retreats were even worse than during the days, as it was at this time that boys of my own age would drive their cows back home to the village of Shol at the base of the Potala. I well remember sitting quietly saying mantras during the stillness of the fading light and hearing their songs as they returned from the pastures nearby. On a few occasions, I wished that I could change place with them. But gradually I came to appreciate the value of making retreats. Today I dearly wish I had time for them. Basically, I got on well with all my tutors as I was quick to learn. I have a quick mind, as I discovered with some satisfaction when I was put with some of Tibet's 'super scholars'. But mostly I just worked hard enough to keep out of trouble. However, there came a time when my tutors became worried about my rate of progress. So Kenrap Tenzin organized a mock exam in which I was to compete with Norbu Thondup, my favourite sweeper. Unknown to me, Kenrap Tenzin had briefed him fully beforehand, with the result that I lost the contest. I was devastated, especially as my humiliation was public. The trick succeeded and for a time I worked very hard out of sheer anger. But in the end my good intentions wore off and I slipped back into my old ways. It was not until I was given my majority that I realised how important my education was and thereafter began to take a proper interest in my studies. Today I regret my early idleness and always study at least four hours a day. One thing that I think might have made a difference to my early schooling is some real competition. Because I had no classmates, I never had anyone to measure myself against. When I was about nine years old, I discovered amongst my predecessor's belongings two old, hand-cranked movie projectors and several rolls of film. At first, nobody could be found who knew who to operate them. Eventually, an old Chinese monk, who as a boy had been presented by his parents to the Dalai Lama when he visited China in 1908 and who now lived permanently at the Norbulingka, was discovered to be a good technician. He was a very kindly man and very sincere, with a strict devotion to his religious calling, although, like many Chinese, he had a very bad temper. One of the films was a newsreel of King George V's coronation , which impressed me very much with its rows and rows of splendidly uniformed soldiers from all over the world. Another contained intriguing trick photography that showed female dancers being somehow hatched out of eggs. But most interesting of all was a documentary about gold mining. From it , I learned what a dangerous occupation mining is, and under what difficult conditions miners work. Later, whenever I heard about the exploitation of the working class ( which I often did during the years to come), I thought of this film. Unfortunately, the old Chinese monk, with whom I had quickly become very good friends, died not very long after this important discovery. Luckily, I had by this time worked out how to use the projectors for myself, and in so doing gained my first experience of electricity and the workings of dynamos" ( 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 one! Kehrahng kusu debo yinpeh? I set to work with our tree feeding gizmo. At first it didn't work! A nasty start with all the bags sitting there and more on the way. It has holes at the bottom of the container that the lime is just supposed to fall through. Because it was a fine powder it was just packing down above them and not falling through easily. For awhile there I was just running down the rows to get it to fly out like some sort of roving human dust storm! That got tiring quickly though. So then I just clamped some pieces of scrunched up metal screening to the shaft to stir things up a bit and it worked fine. I moved the bags to the ends of the rows with Mom's wagon of course. Mighty vehicle that it is it was able to move a few hundred pounds at a time down the hill.It sounds like a lot but this business isn't a major deal once you actually get the stuff. A grand messy business with clouds of powder everywhere! After that I went swimming! The water is quite cold at this time and the current is still a bit strong but it feels awesome after doing work like this. And so, two as one, we've put out a thousand pounds of lime already! You can see the collars all in place and the tree trunks painted. I've painted them higher this year with a heavier coat just in case it gets very cold again! Then I spent of time tidying up in our studio. Things are going rather well! I got done late so 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!)