October30

Through My Eyes

Saturday October 30

(We continue to listen to the Dalai Lama as he tells of the night of his escape.)

" Because the situation was so desperate, I realised that I should tell as few people as possible of my decision and at first informed only my Lord Chamberlain and the Chikyah Kenpo. They then had the task of making preparations for a party to leave the palace that night, but without anyone knowing who would be amongst it. At the same time as we discussed how they were to go about this, we decided on the composition of the escape party. I would take with me only my closest advisors, including my two tutors, and those members of my immediate family who were present.

Later that afternoon, my tutors and the four members of the Kashag left the palace hidden under a tarpaulin in the back of a lorry; in the evening, my mother, Tenzin Choegyal and Tsering Dolma went out, disguised, on the pretext of going to a nunnery on the south side of the Kyichu river. I then summoned the popular leaders and told them of my plan, stressing the need not only for maximum co-operation (which I knew was assured), but also for absolute secrecy. I was certain that the Chinese would have spies among the crowd. When these men had gone, I wrote them a letter explaining my reasons for leaving and begging them not to open fire except in self-defence, trusting that they would relay this message to the people. It was to be delivered the next day.

At nightfall, I went for the last time to the shrine dedicated to Mahakala, my personal protector divinity. As I entered the room through its heavy, creaking door, I paused a moment to take in what I saw before me. A number of monks sat chanting prayers at the base of the statue of a large statue of the Protector. There was no electric light in the room, only the glow of dozens of votive butter lamps set in rows of golden and silver dishes. Numerous frescos covered the walls. A small offering of tsampa sat on a plate on the altar. A server, his face half in shadow, was bending over a large urn from which he was ladling butter for the lamps. No one looked up, although I knew that my presence must have been noticed. To my right, one of the monks took up his cymbals, whilst another put a horn to his lips and blew a long, mournful note. The cymbals clashed together and were held, vibrating. It's sound was comforting.

I went forward and presented a kata, a length of white silk, to the divinity. This is the traditional Tibetan gesture on departure and signifies not only propitiation, but also implies the intention of return. For a moment I lingered in silent prayer. The monks would now suspect that I was going, but I was assured of their silence. Before leaving the room, I sat down for a few minutes and read from the Buddha's sutras, stopping at the one which talks of the need to 'develop confidence and courage'.

On leaving, I instructed someone to dim the lights throughout the remainder of the building before going downstairs, where I found one of my dogs. I patted it and was glad that it had never been very friendly with me. Our parting was not too difficult. I was much more sad to be leaving behind my bodyguards and sweepers. I then went outside into the chill March air. At the main entrance to the building was a landing with steps running off either side down to the ground. I walked round it, pausing on the far side to visualise reaching India safely. On coming back to the door, I visualised returning to Tibet.

At a few minutes before ten o'clock, now wearing unfamiliar trousers and a long, black coat, I threw a rifle over my right shoulder and, rolled up, an old thangka that had belonged to the Second Dalai Lama over my left. Then, slipping my glasses into my pocket, I stepped outside. I was very frightened. I was joined by two soldiers, who silently escorted me to the gate by the inner wall, where I was met by the Kusun Depon. With them, I groped my way across the park, hardly able to see a thing. On reaching the outer wall, we joined up with Chikyab Kenpo, who, I could just make out, was armed with a sword. He spoke to me in a low reassuring voice. I was to keep by him at all costs. Going through the gate, he announced boldly to the people gathered there that he was undertaking a routine tour of inspection. With that we were allowed to pass through. No further words were spoken.

I could sense the presence of a great mass of humanity as I stumbled on, but they did not take any notice of us and, after a few minutes' walk,we were once more alone. We had successfully negotiated our way through the crowd, but now there were the Chinese to deal with. The thought of being captured terrified me. For the first time in my life I was truly afraid- not so much for myself but for the millions of people who put their faith in me. If I was caught, all would be lost. There was also some danger that we could be mistaken for Chinese soldiers by freedom fighters unaware of what was happening.

Our first obstacle was the tributary of the Kyichu river that I used to visit as a small child, until forbidden to do so by Tathag Rinpoche. To cross it, we had to use stepping-stones, which I found extremely difficult to negotiate without my glasses."

( We haven't been to the Norbulingka yet but I think the statue of Mahakala would have been in the Kelzang Podrang palace on the second floor in the chapel of Tashi Namrol Lhakhang based on the description in our Footprint Tibet handbook. 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.

( Please see my spinning for you!)

( Tahshi Deleh gentle one! Kehrahng kusu debo yinpeh? I began the day in our studio spinning for you then headed out to pick raspberries. Lots are ripening now! After that I headed up our precious snow mountain to continue clearing around the trunks of the trees. Working two as one pulling strongly and patiently together we've completed a fair bit of this! After that I rested by your Medlar tree as usual before returning to our studio to work on our a land of Tibet and the Grove pages. Your Medlar tree has begun preparing for winter now as it draws sustenance from it's leaves. I'll bring us a picture soon so you can see how it is doing! I'm going to put the pages on our infosite;I'll put this 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 30 (We continue to listen to the Dalai Lama as he tells of the night of his escape.) " Because the situation was so desperate, I realised that I should tell as few people as possible of my decision and at first informed only my Lord Chamberlain and the Chikyah Kenpo. They then had the task of making preparations for a party to leave the palace that night, but without anyone knowing who would be amongst it. At the same time as we discussed how they were to go about this, we decided on the composition of the escape party. I would take with me only my closest advisors, including my two tutors, and those members of my immediate family who were present. Later that afternoon, my tutors and the four members of the Kashag left the palace hidden under a tarpaulin in the back of a lorry; in the evening, my mother, Tenzin Choegyal and Tsering Dolma went out, disguised, on the pretext of going to a nunnery on the south side of the Kyichu river. I then summoned the popular leaders and told them of my plan, stressing the need not only for maximum co-operation (which I knew was assured), but also for absolute secrecy. I was certain that the Chinese would have spies among the crowd. When these men had gone, I wrote them a letter explaining my reasons for leaving and begging them not to open fire except in self-defence, trusting that they would relay this message to the people. It was to be delivered the next day. At nightfall, I went for the last time to the shrine dedicated to Mahakala, my personal protector divinity. As I entered the room through its heavy, creaking door, I paused a moment to take in what I saw before me. A number of monks sat chanting prayers at the base of the statue of a large statue of the Protector. There was no electric light in the room, only the glow of dozens of votive butter lamps set in rows of golden and silver dishes. Numerous frescos covered the walls. A small offering of tsampa sat on a plate on the altar. A server, his face half in shadow, was bending over a large urn from which he was ladling butter for the lamps. No one looked up, although I knew that my presence must have been noticed. To my right, one of the monks took up his cymbals, whilst another put a horn to his lips and blew a long, mournful note. The cymbals clashed together and were held, vibrating. It's sound was comforting. I went forward and presented a kata, a length of white silk, to the divinity. This is the traditional Tibetan gesture on departure and signifies not only propitiation, but also implies the intention of return. For a moment I lingered in silent prayer. The monks would now suspect that I was going, but I was assured of their silence. Before leaving the room, I sat down for a few minutes and read from the Buddha's sutras, stopping at the one which talks of the need to 'develop confidence and courage'. On leaving, I instructed someone to dim the lights throughout the remainder of the building before going downstairs, where I found one of my dogs. I patted it and was glad that it had never been very friendly with me. Our parting was not too difficult. I was much more sad to be leaving behind my bodyguards and sweepers. I then went outside into the chill March air. At the main entrance to the building was a landing with steps running off either side down to the ground. I walked round it, pausing on the far side to visualise reaching India safely. On coming back to the door, I visualised returning to Tibet. At a few minutes before ten o'clock, now wearing unfamiliar trousers and a long, black coat, I threw a rifle over my right shoulder and, rolled up, an old thangka that had belonged to the Second Dalai Lama over my left. Then, slipping my glasses into my pocket, I stepped outside. I was very frightened. I was joined by two soldiers, who silently escorted me to the gate by the inner wall, where I was met by the Kusun Depon. With them, I groped my way across the park, hardly able to see a thing. On reaching the outer wall, we joined up with Chikyab Kenpo, who, I could just make out, was armed with a sword. He spoke to me in a low reassuring voice. I was to keep by him at all costs. Going through the gate, he announced boldly to the people gathered there that he was undertaking a routine tour of inspection. With that we were allowed to pass through. No further words were spoken. I could sense the presence of a great mass of humanity as I stumbled on, but they did not take any notice of us and, after a few minutes' walk,we were once more alone. We had successfully negotiated our way through the crowd, but now there were the Chinese to deal with. The thought of being captured terrified me. For the first time in my life I was truly afraid- not so much for myself but for the millions of people who put their faith in me. If I was caught, all would be lost. There was also some danger that we could be mistaken for Chinese soldiers by freedom fighters unaware of what was happening. Our first obstacle was the tributary of the Kyichu river that I used to visit as a small child, until forbidden to do so by Tathag Rinpoche. To cross it, we had to use stepping-stones, which I found extremely difficult to negotiate without my glasses." ( We haven't been to the Norbulingka yet but I think the statue of Mahakala would have been in the Kelzang Podrang palace on the second floor in the chapel of Tashi Namrol Lhakhang based on the description in our Footprint Tibet handbook. 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. ( Please see my spinning for you!) ( Tahshi Deleh gentle one! Kehrahng kusu debo yinpeh? I began the day in our studio spinning for you then headed out to pick raspberries. Lots are ripening now! After that I headed up our precious snow mountain to continue clearing around the trunks of the trees. Working two as one pulling strongly and patiently together we've completed a fair bit of this! After that I rested by your Medlar tree as usual before returning to our studio to work on our a land of Tibet and the Grove pages. Your Medlar tree has begun preparing for winter now as it draws sustenance from it's leaves. I'll bring us a picture soon so you can see how it is doing! I'm going to put the pages on our infosite;I'll put this 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!)