The bells ring clear in the air - the sound echoes off the walls as though time has stopped here.
The sounds of tradition are forever dancing in the air - through these rituals and ceremonies of color and light. What we are seeing and feeling in the space around us has been done this way before any of us were ever here.
Color and light mixes with ancient mudras and motions, playing with our senses, reverberating in our minds. The energy and movement is within our grasp, though we may not understand what is being said out loud we can feel it in our hearts. Blessings come in many forms, some of tranquility and others ripping at the very fabric of our beings. What is being done here has been done this way before any of us were here.
I lose myself in the crowd, scanning the faces that make up the performance before me. The faces here have such depth, feeling and emotion, with great determination and practice they bring us all along for the ride. A sacred ritual of light and shadow, a great symphony of color and light, of such sights and sounds - They have been doing this before any of us were here.
Taking part in our own way, collective in the room’s energy and activity. Those performing this beautiful dance and song are generous to allow us to follow along. As the drums boom and the bells chime, we are so lucky to be here, in this most sacred place, this sacred space, for they were doing this well before any of us were here.
A great Lama sits upon his throne, a dance of light and sound surrounds him. Stories told and memories made, time lost and found again. As time stands still, as the music grows ever louder, A great lama sits upon his throne, conducting the orchestra of tradition around him.
In this great hall time seems to have been forgotten. In this great hall the tradition echoes off the walls, Telling the story of what has been, what is now, and what is to come. The crowd of tradition and color moves steadily on.
Simply bearing witness brings tears to my eyes, my heart grows heavy but my mind clears and opens. The sweet echoing sound of tradition, the raw vibrant energy beats against the walls of my mind. A great lama sits on his throne of tradition, His orchestra plays like one great being combined. The sweet melodies echo off the walls of tradition - For they were doing this well before any of us had arrived.
The sounds of tradition are forever dancing in the air - through these rituals and ceremonies of color and light. What we are seeing and feeling in the space around us has been done this way before any of us were ever here.
Color and light mixes with ancient mudras and motions, playing with our senses, reverberating in our minds. The energy and movement is within our grasp, though we may not understand what is being said out loud we can feel it in our hearts. Blessings come in many forms, some of tranquility and others ripping at the very fabric of our beings. What is being done here has been done this way before any of us were here.
I lose myself in the crowd, scanning the faces that make up the performance before me. The faces here have such depth, feeling and emotion, with great determination and practice they bring us all along for the ride. A sacred ritual of light and shadow, a great symphony of color and light, of such sights and sounds - They have been doing this before any of us were here.
Taking part in our own way, collective in the room’s energy and activity. Those performing this beautiful dance and song are generous to allow us to follow along. As the drums boom and the bells chime, we are so lucky to be here, in this most sacred place, this sacred space, for they were doing this well before any of us were here.
A great Lama sits upon his throne, a dance of light and sound surrounds him. Stories told and memories made, time lost and found again. As time stands still, as the music grows ever louder, A great lama sits upon his throne, conducting the orchestra of tradition around him.
In this great hall time seems to have been forgotten. In this great hall the tradition echoes off the walls, Telling the story of what has been, what is now, and what is to come. The crowd of tradition and color moves steadily on.
Simply bearing witness brings tears to my eyes, my heart grows heavy but my mind clears and opens. The sweet echoing sound of tradition, the raw vibrant energy beats against the walls of my mind. A great lama sits on his throne of tradition, His orchestra plays like one great being combined. The sweet melodies echo off the walls of tradition - For they were doing this well before any of us had arrived.
