This whole thing has been incredible, beyond, heartbreaking and joyous. From Rinpoche’s passing during Monlam, to the days spent crowding together for warmth in the dark KIBI Gompa. Puja melodies ring in my ears, I hear the drums in my dreams. Solace among my fellow Dharma family, during the hardest and the most elated of times. Witnessing this event full circle- from sorrowful beginnings to sky open freedom- has been one of the most precious times of my life.
I keep coming back to the birds. Flying overhead, circling the cremation Stupa over and over again, as the fire burned and smoke filled the sky. I feel like those birds sometimes; my life spent circling Dharma events and our precious teachers in a beautiful flowing circle. I feel unbelievably fortunate, grateful and deeply humbled to be here. I take my work so seriously sometimes I feel I could burst. Each time I share it’s like a part of myself leaves me never to return. Like the Stupa, ages to create and perfect, every minuscule detail etched to infinity, only to burn it to cinders and smash it to the ground. An amazing opportunity to practice letting go. I wish I could say I do it gracefully, it’s more akin to a freight train on fire than anything resembling grace.
I will never forget those birds. Their tiny gesture melted my heart. The miracle that is Dharma, and the power it has over our little world. How small I am, we all are, in the big scheme of things. As Karmapa always says, seeing everything as the Dream It Is. Even these little birds feel it, and do what they can to offer what they have. What else is there to say. The event over, going home - only to start again on something new. The great cycle, I’ll try my best to be more graceful this time, but no promises. It’s all just a dream, and we’re all along for the ride.
