These past couple of years this has become the norm for me, the craziness that envelops us all when the Dharma King arrives, swooping us off our feet and exploiting our senses to the breaking point as the whirlwind tornado comes through.
No matter how prepared we are, how much we’ve practiced, or how patient and serene we plan to be, the moment it hits that all flies out the window there’s nothing left to do but hold on for dear life. It’s like a beautiful blur; while you’re in the middle of it there’s nowhere else you’d rather be, it’s a great rush, a wonderful elation as you’re in the middle of it all. So much so that you might forget to avoid stepping on someone’s foot, flowers, or aptly strewn lost handbag as you careen across the void trying desperately to avoid being in Karmapa’s way. My job entails mostly just getting out of the way. Get in, get the shot and jump out as fast as I came in. Behold the beautiful blur.
It’s usually not until it’s all over that I can compose myself and take a look at what I’ve shot, hopefully there’s at least some representation, some modicum of the experience captured on film that I can try to use in explaining what has just happened, to share these historic moments to the world. Moments that are over much too quickly. The best things in life tend to be that way, over in an instant. I am however always deeply marked by the gentle all encompassing calm on Karmapa’s face the entire time - as we all wash over each other in a wild frenzy he seems completely disconnected and serene. Time seems to slow when I watch him, moving like he’s in slow motion, gentle and withdrawn from the stuttering world around him. It’s an outrageous contrast; in the middle of all that crazy blur there is a beautiful calm watching over us, broadly smiling. Compassionate and free, the Dharma King arrives once again in a beautiful blur, the clearest part of it all, the calm in the eye of the storm.
Kagyu Monlam Chenmo
