As the days pass on here it's easy to get carried away in the event - there is always something new to see and explore, streets filled with colorful characters, trinkets and statues, cloth in a rainbow of colors and patterns, I could endlessly wander and always be inspired - and yet the Monlam prayers continue in much the same way each day - but the greatest joy I find is searching for those special details and moments that one can easily miss if you're not willing to wait for them. The light in the Bodhi Temple is simply gorgeous - a dream to work with, casting golden and amber rays down on the saffron and bordeaux robes creating a kaleidoscope of colors that you simply could never find naturally anywhere else.
The sound of chanting fills the air and the smell of Tibetan butter tea and incense are (happily) always close by and casually drifting between the rows of practitioners. Some of my fondest memories here have always been during the pauses when I can share a tea with my neighbors, and see everyone's smiling faces looking around, taking a break from the camera to simply appreciate the fact that I am here. Despite the extremely long work days, and getting sick essentially every time I am here, this is still by far one of the world's most special places.
This evening, at the Karma Temple, a puja for the deceased was held, led by Karmapa himself, and it seems that all of Bodh Gaya tried to come along and squeeze into the tiny Gompa with him. As spectators were spilling out of every doorway the puja began and I was filled with a great sense of excitement. Something about the change in venue, all of us crammed in together, with the poor lighting, candles and incense, and that all too familiar feeling from so much time spent in Gompas taking photos - It can be stuffy and hot, intense and sometimes hard to handle - but somehow despite all of this, with the sonorous ringing of bells and voices, and the blazing fire of the offerings I feel more at home here than I do anywhere else.
The sound of chanting fills the air and the smell of Tibetan butter tea and incense are (happily) always close by and casually drifting between the rows of practitioners. Some of my fondest memories here have always been during the pauses when I can share a tea with my neighbors, and see everyone's smiling faces looking around, taking a break from the camera to simply appreciate the fact that I am here. Despite the extremely long work days, and getting sick essentially every time I am here, this is still by far one of the world's most special places.
This evening, at the Karma Temple, a puja for the deceased was held, led by Karmapa himself, and it seems that all of Bodh Gaya tried to come along and squeeze into the tiny Gompa with him. As spectators were spilling out of every doorway the puja began and I was filled with a great sense of excitement. Something about the change in venue, all of us crammed in together, with the poor lighting, candles and incense, and that all too familiar feeling from so much time spent in Gompas taking photos - It can be stuffy and hot, intense and sometimes hard to handle - but somehow despite all of this, with the sonorous ringing of bells and voices, and the blazing fire of the offerings I feel more at home here than I do anywhere else.
