Showing us all how much he loved this place, for there is no doubt in my mind that he chose for his final moments to be spent amongst those he cared for so dearly, amongst those who would have the honor of his final days. I remember the Kudung - sitting on a shrine of flowers, beautifully adorned with red roses, a colorful and deeply respectful homage to our teacher, sitting in a room of pale and cold white walls - tile floors echoing every movement, an unbearably heavy weight in the air.
I remember the tears - from young and old alike, from all sides and all walks of life, those who had come from all over the world, bearing such great sadness and longing, filled with the inescapable knowledge and understanding that Rinpoche had passed from this world, to return again, but the wait would be immeasurably difficult for us all.
I remember the first moment His Holiness saw the Kudung - as he bowed deeply, prostrated and went into deep meditation in its presence, minutes turned to hours as time slipped away and we were all caught in the power and practice of their connection. Such incredible respect and admiration, such homage and dignity, I remember this moment as if it were yesterday, as if it were here again now, for it will forever be in my memory and in my heart.
I remember the faces - struggling to keep hold, determined and passionate to practice together, for in these final hours Rinpoche had truly pulled us all together, united in our loss, and united in our strength. Sadness turned to happiness as we all reminisced on the good times, as stories of Rinpoche and happy memories would cause such beautiful laughter to escape from us during these moments, forgetting the loss and simply reveling in our connections, how we had been brought together, how Rinpoche had touched each and every one of our lives.
I remember our teachers - side by side with us, sharing in the practice and pain, the stories and laughter, the source of our strength in numbers and our sangha, leading us in prayer and meditation. They were made more human and more real to me in these moments than ever before as they too struggled with the loss and sadness, for even a great master’s heart can long for its teacher.
I remember the togetherness, unifying as one in a moment’s notice, the dropping of all veils and self protection, our dharma family as one.
I remember the triumphant energy of our memories and stories, allowing each other to laugh and cry.
I remember the room, so cold and pale, and yet warm and glowing with our hearts wide open.
I remember that even through the pain things were carried out with dignity and grace - the organization of those in charge was remarkable, and these people, given no time to prepare or any warning, came together for us all, to help to create a place for prayer and last respects, giving many their last chance to say goodbye, supporting those who could not on their own. Such gratitude and deep respect to those of Renchen Ulm.
It has been almost one full year since Rinpoche has passed, and yet the painful memory of this place still fills me with hope, as Rinpoche’s final days were spent here, he chose to pass on here, and it was here that we all finally came together again.
I remember Renchen Ulm.
I remember the tears - from young and old alike, from all sides and all walks of life, those who had come from all over the world, bearing such great sadness and longing, filled with the inescapable knowledge and understanding that Rinpoche had passed from this world, to return again, but the wait would be immeasurably difficult for us all.
I remember the first moment His Holiness saw the Kudung - as he bowed deeply, prostrated and went into deep meditation in its presence, minutes turned to hours as time slipped away and we were all caught in the power and practice of their connection. Such incredible respect and admiration, such homage and dignity, I remember this moment as if it were yesterday, as if it were here again now, for it will forever be in my memory and in my heart.
I remember the faces - struggling to keep hold, determined and passionate to practice together, for in these final hours Rinpoche had truly pulled us all together, united in our loss, and united in our strength. Sadness turned to happiness as we all reminisced on the good times, as stories of Rinpoche and happy memories would cause such beautiful laughter to escape from us during these moments, forgetting the loss and simply reveling in our connections, how we had been brought together, how Rinpoche had touched each and every one of our lives.
I remember our teachers - side by side with us, sharing in the practice and pain, the stories and laughter, the source of our strength in numbers and our sangha, leading us in prayer and meditation. They were made more human and more real to me in these moments than ever before as they too struggled with the loss and sadness, for even a great master’s heart can long for its teacher.
I remember the togetherness, unifying as one in a moment’s notice, the dropping of all veils and self protection, our dharma family as one.
I remember the triumphant energy of our memories and stories, allowing each other to laugh and cry.
I remember the room, so cold and pale, and yet warm and glowing with our hearts wide open.
I remember that even through the pain things were carried out with dignity and grace - the organization of those in charge was remarkable, and these people, given no time to prepare or any warning, came together for us all, to help to create a place for prayer and last respects, giving many their last chance to say goodbye, supporting those who could not on their own. Such gratitude and deep respect to those of Renchen Ulm.
It has been almost one full year since Rinpoche has passed, and yet the painful memory of this place still fills me with hope, as Rinpoche’s final days were spent here, he chose to pass on here, and it was here that we all finally came together again.
I remember Renchen Ulm.
