The coming sun illuminates, robes and the droning echo of chanting song, immeasurable energy pervades the space. Rolling waves of golden hues. Washes of burgundy and crimson, brilliant green and dashing blue, this is the stuff of photographer’s dreams. This is the Monlam, at the very seat of Buddha’s Enlightenment. This is The Gold.
Karmapa is beyond anything I have experienced in my life. Like a planet with its own orbit, gravity defying, laws of physics laws limitless and unbound. What he is able to do, how he is able to do it, and the grace which he embodies at all times is surely not of this world. To see this up close, humbles me to the core of my being. But it is the smallest things, the inflections of subtlety, the tiny gestures, that moves me past the point of tears, and into the center of my heart.
Karmapa moves like a mountain. He is so deliberate, so steady, with absolute abandon to our sense of time - not careless, but care free. He’s so relaxed, so paced, so undeniably in control that watching the crowd slides out of his path is stupefying to me. After prayers at the tree he comes back to throngs of people waiting for blessing, endless groups of devotees or families traveling the world to see him, lines around the temple that cascade off further than I can see - every one is greeted as if they are his whole world. Endless, tirelessly, majestically.
Watching him grounds me, clears my mind, and I simply follow without a shred of planning. I find myself deeply relaxed too, there is nothing I can do but follow, and this is simply wonderful. Let go and enjoy the ride. As the sun sets in the west, and the day winds down far into the night, I am shocked to reflect on what has occurred that day. Even in the midnight air, lit by moon as I trudge back to my room, all I can see is gold.
