Back in Varanasi...beside Ma Ganga
It's Sunday the 23. I'm in Varanasi, reflecting on two weeks since I wrote and wondering how in the world I can put something into words to share a bit of my experience. Oh well, here goes.
Since I wrote last we have completed the Dharma Yatra. This is a pilgrimage to Lumbini, where the Buddha was born, to Kushinigar where he died, to Sarnath, where he returned after enlightenment to share the dharma with his 5 friends and to Bodhgaya, where he became enlightened while sitting under the bodhi tree. We went first to Sarnath, where the Buddha returned to tell his 5 friends about his experience. I found myself touched by the kind of love that would return for others after having achieved freedom, enlighenment. At Sarnath, as at the other sites there are very old temples, stupas, monasteries, statues that were lost for centuries and have been recovered. There are actually very few Buddhists in India although this is where the Buddha was born, lived and died. Even Lumbini which is now in Nepal was in India at the time of the Buddha's birth.
We returned to Varinassi and the next day Rosalyn and Carol went to pick up some Indian clothes that had been made for them. On the way we were confronted by a massive river of people, rickshaws, motorbikes, beggars, cows. The tailor, who was from Bangladesh talked about the partition of India and Bangladesh and that when he left in 1947 he and his family left everything, came to India with nothing and had made their way as tailors.
The next day we went to Kunshinigar where the Buddha died. On his death the Buddha encouraged his followers to do the Dharma Yatra and apparantly the Dalai Lama has said that if you could only visit limited places in India he would suggest following the Dharma Yatra. In the temple here there is a reclining, 18 foot wooden Buddha, from the 6th century which was buried but has been recovered. We had planned to stay in Kushinigar but decided to carry on to Lumbini, over the border in Nepal. Lumbini is quite amazing. There is a huge site there, several square miles, containing temples, monasteries and a beautiful Peace Pavilion. The grounds are also a sanctuary for Saurus cranes, about 5 feet tall, and Blue bulls, who look like a cross between a gazelle and a small elk. There are pilgrims from all over the world at these sites. Most seem to come from Sri Lanka, Mayanmar and Thailand.
We met a monk who was in charge of the Nepalese temple who was 77 years old. He had been at this temple for the last 35 years. At the age of 16 he left his home in Nepal not too far from Lumbini, walked to the Indian border, got on a train for 5 days to the southern tip of India, boarded a boat for Sri Lanka and entered a monastery there, where he stayed for 22 years. He had no funds and didn't speak the language. Now 61 years later he sat with us. He told us that he mostly now practises alone, there are no other monks at the temple, and there are no others who come to practice with him. He sat with us for a while then took us inside and gave us a dharma talk on a painting on the wall of the temple about the Wheel of Life.
One evening before we left we went to watch the sunset at the Peace Pavilion. A huge white structure, containing statues of the Buddha at different points in his life. The sun set crimson red and the sunset ski was beautiful. There was a drum booming nearby and so we five went to a small Jappanese temple nearby and joined in the chanting playing small hand drums. There were 6 or 7 monks there, the youngest maybe 6 years old. In Lumbini we stayed at a lovely older hotel and for our whole time there we were the only guests. The day we left they were full. The last two nights there we ate outside on a deck by candlelight watching the darkness rise and the moon shine on the fields stretching out in front of us. The next day we drove back to Varanasi. We left about 7 and got back earlier than we thought in the late afternoon. On the way we were stopped in a small town, where many soldiers were apparant. There had been a clash between Muslims and Hindus a short while before and we drove through the eerily quiet streets. On both sides of us were cars and buses whose windows had all been smashed and a few cars that had been burned. On the roads we see electioneering trucks blasting loudspeaker political messages, women walking carrying bundles of reeds 10 feet long balanced on their heads, a very tiny little boy and girl in the middle of nowhere walking along the road holding hands, a small pond with two boys jumping into it off a tree, while two other boys fish, towns teeming with people but about 15 men for every woman, coming to a stop while 20 men peered at us unflinching and unblinking, and then with our acknowledgment them all breaking into big smiles, people everywhere, the road a river of people, ebbing and rising but always there, men squatting on their heels, drinking chai and talking, signs for digital banking (go figure), tall pampas grasses moving in the wind reflecting the sun, Moslem women totally covered in black including their faces in the midday sun, thatched houses, people waving, yelling, urinating, riding in every type of wheeled vehilce, women squatting under parasols breaking soccer ball-sized rocks into egg sized rocks with small hammers, people sleeping on woven cots a few feet from the highway (why there?), people with no arms, legs, eyes, beautiful smiles from the most unexpected faces, end of monsoon luscious shades of green, a whole family of 6 riding on one motor scooter.
Back in Varanasi the Ganges has reduced in size 40 % in the week we were away. I am able to walk along the Ghats now for perhaps a mile or so reflecting on the fact that this is one of the oldest inhabited cities in the world. That night I sat against a wall where I could see the whole sweep of the Ganges against the whole the Ghats, some 90 of them and felt very peaceful and grateful.
Well, friends I hope you are well Love Jim
Since I wrote last we have completed the Dharma Yatra. This is a pilgrimage to Lumbini, where the Buddha was born, to Kushinigar where he died, to Sarnath, where he returned after enlightenment to share the dharma with his 5 friends and to Bodhgaya, where he became enlightened while sitting under the bodhi tree. We went first to Sarnath, where the Buddha returned to tell his 5 friends about his experience. I found myself touched by the kind of love that would return for others after having achieved freedom, enlighenment. At Sarnath, as at the other sites there are very old temples, stupas, monasteries, statues that were lost for centuries and have been recovered. There are actually very few Buddhists in India although this is where the Buddha was born, lived and died. Even Lumbini which is now in Nepal was in India at the time of the Buddha's birth.
We returned to Varinassi and the next day Rosalyn and Carol went to pick up some Indian clothes that had been made for them. On the way we were confronted by a massive river of people, rickshaws, motorbikes, beggars, cows. The tailor, who was from Bangladesh talked about the partition of India and Bangladesh and that when he left in 1947 he and his family left everything, came to India with nothing and had made their way as tailors.
The next day we went to Kunshinigar where the Buddha died. On his death the Buddha encouraged his followers to do the Dharma Yatra and apparantly the Dalai Lama has said that if you could only visit limited places in India he would suggest following the Dharma Yatra. In the temple here there is a reclining, 18 foot wooden Buddha, from the 6th century which was buried but has been recovered. We had planned to stay in Kushinigar but decided to carry on to Lumbini, over the border in Nepal. Lumbini is quite amazing. There is a huge site there, several square miles, containing temples, monasteries and a beautiful Peace Pavilion. The grounds are also a sanctuary for Saurus cranes, about 5 feet tall, and Blue bulls, who look like a cross between a gazelle and a small elk. There are pilgrims from all over the world at these sites. Most seem to come from Sri Lanka, Mayanmar and Thailand.
We met a monk who was in charge of the Nepalese temple who was 77 years old. He had been at this temple for the last 35 years. At the age of 16 he left his home in Nepal not too far from Lumbini, walked to the Indian border, got on a train for 5 days to the southern tip of India, boarded a boat for Sri Lanka and entered a monastery there, where he stayed for 22 years. He had no funds and didn't speak the language. Now 61 years later he sat with us. He told us that he mostly now practises alone, there are no other monks at the temple, and there are no others who come to practice with him. He sat with us for a while then took us inside and gave us a dharma talk on a painting on the wall of the temple about the Wheel of Life.
One evening before we left we went to watch the sunset at the Peace Pavilion. A huge white structure, containing statues of the Buddha at different points in his life. The sun set crimson red and the sunset ski was beautiful. There was a drum booming nearby and so we five went to a small Jappanese temple nearby and joined in the chanting playing small hand drums. There were 6 or 7 monks there, the youngest maybe 6 years old. In Lumbini we stayed at a lovely older hotel and for our whole time there we were the only guests. The day we left they were full. The last two nights there we ate outside on a deck by candlelight watching the darkness rise and the moon shine on the fields stretching out in front of us. The next day we drove back to Varanasi. We left about 7 and got back earlier than we thought in the late afternoon. On the way we were stopped in a small town, where many soldiers were apparant. There had been a clash between Muslims and Hindus a short while before and we drove through the eerily quiet streets. On both sides of us were cars and buses whose windows had all been smashed and a few cars that had been burned. On the roads we see electioneering trucks blasting loudspeaker political messages, women walking carrying bundles of reeds 10 feet long balanced on their heads, a very tiny little boy and girl in the middle of nowhere walking along the road holding hands, a small pond with two boys jumping into it off a tree, while two other boys fish, towns teeming with people but about 15 men for every woman, coming to a stop while 20 men peered at us unflinching and unblinking, and then with our acknowledgment them all breaking into big smiles, people everywhere, the road a river of people, ebbing and rising but always there, men squatting on their heels, drinking chai and talking, signs for digital banking (go figure), tall pampas grasses moving in the wind reflecting the sun, Moslem women totally covered in black including their faces in the midday sun, thatched houses, people waving, yelling, urinating, riding in every type of wheeled vehilce, women squatting under parasols breaking soccer ball-sized rocks into egg sized rocks with small hammers, people sleeping on woven cots a few feet from the highway (why there?), people with no arms, legs, eyes, beautiful smiles from the most unexpected faces, end of monsoon luscious shades of green, a whole family of 6 riding on one motor scooter.
Back in Varanasi the Ganges has reduced in size 40 % in the week we were away. I am able to walk along the Ghats now for perhaps a mile or so reflecting on the fact that this is one of the oldest inhabited cities in the world. That night I sat against a wall where I could see the whole sweep of the Ganges against the whole the Ghats, some 90 of them and felt very peaceful and grateful.
Well, friends I hope you are well Love Jim
posted by HeartoftheWorld | 2:25 AM
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