thedawaring's blog

lotus in the rain In life, we cross our paths with a myriad of strangers. The meeting could be just for a few minutes, but some of these strangers leave everlasting memories in our life. This evening while visiting the memorial chorten, a very remarkable incident took place. The incident reminded me of a beautiful story about karma, grasping and letting go as told in Zen Buddhism. Evening of the 19 th of July 2018: The residents of Thimphu were enjoying the cool evening air after a sudden downpour of the monsoon rain. Many citizens had flocked to the Memorial Chorten to relax their mind and body after a tiring summer’s day. The temperature had risen by 5 degrees compared to the same period last year. The rain this evening brought much respite to the sweltering heat in the capital town, at least for me. I was walking towards the Chorten. The passage towards the relic built in 1974 in memory of the late 3 rd Druk Gyalpo was filled with rain water. People were bein

An Evening in Samsara. I proudly claim that I am a Buddhist. I never realized that I was pretty wrong on my claim until one fine evening.  April 21 2018 was a Saturday. As I entered the gates of  Memorial Chorten to get a dose of mental peace, I passed by neatly dressed men and women. The last rays of the setting sun was falling on the upper part of the Chorten. Spring was already in the air. I could hear peaceful bells from the Mani-Dungkhors. Flowers: pink and red were in full bloom. An old Gomchen was burning dried juniper leaves in an old clay pot. The juniper smell filled the evening air.  Drops of water was dripping down the vase off beautiful dakini statue. A flock of pigeons were going late to the nest that day as they were busy pecking the last grains scattered by some kindhearted humans that day. I joined scores of fellow humans in going round and round the Chorten. Chanting of mani and prayers filled the evening air. After doing about 60 rounds, I to

View from Cheri monastery One Man and His Tomorrow. I have a feeling as if I am falling in love for the first time whenever I try to write after a gap of many months! I have always cherished the significance of living in this moment, for moments constitute life. We tend to forget this very moment while busy wondering about a more prosperous tomorrow. In fact, today is the tomorrow that we wanted to live yesterday. Today is the ‘future’ that we imagined many years ago. Today is the dream that we dreamed of living years ago. Today is the product of all our hard work and sweating that we have endured for many rainy days. If we fail to enjoy today, then when are merely existing but not living. Living in the moment translates to being aware of one’s state of being at the moment and being grateful and rejoicing over all the good things you have in life today. Every morning as I wake up, I pull the purple window curtains to be greeted by a majestic view of the hills of Samazing

Image courtesy: https://cdn.instructables.com It is a Sunday afternoon. A lazy Sunday afternoon, in fact. I am reading a book by Haruki Murakami. ' South of the Sun West of The Border' , is its title. He is a Japanese writer whose central theme of writing is  magical realism. Characters in his books are quite often confused like me. Or am I confused like the characters in his books. I am not sue.  As I read, I am also listening to Mozart Symphony number 40. A small cup decorated with Chinese characters sits on my table. There is a flask of hot water too. In a yellow plastic, I can see a strange root. I have never tasted it before. I recently got it from an acquaintance in China. I carefully take out two small pieces of roots from the yellow plastic, put in my cup and pour some hot water. The color of water changes to sky blue. As I lift the cup with both of my hands, and bring the cup nearer to my mouth, I can see a strange thing in my cup. There in the cup, I see the

Image Courtesy: Shutter-stock On a full moon night in early autumn, I sit on a hill overlooking a strange yet breathtakingly beautiful town. There are lights of different shades and hues decorating the town. A cool autumn air is blowing gently. I am the only live soul inhabiting this place at this point of time. It is almost 1 am in the morning. The full moon hangs low in the western sky like a freshly churned out ball of butter. There are fewer starts tonight. I hear a faint soft sound of somebody playing a bamboo flute. At first, the sound is merely recognizable. As I listen with rasp attention, the melody from the flute intensifies. It pierces the darkness and travels through the swishing trees at midnight. A feeling of ecstasy runs through my veins. For a moment, a feel goosebumps all over my body. Is an angel playing the flute at this point of night? Are the demons celebrating a feast? I ask myself. But I am not afraid or things like that. I just feel I am in a different

Story of a Carpenter and his Karma. Image courtesy: http://quotesnsmiles.com In Himalayan Buddhist regions, people believe that there are many world forms. These worlds forms/universe are ruled by a specific Buddha at a specific time. The current Buddha is Buddha Shakya Muni. The future Buddha is believed to be Buddha Maitreya. This back ground is necessary to appreciate the following story. This story was told to me by my father when he visited me for a few days from village in Far East of Bhutan, Trashigang. Part I  In an earlier universe, during the time of Buddha Woe-sung, there lived a king who was a patron of Buddhism. When the Buddha Woe-sung died, the king collected many precious relics like fragments of bones and hairs etc. form the blessed remnants of the Buddha. The king kept the relics by the side of his bed, on a beautiful altar for many years, making offerings of scented water and aromatic herbs.  One fine day, the king thought it was selfish o