Tag Archives: Lhasa

The Importance of Being On Brand

18 Feb

When I first traveled to China and arrived at Shanghai Pudong International Airport in 2012, I remember seeing a glossy advertisement for Maserati as I walked through the jetway. Having visited many other countries in Asia where Chinese-made cars and motorbikes are ubiquitous, I got a kick out of this prominent promotion of a non-Chinese brand directed at freshly arrived visitors to China’s largest city. A year later I was in Beijing, and after viewing the embalmed body and orange-colored face of Mao Zedong, as I left his mausoleum, I had to “exit through the gift shop” where I was besieged by vendors selling also sorts of Mao trinkets and other Cultural Revolution merchandise. Where did this appetite for luxury and desire to cash in on “commie memorabilia” come from? More importantly, what would be the limits of the PRC’s tolerance for the growing materialistic impulses and capitalist desires of a newly moneyed generation?  I had these questions swirling around in my head as I walked past the countless storefronts of fancy Western brands and franchises that crowded the large city blocks of Shanghai.

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Old Shanghai nostalgia: suitcases & “commie memorabilia” for sale in the now demolished Dongtai Road Antique Market – Shanghai, China (2012)

Since I had a few days to spend in Shanghai after I returned from my travel to Mt. Emei and the Leshan Giant Buddha, I was keen to explore what remained in this megapolis of the Chinese Buddhist spirituality and religious practice of the generations before Mao’s Cultural Revolution. While most of the historical Buddhist schools, monasteries, and temples in Shanghai were destroyed, a few managed to survive or were reconstructed. Much of old Shanghai like the Dongtai Road Antique Market (which was on its last legs when I saw it in 2012) has been demolished to make room for shiny new developments, and so whether or not the remaining Confucian, Taoist, and Buddhist temples in Shanghai may need to get relocated or continue as protected sites remains to be seen. Despite all the rapid change and reinvention, I did see 2 enchanting Buddhist temple complexes in Shanghai, as well as, a third temple that was recently restored with sleek features in sync with the bustling city sidewalks surrounding it.

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Longhua Pagoda constructed in 977 A.D. – Shanghai (2012)

First on my list was the Longhua Temple which is located in the far south of Shanghai. The Shanghai Metro (subway) manages to snake into most areas of the city and was my preferred means of transport. The Metro surfaced and then elevated above the city streets as it ventured into the city’s far southern reaches. I hopped off at a stop not too far from a brand new IKEA store that anchored the Xuhui Shopping Center. I then walked about 1km until I saw what once must have been among the tallest “skyscrapers” of old Shanghai — the Longhua Pagoda. This Pagoda is one of the oldest surviving Buddhist monuments in Shanghai and was built out of brick and wood in 977 A.D.  It is over 40 meters/132 ft tall and yellow in color (which brought to mind the color of the Beamless Brick Hall of Wannian Monastery at Mt. Emei).  Given its age and fragile state, the public cannot enter and walk up to the top of the Pagoda.

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Inside Longhua Temple complex

After paying the admission fee and receiving a bundle of incense sticks, I entered the temple complex which was sparsely filled with visitors. I took my time to enter all the prayer halls and pavilions and some of these buildings had signs and old photographs noting their historical significance. One particular statue stood out above all else at Longhua Temple. This was a serene and intricate statue of the Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara known as the embodiment of all seeing compassion. The statue was flanked on each of its sides by its arms which were fanned out as if hugging the world. Each of the statue’s “thousand arms” had their palms visible and within each palm was a watchful eye — symbolizing Avalokitesvara’s all seeing nature and omnipresence.

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The “Thousand-Armed” Avalokitesvara statue – Longhua Temple

I noticed a group of Chinese patrons bowing multiple times in front of this statue with their hands gripping lit incense sticks over their foreheads. They may have been praying for assistance and support in dealing with a difficult situation, or affirming their gratitude for the compassion that this Bodhisattva provides to the world. I intently watched the actions of this pious group. It was evident to me that religious practice was very much alive and well in Shanghai despite the 20th Century effort to snuff it out as an opiate of the masses.

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Detail of Avalokitesvara statue – a watchful eye contained in each palm

Unfortunately, Longhua Temple was not always as peaceful as the day I visited. It has a bloody past and served as the grounds for over 5,000 public executions of communist party members by the Kuomintang (KMT) national party in April 1927. A few decades after this purge, communist soldiers ransacked Longhua Temple and used statues like the Thousand-Armed Avalokitesvara for target practice. One can still see bullet holes in the walls of certain buildings at Longhua. As I walked out of Longhua Temple and into an adjacent park, I came across the “Longhua Martyrs’ Memorial Hall” which was built by the PRC in what was formerly the gardens of the Longhua Temple.  The Memorial Hall is free, and although all the exhibits are in Chinese, the sobering realization that the old gardens of Longhua Temple are a mass grave holding the remains of executed political prisoners needed no translation.

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Exterior of Jade Buddha Temple – Shanghai

After Longhua Temple, I took the Metro to west Shanghai to see the Jade Buddha Temple which dates back to the late 19th Century (although the original temple was destroyed and the present site was built in the late 1920s). As its name suggests, this temple contains 2 Buddha statues made of white jade. Both Buddhas were sculpted in Burma and had been acquired by a Chinese monk named Huigen who had been traveling through Burma in the early 1880s.

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Entrance to main prayer hall – Jade Buddha Temple

The story goes that Huigen had actually purchased 5 such jade Buddhas, but only 2 of these were transported back to his temple in Shanghai where special halls were built to house them. It is not clear what happened to the other 3 jade Buddhas. Since I had visited Burma and seen many jade and marble Buddhas there (Mandalay in Burma is still known for its mastery of marble & jade sculptures), I was curious to see how the 2 jade Buddhas of the Jade Buddha Temple compared.  

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The Seated Buddha of Jade Buddha Temple

Although photographs are not allowed of the 2 jade Buddhas, I did manage to surreptitiously snap a shot of the larger one — the “Seated Buddha”. This statue is displayed behind glass in its own hall which requires an entry fee that is separate from the general admission to the temple complex. Inside the hall, there is a railing in the back that keeps the public at a good distance away from the statue which is located in the front of the hall. The statue contains feminine features that are very similar to those I had seen in other Burmese statues of the Buddha. The seated pose of the statue depicts the Buddha in the “earth witness” (or bhumi-sparsha) mudra that was famously used by the Buddha to respond back to the demon, Mara, who was hoping to tempt the Buddha to give up his search for Enlightenment (see post: “Tempt” at https://wp.me/s2Bq4y-tempt). The second jade Buddha at the Jade Buddha Temple is found in another hall and is much smaller. This statue depicts a Reclining Buddha and is serpentine in the way its body is curved. I found it interesting that both of these 2 jade Buddhas which reflect the Theravada Buddhist tradition in Burma were acquired by Huigen, a monk of the Chinese Mahayana Buddhist tradition. The exquisite artistry of the 2 statues probably quelled any potential protests by fellow monks when Huigen returned to Shanghai and requested that the 2 Burmese-sculpted Buddhas be housed at their temple.

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Jing’an Temple (crowned with a mini-Mahabodhi Temple) at West Nanjiang Road – Shanghai

From the Jade Buddha Temple, I was back on the Metro and headed to Jing’an Temple. Nestled smack dab in the middle of Shanghai’s busy West Nanjiang Road, this temple could be mistaken upon first blush as some kind of modern religious theme park. The original temple that bore the name “Jing’an” dates back to the 3rd Century A.D., but that site was destroyed long ago and an entirely new temple was built at the current site of Jing’an Temple in 1216 A.D. from where it enjoyed centuries of unmolested religious activity and spiritual importance until the events of the 20th Century interfered.

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Central courtyard – Jing’an Temple

The present design and construction of Jing’an Temple took place in 1998 and incorporated some key Buddhist icons such as a mini-replica of the Mahabodhi Temple (found in Bodh Gaya, India) perched atop the temple and the Pillar of Ashoka (now in a museum in Sarnath, India) which pops out of the city sidewalk that borders the temple. When I entered Jing’an Temple, it dawned on me that this flashy temple fused together elements of China’s “Big 3” religious and philosophical traditions: Confucianism, Taoism, and Buddhism. I saw distinct religious icons and offering areas for each of these 3 faiths inside the temple grounds and visitors were making their rounds to observe and pray before all of these.

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Central Buddha – Jing’an Temple

The central Buddha statue at Jing’an Temple appears to be made from iron or bronze and is nearly black in color. Directly behind this Buddha is a visually stunning panel that illustrates key episodes of the Buddha’s life (see first photograph in the post: “To the Wonder (again)” at https://wp.me/p2Bq4y-PC).  While I can’t say that the present design and construction of Jing’an Temple captures any of the contemplative atmosphere or spiritual authenticity of either Longhua Temple or the Jade Buddha Temple complex, Jing’an Temple is very much “on brand” with the rest of the modern, reimagined Shanghai. It is a chic destination that allows lay people and devotees alike to practice (or go through the motions of practicing) their traditions of ancestral and spiritual worship.

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Yonghe Temple (Lama Temple) – Beijing, China (2013)

As I mentioned at the start of this post, I was in Beijing in 2013 where I witnessed the same kind of enterprising consumerism as in Shanghai. While most of the key historical sights in and around Beijing are connected to the city’s imperial past (Forbidden City, Temple of Heaven, Summer Palace, the Great Wall, etc.), there was one remaining Buddhist temple and monastery of interest. This was the Yonghe Temple (or Lama Temple) which also has its origins rooted in Beijing’s imperial past. This temple was first built in 1694 A.D. as a residence for the Qing crown prince. About 50 years later, the complex was reconfigured as a monastery and center for the Gelug school of Tibetan Buddhism.

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Stairway leading to main hall at Yonghe Temple

Not surprisingly, the entire layout and design of the Yonghe Temple is reminiscent of a mini-Forbidden City because the Qing Emperor’s son initially had lived there. During my visit, the Yonghe Temple was buzzing with visitors and monks were actively chanting mantras, playing drums and other instruments, and treating the public to the visual pageantry of Tibetan Buddhism. As I watched the interactions of the public and the monks, I could not shake the feeling that this spectacle seemed “staged”.  This was based only on my hunch and not anything else. But, it was hard for me to accept the legitimacy of this school or “lamasery” for Tibetan Buddhism given the stark absence of any photos or other acknowledgments of the current Dalai Lama (the 14th Dalai Lama). I also thought back to my experience at the moribund Tashilumpo Monastery in Tibet where the puppet Panchen Lama appointed by the PRC resides (see post: “For the 11th Panchen Lama (abducted)” at https://wp.me/p2Bq4y-b4).

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Observing Tibetan Buddhist Monks at Yonghe Temple

The entire vibe inside Tashilumpo Monastery had come across as artificial to me and I felt a similar feeling at Yonghe Temple. Regardless of whether or not the monks at Yonghe Temple must follow a schedule set by the PRC and have to put on a good show for visitors, the Yonghe Temple did somehow survive the Cultural Revolution and is very well preserved. The best sight of the temple is found inside the “Pavilion of Ten Thousand Happinesses” where one of the world’s largest Buddha statues made of sandalwood is located. This statue is 3-stories high and is housed within a colorfully painted space filled with Buddhist icons and symbols. The artistry and craftsmanship of both the statue and the interior of the pavilion are on par with what may still be seen in the monasteries and temples in Tibet. There is no doubt that the first wave of Tibetan Buddhists who traveled to Beijing to found the Lama Temple effectively replicated and shared their artistic skill and know-how in order to transform the once imperial residence into a center of religious teaching and worship that injected the spirit of Tibet into China.

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Sandalwood Buddha – Pavilion of Ten Thousand Happinesses at Yonghe Temple

As I said, the original buildings of Yonghe Temple had been planned and constructed by the Qing Emperor to mirror those of the Forbidden City.  Since I had visited the Forbidden City the day before seeing Yonghe Temple, its layout was fresh in my mind. While wandering through the Forbidden City (now called the “Palace Museum”), I had mentally replayed scenes from “The Last Emperor” and was able to pick out many of the exact same locations where Bernardo Bertolucci had been allowed by the PRC to shoot scenes for the film. Towards the north end of the Forbidden City, there is a rock garden area with leafy trees and I had ducked under one of these to take refuge from the scorching sun on the day of my visit. When I had cooled down, I walked up to an elevated platform where I was able to look beyond the tall walls surrounding the palace grounds. In the distance, I was surprised to see what appeared to be the shape of a stupa with Tibetan-like symbols and features.

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Beyond the walls of the Forbidden City – Bai Ta (the White Dagoba)

I used my camera’s zoom lens to take a closer look at this white structure and it was clear to me that this was some kind of Tibetan “chorten” (or stupa). Since this structure was located outside of the Forbidden City and had been built in the middle of an island in a lake, I wasn’t able to walk to it. Later on, I did some research into this curious sight and learned that this was “Bai Ta” (or the “White Dagoba”). It was built by the Chinese Qing Emperor to commemorate the first ever visit to Beijing by the-then Tibetan head of state, the 5th Dalai Lama. I was amazed by this. Apparently, none of the previous Dalai Lamas had ever visited, nor had entered into any alliance with, any Chinese Emperor. Since I had some knowledge about the 5th Dalai Lama’s great achievements and the vaunted place he held in the hearts and minds of the Tibetan people, it made sense to me why the Chinese Emperor had vigorously campaigned to meet with such a formidable and visionary man as the 5th Dalai Lama. The 5th Dalai Lama had done much to usher the Tibetan people into an age of advancement which had culminated with the construction of the Potala Palace in Lhasa (see post: “Sketches of Lhasa (#3)” at https://wp.me/p2Bq4y-eQ). I remember viewing the 5th Dalai Lama’s tomb which is housed on its own floor within the Potala Palace and there are massive statues (one with an elephant with a huge pearl in its forehead) that surround it. When the 5th Dalai Lama arrived in Beijing in 1652 A.D., he was accompanied by 3,000 Tibetans and the journey from Lhasa had taken 9 months. No wonder the Chinese Emperor had built the Bai Ta stupa as the crowning feature on its own island in close proximity to the Forbidden City. This grand gesture clearly demonstrated that the 5th Dalai Lama was viewed by the Chinese as a strong independent leader of a foreign land and was someone with whom the Chinese Emperor wanted to establish fruitful foreign relations.

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Closer look at Bai Ta – Beihai Park, Beijing

In thinking back to my accidental spotting of Bai Ta from my vantage point at the Forbidden City, I have to believe that most visitors (including Chinese tourists too) are oblivious to this stupa which I did not see promoted as a point of interest in any travel guides or tourist brochures. Furthermore, whatever information that is provided to visitors about Bai Ta most likely reflects PRC-approved messaging. After all, how would the PRC reconcile the significance of Bai Ta with its long held claim that Tibet has always been a part of China? Assuming that the PRC does simply dismiss Bai Ta as an “off-brand” historical footnote of no importance, this monument’s indomitable presence piercing the skies above the grounds of old imperial Beijing emphatically suggests otherwise.

Sketches of Lhasa (#3)

18 Oct

Norbulingka (Summer residence of the Dalai Lamas)

I entered the Potala on my second day in Lhasa. The date was July 6, 2007 and unbeknownst to me – this was also the 14th (current) Dalai Lama’s birthday. Call it coincidence, serendipity, or whatever — but one thing it was not — was planned. I had no idea of the significance of that day when I got up that morning and walked from my hotel to the base of the Potala. But, somehow I figured it out. Not sure how– I don’t remember talking to anyone in my tour group about it, and in fact, they had all gone to see the Potala after the previous day’s visit to Drepung Monastery. I had lost them and gone off on my own to the Nechung and then Norbulingka before finding my way to the Barkhor quarter of Lhasa in the early evening. Before I went inside the Potala’s grounds, I walked the “kora” or circuit around the Potala. There was a path for pilgrims to do this journey and there were long stretches where shiny prayer wheels got spun en route. The walk took longer than I thought, but allowed me to observe this magnificent structure from every vantage point. When I completed the kora and arrived back at the entrance of the Potala, I had to pass through a security check and I noticed PRC soldiers stationed in every room and accessible space of the Potala. I didn’t know whether these were the usual security measures or whether things were on heightened alert because of the meaning of that day. There was no written guide or map of the Potala that was provided to me after I purchased my entrance ticket. Instead, I just followed the marked route which lead through each of the open buildings and temples [not all areas of the Potala are open to visitors] and had to climb wooden ladders that had been laid on top of the old steps in certain areas because the steps were either so steep or were being protected from further erosion. I peered through the windows from inside the middle building of the Potala which opened straight through the heart of Lhasa. There was a large “Tibetan Liberation” monument erected on the square below. Off to the left side, I could see the most sacred and holy temple in Tibetan Buddhism, the Jokhang Temple. It had originally been constructed in 642 AD and had steadily been built up during each century thereafter. Its gilded rooftop glimmered in the sunlight and it sat in staunch opposition to the modern PRC architecture that had sprouted on the main roads and walkways that poured directly into the Potala’s grounds. As I walked through the Potala, there were 3 rooms that were particularly memorable. The first was a room in one of the largest buildings which housed the tomb of the 5th Dalai Lama. A bright gold chalice-like reliquary stood in the center of this room which held the cremated remains of the 5th Dalai Lama. It was this Dalai Lama that had first built the Potala and done so much to establish the jurisdiction of the Dalai Lama as not only the spiritual, but also the governmental leader of Tibet. Part of the tomb also contained a statue of an elephant which had an enormous pearl popping out of a turquoise mound that was placed smack in the center of the elephant’s head. This was the biggest pearl I had ever seen in my life. In another room, which appeared to be a treasury room filled with various gold and copper Buddha statues and other objects was a beautifully detailed 3-dimensional mandala structure. This complex structure sat in dusty silence behind plexiglass in a corner of the treasury room. It was practically unnoticeable unless you craned your neck like I did around one of the pillars in order to see it tucked away in the side of the room. It was not possible to take any photos inside the Potala since this was prohibited and there was a PRC soldier in each room, but I wish I had been able to snap a pic of this unique mandala — it was an absolutely divine creation. The most emotive room was the former living quarters of the Dalai Lama. This room was tightly controlled by PRC soldiers and each of the personal items and furniture of the Dalai Lama were encased behind plexiglass. The Dalai Lama’s small bed, a clock with western numerals, and some antique looking eyeglasses seemed to lay in the exact position where the Dalai Lama had last placed left them before he had slipped into exile in 1959. It was his birthday, so I could not help but think of how the occasion would have been marked in Lhasa if he had still been there. In the room next to the Dalai Lama’s living quarters, hung some of his clothes and robes and other emblematic garb of his position — one of which included his official chair. This chair was decorated and painted with various symbols of the Bon and Tibetan Buddhist traditions and had a red cushion. As I was imagining the days of when the Dalai Lama would sit atop the chair and greet visitors, two Tibetan woman entered the room and they quickly fell to the floor right in front of me and began prostrating themselves in front of the chair. Before I could even process what I was seeing, a PRC soldier burst into the room and yanked each woman upright in one swift motion by their belts. He then ushered them out of the room and I thought I heard the women chuckling as they disappeared. I was gobsmacked.

Jokhang Temple – Lhasa

I left the Potala and headed down towards the Jokhang Temple. The Jokhang was the centerpiece of Lhasa’s old quarter, the Barkhor. I weaved my way into the main road leading to the Jokhang which was an extremely well-paved road with broad sidewalks lined with fancy shops selling luxury and brand name goods. This road ended right before a raised stoned square on which the Jokhang Temple stood. Tibetan people at one point or another in their lives make the pilgrimage to the Jokhang, the holiest Buddhist temple in Tibet. The warm, saintly mix of burning juniper and yak butter candle-wax filled the air and led me towards a human current of centrifugal force pulsing around the Jokhang. I was quickly swept up into a clockwise kora composed of Tibetans of all ages dressed in traditional attire, twirling custom-made hand prayer wheels and reciting the om-mani-padme-hum mantra. The kora around the Jokhang featured 4 large yak poles draped and made thick with prayer scarves and flags. I walked alongside these pilgrims — lap after lap — around the Jokhang. I was giddy and smiling the entire time. I was part of something that I can only say felt like going back to the egg. It was a glimpse into a physical manifestation of destiny. When I got back to the front of the Jokhang Temple and was about to go inside I noticed a few pilgrims doing prostrations. Each of these pilgrims had a mat in front of them and was doing such robust, full-body prayers that I could hear the friction of their body rub off the ground. And then I took a closer look at the large block stones that had centuries ago been laid down in front of the Jokhang. Each of these stones were perfectly smooth. They were like glass and I could see my reflection in them. After hundreds and hundreds of years of daily, round the clock prostrations, the stones had been embossed to a glossy finish! That was devotion. I shuddered at the unadulterated power of that devotion. After I toured the inside of the Jokhang and exited, I headed into the tight, crooked streets of the Barkhor area. This old quarter consisted of Tibetan homes and tiny, slot businesses. As I walked around the neighborhood and saw children playing in the streets and adults chatting on street corners, I began to pick up on some things. There appeared to be no street lights — although the rest of Lhasa and the tony streets leading to the Jokhang had electricity poles and street lights. Most of the buildings in the Barkhor were in bad states of repair, had broken windows, and were falling apart. The buildings were crowded together and at times I couldn’t see the sky — but it had nothing to do with the height of the buildings which were not more than 3 stories — there was something about how the buildings were angled overhead. Then, as I was trying to find my way out of the Barkhor, I hit a blackness straight-on. I was confused and stepped back. It was a big menacing wall. I was a bit annoyed, but I thought I could find a way around it, so I began walking alongside thinking it would end and a road or path would lead through it. There was no end or path. This was a WALL. The Barkhor area had been purposely walled in. I saw the wall turn and continue to run into blackness on the far side of the area where I stood. There was no where for Tibetans in the Barkhor to grow or bring in new infrastructure. The next generation would have no choice but to leave this last remnant of traditional Lhasa and live in one of the modern apartments built on the outside by the PRC. I was incredulous. Nothing I had read about Lhasa had mentioned that a wall had been built around the Barkhor quarter. It was like a cement python slowly constricting the life out of the Barkhor. That was the horrible thought that had come to me when I had left the Nechung Monastery on the previous day. This had been further reinforced when I had met a Tibetan man at Palubuk — a cave temple monastery located across from the Potala — who had said there were nearly 300,000 people in Lhasa, 240,000 of whom were Han Chinese. He himself had to sneak out of Tibet into Dharamsala in India in order to learn the Tibetan language because the PRC had banned the instruction of Tibetan in their schools. Once he had learned the language and also had received a general understanding of Tibetan history and Buddhist practice, he had returned to Lhasa in order to help his parents. He told me to be sure to tell people what I saw in Tibet.

Like the centuries old frescoes I had seen get rubbed by the hands of Chinese tourists, the Tibetan tradition and way of life will surely fade away as the aggressive PRC policies of forced assimilation and displacement continue unchecked. But, I pause. I can still remember those perfectly smooth stones in front of the Jokhang. How could the spirit of the Tibetan people ever be broken when such devotion courses through every inch of their being? We need to support their struggle by shining a light on that devotion and the rich artistic nature of their culture and spiritual practice. They will persevere and outlast. We can take some refuge in that.

Sketches of Lhasa (#1)

4 Oct

Souvenir stand at Yamdrok Tso overlook

The final leg of my overland journey to Lhasa took me through one last high pass (Karo La Pass: 5,010m / 16,400ft) where we stopped and looked at the sacred turquoise lake of Yamdrok Tso.  Tibetan pilgrims spend months circumbulating the lake, but the most devout pilgrims do not  complete this circuit through walking, but instead through prostration. The Tibetan form of prostration is an all-out, full body exercise. The person stands upright and with hands together reaches up to touch the top of the head, throat, and heart, then kneels down on all fours and in one motion slides his entire body horizontally on the ground with his hands stretched out before him. He then slinks back to the all fours position and stands back up in one fluid motion. It is difficult for the uninitiated to perform just one prostration, and yet the practice is that three such prostrations must be performed in order to achieve one set. The pilgrim never does just 1 prostration — 1 set must be completed. It was hard to imagine doing thousands upon thousands of prostrations for months at a time in order t0 circumambulate Yamdrok Tso, but it had been done each year for centuries. Blew my mind. Some pilgrims take things even further doing prostrations around other holy sites in Tibet like Mt. Kailash or between monasteries separated by hundreds of miles. I stood over the lake and marveled at its color and stillness. Not a wave appeared to ripple. The entire trip had so far been without boundary – meaning I never felt boxed in or contained by anything — whether landscape, cityscape, or anything else. Then, as the descent to Lhasa (13,000ft) began, the change came. I first recognized the forms of familiar things like leafy trees, grassy knolls, and a river. The once empty spaces that had surrounded everything became cut up and gave way to paved highway roads with onramps /offramps, signs, stop lights, and glass and steel buildings. There would also be another boundary that I would come up against on my second night in Lhasa (something insidious that I will have to describe later). I spent 3 days in Lhasa and as I shuffle through my notes from that time at present, it is more difficult than I thought about how to best convey the experience.  The unjust and unfair exists everywhere and sometimes in unequal parts to the just and fair.  There is war and peace, oppression and liberation, and knowledge and ignorance. Each of these is tied together like the day to the night, and cannot be understood in proper context without the other. So, I will start with my first night in Lhasa. I had spent the entire day at the Drepung and Nechung Monasteries and at Norbulingka, the summer residence of the Dalai Lamas. And I had of course lost my tour group because of my lengthy lingering and meandering and they left without me. I charted my own course from there and ended up at the old quarter of Lhasa, the Barkhor, where I found a restaurant with a rooftop serving area that had an unobstructed, diagonal view of the Potala Palace.

Potala Palace – Lhasa, Tibet (2007)

I’ve seen some of the most electrifying sights in Asia, but the Potala stands apart. It brings to life what myths and the sacred are made of. When I first saw it as we drove into Lhasa and felt it loom over the city, I had to avert my eyes because I wasn’t ready to absorb its presence. I just couldn’t do it. I would have to wait, and so I did until the evening of that first day. The sun was lowering into the sky when I took a chair at the restaurant and used the railing of the terrace as my table.  To my left was the Potala. I swallowed it in with my entire being. It was incomprehensible in size, staggering in its symmetry and zig-zagging escalation. Its central buildings were trapezoids of white with red rimmed windows with the main central building in red with black rimmed windows. It sat like a throne on the huge mountain rock it had been built on in the 1650s by the 5th Dalai Lama. It butted up against the sky and smoldered with an aura of longing. It had been the home for the 5th through the 14th Dalai Lamas, and had stood empty since 1959. If not for the action of a Chinese general who blocked the ransacking and looting of the Potala by the Red Army who had stormed Lhasa, the Potala would likely have been destroyed. It is now a PRC state museum. I don’t think I was able to adjust my gaze or to do anything else except nurse my bottle of Everest Beer in passing intervals. I didn’t look at the food menu until 30-minutes or so had passed. My mind had stilled for the first time during the week I had been in Tibet. I had seen a phrase painted in the Drepung Monastery earlier that day and it said: “Subdue Your Mind In its Entirety.”  Easier said than done I had initially thought. Yet, here I was later in the same day and the stark awesomeness of the Potala had dwarfed anything else of substance in me at that moment. I felt such a sense of pride in the human spirit. How the collective power of mankind when harnessed and geared toward a shared purpose was capable of reaching such majestic heights.

Potala Palace

As the sun set and the sky darkened, lights lit up the Potala and then it transformed into the sublime — seemingly floating and pulsating in a moonless sky.  Fireworks went off. What a sight. It was perfect. I had been pulled here by something restless inside me. This restlessness quieted on that first night when I sat in silence and engaged the Potala with my heart and mind. I can say with no exaggeration that for the first time in my life, I truly gave thanks — and not just some b.s. kind of “I’m so lucky to be here” thanks — but a vulnerable, soul-baring thanks. While I had been transfixed by the Potala, I had simultaneously been reflecting on my own shortcomings and failings as a person who was far from perfect, far from knowing anything about where his life was going.  The Potala stood before me as a giant — personifying my potential to attain something meaningful. It was Nirvana incarnate and it was so close at hand.  I was thankful.

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