Something my wife told me. (4)

Giving credit where credit is due, my wife told me she saw Namkhar Drimé Rinpotché study the crowd by looking at one and then the other and passing on to the next starting at one end of the crowd and moving on until, presumably, every attendant had received his attention.



All I recall was a long pause before the start of a meeting. It didn't even strike me to question what we were waiting for.

What do you suppose he saw?

Take a look.





Imagine how he might have seen that crowd, one by one, through centuries-old eyes.

As It Is. (3)

Passing through something cloaked in the guise of a acolyte may strike some as dishonest. But consider this: to quietly participate is to participate.

What comes of participation?

Here we have Mapi and Namkhar Drimé Rinpotché on the first afternoon of our distractions.



Mapi is the translator from the Tibetan to French. The English and Spanish that weekend flowed through the French so Mapi was the key link in this translation.

What we did had never been performed in Europe before. What was experienced and participated in was Tibet being translated to Europe. I was a part of that. So were a lot of others.

The Lineup. (2)

This is being written and posted forwards but you are encountering it backwards. Life is like that too, kind of.

I can not reflect on tomorrow but I often do a real job on yesterday. Is it the same with you?

The usual suspects can be seen here:



The Venerable is Namkhar Drimé Rinpotché. Try www.padmaling.net for more should you need it.

Also in the picture is his daughter, next is a devoted servant, and last is Mapi or Marie-Pierre, a friend of the family now. She is the daughter of the woman who kindly gave me these photographs, by name, Marie-France.

I am told the devoted servant fled with Namkhar, if I may call him that, from Tibet a long time ago. I do not know the devoted servant's name. That is something to do, but not now.

"Buddhism is just a word." (1)

That is not how I would put it.

On the other hand I would not have claimed it to be anything. This was told me by a young monk, resident here in Paris. Since then I have made tentative feints into that land of a word. That is all it takes. Even pretending can bring good results.

The last effort was south of the Loire at a place called Fondjouan. It is near Mur-de-Sologne.

If you try to find it on a map good luck.

But it can be found. We found it.