SIKKIM RETREAT
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| RETREAT FROM THE ENTRANCE GATE |
A couple of days in hilly Gangtok
and we finally make it to the retreat.
The climb in the jeep seems endless and I wonder just how high we
are. I find out later Ringu Tulku
Rinpoche’s gompa is built on some disused terraced fields at over five-thousand
feet.
Surrounded by lush, green jungle,
the retreat is set in a beautiful clearing with views of the capital in the
distance. At night, the lights from the
city sparkle and occasional fireworks with bursts of coloured lights can be
seen and heard. This is the build-up to
Diwali, the festival of lights, in a few days’ time. Jackals howl at the full moon.
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| A NEARBY HOUSE IN THE JUNGLE |
Fifteen people are
attending the retreat, English and Irish with only two-Scots (apart from Fulmaya
who I guess is Nepalese-British), myself and a rather outspoken nun who has
lived for donkeys in Glasgow, Ani Sherab, and who managed to sustain a cough
throughout the whole length of the teaching, despite sucking on ayurvedic honeyed
sweets and imbibing various other ‘medicines’. Although, I suspect a glass of hot toddy and a
day in bed sweating it out would have done the trick.
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| RETREATANTS |
Having read the text, The Lamp of Mahamudra, (I’m not sure
when it was written) by Tsele Natsok Rangdrol before the retreat, I had my doubts about being able to
manage the level of difficulty. And so it was!
The text seemed to be beyond the understanding of not only the
retreatants, but also seemed to present difficulties for the teacher, Donal
from Ireland: although I think it was
really a problem of teaching methodology more than a lack of understanding of
the text.
Nevertheless, it’s a
relief to escape the pollution of Kathmandu and breathe the clean mountain
air. Most of the people I’ve met seem to
be of Nepalese origin though other ethnic types live in the state including
Bhotia and the indigenous Lepcha-speaking inhabitants.
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| AN INTERESTING SIGN ON THE SIKKIM BORDER |
Mahatma Gandhi Road (MGR)
is an interesting place, traffic-free with shops on either side of the road and
benches, trees and flowers down the middle.
You can sit there for a while and watch people passing. Close your eyes for a minute then watch
again. It’s as if a kaleidoscope has
been turned and a whole new scene is before you. What is remarkable is that everyone seems to
know everyone else. There’re lots of
smiles and shaking of hands and how-do-you-dos before they move on with a smile
on their faces.
Amongst the group there’s
Bernard from outside Dublin. He’s in his
seventies but still canny with lots of good crack but difficult to stop once he
starts. He tells me his family waited years
for a corporation house and were eventually given one four-miles outside of the
city. They were so poor that for
shopping they would walk into town with an empty shopping bag so that they
would have enough money for a bus ride back home with their full shopping.
A few doors along from him
was a neighbour, Brenda Behan, author of Borstal
Boy amongst other writings. He tells
the story of how one time his mother wanted the garden dug up but none of the
sons were going to do it. So she called the police and anonymously told them
that BB was seen burying guns in the back yard.
The police arrived and dug the whole garden over. Aye,
she was as sharp as a pin, said Brendan with a laugh.
What I like about the
retreat is that there is an encouraging support network amongst the
participants; an atmosphere of generosity and respect is there enabling one to
open up knowing that there will be acceptance – nobody’s perfect. (A t-shirt in K’du with the logo: I AM NOBODY.
NOBODY’S PERFECT. THEREFORE, I’M
PERFECT.)
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| FULMAYA, RINPOCHE'S 94 YEAR-OLD MOTHER, MARGARET RICHARDSON, FOUNDER OF RIGUL TRUST |
