Saturday, January 30, 2010

30 January 2010

I decided to inaugurate my painting stand with my first ever fully fledged Thangka painting.  I figured it would sit there for a while until i was more accustomed to the art.  Yesterday Tenzin visited me.  When he saw the stand his eyes lit up excitedly, he asked me for a book and some color pencils.  I couldn't refuse.  :)




Today I woke at 5:00am.  It was still dark outside and very cold.  I took a micro to Charbhil visit the little Stupa there to meet some friends.  We were en-route to Kakani in Nuwakot.  Here are some pictures:


Langtang Mountain Range 


















Thursday, January 28, 2010

You Cant See Me.



YOU CANT SEE ME!!!!!!!!  He screamed, in John-Cena-like overtones, as he jumped out right in front of me fingers spread, out of the sheer darkness into my only visible portion of the monastary.  I had just opened my eyes from the meditation and was coming back to my senses.  What a rush.  It was one of the little monks, about 10 of age, who, minutes before, had been intently chanting the preceeding mantras.  There were no lights in Kathmandu tonight, so we did the practice in darkness.  Given the nature of the liturgy, it was quite intense.  After this wrestling fans' display and the look of fear that was clearly on my face, we burst out with bouts of laughter as the situation was hilarious given its contrast.

The practice is called Chod.  I started it a few days ago after meeting a wise old man.  Its a tantric practice and invovles some esoteric activity.  You can read about it here http://www.bodhicitta.net/Chod.htm and / or watch more.



Today was day three.  On day two, one of the monks was banging on a big drum in front of me as the others played their mini drums (damaru) and chanted the mantras.  I had opened my eyes for a little while to catch him wallop the monk next to him on the head with the drum stick, and in perfect rythym too. :) His peer was teasing him by trying to grab a hold of the drum stick while his friend was banging the drum.  It must have been sore, because he let out a loud scream and put his head on his attackers lap in surrender.  The big drum banging monk went on with his syncopation in perfect timing as if nothing had happened.  I saw a few of the other monks let out a chuckle.  It was hilarious.  Were my eyes closed, i would not have even noticed the mini commotion.

On day one, we had to make a circle outside in the light of the moon.  Around 20 monks gathered, ranging from ages 7 to 50. Each had a traditional drum (damaru) in one hand and a thigh bone trumpet in the other.  I was not familiar with the excerise so i opted to stand outside the circle.  We started with the blow of the trumpet, the banging of the drum and then the dancing.  It was beautiful, drums, trumpets, dancing and chanting, all in perfect harmony. It was very intense. But on one acount, whilst the dancing proceeded, I noticed one of the monks had a packet of crisps in his pocket and was secretly eating it, whilst the others were engaging in rigorous practice.  To his surprise, his friend to the left, noticed the packet and started reaching out to steal his chips.  He managed to get a few and a fight ensued whilst the both of them were trying to keep rythym with the rest of the group.  I hosed myself.

Today i walked down the Boudha main road in search for cotton canvas.  I managed to pick up some pieces of wood, a few nails, screws and a hinge as well.  I decided to embark on a mini project, a paint stand.  Here is a before picture:



Here is the after picture:  



Thats it from me tonight.  I see you.  I hope you see me too.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Walk to Pashupatinath


It was 1:00pm.  We were lazing around.  Sharmila thought we should have a picnic at Pashupathi.  So we went walking:











Sunday, January 24, 2010

Bittersweet

In my hallucination
I saw my beloved's flower garden
In my vertigo, in my dizziness
In my drunken haze
Whirling and dancing like a spinning wheel

I saw myself as the source of existence
I was there in the beginning
And I was the spirit of love
Now I am sober
There is only the hangover
And the memory of love
And only the sorrow

I yearn for happiness
I ask for help
I want mercy
And my love says:

Look at me and hear me
Because I am here
Just for that

I am your moon and your moonlight too
I am your flower garden and your water too
I have come all this way, eager for you
Without shoes or shawl

I want you to laugh
To kill all your worries
To love you
To nourish you

Oh sweet bitterness
I will soothe you and heal you
I will bring you roses
I, too, have been covered with thorns

~Rumi

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Please oh please

The oil from this lamp, it is fading
And i know that the darkness surrounds
I've been keeping it safe for the burning
But the flame has been burning me down

Come and catch one more glimpse at the sweetest of flames
Come and see all your eyes have to see
One day soon i'll be gone like the ending of day
One day soon dawns the ending of me

I am good.  I am great.  I am someone indeed.
Magnificent, please come and see.  Let me
live let me live off the offerings you give
to the warm hearted image of me.

I am dark.  I am gross.  I am evil indeed.
I am bad to the bone. Come and see.  Let me breathe,
im in need of your harshest of words, of your
violent perceptions of me.

The oil from this lamp, it is fading
And i fear the darkness surrounds
Whatever my thoughts are about me,
this flame has been burning them down.

Come and save one more spark from this fire
Come and see me for all I can be;
I'm afraid, my dear love, of being one with this space,
with the emptiness inside of me.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

On Meeting

Night makes the stars seem bright.  Clouds may cover the mystery, but nothing is hidden from the great expanse.  Kajol eyes tell a story, half hidden by doubting glances.  Still nothing is unseen to the one who loves completely.

There is a resonance deep within. There is a subtle space of perfect union.  There is freedom not yet known to the senses.  But Oh, lets not go there.  Its too risky.  What  if???  Lets stay here in this colorful illsuion for a while.  Lets tease each other with our careless words.  Lets play some more with thoughts and ideas and neglect.  Lets add more mass to a massive mind while we forget our inner sky.

A lifetime, maybe two or three.  Who knows??  Although separation means suffering, although heads may clash and these narrow walls get closer;  still there is some meaning in frivolous occupation.  But is there?  I dont know, sometimes the mind seems so content with artifacts and ornaments of yesterday; it will so readily exchange the now for yesterdays longing and tomorrows fear.

Never here.  Never now.  Like a withered old man with inflated memories and the crippling thought of impending death.

Sunday, January 10, 2010

The way of seeing (part 1)




"Art is the way of seeing."  The silence became louder as this truth resounded in the space between us.  Two Beings joined together by this simple joy.  I knew this encounter would change something in me forever......

The sun shone bright above, leaving shadows of neo-classical carvings on the parched earth below. Fascinated by the architecture of the place, I roamed from room to room, from pillar to post.  So many things to see.  The building, Sita Bhavan, once a Rana palace, was supposedly built for the second wife of the Prince.  It is now being used by Bal Mandir, the childrens home that i have been spending some of my time in, and by the Nepal Association of fine arts.  An interesting convergence of painters, sculptors, children and aspiring artisans.

The time was 11:30am.  I did not know this then, but next few hours would leave a lasting imprint on me forever.  Two exhibitions were being held concurrently.  The Nepal-Korea art exhibition and a painting exhibition on Emotion.  The Nepal-Korea exhibition included:

A sketch art exhibition by artist Kim, Jae Un:


A natural dye exhibition by Jeon Hee Kwan entitled "Karma":




Last was an exhibition by Lee Gyeong Hyeong entitled "Plastic Cocoon":




I met both artists Lee Gyeong hyeong and Jeon Hee Kwan and was touched by their humility and their love and passion for people.  It was a blessed encounter.

I left the exhibition feeling energized and walked down the dimly lit corridor into a room on the left.  There was an exhibition on emotions:



Friday, January 8, 2010

Thangka Painting at Yellow Monastery - Swayambhu




Today i took a bus to Swayambhunath.  It was my first time there.  Swayambhunath is one of the three main Stupas in the Kathmandu valley area, the other two being Boudhanath (the area where i am staying) and Namabudha.  I normally would take my time in a new environment.  I would stop, take things slow, watch the local people and the activities surrounding the attraction.



Today i could not afford to do that.  Today was work related.  My Thangka teacher had been commissioned to renew the art work at the Yellow Monastery way up on the hill opposite the Swayambhunath Stupa, and he had asked me to come in today and lend a hand.  I was picked up by Tenzing Gyatso, a local Tibetan from Boudha and we rode his motorcycle up the dusty hill to the monastery.



It had been a while since i had painted on scaffolding but after a few minutes i was into the full swing of things and having fun.  Let me tell you something, the most fun times i have had in Nepal so far have been with the monks.  They will leave you in stitches in a matter of minutes.  We knocked off at 5pm and took a walk down to town to catch some dinner and a few more laughs.  I ride with Tenzin back into Boudha.  Tenzin seems like a good guy.  Will be hanging out some more.



Here are more pics:  http://picasaweb.google.com/vishalinv/SwayambhuYellowMonasteryPainting?feat=directlink

Friday, December 25, 2009

Some lessons i am learning

I walked down the same path today.  Today the people looked a little different to me.  Warm, welcoming faces in contrast to the cold around us.  Its getting cooler here in Boudha these days.  I keep saying to myself i need to buy a jacket but something keeps preventing me.  The jackets are nice here, padded jackets either with down fill or synthetic.  Warm fur on the inside and a weather repellant synthetic fiber on the outside.  When you put one of these on you look puffed up like a marshmallow.  Sometimes i laugh to myself and try to imagine this pathway with a whole lot of marshmallows walking up and down it.  But the jackets are warm.  :)

I met a familiar face today.  We had met before, we exchanged pleasant conversation twice before.  He works at a coffee shop along the path called the dream factory.  While talking, i shivered with the cold.  Immediately he asked me if i had a jacket.  I replied "no but i intend to get one."  Hold on he said.  He leaves and returns a few minutes later with a jacket in hand. a NICE ONE with fur on the inside, fashionable and oh so warm.  He says to me:  "take this, you can have it."  Such kindness.  My heart is overflowing as i write this.  So cold.  So cold on the outside.  Afraid of the warmth yet still longing for it.  Afraid to truly connect, this old soul.....so cold.  A man who earns less in a year than i would in a week hands me his jacket and my heart melts.  No expectation.  Just kindness.  I didn’t even know his name.  He knew that. "Here take this, you can have it."  He pours me a cup of warm milk tea and excuses himself as he had chores to fulfill.

Now i am left with a nice warm jacket and a big debt to pay.  My heart has been opened by this gift of love.  Its not the jacket its the gesture.  He gave me himself.  His Being.  His nature.  You have to become really vulnerable in order to give like that, especially when your giving causes you pain.  You have to become really vulnerable in order to truly see the gift and to receive it.  I have missed this so many times.  Now there is so much i can give here.  There are so many here who are in need.  True need.  Not for luxuries or niceties but for food, warm clothes and a place to shelter from the weather.

There is a lady who sits outside a monastery in Boudha.  She sits and asks for money.  What she really wants is time.  I did not see this at first.  She speaks Nepali.  I cannot understand most of what she says.  It does not matter.  I would pass her by every morning.  I would place some money on her cloth.  She would see me, but i would not see her.  I refused to.  I preferred the disconnect.  A wrestless contentment.  One day, i saw her with a little boy.  He looked really sick.  His eyes kept drifting off.  I saw the look on her face and knew then that this was her son.  I saw some other ladies, who would also ask for money, come by to help.  The boy looked like he was going to die.  My heart was moved, but i felt a little helpless.  I just stood afar and watched as she put the boy on her back.  (He must have been around 10 years of age) and walked away in desperation.

My heart sank.  I went into the monastery and could not focus on my art classes that day.  All i could think about was the boy.  I came by the next day feeling really sorrowful and desperate.  I felt like this lady belonged to me.  That her son did as well.  I felt sorrow for my inaction.  I just wanted to see her there.  I wanted to see her smile as she usually did.  I wanted to know that everything was okay.  But she wasn’t there.  There was just an empty space.  I was so sad.  I went back home and asked for another chance.  Two days later i saw her there.  Her son was there as well.  He looked healthy.  This time i did not pass her.  This time i sat down, and smiled. 

We are now friends.  The lady, her son and myself.  We do things together.  Her son and i.  We share.  He speaks my language so well.  Once i rushed past her.  Once, i was so busy.  I thought that she wanted my money.  I placed it on her cloth with haste and as i did, i looked at the hurt expression on her face.  I betrayed her.  I betrayed myself.  I betrayed the true meaning of our relationship.  Now, whenever i see her, she asks me to sit down and i do. She blesses me.  She does not expect money.  Sometimes i give, sometimes i don’t.  Its a nice feeling to feel connected like this. 

There is a man here who gave me his guitar to use for my duration of stay here.  There is a boy who gave me his portable hard drive, there are two teachers who give me their time without expectation of pay. I get chai everytime i sit down at a family restaurant here.  Sometimes they dont accept my money.  They smile and say see you tomorrow. I cannot begin to understand where this comes from.  I feel so indebted to all.  I am so grateful.  I am grateful to the man who gave me a jacket for the cold.  I am grateful to the lady who gave me her loving kindness.  I am grateful for the guitar, for the teachings, for the food, for the warmth, for the time that people take to show me love.  The more i spend time with people here, i realise how far i am from the truth of human existence.  I realise that I have made people, life and things a prop for my selfish existence. I realise slowly that things are just an excuse for hearts to get closer.   Money and things are a mere excuse for souls to unite.  This is the goal.  If we lose sight of this then there is only emptiness in the exchange.

I have read these words by Kahlil Gibran so many times before but am only begining to understand it now because of the kindness of the people here in Boudha: http://www.katsandogz.com/ongiving.html

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

An email to Kindness


from
Vishalin Vandiar 
to
Mia Voss

date
Tue, Sep 15, 2009 at 11:36 AM
subject
Re: Beautiful Soul
mailed-by
gmail.com


hide details Sep 15
Hello my love

This is great news.  You have been a testimony of love, patience and perseverance.  I have been thinking of you a lot Aminia.  You would really love it here.  I have had so many adventures already that it will take a long time to start putting them on the blog (i am determined to do so and will however :)

I have met some very special beings, the likes of which i have never met before.  I have been in the presence of those who have transcended ego and they have welcomed me with love.  I have looked into the eyes of those in whom the entire universe seems to exist and have been drawn to tears by loves pure gaze.  I have walked at least 19km of mountains through glaciers to the source: the glacier where Ganga is born.  I have followed my heart through passes into villages where i have been welcomed as god.  I have made family and friends there.  I have communicated with so few words and am learning how to communicate with heart.  Kindness is born here.  Love in the expression of kindness is the language of the villagers. I have stayed at an ashram where people from all over the world meet from different walks of life to do intense yoga, sadhana and chanting at least twice a day.  These things have an ability to change ones constitution.  I am hoping i would be the better for it.  I have meditated in a hall with the most revered sadhus and rishis in the north districts.  I was the only non-renunciate there.  I have done a course on Ayurvedic massasge and Abhyanga and have been giving  massages at the ashram in Rishikesh.  :) (practice makes perfect)

I have been drinking the local water.  Eating the local food.  Playing in the mud. dancing in the rain.  laughing with the children.  prostrating on the roadside in front of murtis and idols.  teasing the cows.  laughing with the beggars.  swimming in the ganges.  walking barefoot.  picking flowers.  meditating with rishis.  I have not been sick to date (touch wood).  this feels like home.

I will be staying longer.  (i dont know how much longer)  Then i will be off to nepal.  I was at an orphanage in Rishikesh called Ramanas kids.  And it has blown me away.  i have made some good friends there and would like to be further involved.  i have too many things to share.

I miss you very much.  I miss my family as well.  lots of things have been surfacing here that have needed my attention for some time now but i have been unaware of.  India has been healing me to date.  i am very grateful.  To divine Mother in all her love and mercy.  My hope is that Vishalin continues to dissintegrate and dissolve like the incense until all that is left is a sweet aroma for humanity.  Please pray for this.

Namaskar

love and light

Vishalin