 |
|
|
|
|
Special people |
|
Early-morning quiet |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Afterword |
Early-morning quiet
he question I'm asked most about my time at Kopan is: What did you do at that place for a whole 10 days? My answer doesn't necessarily satisfy my audience; I'm afraid our activities there seem a little too, well, inactive for such an exotic-sounding place. The fact of the matter, though, is that the monastic's life isn't a thrill a minute. Simplicity rules the day at Kopan Monastery, and that was just fine with me.
Our westerners' group quickly fell into the routine that all 10-day groups follow. At about 5 a.m., we awoke to the pleasant sound of a small bell chiming outside in the compound. We observed silence (no talking) each morning until noon, giving these early-morning hours a precious and fragile air. Silently, we convened at about 5:30 for tea in the rooftop cafeteria. Sitting there in the cool hush of the morning with my fellow retreatants, I marveled at the view of the still-slumbering Kathmandu arising from the mist in the valley below.
The view from the dining area (Christian Orsted photo).
At 6 a.m., we gathered in the gompa for meditation with Ani Karin. Our meditation sessions weren't very rigorous by monk standards, I'm sure -- we sat for approximately 40 minutes at a time, gently guided by Ani Karin's calm voice. (By the way, the monks had already been awake and doing "their thing" -- chanting and meditating -- in the main gompa for about two hours by the time we began sitting!) Even though it was early in the morning, there was something energizing about this quiet time of seated reflection, and I usually found myself refreshed and eager for the day when we were finished.
Inside Chenrezig Gompa, the westerners' place of meditation (Christian Orsted photo).
After meditation, it was breakfast time back at our rooftop cafeteria -- essentially a solid-food version of our earlier tea time -- and then we had a brief amount of time to return to our rooms and prepare for our first class of the day.