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Once-In-A-Blue-Moon Turning
Wheel of Golden Dharma:
©2002 by Leonora Orr |
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"I have seen my eyes!" of 60 years. An old African saying, because one never sees one's own eyes! I've newly returned and am having shimmery glimpses of an inspiring arena of vast space with the showering nectar-like presence of joyful dancing Taras in a golden spiral of turning energy. Who could have imagined? It went beyond our most ecstatic, wildest dreams, and it was as real as any splendid everyday illusion can be.
September 11, 200a, had mired Americans, and much of the world in consequence, in abysmal misery, jolted-depression, suffering and deep mourning of a way of life, lives, lost at the World Trade Center, and colossal Fear. Our peace Pilgrimage was faltering in the face of war, and the trip before the trip because "the trip!"
In August the decision to go to India and Nepal with 90 later-to-be-60 women from 24 countries on a peace pilgrimage of Tara Dancing, joined by 21 Tibetan Nuns, was irresistibly and excitedly pulling me. I turned 60 years old in October, and had decided to mark the year, piton in hand like a mountain climber, with a memorable gift of a journey. What better timing to join hands with people from other parts of the globe, having lived most of my life believing that friendly ways would cultivate peace. With relatively new jobs and little money, my mind had previously set up the "I can't possibly" barriers, until I took part in a weekend dance/retreat with Tara sisters and two Dakinis: Prema Desara and Anahata. End-result bottom-line: I was ready and I didn't know how, but I had to go.
I've been doing the Tara dance, a living prayer of practice in compassion, off and on for over five years, some years more actively than others. The dance/Mandala was so finely conceived, orchestrated and choreographed years ago by Prema Desara, who has come annually for 16 years from Maui to Kauai, to perform and be Tara with Tara sisters on Kauai. Prema had studied classical dance in India some 20 years ago and had meshed her movement with ancient teachings of Padmasambhava, founder of Tibetan Buddhism in the 9th Century. Prema was later joined by Anahata, who blended in her joyful flavors of delightful music/musicians (flute, drums, sitar among others), jewelry and Universal dances to make it all very juicy, playful and life-giving. Like a precious jewel, the Mandala is an engaging and useful practice and process, ever-turning and revealing mindful ways in a new light. We dance one aspect of Tara's qualities, and live it through in our daily life for a month as a focus, for the benefit of all beings. This month of Christmas I am "Joy and Laughter" tara, Hallelujah!
I had enjoyed for years the revelry of coming together with Tara sisters of all ages, the subtleties of the dance and teachings working magically into daily life, which meshed with my former experience and learning of 10 years in Africa (5 as staff wife, 5 as volunteer) with the Peace Corps, and then later managing a dance studio in Berkeley, California, and expressive life has danced through my hand with pen/brush, as a writer/painter/educator for 40 years.
I had major obstacles arising before the trip, along with September 11th. My 91-year-old mother had fallen and broken her hip. She was operated on (exemplary of her strength and health) and moved into an assisted-care residence. I had debated and agonized over whether or not to cancel the India/Nepal journey to fly back to the east coast from Kauai to be with her. My generous siblings convinced me that I needed to continue on the Pilgrimage, and that mother was cared for. I had lived through years of creating bridges between cultures in quiet, natural ways in Africa, France and other arenas of travel, and I also knew that my mother had spent her life encouraging peace and openness in herself, her family and in the world for all beings everywhere, and she would have been so disappointed to see me stop my journey for her sake. yes, she is that giving. A mother of mothers.
As the days drew near for departure, I realized that each person, with his/her questions/comments to me was a quick mirrored/reflection of their mind: "Oh, how exciting," or "You're not still going, are you?" or "I don't do groups," or "What an incredible adventure," or "What if you get stuck over there and can't get back?" or "The Taj Mahal? I hear it's all graffiti now." It is said that negativity has one good quality: It can be purified. Having lived in a small village in Cameroon, West Africa, for five years, I know that news from a distant place can often be distorted, contorted and blown way out of any semblance of site-specific truth; that people's minds, for example, can project trouble from less than a 1-mile radius over the whole continent of Africa. Someone had told me, "Africa is out now," as if a continent of over 42 countries ad who-knows-how-many-times-larger-than-the-US could be a fad!!?
Prema and Anahata had arrived in Dharamsala about two weeks before our scheduled arrival and they reported calm and serenity there. I trusted that. I also called and met with Indian friends or people who had lived in India long-term and they foresaw no problems for us. I trusted that. Meanwhile, the US media, which I listened to for the sake of travel information, was heavy with the focus of fear, alarm and out-of-balance off-the-scale gloom.
I called the Hindu Temple nearby to ask for a blessing from Gurudeva Subramuniyaswami, since he and his monks were building a temple with materials, architects, and carvers from India and Sri Lanka. Gurudeva had been kind to me personally, and had won the U.N. U. Thant Peace Prize last year, so a blessing for our peace Pilgrimage in turbulent times seemed fitting. one of his senior monks called, advised us not to go on the trip, and said that the message was final. After much reflection, I concluded that he was surely concerned for our welfare as Americans, that he was Hindu also and perhaps focusing on problems in Islamabad, conflicts which hopefully would not involve us.
Beyond all obstacles was the transcendent jewel-like possibility of an opening, an opportunity, a miraculous journey into the unknown. I had longed to go to India for years, planting many "Song of India" plants in my yard to prepare and open the path. In a personal, gut-like way the timing felt right, the prospects infinitely auspicious. The streaming of hurrying and scurrying to go quickened by the day: '21 Goddess Sales' with everyone's nearly-new-never-worn goods surfacing from back closets. To see all the support gathering was extremely and freshly gratifying. When I told three friends I was going, they responded instantaneously, "I'll send you a check right away." Just the rising of true friends was worth the journey. I now yearn to turn that out for someone down the line!
Five sleepy yet excited Taras met at the Kauai airport in the early morning of October 13, 2001. Our fears had been dealt with, surmounted, transcended; we were ready to fly! And fly we did. Approximately six airplanes and 30 hours of travel, one way, having one day vanish altogether over the international dateline.
In Delhi, we met up with 55 other women, 60 of us altogether from 24 countries, including Russia, Brazil, Ireland, China, New Zealand and Australia. Bright, beaming, radiant faces ready to dance. Prema and Anahata had been layering and gathering resources, preparing the ground for years with more and more Tara dances connecting in, and we were reaping a full boon harvest of open doors, hospitality, empowerment, teaching and joy. Most of us had danced the spiral-mandala many times, so practicing together came with great ease and we could go quickly to the deeper levels of meaning in the dance. Some of us danced one aspect or quality of Tara the entire journey, and deepened with that. I was Tara #12, "Auspicious Beauty," for example, and my focus became a radiant past, present and future of good fortune, or "tashi Delek," as they say in Tibetan. Some danced a new praise or switched into being a protector each time. It was all so beautiful and artfully orchestrated with sound intention, flexibility, joy and wonder at the streaming miracle of it all, particularly in contrast to other "Realities" of war and conflict in Afghanistan and Islamabad. And how could I go wrong with Tara #5, Sublime Intelligence, and Tara #18, Transformer of Poison, as roommates? We put peacock feathers on our altar to reflect that miracle-of-a-bird eating poison and transforming it into beautiful plumage.
We stayed in the sweet nestled mountain village of Dharamsala for eight days and in Katmandu Valley, Nepal, 10 days. Invited to dance once, often twice a day for audiences of a few hundred up to 6,000 people, our pace was rigorous yet energizing, with teachings and empowerments from lamas, including the Karmapa and Tai Situ Rinpoche. Dancing on the 40th anniversary of the Tibetan children's village, about 2,800 refugee children, and a meeting with the Dalai Lama's sister, were special events with lasting memories. I walked the Kora Path of the Dalai Lama's monastery, guided with care by a young monk, and placed the ashes for a fried of a beloved near a large prayer wheel. Later several of us lit butter lamps to honor loved ones and sponsors of our Pilgrimage, in the name of all beings everywhere. Taradhatu offered toys and clothing and an enormous crowd of thousands arose within two days in Katmandu Valley when a Nepal women's organization asked us to perform, along with a few other dance groups. We also danced for Atisha School in Nepal, and were joined there with 21 Nuns from Kopan Monastery, with whom we had bonded as Tara sisters, performing in the Kopan Monastery Gonpa. Words fall short of our profound joy and satisfaction, as we all became like innocent little children in merriment. And I even danced next to Tara #12, Distributor of Wealth, who paid my airport tax out of Delhi! All was covered on all levels of being.
The only horrific and fearful moment was when a spectator, a Brit, shouted at us while beginning to dance on the Stupa in Boudanath, Katmandu, Nepal: "You freaks, get off there." We had flown far, danced many times, had received an empowerment and permission that very morning from the "No Sleeping" Lama, a tutor of the Dalai Lama, to whom our dance was an offering prayer. Our voices grew stronger and we simply drowned out the heckler. Later we heard that a Monk had quieted the man, and a Tara dancer noted that the heckler made the audience love us.
Just as the moon casts its reflection with no effort, so our dance-prayer gatherings for peace manifested. Like a vast golden prayer wheel inside my head, toned chants of nuns' voices swept the mind to utmost clear of vast pure presence. Dance prayers filled our hearts with joy and plenty; neediness, war and poverty of any sort were simply inconceivable in such a state of harmonious, blissful mind. The arts need remembrance, encouragement, practice to dispel fear, war, clinging and anxious mind. Even the 30 hours of travel of six planes of sometimes six- to seven-hour flights, and baggage checks and immigration passages were only a passing part of the larger dance to open the heart with 60 joyful and memorable Tara faces of so many cultures, like a multi-faceted human-faced diamond without flaws. Where there is war, let us sow peace. Soha.
Karma Dawa Zangmo
(Moon Melody)
December 2001
Leonora Orr
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Comments? . February 26, 2002 |
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