Ancient Stories

Lama Drukpa Kunley

“So,” the young monk whispers to us, “the beggar asked the monk to show him the thangka. When the thangka was unrolled, the beggar pulled up his tattered robes and proceeded to pee all over it.” The monk smiles at us, watching closely to be sure that we are listening. “The monk was horrified and told the old beggar he was a disgrace. He took the thangka and hurried off with it to his teacher. But when he unrolled it, all the places upon which the beggar had urinated had turned to pure gold.”

            Outside the tiny lhakang in which we are huddled around our storytelling monk, I can hear the head Khenpo’s voice rising and falling as he lectures to the group of about fifty monks seated on the main lhakang floor in front of him.

            Our monk gestures up to the large golden statue of Sakyamuni Buddha looming over us, “Inside this statue is that thangka. And the beggar who peed on it was Drukpa Kunley (see photo above).”

            I regard the statue in a new light. Not only, apparently, does the statue house the “blessed” thangka, but also it contains numerous other sacred relics from the time of Drukpa Kunley, the fifteenth-century yogi who is the subject of my dissertation and the main reason why I have come to Bhutan in the first place. As a result, this particular statue is said to be a “wish-fulfilling jewel” and to make an offering to it or to be blessed by the holy water kept in front of it is said to purify all one’s evil deeds and allow one to fulfill all one’s aspirations. Since one of my primary aspirations is to write a dissertation that helps illuminate Drukpa Kunley’s unique vision of what it means to be an “enlightened” or moral human being, as well as to elucidate how his own writing about himself demonstrates this particular vision of enlightenment, I am quite willing to be blessed many times over by the famous statue.

However, not only the statue, but the entire monastery of Tango Goemba as well has strong associations with Drukpa Kunley. The original building (see main photo on blog front page) was built by Drukpa Kunley in the fifteenth century. It is a masterful work of architecture with a curving front wall unlike anything I’ve seen so far on other monasteries. In addition, Tango Goemba is famous as being the most prestigious center of Buddhist learning in Bhutan; almost every Je Khenpo (religious head of Bhutan) completes the 9-year program there (much like getting a PhD in Buddhist Studies). After completing that program, the monks traditionally spend three years, three months and three days in meditation at nearby Cheri Goemba retreat center, built in 1619 by Shabdrung Ngawang Namgyal, the founder or first unifier of Bhutan.

Our trip to visit both Tango and Cheri begins at 6:30 in the morning when our friend Sonam arrives to pick us up. We drive north of Thimphu, following the churning Wang Chuu river with the chill early morning air blowing through the open windows. Sonam’s adorable baby girl, Pema, sleeps peacefully on her aunt’s shoulder. As we arrive at the trailhead, the sun is just peaking down over the high ridges and the light is a gorgeous translucent gold. The hike is short and the cool morning air makes it even more pleasant. 

Sonam and Pema

Right before we arrive at Tango Goemba, we pass a small stupa that marks the boundary beyond which the monks cannot pass for the month of the “rainy season retreat,” when they must remain within the monastery boundaries. Since we are arriving in the middle of the rainy season retreat, this boundary is in effect. 

Stupa outside Tango Goemba

As we round the corner after the stupa, I can see the curved slope of the main white washed monastery wall, punctuated by ornately carved windows. Viewed against the vivid blue sky, the monastery glows with a kind of inner light. Drukpa Kunley certainly had a vivid sense of architectural presence! 

Tango Goemba

Entering the front gate, I see masses of shoes lined up in front of one of the main lhakangs—clearly the monks are studying, and as we progress through the buildings, guided by one monk who is kind enough to take us through and explain what we are seeing, it is clear that almost every main room is also a classroom and the monks are engaged in studying various texts and topics of the Buddhist tradition. 

Shoes outside Lhakang

Since our pilgrimage involves entering most of the main monastery rooms, we walk a fine line between performing the traditional pilgrim activities and not disturbing the studies of the monks. Our monk guide leads us up the intimidatingly steep wooden ladders that extend from floor to floor of the goemba to a small room on the top floor. A small group of monks sit together in middle of the floor reading a text. One of them rises and brings a long staff to the doorway. I learn that this staff is said to be the walking stick of the fourth Desi, Gyalse Tenzin Rabgye, the fourth ruler of Bhutan, and receiving a blessing from it brings good luck also. After visiting this small room, we decide to depart. The monks are rushing about in preparation for the impending visit of three of Bhutan’s important ministers who will provide lunch for the monastic body. This is another common way that Buddhists make offerings—by sponsoring a lunch or tea for the monastic body, especially when they are in retreat, as they currently are for the rainy season. Having such important donors requires elaborate preparations on the part of the monks, who wish to also honor their patrons. Realizing that our presence slightly complicates their preparations, we decide to move on to our next destination, Cheri Goemba, the meditation retreat center founded by the Zhabdrung on his descent into Bhutan from Tibet in the sixteenth century.

Cheri Goemba perched on the Ridge

At the base of the trail to Cheri, a construction project of a religious nature is ongoing. As we sit in the shade to have a cup of tea and munch a biscuit, we are passed by groups of Bhutanese teenagers who have come to the site volunteering their labor to help built a large stupa. When we cross over the river, we also pass numbers of these workers carrying stones and other materials on their shoulders. Nearby the stupa-to-be, craftspeople are at work on a giant stone carving of Guru Rinpoche. 

Stone Carving of Guru Rinpoche

Climbing up to Cheri proves far more arduous than our hike to Tango, possibly due to the fact that the sun is now high overhead and the heat is rising steadily. On the trail we meet up with an Indian woman from Bangladesh and her son. She cheerfully informs us that this is their second day in Bhutan and that she has already asked her guide how she can purchase land here. He has explained to her that she would need to be married to a Bhutanese man. She says that’s fine by her! Just show her one who is willing. It’s a humorous moment that clearly demonstrates most tourists immediate reaction to the beauty and charm Bhutan radiates so easily.

Cheri Goemba

View from Courtyard in Cheri Goemba

Arriving at Cheri, I am grateful that the small group of Chinese tourists gathered at the top of the stone stairway to the retreat center are heading down, especially when they begin shouting loudly to each other across the otherwise silent and peaceful mountain side. Once they have disappeared back down the trail, silence again claims the site, leaving only the whisper of wind in the huge cypress trees lining one side of the trail, and the slow ring of a huge bell hanging under the monastery’s eaves. 

Bell Under the Eaves

After visiting the main lhakang, we climb the hundred and eight steep stone steps (108 is a sacred number in Buddhism—actually there are 147 steps) leading to the upper goemba built around the cave where the Zhabdrung stayed in retreat and where his father’s ashes are enshrined. As we climb, we pass groups of monks carrying Buddhist texts wrapped in the standard red and yellow clothes. 

The Path of 108 Steps

Arriving at the Top

Inside the lhakang, groups of monks unwrap the huge texts and I am sorely tempted to try reading over their shoulders! Baby Pema crawls happily about on the smooth wood-paneled floor as two monks attempt to explain to me in Tibetan the nature of the small cave inside of which a statue of the Zhabdrung sits serenely. Heading back down the trail, we discuss where to go for our picnic. Weekend picnics are the most popular activity, second only to visiting sacred Buddhist sites—usually the two activities dovetail perfectly, as we soon discover when we find a lovely spot next to the river beside a small choten. We feast on spiced homemade noodles (a Bumthang specialty prepared by Sonam’s sister, Sangye Zam), peppers and egg, curried veggies, rice, and biscuits together with slightly sweetened milk tea.

Picnic by the Wang Chuu

Our final stop on our way back down the valley is at the Dechenphu Lhakang. Dechenphu is the home of the Thimphu valley protector deity, Gyenyen, and as such it is the site for any Bhutanese to visit before traveling outside of Bhutan or before engaging in any kind of activity that might be considered risky. Foreigners are generally not allowed to visit or enter the buildings of any protector shrines. I am not exactly sure why this is the case, but I think it has something to do with the unique nature of the relationship between the protector deities and the local populations. This relationship is ancient and results from the taming of local spirits and their conversion into Buddhist “protectors” (protectors of the faith), by Buddhist saints such as Zhabdrung Ngawang Namgyal. I have always been fascinated by this particular phenomenon but have yet to see a thorough study of it that explores both its etic and emic dimensions.

Dechenphu is situated at the far end of a forested valley. The pine trees blanketing the long sloping hillsides create an atmosphere of quiet darkness. The lhakang itself is painted red and is surrounded by carefully tended gardens. Its one of the most lovely spots we’ve visited. 

Dechenphu

Contrary to the normal rules, we enter the three-story main building with Sonam. Inside it is completely dark. Not a single butter lamp or candle burns to illuminate the thick blackness. From the light that filters in through the entrance, I can dimly make out the shapes of various weapons—spears, muskets, shields, and swords hang ominously overhead. As I climb the steep and slippery wooden ladders to the second and third floors, there is a palpable sense of a presence. It is not threatening but it is immensely powerful. On the third floor we enter the main lhakang. Before I can catch a glimpse of the shrine, a monk rushes over to inform Sonam that foreigners are not allowed here. He is quite kind about it, but firm. I hand him the bottle of liquor I have brought to offer for my sister’s health and quickly perform three prostrations. Scrambling down the ladders in the dark, I feel a sense of urgency. I do not wish to offend either local sensibilities or the deity himself! Chris and I content ourselves with circumambulating the lhakang in the growing darkness while we wait for Sonam and her sister to finish making their offerings. Later, we learn from another monk that had we been wearing traditional Bhutanese dress (gho and kira), we would have been allowed to remain inside. But I’m not so sure about this. In any event, I am glad to have been able to visit. Our drive home is sprinkled by the coming evening rain and we arrive back at our apartment exhausted but happy to have been able to visit these places. 

Cultural Experiences

Visiting Lhakangs:

The first and most prevalent cultural activity engaged in by not only tourists, but also by most Bhutanese, is to visit lhakang[s] (temple/prayer room). For Bhutanese, visiting a lhakang is akin to going on pilgrimage (gnay ‘khor—“going ‘round’ a sacred place), but different in that one might visit a nearby lhakang daily. Multiple activities take place in a single visit. Our drive back from Taktsang allowed us to participate in this activity (not for the first time—we’ve been doing this quite a bit since we arrived in Bhutan—but in such a way that I will describe it so that its different aspects are clearly demarcated).

As we begin the drive back to Thimphu in the late afternoon, Doug, our kind friend who had driven us to Paro, suggests stopping to visit a lhakang that he particularly likes. Although I feel completely exhausted after the long day up in the mountains, it sounds like a good idea. Doug turns off the road shortly after leaving the trailhead to Takstang, taking us up a short driveway to a small temple nestled in a grove of trees. He explains to us that although he doesn’t know the name of the teacher whose lhakang this is, he just “feels good” whenever he visits this place. All he knows is that this teacher had, at one time, been given a Mercedes car that had never been driven and that the car was kept in a type of “shrine” room. I am delighted when we arrive to discover that the lhakang belongs to the Tibetan Buddhist teacher Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche, one of the most beloved and realized Nyingma masters of the twentieth century. 

Khyentse Rinpoche is well known in Bhutan. He spent much of his later years there and was the primary teacher to the current queen mother of Bhutan. When he passed away in 1991 in Bhutan, his body became a principle pilgrimage site until he was cremated in an enormous ceremony in the Paro valley, which many western Buddhist practitioners attended. When I first became interested in Buddhism over twenty years ago, I saw a picture of Khyentse Rinpoche on a friend's shrine and felt an immediate love for him and an intense sense of connection. I was unreasonably saddened to learn that he had passed away and could not stop thinking about him. That very first night after seeing his picture I had a dream.

In the dream, I am sitting against the wall at the foot of a huge bed in which Khyentse Rinpoche is dying. I am devastated and crying. Khyentse Rinpoche gets up out of the bed. As in real life, he is immensely tall (about 6ft. 7 inches), with these very long and beautiful arms. He sits down beside me on the floor and tells me to take hold of his upper arm. I wrap my arm around his and together we float up out of the room into the night sky. The sky is filled with stars and there is a moon. Khyentse Rinpoche lets go of me and together we simply float in the midst of the stars. He says to me, “You see? Its all right.”

That part of the dream dissolves and I find myself swooping like a bird across a huge canyon ridge, not unlike the ridge of the Grand Canyon. At the very lip of the canyon a single empty rocking chair rocks gently back and forth.

The dream dissolves completely and I wake with a sense of peace. I know now that I had this dream about four months before Khyentse Rinpoche was cremated and about ninth months after he passed away. I attribute my love of Buddhism and my sense of the possibilities inherent in genuine practice to the inspiration of this extraordinary teacher.

Although I have visited Shechen Monastery in Kathmandu (Khyentse Rinpoche’s monastery there), I have never, obviously, seen anything related to him in Bhutan. The name of the lhakang at which we have arrived is Satsam Choten. The term choten signifies a type of stupa in which the remains of important teachers are placed after they are cremated. Satsam Choten was the private meditation temple of Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche when he was alive and is now a place of pilgrimage for people to visit his remains entombed in the stupa and to see where he practiced. It is also a place where the young tulku (the new reincarnation of Khyentse Rinpoche) lives at various times. While all of this might seem to be a lot of detail, the fact is that visiting places such as Satsam Choten is a central religious activity of most Bhutanese Buddhists—and in fact, a central religious activity of most Himalayan Buddhists and Buddhist altogether in Central, South, and South-east Asia.

Upon arrival, we make our way into the inner courtyard of the temple. Here, a large bukhari wood stove is kept burning most of the year permitting two large orange trees to thrive in an otherwise inhospitable environment. Indeed, numerous  brilliant oranges dangle from the branches of the two large trees. As we enter the main lhakang room, we remove our shoes, leaving them on the steps outside. No cameras are allowed inside most lhakangs so we leave ours pocketed. The main room houses a huge golden stupa in a type of recessed back room. In front are large statues of Khyentse Rinpoche, Guru Rinpoche, the Zhabdrung (founder of the unified country of Bhutan) and various other Buddhas and important teachers. Following lhakang-visiting protocol, I make three half-prostrations before the main altar and the stupa. I then approach the altar, light a stick of Bhutanese incense (known to be the best incense in the Buddhist world), bow and place the incense in a censor. I say some prayers for the wellbeing, peace, happiness, and good health of all close to me, and again for all beings. Moving clockwise, I circumambulate the main altar and return to the front. Behind me is a high teaching throne with a picture of Khyentse Rinpoche on it. It is clear that at one time, this room served as an audience room or as a space for large group practice. I bow again before leaving the room.

Since most lhakangs consist of more than one room, this one is no exception. However, a curious corridor built of paneled blond wood leads mysteriously back into the depths of the lhakang. Curious, Chris and I follow its twists and turns arriving, finally, in a small room with a low “throne” (meditation seat) set beside a long, low couch. The altar is small, but ornate. There is a picture of the late Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche on the practice table set in front of the “throne.” It is clear from the size and privacy of this small room that this was Khytense Rinpoche’s private meditation room.  Again, its wonderful to have a bit of quiet time alone in this small and comfortable little room before we hear footsteps approaching and a group of four young Bhutanese teenagers come barreling into the room, laughing and joking with each other. They quickly perform their prostrations, bow, and leave, all the while never ceasing to talk loudly and laugh. There is something delightful about the confluence of young people performing traditional Buddhist activities, while all the while still being typical teenagers.

Leaving the lhakang, we begin the obligatory three circuits of the outside of the lhakang. Often, Buddhist pilgrims will simply come and walk clockwise around a sacred building, spinning the prayer wheels built into the wall as they go for at least three circuits, though some pilgrims will walk around and around for long periods of time, reciting mantras, spinning prayer wheels, and saying prayers. The sun is about to set behind the mountains as we finish our three circuits and the high clouds are silver against the dark gray-blue hills. The light is like translucent gold, falling gently over the small lhakang. As Doug said, it just feels good to be here.

Datse (Archery):

Our drive back to Thimphu has not progressed far before we glimpse a huge crowd of Bhutanese gathered inside a small park. Curious, we park the car and walk into the crowd. An archery contest is in full swing and everyone is dressed in their finery, gathered around the shooting range. Archery is Bhutan’s national sport and we have arrived at a semi-finals competition. The tiny targets are placed on the ground about 420 feet apart. It seems impossible that anyone could actually hit such a small target, but arrows are imbedded in the one nearest to us.

Two groups of men, wearing colored panel skirts over their ghos, compete to hit the targets. In Bhutan, there are two classes of competition—one for traditional bamboo bows and another for compound, carbon-fibre bows. The current competition is of the latter class and the men perform dances, sing songs, and yell various insults at each other after each shot.

Off to the side of the range, two groups of women wearing matching kiras dance in circles and sing. As I watch, one group of women breaks the circle. All the women join hands and begin to sing a haunting harmonic melody that wavers over the crowd. The melody is beautiful and I am transfixed by it. Children run and play in the grass. I notice that Chris, Doug, and I are the only westerners in the crowd.

Everyone else is Bhutanese and, or so it appears as we continue to watch and listen, all the important folks are out and about. I see various interactions taking place. A young man bows and speaks reverently to an older gentleman in a matching gho, hat, and socks. Other people also bow as this older gentleman walks past. I like this.

Bhutanese archery is no show put on for curious tourists. It is a central part of Bhutanese life, as vibrant and alive as any Fourth of July parade in the United States. Leaving the archery grounds, I am struck by the confluence of ancient choten, grazing cows, and parked cars—a mix of elements that highlights the complex interplay of tradition, modernity, and religion that is constantly occurring in this high Himalayan country.

A Few More Pics from Taktsang (While I'm Writing the Next Post)

These two are of Chris and his early morning snow lion friend hanging out at the Gantey Palace Hotel before we left for the hike. The second picture is the outside of the Gantey Hotel Palace.

This is Taktsang from below on the way up.

More views through Himalayan rainforest foliage.

 The pony stand about halfway up the trail at the entrance to the Taktsang "cafeteria" side trail. From here, everyone has to walk the second half of the trail up to Taktsang--no easy chore!

This (above) is the descending stairway to the bridge across the waterfall that then leads up to Taktsang.

This (above) is the small chapel built out around the cave where Yeshe Tsogyal stayed in retreat practicing Vajrakilaya.

Statue of Yeshe Tshogyal at her cave.

Looking down on Taktsang from the Machig Cave.

Afternoon sky from Machig Cave

View of Paro Valley from Taktsang.

Okay, that's all for the moment! I am writing the next post...

Journey to Taktsang

When Guru Rinpoche heard that the demon Singey Samdrup was disturbing the people of the Paro valley, he took on the wrathful manifestation known as Dorje Trolo. His consort, the dakini Yeshe Tsogyal transformed herself into a tigress as his mount. Together they flew to the site now known as “Tiger’s Nest,” or Taktsang. The demon was subdued; the valley pacified; and the site is today one of the most famous monasteries in Bhutan, perched 2,700 feet above the Paro valley. This site is also famous for another reason that is dear to my heart. In 1968, long before tourists were even allowed to enter Bhutan, Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche, one of the first Tibetan Buddhist teachers to come to the west, stayed in retreat there. During this time he received a treasure revelation, terma, (This is a phenomenon whereby a Buddhist teaching, said to haven been hidden by Guru Rinpoche back in the eighth century, but said to be relevant to this current day and age, is revealed by the right Buddhist master at the right time at the right place.) known as the Sadhana of Mahamudra, a visualization practice of Dorje Trolo designed to combat the spread of materialism and lack of spiritual integrity of the modern age. For those who are interested, his account of this retreat and his terma revelation can be read at: www.chronicleproject.com/stories_130.html.       .

I have always dreamed of going to Taktsang and thus when a new friend here in Bhutan emailed us that he was going to be driving to Paro for a business meeting and could give us a ride there, we jumped at the offer. Doug wanted to leave in the evening on Friday, thereby giving us the opportunity to spend the night in Paro and get an early start to Taktsang on Saturday morning.

Our drive begins at dusk. The monsoon clouds that have gathered in the valleys for the past few days, showering down more rain than I had yet seen are finally thinning out as we wind our way along the one main road in Bhutan, a two-lane “highway” (sic), that hugs the churning Wang Chu river until we reach the entrance to the Thimphu valley and turn west, now skirting the edge of the Paro Chu. Light from the setting sun turns the fraying clouds into dance of purple and mauve, while the river slides like a long silver snake into the gathering darkness. 

As we enter Paro, the Paro Dzong and National Museum above it stare out of the darkening valley. 

Doug deposits us at the Gantey Palace Hotel, a place he has stayed often and has recommended to us. This hotel was built in the nineteenth-century as the home of the Paro penlop (governor). In the early evening, it is silent, a miniature dzong in its own right, the lush gardens fragrant from the day’s rain. We delight in our small, but cozy room with its two-foot thick walls and the blessed silence. Since we have arrived in Bhutan, there has been no escape from the sounds of constant construction taking place in Thimphu. Here in Paro, stars wink in the now clear sky and silence spreads wings like a dark garuda over the valley floor.

Before dinner, we follow the nyerpa or caretaker up into the hotel’s tower to the top-floor lhakang (prayer room). Inside, the walls are alive with Buddhist deities and scenes from various parts of the lives of Buddhist saints. The main alter holds huge tormas (offering cakes) and various other offerings. I am most intrigued by a huge wall mural of Shambhala, complete with the Ridgen king in his palace in Kalapa. It’s a gorgeous mural and even shows the 25^th Ridgen king at the head of the warriors of Shambhala. It’s a good omen to see before beginning our trip to Taktsang!

Saturday morning dawns brilliant and clear. It is the first completely clear day we have had in Bhutan and it is stunning. The early morning light drenches the valley with color as billowing, white clouds hang over the highest peaks. Everyone remarks on how unusual it is to have a day like this in the middle of the monsoon. We are delighted with the auspiciousness of being able to go to Taktsang on such a day.

We quickly eat breakfast and hire a cab to drive us the 45 minutes up the valley to the trailhead. In another delightful coincidence, I find myself chatting away in Tibetan, or as it is called here cho kay, or Dharma language, to our driver. At first, I can’t quite figure out why I seem to be able to understand Tashi (the driver). I keep thinking to myself, have I suddenly become able to understand Dzong-kha, Bhutanese? But eventually it becomes clear that Tashi speaks cho kay and when I ask him he admits he was trained as a monk at Phajoding Monastery for a few years. Its great fun and I struggle to resurrect my long-neglected colloquial Tibetan.

The trail to Taktsang originates in a thick pine forest in a cul-de-sac at the confluence of several high peaks. Although we thought we were beginning early, clearly a few others have also decided to take advantage of the extraordinary weather. For those who do not want or are not able to make the hour and half to two-hour hike to Taktsang, ponies are available up to the beginning of the stairs carved into the sides of the cliffs.

We bypass stands of ponies and couple of groups of Chinese tourists milling about in the mud and disappear beneath the towering pines. A short distance up the trail we come to a group of hydro-powered prayer wheels nestled into the side of the hill over a gurgling brook. Sunlight dapples the pine needle strewn earth and dances off the water while the prayer wheels turn slowly but continuously, their bells ringing in the silence.

From here the trail ascends steeply and we find ourselves playing leapfrog with a couple of groups of tourists on pony back (who look mightily uncomfortable clinging to the back of their small ponies—no reins only the front of the saddle to grasp) as their “pony guides” shout and flick their willow whips to urge the ponies upward. It’s unfortunate for the trail, as the ponies’ hooves churn the soft earth into a muddy mess and we are grateful that it’s sunny and bright. If it were raining, it would be a serious mess.

The hike is grueling and we are, as usual, dripping sweat within minutes. But the tantalizing glimpses of Taktsang through the trees keep us huffing and puffing along. Soon we find ourselves in a forest draped with “Old Man’s Beard,” a moss that grows in long silver-green loops. I know that this kind of moss was used by Native Americans to make a penicillin-type medicine, but I can’t remember its Latin name.

About halfway up we come to a pony stand and prayer wheel on a large plateau-type section of the trail. From here, one can either continue on or take a short side trail to what is known as the Taktsang Cafeteria—a rounded, wooden structure with a spectacular view of Taktsang where tourists can arrange for a rustic vegetarian buffet lunch and where those who do not wish to continue on to the monastery itself can content themselves with at least having come halfway. We continue on passing the meditation cave used by Padampa Sangye (the Indian mahasiddha known to have been the consort of Machig Labron—a very famous female adept said to have initiated the practice of Chod in both Tibet and Bhutan). The couples Padampa Sangye and Machig Labron and Guru Rinpoche and Yeshe Tsogyal are the primary religious adepts known to have spent long periods of time in retreat at Taktsang. I like this, and for those who have had the good fortune to visit Samye Chimphu in Tibet, Taktsang has the same feeling of equal opportunity practice.

Finally, we arrive at the edge of the cliffs upon which Taktsang is precariously perched, held on to the cliff face, it is said, by the hairs of the khandromas (the hairs of the dakinis—female tantric adepts who “go through the sky”).

The stairs descend along one side of the cliff to a bridge that spans a vigorous waterfall whose spray sparkles like falling diamonds in shafts of sunlight. Directly after crossing the bridge (and getting rather wet from the cold spray), a very steep stone stairway ascends to the Snow Lion Cave—a deep cave jammed into the rocky crevice around which a small lhakang has been built where Yeshe Tsogyal is said to have stayed in retreat practicing Vajrakilaya. We clamber up the precarious stairway, at times clinging to the rocky cliff face and make a few offerings.

Back down and again up another long and grueling stone stairway, we finally come to the entrance to Taktsang.

Here we are forced to leave behind our cameras, backpacks, and everything else but for “money” for making offerings. While this is too bad, given how amazing the interior lhakangs and prayer rooms of the main buildings are, it makes sense, for each room is still fully outfitted with thangkas (hanging cloth paintings), statues, offerings, tormas, and many other valuables. Huge stone steps require careful effort as we make our way from one room to another. At one point, I notice a young woman with her husband or boyfriend who seems to be trying to catch my eye. Given how few people are actually in the monastery, I finally look at her. To our mutual surprise, she is a student of mine from Harvard. This is one of those bizarre moments that seem to happen so often when one travels in remote areas. We both laugh at the weird synchronicity of the moment. She is only in Bhutan for about ten days and has been working for UNICEF in Kathmandu for the past six months. It’s a lovely and delightful exchange.

As we make our way through Taktsang, I try to imagine what it must have been like even forty years ago when Trungpa Rinpoche came here to stay in retreat. Nowadays, no one could stay in retreat here, since the monastery is open every day for tourism. But happily, when Chris and I enter a small temple room built around the cave where Guru Rinpoche is said to have meditated for three months, it is deserted but for an old monk who motions us to a couple of meditation carpets next to the cave. We sit in semi-darkness with the monk. It is utterly silent but for the whisper of the wind and the sound of water falling somewhere nearby. Occasionally, the old monk’s voice becomes audible as he repeats his mantras. I hear “Sangye”—the word for “Buddha” a few times. A line from Trungpa Rinpoche's Sadhana of Mahamudra arises in my mind, "All thoughts vanish into emptiness like the imprint of a bird in the sky." Just for a few moments, I can imagine the peacefulness that staying for months in such a place might produce, the sense of being at home in the silence and stillness that lies beneath the usual churning of our thoughts and emotions. Very soon, however, the stillness is broken by the loud voice of a Bhutanese guide and the clomping of feet as a group of Chinese tourists—the same ones we passed on their ponies on the trail—reaches our quiet retreat. We rise and the old monk lifts an ornate, silver vase from the alter. He pours a small amount of liquid in our right palms. We touch our lips to the water and rub the rest over the tops of our heads in traditional Buddhist style. We then bow to him and the image of Dorje Trolo over the shrine and silently leave the cave just as the Chinese group is taking off their shoes at the entrance. But we leave refreshed, happy for the few moments of quiet and stillness.

Leaving the monastery, we descend the stone stairs through shafts of sun spilling over the top of the cliff. Climbing back up the other side is again grueling as we have had nothing to eat since breakfast long hours before and our legs are shaking from so much climbing. But before settling down for a break, we decide to take a fifteen-minute detour up to another retreat cave known as the Machig-phu Lhakang, the meditation cave of Machig Labron. This cave is perched back up the gorge behind the waterfall and more or less above Taktsang. From its wet, green vantage point, one can see down over the top of Taktsang through the rocky cliff walls into the valley far below. The trail leading up to the cave is strewn with leaves and debris; many of the stone steps are broken and crumbling. It is clear that in comparison with the main route to Taktsang, very few people ever come here. As a result, it is silent, dripping with water from the cliff towering overhead, and very peaceful. Although we expect to find a caretaker, the lhakang is deserted. We are completely alone. We sit beneath the cave entrance and eat our lunch, watching as a huge dark cloud rises up over the top of the cliff over our heads and rain begins to shower down into the canyon. Although I know we need to get going to meet our ride, I don’t want to leave. I’d love to spend a few months right here, nested into the cliffside, watching the clouds massing and dissolving, the rain falling and the sun shining over the valleys far below.

We descend in a massive rainstorm. The trail dissolves into mud beneath our feet. Water pounds through the trailing moss “beards” of the huge trees. Wind shakes the branches, sending more water careening down through the leaves. Far below us, the valley is still in sunlight. Suddenly, as quickly as it begins, the rain ends, and for the rest of the descent, we watch as the huge gray clouds float off across the valley, leaving us again in brilliant Bhutanese sunlight.