Last week we visited a Tibetan Monastery (picture to follow when I get them processed… I only took one before my damn film ran out – I will never learn.). It was such a magical experience, yet I’m not really sure I can explain why. The monks were all orphans, or unwanted children, and it was situated high up in the top of the valley, with the most wonderful view of Pokhara and the Himalaya.
Once we got there, someone was playing a huge gong to signal prayer, the monks filed into the temple and begun chanting. Every one of them looked beautiful – wearing their maroon and orange clothing with their shaved heads (making me want to shave my head again, sorry in advance if I come home with substantially less hair… If I come home at all…).
I found their lifestyle remarkable. They lived, studied, ate and prayed within the monastery. Buddhism is a fascinating way of life.
Tomorrow is my birthday. We’re headed to the World Peace Pagoda to celebrate, and I’m getting my nose re-pierced, finally!
+ Kate Rusby’s ‘Drowned Lovers’. Beautifully sad. And her accent reminds me of home.