Thursday, September 2, 2010

Morning at Rewalsar Lake

I dissolve into the peaceful morning on the misty shores of Rewalsar Lake. Incense drifts like birds spiraling upwards and Hari Om tabla sings from the radio as a bright-eyed busboy does the dishes of the early morning breakfast crowd. Men and women walk the Kora around the lake and bless the day with their devotion.

The peace of this place is undeniable: the smile of a beautiful stranger who allows the limping street worker to kiss her hand as he mumbles his unceasing monologue, like the sound of running water, but sadder and more scattered. I sense the shrapnel and firework interruption that causes him to shake and I understand why he has come to this place. Rewalsar Lake, called Tso Pema by Tibetans: a power-place for Buddhists, Hindus and Sikhs alike; pilgrims arrive on the mountain lake shore to walk and pray and celebrate the qualities of the great beings who have come before; celebrate and try to cultivate those qualities in their own hearts.

The village is quiet apart from sunrise bell-ringing puja, street-dog chatter and terrifying monkey play. I open my window for morning meditation as if I am opening the delicate pages of a fairy-tale, complete with dawn's foggy mystery and the lake's subtle reflection of first light.

A magnificent statue of Padmasambhava, the revered being who brought Buddhism to Tibet, sits high on the hill above the still water. Padmasambahava is stunning in gold with his wild eyes and sweetly determined smile. His towering peaceful presence affirms the eternal meditation of this mountain-top and all who gather here -- gather in the pine forest, dew fed and joyful green. There is a softness here not unlike that of the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia -- the spirit is old in Appalachia, too. Wise spirit of rivers and canyons and the first squash planted and the fiddle. I feel simultaneously grateful for where I am and for where I come from -- each day one step closer to Appalachia and the depth of sweetness that arises when one knows the just-so dance of light on the fields at dawn, dusk and noon-time.

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