From Singapore with Love

Michelle Chua's reflections on her Pilgrimage to Nepal.

More than a month's passed since a journey to the heart of Nepal began on December 3rd, 2005 ended 7 days later in Singapore. A short span of time but I agree with the poet, Neruda Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Prostrations around the Stupa

It was impossible for me not to have fallen in love. Even if I had only seen some and not all facets of this spell-binding country. I suppose it was like a long infatuation of someone from afar. You see him in pictures and already the vision captures your breath. I knew I would be captured and I was. I still am.

Yet in my mind, Billie Holiday serenades old jazz lamenting, time is so old and love so brief. Love is pure gold and time a thief. If you could hear this song, it would speak volumes to you of inevitable death. The end of every love affair that ever transpired since the beginning. Such love is transient, the singer knows. Such love seduces time to steal; its memories, like nuggets so easily pocketed. All that glitters is not gold - immortal words too often heard from Shakespeare.

But my reference to Neruda, jazz and the Bard speaks of greater, less transient things. Some such love fails from being unskilful. Perhaps a more skilful love would come with wisdom? In any case, I had gone to Nepal seeking treasures not easily stolen by time or any lesser thieves. I went to partake in its beauty. I hoped to gain the clarity I so deeply desired.

I had packed too much this time. On the 5th day, the day of prostrations at the Boudananth Stupa, I experienced a release together with the surge of pilgrims seeking wishes. My room-mate had advised me over breakfast that prostrations are not done on behalf. You dedicate merits. My whole intention had been to pray for my family. I wondered if some of us had come to Nepal with baggage we hoped to unload at the Boudanath Stupa. Perhaps it was just me.

More than its beauty, Nepal had been an intense personal journey because of its emotions. Or perhaps its beauty served as a canvass for my own emotions, a colour wash. If the journey had been a painting, it would be splashed with the red of anguish, the blackest regret, deep blue remorse, purple humility, yellow ochre hope and the green, green, green of new life, new joy, new strength.

Like everyone, I made my wishes, lit my lamps. One for my school, one for my family and one for my friends. I wished the same for everyone including the world. A month later, having fallen and suffering a painful sprain, I received news from a friend of his wish come true. I on the other hand received an answer to the question of peace in my life. It took a bad sprain, karma ripening to see the power of the antidote, forgiveness. The poison of hatred could only be reversed by forgiving and asking the same for your transgressions. To forgive myself may be the hardest pill to swallow. Bitter, yes, necessary, yes. The Wish Fulfilment Journey, the prayers for world peace are only a beginning. At Kirtipur Monastery, I heard the call of gyaling, Tibetan oboes. It is a call for me to bring peace into my life and love to others. First, it seems I must forgive.

Michelle Chua

Email : Shangpa Rinpoche

Devotees

From Singapore with Love