![\"A](\"https:\/\/mugwortborn.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/03\/83573355-291x300.jpg\")
Kelimelerden yan\u0131lsamalar yaratan b\u00fcy\u00fck bir usta<\/p><\/div>\n
Ger\u00e7ekten kar\u015f\u0131la\u015fm\u0131\u015f oldu\u011fum insanlardan baz\u0131lar\u0131n\u0131 mevcut hayat\u0131m\u0131n ba\u015f\u0131ndan beri tan\u0131yorum, baz\u0131lar\u0131n\u0131ysa yaln\u0131zca k\u0131sa bir s\u00fcredir. Kimileri h\u00e2l\u00e2 hayatta, kimileri art\u0131k de\u011fil. Baz\u0131lar\u0131 tamamen \u00f6nemsizdi, baz\u0131lar\u0131 ise benim i\u00e7in son derece k\u0131ymetliydi. Hindistan trenlerinde say\u0131s\u0131z insanla yan yana oturup yemek payla\u015ft\u0131m, sohbet ettim ama bug\u00fcn hi\u00e7birinin ismi akl\u0131mda de\u011fil. Bir keresinde Boston\u2019da bir adamla \u00e7ay i\u00e7ip Dharma sohbeti yapm\u0131\u015ft\u0131k. Onun asl\u0131nda Allen Ginsberg oldu\u011funu sonradan \u00f6\u011frendi\u011fim i\u00e7in, kelimelerle yan\u0131lsamalar yaratan bu b\u00fcy\u00fck ustayla \u015fiirden konu\u015fma f\u0131rsat\u0131n\u0131 ne yaz\u0131k ki ka\u00e7\u0131rm\u0131\u015f oldum. Dominatrixlerin en g\u00fczel krali\u00e7esi say\u0131labilecek Whitney Ward ile tan\u0131\u015ft\u0131m. Bana zindan\u0131n\u0131 g\u00f6sterdi, sonra da birlikte bir ate\u015f puj\u0101s\u0131na kat\u0131ld\u0131k. Ayr\u0131ca Bhutan\u2019\u0131n \u00fc\u00e7\u00fcnc\u00fc kral\u0131 Jigme Dorji Wangchuck\u2019la da tan\u0131\u015ft\u0131m. Ben k\u00fc\u00e7\u00fck bir \u00e7ocukken beni kuca\u011f\u0131na al\u0131p omuzlar\u0131nda ta\u015f\u0131m\u0131\u015ft\u0131. Sa\u00e7lar\u0131na sinmi\u015f sigara duman\u0131n\u0131n kokusunu bug\u00fcn bile hat\u0131rl\u0131yorum.<\/p>\n
![\"439px-Jigme_Dorji_Wangchuck\"](\"https:\/\/mugwortborn.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/03\/439px-Jigme_Dorji_Wangchuck-220x300.jpg\")
Bhutan\u2019\u0131n \u00dc\u00e7\u00fcnc\u00fc Kral\u0131 Majesteleri Jigme Dorji Wangchuck<\/p><\/div>\n
Bunca yan\u0131lsama i\u00e7inde ne \u00e7ok de\u011fi\u015fim ya\u015fand\u0131, ne \u00e7ok \u00f6l\u00fcm, ne \u00e7ok do\u011fum oldu. Bir avu\u00e7 evlilik, epeyce de bo\u015fanma ya\u015fand\u0131. Ben de mutlaka de\u011fi\u015fip d\u00f6n\u00fc\u015fm\u00fc\u015f\u00fcmd\u00fcr; hem bu hayatta hem de bundan \u00f6nceki hayatlar\u0131mda. Kim bilir daha \u00f6nce ka\u00e7 farkl\u0131 \u015fekilde tezah\u00fcr etmi\u015fimdir: bir ku\u015f, bir b\u00f6cek, bir insan olarak.<\/p>\n
Ama belki bu hayattaki tezah\u00fcr\u00fcm \u00f6ncekilerden biraz daha k\u0131ymetlidir, Gautama\u2019n\u0131n ad\u0131n\u0131 i\u015fitmi\u015f ve onun s\u00f6ylediklerine kar\u015f\u0131 \u00e7ocuksu bir hayranl\u0131k beslemeye ba\u015flam\u0131\u015f oldu\u011fum i\u00e7in. Ayr\u0131ca, bir pirin\u00e7 \u00e7orbas\u0131 kazan\u0131n\u0131n i\u00e7ine d\u00fc\u015fm\u00fc\u015f olan gelmi\u015f ge\u00e7mi\u015f en b\u00fcy\u00fck varl\u0131klardan biriyle de kar\u015f\u0131la\u015ft\u0131m; bir pusula gibi belirip hayat\u0131m\u0131n yol g\u00f6sterici \u0131\u015f\u0131\u011f\u0131na d\u00f6n\u00fc\u015fen biriyle.<\/p>\n
Yakla\u015f\u0131k be\u015f ya\u015f\u0131ndayken yat\u0131l\u0131 okula g\u00f6nderildim. \u0130lk kez yabanc\u0131 insanlarla birlikte, bir yurtta ya\u015fayacakt\u0131m. Bu benim i\u00e7in b\u00fcy\u00fck bir de\u011fi\u015fimdi \u00e7\u00fcnk\u00fc Do\u011fu Bhutan\u2019daki Yongla\u2019da, Budist geleneklerine s\u0131k\u0131 s\u0131k\u0131ya ba\u011fl\u0131 olan bir aile i\u00e7inde b\u00fcy\u00fcm\u00fc\u015ft\u00fcm. Etraf\u0131m hep ziyaret\u00e7ilerle, yard\u0131mc\u0131larla, Bob Marley tutkunlar\u0131n\u0131 k\u0131skand\u0131racak rastalara sahip olan yogilerle ve \u00f6zg\u00fcvenleriyle bir kad\u0131n \u00f6zg\u00fcrl\u00fck hareketinin ba\u015fkanl\u0131\u011f\u0131na rahatl\u0131kla aday olabilecek kadar \u00e7ekincesiz yoginilerle \u00e7evriliydi. Topra\u011f\u0131 kaz\u0131p direkler dikmenin, sonra da \u00fcst\u00fcne \u00e7at\u0131 yapman\u0131n neden bu kadar \u00f6nemli say\u0131ld\u0131\u011f\u0131n\u0131 anlayamayan, ma\u011faralarda huzur i\u00e7inde ya\u015fayan insanlar vard\u0131. Muhtemelen hayat\u0131nda on rupiden fazlas\u0131na dokunmam\u0131\u015f dingin ke\u015fi\u015fler vard\u0131. Bir de \u00e7ok say\u0131da \u00e7apk\u0131n gomchen[1]<\/sup> vard\u0131; kad\u0131nlarla \u015fakala\u015fmalar\u0131 ve fl\u00f6rtle\u015fmeleri beni bitmek bilmeyen bir meraka s\u00fcr\u00fckl\u00fcyor, yapt\u0131klar\u0131 \u015feyler belki de hormonlar\u0131m\u0131n erkenden olgunla\u015fmas\u0131na katk\u0131da bulunuyordu.<\/p>\n Anne taraf\u0131ndan dedemin evindeki her odada bir sunak vard\u0131; bu y\u00fczden osurmak istersen d\u0131\u015far\u0131 \u00e7\u0131kman gerekirdi. Evde durmadan pujalar yap\u0131l\u0131rd\u0131. Sabahlar\u0131 t\u00fcts\u00fc sunular\u0131n\u0131n kokusuyla, zil, \u00e7an ve davul sesleriyle uyan\u0131rd\u0131m; bu sesler yava\u015f yava\u015f a\u011fustos b\u00f6ceklerinin, g\u00fcvercinlerin ve kargalar\u0131n sesine kar\u0131\u015f\u0131rd\u0131. San\u0131r\u0131m Ozu\u2019nun filmlerini bu kadar sevmemin nedeni de bu; kulland\u0131\u011f\u0131 sesler.<\/p>\n Drubwang Sonam Zangpo<\/p><\/div>\n Dedem tam bir R\u00f6nesans insan\u0131yd\u0131. Kusursuz bir yogi olmas\u0131n\u0131n yan\u0131 s\u0131ra harika bir a\u015f\u00e7\u0131, \u015fifac\u0131, t\u00fcts\u00fc ustas\u0131, heykelt\u0131ra\u015f ve mimard\u0131. S\u00fcrekli yeni stupalar in\u015fa eder ya da eskilerini onar\u0131rd\u0131. Kap\u0131dan d\u0131\u015far\u0131 ad\u0131m\u0131m\u0131 att\u0131\u011f\u0131m anda rit\u00fcel e\u015fyalar\u0131 yapan metal ustalar\u0131n\u0131n \u00e7\u0131nlayan \u00e7eki\u00e7 sesleri duyulur, hava ise s\u0131\u011f\u0131r derisinden yap\u0131lan Bhutan boyas\u0131n\u0131n a\u011f\u0131r kokusuyla dolard\u0131. Bug\u00fcn bile Bhutan\u2019da yeni boyanm\u0131\u015f bir tap\u0131na\u011fa girince \u00e7ocuklu\u011fuma geri d\u00f6nerim. Bhutan\u2019l\u0131lar \u2018geleneklerini\u2019 korumaya kararl\u0131 olan Zorig Chusum[2]<\/sup> Ulusal Enstit\u00fcs\u00fc sayesinde, g\u00fcn\u00fcm\u00fczde \u00e7ok daha geli\u015fmi\u015f boyalar olmas\u0131na ra\u011fmen hala o a\u011f\u0131r kokulu, i\u015fe yaramaz boyay\u0131 kullan\u0131yorlar.<\/p>\n Evden ayr\u0131laca\u011f\u0131m g\u00fcn yakla\u015ft\u0131k\u00e7a dedemin, devlet okulunda verilen e\u011fitimin tam bir zaman kayb\u0131 oldu\u011funa dair homurdanmalar\u0131 duyulurdu. Belki de hakl\u0131yd\u0131. Anneannem de ona kat\u0131l\u0131rd\u0131. Okul Hristiyan okulu oldu\u011fu i\u00e7in Buda\u2019ya ve \u00f6\u011fretilerine olan ba\u011fl\u0131l\u0131\u011f\u0131m\u0131 kaybedece\u011fimden, hayvanlara yaln\u0131zca yiyecek g\u00f6z\u00fcyle bakmaya ba\u015flayaca\u011f\u0131mdan endi\u015fe ediyordu. Ama bu yak\u0131nmalar y\u00fcksek sesle dile getirilmiyordu. K\u0131s\u0131k sesli, \u00e7ekingen ve son derece sayg\u0131l\u0131yd\u0131lar; insan\u0131n ger\u00e7ekten h\u00fcrmet etti\u011fi biri hakk\u0131nda yak\u0131n\u0131rken kulland\u0131\u011f\u0131 t\u00fcrden bir dille s\u00f6yleniyorlard\u0131.<\/p>\n Beni bu \u0130ngiliz yat\u0131l\u0131 okuluna g\u00f6nderme karar\u0131 babama aitti ve bu karar bana y\u00fcz y\u00fcze bile s\u00f6ylenmemi\u015fti. Babama yak\u0131n de\u011fildim; annemle birlikte Hindistan\u2019\u0131n Darjeeling b\u00f6lgesinde bir da\u011f kasabas\u0131 olan Kurseong\u2019da ya\u015f\u0131yorlard\u0131. \u0130kisi de benimle bizzat ilgilenemeyecek kadar me\u015fguld\u00fc. All India Radyosu\u2019nda \u00e7al\u0131\u015f\u0131yorlard\u0131. Ben daha \u00e7ok anneannemle dedeme yak\u0131nd\u0131m. Ama o ya\u015ftaki \u00e7ocuklar, ne olursa olsun kendilerini en \u00e7ok seven ve koruyan ki\u015filerin anne babalar\u0131 oldu\u011funa inan\u0131r. Kurseong\u2019dan biri geldi\u011finde nas\u0131l heyecanland\u0131\u011f\u0131m\u0131 h\u00e2l\u00e2 hat\u0131rl\u0131yorum; annemle babamdan bana bir haber, bir i\u015faret gelmi\u015f olmas\u0131n\u0131 ne kadar umutla beklerdim. Ama gelen mesajlar hi\u00e7bir zaman benim i\u00e7in de\u011fildi; hep anneannemle dedem i\u00e7indi.<\/p>\n Derken bir g\u00fcn Kurseong\u2019dan bir ulak geldi ve beni \u0130ngilizce konu\u015fulan bir okula g\u00f6ndermeleri y\u00f6n\u00fcndeki talimat\u0131 iletti. Bu, anneannemle dedem i\u00e7in mutlaka \u00e7ok zor olmu\u015ftur; \u00e7\u00fcnk\u00fc kar\u015f\u0131 \u00e7\u0131kmaya cesaret etseler bile babamla tart\u0131\u015fmalar\u0131n\u0131n bir yolu yoktu. Kurseong\u2019a haber ula\u015ft\u0131rmak haftalar s\u00fcrerdi; ayr\u0131ca babam onlar\u0131n endi\u015felerini zaten dikkate almazd\u0131. Nihayetinde o benim babamd\u0131 ve benimle ilgili istedi\u011fi karar\u0131 verme yetkisine sahipti. Dahas\u0131, spirit\u00fcel \u00fcstadlar\u0131 olan Dudjom Rinpoche\u2019nin o\u011fluydu; bu y\u00fczden ona kar\u015f\u0131 \u015fikayette bulunmaya asla cesaret edemezlerdi.<\/p>\n Peder William Mackey<\/p><\/div>\n \u0130lk olarak k\u0131sa bir s\u00fcreli\u011fine Yongla yak\u0131nlar\u0131ndaki Khidung\u2019da bir okula g\u00f6nderildim. (Khidung ismi \u201cbok k\u00f6y\u00fc\u201d anlam\u0131na da gelebilir, deniz kabu\u011funun spirali anlam\u0131na da.) Ard\u0131ndan daha kuzeydeki Tashigang\u2019da bir okula nakledildim. En sonunda da Kanadal\u0131 Cizvit rahip William Joseph Mackey\u2019nin y\u00f6netti\u011fi, yeni kurulmu\u015f olan Kanglung Okulu\u2019na g\u00f6nderildim.<\/p>\n Kanglung Okulu sonradan Bhutan\u2019\u0131n ilk \u00fcniversitesi olan Sherubtse College\u2019a d\u00f6n\u00fc\u015ft\u00fc ama o zamanlar yaln\u0131zca k\u00fc\u00e7\u00fck bir yat\u0131l\u0131 okuldu. Yatakhane sorumlusundan \u00f6d\u00fcm kopard\u0131 \u00e7\u00fcnk\u00fc \u00e7ok sert biriydi ve her g\u00fcn \u00e7ar\u015faflar\u0131m\u0131z\u0131 kontrol eder, yata\u011f\u0131n\u0131 \u0131slatan var m\u0131 diye bakard\u0131. Yan\u0131mda yatan \u00e7ocu\u011fun alt\u0131na i\u015feme al\u0131\u015fkanl\u0131\u011f\u0131 vard\u0131. Ben de bir gece ayn\u0131 \u015feyi yap\u0131p rezil olmaktan korktu\u011fum i\u00e7in uykum ka\u00e7ard\u0131. O s\u0131n\u0131f arkada\u015flar\u0131m\u0131n \u00e7o\u011fu bug\u00fcn ne yap\u0131yorlar bilmiyorum. Ama i\u00e7lerinden baz\u0131lar\u0131 Birle\u015fmi\u015f Milletler\u2019de g\u00f6rev almak ya da emniyet m\u00fcd\u00fcr\u00fc olmak gibi \u00f6nemli yerlere geldiler.<\/p>\n Her neyse, Father Mackey\u2019nin okulunda birka\u00e7 ay ge\u00e7irdikten sonra, so\u011fuk ve ya\u011fmurlu bir sabah, ah\u015fap kasal\u0131 bir kamyon okulun \u00fcst taraf\u0131ndaki yola \u00e7\u0131kageldi. O zamanlar Bhutan\u2019da otomobil g\u00f6rmek pek rastlanan bir \u015fey de\u011fildi; bu y\u00fczden b\u00fct\u00fcn \u00f6\u011frenciler ya\u011fmur alt\u0131nda tepeye ko\u015fup kamyonun etraf\u0131nda topland\u0131. Herkes evden bir haber gelmi\u015f olmas\u0131n\u0131 umut ediyordu. Bhutan\u2019l\u0131 ailelerin kuru peynir, Bhutan usul\u00fc m\u0131s\u0131r gevre\u011fi ya da kurutulmu\u015f biber g\u00f6ndermesi bug\u00fcn bile devam eden bir gelenektir. O y\u0131llarda bir kamyonun geli\u015fi genellikle b\u00f6yle paketlerin habercisi olurdu.<\/p>\n Ama bu, al\u0131\u015f\u0131ld\u0131k teslimatlardan biri de\u011fildi. Kasay\u0131 \u00f6rten ye\u015fil brandan\u0131n alt\u0131ndan, dedemin yard\u0131mc\u0131lar\u0131ndan biri olan Sonam Chophel \u00e7\u0131kt\u0131; kendine \u00f6zg\u00fc sakal\u0131 ve k\u0131pk\u0131rm\u0131z\u0131 y\u00fcz\u00fcyle. (Bu, baz\u0131lar\u0131n\u0131z\u0131n tan\u0131d\u0131\u011f\u0131 o \u015fakac\u0131 Sonam Chophel de\u011fil.) Aradan y\u0131llar ge\u00e7mi\u015f, sakal\u0131 beyazlam\u0131\u015f olmas\u0131na ragmen, y\u00fcz\u00fc hi\u00e7 ya\u015flanmam\u0131\u015ft\u0131, teni h\u00e2l\u00e2 gergin ve al ald\u0131. Onu g\u00f6r\u00fcr g\u00f6rmez benim i\u00e7in bir \u015feyler geldi\u011fini anlad\u0131m. Belki bir paket. Sonam Chophel branday\u0131 i\u015faret etti; ard\u0131ndan hayat\u0131mda daha \u00f6nce hi\u00e7 g\u00f6rmedi\u011fim ba\u015fka bir adam \u00e7\u0131kt\u0131 ortaya. Tuhaf g\u00f6r\u00fcn\u00fcml\u00fcyd\u00fc; \u00fczerinde geleneksel Bhutan k\u0131yafetleri de\u011fil, pantolon vard\u0131. Sonam Chophel ve yabanc\u0131 adam bana selam bile vermeden do\u011fruca m\u00fcd\u00fcr\u00fcn odas\u0131na gittiler. Biz \u00e7ocuklardan birka\u00e7\u0131 da gizlice pencereye sokulup Peder Mackey\u2019le ne konu\u015ftuklar\u0131n\u0131 dinlemeye \u00e7al\u0131\u015ft\u0131k.<\/p>\n Uzun s\u00fcre konu\u015ftuktan sonra Peder Mackey gelip beni \u00e7a\u011f\u0131rd\u0131. Art\u0131k onun okulunda \u00f6\u011frenci olmad\u0131\u011f\u0131m\u0131 s\u00f6yledi. \u201c\u015eimdi gitmelisin.\u201d San\u0131r\u0131m Peder Mackey o g\u00fcn hakk\u0131nda kendi biyografisinde de bir \u015feyler yazm\u0131\u015ft\u0131.<\/p>\n Eve d\u00f6nece\u011fim i\u00e7in mutlu muydum, yoksa o k\u0131sac\u0131k s\u00fcrede edindi\u011fim arkada\u015flar\u0131mdan ayr\u0131laca\u011f\u0131m i\u00e7in \u00fczg\u00fcn m\u00fcyd\u00fcm, hat\u0131rlam\u0131yorum. Hakk\u0131mda hemen s\u00f6ylentiler yay\u0131lmaya ba\u015flad\u0131, s\u0131n\u0131f arkada\u015flar\u0131mdan baz\u0131lar\u0131 benimle \u015fakala\u015f\u0131p dalga ge\u00e7iyordu. Baz\u0131lar\u0131ysa birdenbire benimle konu\u015fmaya \u00e7ekinir olmu\u015ftu; \u00f6n\u00fcmde e\u011filip kutsama istiyorlard\u0131. Neler olup bitti\u011fini anlam\u0131yordum. Ama bunu d\u00fc\u015f\u00fcnecek pek zaman da yoktu.<\/p>\n Amcho, Sikkim, 2009<\/p><\/div>\n Hemen o g\u00fcn, ayn\u0131 so\u011fuk ve ya\u011fmurlu havada, yine o kamyonla Kanglung\u2019dan ayr\u0131ld\u0131k. S\u0131n\u0131f arkada\u015flar\u0131m kamyonun pe\u015finden, sisin i\u00e7inde g\u00f6zden kaybolana kadar ko\u015ftu. Ve b\u00f6ylece sek\u00fcler e\u011fitimim sona ermi\u015f oldu. Bhutan\u2019l\u0131 olmad\u0131\u011f\u0131 her h\u00e2linden belli olan o iri adam ve solmu\u015f sethra gho\u2019sunun[3]<\/sup> \u00a0i\u00e7inde horlay\u0131p duran Sonam Chophel ile birlikte, Yongla\u2019ya, g\u00fcneye do\u011fru yola \u00e7\u0131kt\u0131k. Sonradan bu yap\u0131l\u0131 Khampa\u2019n\u0131n ad\u0131n\u0131n Amcho oldu\u011funu \u00f6\u011frendim. Bir zamanlar do\u011fu Tibet\u2019in Sichuan b\u00f6lgesindeki Dzongsar\u2019da ke\u015fi\u015fmi\u015f, ama daha sonra manast\u0131r ya\u015fam\u0131n\u0131 b\u0131rak\u0131p Sikkim\u2019in Gangtok \u015fehrinde b\u00fcy\u00fck bir otelci olmu\u015f.<\/p>\n S\u0131k s\u0131k d\u00fc\u015f\u00fcn\u00fcr\u00fcm: Ya o g\u00fcn hi\u00e7 gelmeseydi? Ya reenkarne bir tulku olarak tan\u0131n\u0131p o d\u00fcnyan\u0131n i\u00e7ine dahil edilmemi\u015f olsayd\u0131m, hayat\u0131m nas\u0131l olurdu? Belki bug\u00fcn en k\u00fc\u00e7\u00fck erkek karde\u015fim gibi New Jersey\u2019de bir bilgisayar programc\u0131s\u0131 olurdum. Belki Yahudi bir kad\u0131nla evlenirdim. Ya da babam\u0131n \u00f6mr\u00fcn\u00fcn son y\u0131llar\u0131n\u0131 ge\u00e7irdi\u011fi New York eyaletinin kuzeylerinde, kendi h\u00e2linde bir Dharma uygulay\u0131c\u0131s\u0131 olarak ya\u015fard\u0131m. Belki Darjeeling\u2019deki North Point\u2019te okula gider, \u00fcniversiteyi Hindistan\u2019da bitirir, sonra da d\u00fczg\u00fcn bir Hint \u0130ngilizcesi konu\u015farak Bhutan\u2019a d\u00f6nerdim. Hindistan taraf\u0131ndan finanse edilen projeleri denetleyen bir devlet kurumunda m\u00fcste\u015far yard\u0131mc\u0131s\u0131 gibi bir g\u00f6reve atan\u0131rd\u0131m belki. Ama anneannemle dedeme ne kadar ba\u011fl\u0131 oldu\u011fumu d\u00fc\u015f\u00fcn\u00fcnce, b\u00fcy\u00fck ihtimalle i\u00e7 \u00e7ama\u015f\u0131r\u0131 giymeyen, \u00e7o\u011funlukla yar\u0131 sarho\u015f dola\u015fan, geceleri ava \u00e7\u0131kan ve sa\u011fa sola gayrime\u015fru \u00e7ocuklar b\u0131rakan bir gomchen olurdum. O zaman bug\u00fcn Do\u011fu Bhutan\u2019da bana \u00e7ok benzeyen birka\u00e7 ki\u015finin dola\u015f\u0131yor olmas\u0131 da i\u015ften bile olmazd\u0131.<\/p>\n [1]<\/sup>Halktan (manast\u0131r d\u0131\u015f\u0131) uygulay\u0131c\u0131lar [\/et_pb_text][et_pb_divider _builder_version=”4.16″ global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_divider][et_pb_post_nav _builder_version=”4.16″ global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_post_nav][et_pb_comments _builder_version=”4.16″ global_colors_info=”{}”][\/et_pb_comments][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][\/et_pb_section]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Hayat\u0131m, hen\u00fcz s\u00f6nmemi\u015f bir hayalden, bir hal\u00fcsinasyondan, bir yans\u0131madan ibaret. Bu yan\u0131lsaman\u0131n bir s\u00fcresi, kendine \u00f6zg\u00fc bir mant\u0131\u011f\u0131 var ve t\u0131pk\u0131 g\u00fcne\u015f gibi, onun da bir g\u00fcn bataca\u011f\u0131 kesin. Duygu durumumun dalgalanmalar\u0131na g\u00f6re bazen upuzun, bazen de k\u0131sac\u0131k geliyor bu hayat. Bu s\u00fcre i\u00e7inde kimi planlar ger\u00e7ekle\u015fti, kimileri ise da\u011f\u0131l\u0131p gitti. Elbette sadece benim de\u011fil, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":3975,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"on","_et_pb_old_content":"My life is an apparition, a hallucination, a projection that has yet to dim. This apparition has a timeframe, a logic, and just like the sun, it will set. Depending on the swinging of my mood, this life sometimes appears long and sometimes appears short. Within its span, plans have been carried out, and plans have fallen apart. Of course it's not just me, all the people I have ever known\u2014whether I have met them in person or not\u2014have their own apparitions of their so-called lives. In the hallucination of my life, I am aware of John Lennon, who I have not met and who has had an effect on me. If I had been a butterfly, I would never have known of him. In the hallucination of my life, I am aware of Stalin, who I have not met and who has no effect on me, I couldn't care less about Stalin.\n\n[caption id=\"attachment_105\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"291\"]![\"Drubwang_Sonam_Zangpo\"](\"https:\/\/mugwortborn.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/03\/Drubwang_Sonam_Zangpo-197x300.jpg\")
![\"William_Mackey_of_the_Jesuits\"](\"https:\/\/mugwortborn.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/03\/William_Mackey_of_the_Jesuits.jpg\")
![\"amcho\"](\"https:\/\/mugwortborn.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/03\/amcho-178x300.jpg\")
[2]<\/sup>Geleneksel Bhutan sanatlar\u0131.
[3]<\/sup>Kaba dokulu, kendine \u00f6zg\u00fc kareli desenleri olan geleneksel bir Bhutan kuma\u015f\u0131.<\/p>\n A great creator of the illusion of words[\/caption]\n\nOf the people I have actually met, some I have known my whole apparent life and some only a short time. Some are alive, some are now dead. Some were totally insignificant and some meant so much to me. I have sat with countless Indians on trains, sharing food and conversation, whose names no longer exist in my head. I had tea with a man in Boston to discuss Dharma not knowing he was Allen Ginsberg and therefore missed the chance to discuss poetry with a great creator of the illusion of words. I met the most beautiful queen of dominatrixes, Whitney Ward, who showed me her dungeon, and who later joined a fire puja with me. And I met the third king of Bhutan, His Majesty King Jigme Dorji Wangchuck, who lifted me up when I was a child and carried me around on his shoulders. I still remember the smell of cigarette smoke in his hair.\n\n[caption id=\"attachment_104\" align=\"alignright\" width=\"220\"] His Majesty Jigme Dorji Wangchuck, the Third King of Bhutan[\/caption]\n\nAmong all these apparitions, there have been so many transitions, so much death, also so much birth. There have been a handful of marriages and quite a lot of divorces. Even I must have transformed, in this life and in all my lives. I must have had so many other apparitions before: as a bird, as a bug, as a human.\n\nBut this present apparition of mine is probably worth a little something extra, having heard the name of Gautama and having acquired a childlike admiration for what he had to say. I have also met one of the greatest beings ever to fall into a cauldron of rice soup, a being who emerged as a compass, the one who became the beacon of my life.\nWhen I was about five years old, I was sent away to boarding school. It was my first time alone with strangers, living in a dormitory. This was a big change for me because I was raised in a large, hard-line Buddhist family in Yongla, East Bhutan, always surrounded by visitors and attendants, yogis with dreadlocks that a Bob Marley fanatic would die for, and uninhibited yoginis so confident they would make perfect candidates for president of a women's liberation organization. There were contented cave-dwellers who couldn't understand why people were so concerned about digging earth, raising posts, and putting up ceilings. There were serene monks who probably had never touched more than ten rupees. There were also a lot of horny gomchen<\/em>[1]<\/sup><\/em><\/a>, whose teasing and flirtations with the ladies intrigued me endlessly and whose activities may have helped mature my hormones.\n\nEvery room in my maternal grandfather's house had a shrine, so if you wanted to fart you had to go outside. There were constant pujas; I would wake up in the mornings to the smell of smoke offerings and the sound of cymbals, bells, and drums, which slowly blended with the songs of the cicadas and pigeons and crows. That must be why I love Ozu films<\/a> so much, because of the sounds he uses.\n\n[caption id=\"attachment_108\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"197\"] Drubwang Sonam Zangpo[\/caption]\n\nMy grandfather was a renaissance man; in addition to being the perfect specimen of a yogi, he was a wonderful cook, a medicine man, an incense maker, a sculptor, and an architect, always renovating or building new stupas. From the moment I stepped out of the door, there were metalsmiths clanging away making ritual objects and the air was filled with the thick smell of Bhutanese paint, which was made from cowhide. Even today, every time I enter a freshly painted Bhutanese temple, it takes me back to my childhood. They still use that ineffective smelly paint thanks to the zealous Bhutanese National Institute of Zorig Chusum<\/em>[2]<\/sup><\/em><\/a>, which insists on guarding Bhutanese \"tradition\" in an era when state of the art paints are available.\n\nAs the day of my departure neared, my grandfather could be heard grumbling about how public school education was such a waste of time. And he may have been right. My grandmother joined him in the grumbling. She was worried that since it was a Christian school, I might lose my trust in the Buddha and his teachings and that I would start looking at animals merely as food. But their grumblings were not loud. Their grumblings were hushed, hesitant, and polite, using honorific language, the way you would grumble about someone who you really respect.\n\nThe command to send me to this English boarding school was my father's and it was not even delivered face to face. I wasn't close to my father; he and my mother were living in Kurseong, a hill station in Darjeeling, India. Both of my parents were too busy to care for me personally. They were working at All India Radio. I was much closer with my grandparents, but at this young age, children assume that, ultimately, their parents are the ones who love and care for them most. I remember how excited I would get if there was a visitor from Kurseong, how eager I was for some message or sign from my parents. But the messages were never for me, always for my grandparents.\n\nSo one day a footman came from Kurseong with the instructions to send me to an English speaking school. It must have been difficult for my grandparents because there was no way to reason with him, even if they dared. To get a message back to Kurseong would have taken weeks, and anyway my father would not have listened to their concerns. As my father, he had the authority to do whatever he wanted with me and on top of that he was the son of Dudjom Rinpoche, their spiritual master, so they dared not complain to him.\n\n[caption id=\"attachment_109\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"220\"] Father William Mackey[\/caption]\n\nI was first sent for a brief time to a school near Yongla, in Khidung, (which could mean either \"shit village\" or spiral of a conch) but then transferred much farther north to a school in Tashigang, and finally to the newly-built Kanglung School run by Father William Joseph Mackey, a Canadian Jesuit priest.\n\nKanglung School eventually became Sherubtse College, the first college in Bhutan, but back then it was just a small boarding school. I remember being so worried because the dorm master was very strict and he would check our sheets every day to see if anyone wet the bed. The boy next to me had a habit of peeing. I would lay awake at night sleepless with fear of being shamed if I would also end up peeing. I don't know what happened to many of these classmates but a few of them have gone on to do big things, like serving the United Nations or becoming chief of police.\n\nAnyway, one cold rainy morning after a few months at Father Mackey\u2019s, a truck with a wood paneled bed came up to the road above the school. Automobiles were rare in Bhutan at that time, so all the students ran up the hill and gathered around in the rain to look. They were hoping for messages from home. It's customary in Bhutan, even today, for families to send packages of dried cheese, Bhutanese corn flakes, or dried chilies and that\u2019s what a truck usually signaled.\n\nBut this was not the usual delivery. From a green tarp covering the back, came one of my grandfather\u2019s attendants, Sonam Chophel, with his distinctive beard and red face (this is not the joker Sonam Chophel some of you know). Even years later when this man's beard had became white, his skin never aged and his complexion remained tight and rosy. I immediately knew there was something in store for me. Maybe a parcel. He indicated toward the tarp and out came another figure I'd never seen before in my life, a peculiar looking man wearing pants, not the traditional Bhutanese dress. Instead of greeting me, Sonam Chophel and the stranger went straight to the headmaster\u2019s office. A bunch of us kids crept up to the window to spy on them speaking to Father Mackey.\n\nAfter they spoke for a long time, Father Mackey came and summoned me. He said that I was no longer a student in his school. \u201cYou must go now.\u201d I believe Father Mackey actually wrote something in his biography about that day.\n\nI don\u2019t remember if I was happy to be going home or if I was sad to say goodbye to the friends I had made in that short time. Rumors immediately started to spread and some of my classmates began joking and teasing. Some were suddenly embarrassed to talk with me, bowing down asking for a blessing. I didn\u2019t know what was going on. But there wasn\u2019t much time for thinking about it.\n\n[caption id=\"attachment_111\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"178\"] Amcho in Sikkim, 2009[\/caption]\n\nImmediately, that very same cold and rainy day, in that same truck, we left Kanglung. My classmates ran after the truck until we disappeared in the fog. And that was the end of my secular education. We headed south toward Yongla\u2014this big man, who was clearly not Bhutanese, and Sonam Chophel snoring away in his faded sethra[3]<\/sup><\/a> gho. Later I learned the strapping Khampa was named Amcho. He had been a monk at Dzongsar East Tibet, Sichuan but disrobed when he left and became a big hotelier in Gangtok, Sikkim.\n\nI often wonder what would have happened to me if that day had never come, if I had never been recognized and drafted into the phenomenon of reincarnate tulku. I may have become a computer programmer in New Jersey, as my youngest brother is now, or married a Jewish girl, or I may have become a struggling Dharma practitioner somewhere in upstate New York, where my father spent the last portion of his life. I may have gone to school in North Point, Darjeeling and college in India, then returned to Bhutan speaking good Indian English to be appointed as joint secretary of some government department that oversees projects funded by India. But knowing how attached I was to my grandparents, most likely I would have become a gomchen who doesn't wear underwear, and walks around half drunk most of the time, night hunting and producing bastards left and right so that now there would be a few people roaming around eastern Bhutan bearing a close resemblance to me.\n\n \t