The rains break, fog lifts from the hillside, and morning sunlight streams down as eyes are painted on the Guru Rinpoche statue. The consecration ceremony is brief but saturated with the brilliant colors of the lamas, sangha, and more than just a little of the thick Brazilian mud. At its conclusion, with the lamas leading and to the accompaniment of conch shells, bells, and peaceful cymbals, we circle the statue many times, singing the Vajra Guru mantra before walking up to the temple for an empowerment.
Later that afternoon, people sit in the still warmth of the sun eating a late lunch of beans, chicken, and rice. A group gathers around a guitar singing softly as children play soccer in the parking lot and the Khadro Ling cows graze beside the temple.
The next morning, sparks from welding rain down on the temple entrance. Pedreiros shout from the high scaffolding and toss obsolete materials to the ground. Various kinds of power saws scream against wood, concrete, and rebar. The temple lights dim every time the elevator lifts bricks and wheelbarrow loads of concrete toward what will be the third floor. Little cement mixers reminiscent of prayer wheels turn sand, water, cement, sweat, and prayers into the mortar that binds this new home for the dharma. Their drone is so constant that one remembers them only during the silence when they stop at the end of each day.
In the afternoon, the windows are scraped clean, and light streams in across thangkas and golden banners of silk brocade. On his seat in the shrine room H.E. Chagdud Rinpoche reviews the latest cupola design. Nearby, on a cushion with Puntsok in her lap, Khadro composes something on her laptop computer. Smoke rises as the shrine keeper burns gugul, the pedreiros burn cement bags, and the boiler burns diesel. Ordinary distinctions of time and place fall away as Terton Namkha Drimed bestows the Tagsham oral transmissions upon Chagdud Rinpoche, blessing the heart-mind of all beings with a connection to them.
Within this varied tapestry of Guru’s Rinpoche’s display, the kindness of the lama is directly evident.
Maile Wall
The rains break, fog lifts from the hillside, and morning sunlight streams down as eyes are painted on the Guru Rinpoche statue. The consecration ceremony is brief but saturated with the brilliant colors of the lamas, sangha, and more than just a little of the thick Brazilian mud. At its conclusion, with the lamas leading and to the accompaniment of conch shells, bells, and peaceful cymbals, we circle the statue many times, singing the Vajra Guru mantra before walking up to the temple for an empowerment.
Later that afternoon, people sit in the still warmth of the sun eating a late lunch of beans, chicken, and rice. A group gathers around a guitar singing softly as children play soccer in the parking lot and the Khadro Ling cows graze beside the temple.
The next morning, sparks from welding rain down on the temple entrance. Pedreiros shout from the high scaffolding and toss obsolete materials to the ground. Various kinds of power saws scream against wood, concrete, and rebar. The temple lights dim every time the elevator lifts bricks and wheelbarrow loads of concrete toward what will be the third floor. Little cement mixers reminiscent of prayer wheels turn sand, water, cement, sweat, and prayers into the mortar that binds this new home for the dharma. Their drone is so constant that one remembers them only during the silence when they stop at the end of each day.
In the afternoon, the windows are scraped clean, and light streams in across thangkas and golden banners of silk brocade. On his seat in the shrine room H.E. Chagdud Rinpoche reviews the latest cupola design. Nearby, on a cushion with Puntsok in her lap, Khadro composes something on her laptop computer. Smoke rises as the shrine keeper burns gugul, the pedreiros burn cement bags, and the boiler burns diesel. Ordinary distinctions of time and place fall away as Terton Namkha Drimed bestows the Tagsham oral transmissions upon Chagdud Rinpoche, blessing the heart-mind of all beings with a connection to them.
Within this varied tapestry of Guru’s Rinpoche’s display, the kindness of the lama is directly evident.
Maile Wall
The rains break, fog lifts from the hillside, and morning sunlight streams down as eyes are painted on the Guru Rinpoche statue. The consecration ceremony is brief but saturated with the brilliant colors of the lamas, sangha, and more than just a little of the thick Brazilian mud. At its conclusion, with the lamas leading and to the accompaniment of conch shells, bells, and peaceful cymbals, we circle the statue many times, singing the Vajra Guru mantra before walking up to the temple for an empowerment.
Later that afternoon, people sit in the still warmth of the sun eating a late lunch of beans, chicken, and rice. A group gathers around a guitar singing softly as children play soccer in the parking lot and the Khadro Ling cows graze beside the temple.
The next morning, sparks from welding rain down on the temple entrance. Pedreiros shout from the high scaffolding and toss obsolete materials to the ground. Various kinds of power saws scream against wood, concrete, and rebar. The temple lights dim every time the elevator lifts bricks and wheelbarrow loads of concrete toward what will be the third floor. Little cement mixers reminiscent of prayer wheels turn sand, water, cement, sweat, and prayers into the mortar that binds this new home for the dharma. Their drone is so constant that one remembers them only during the silence when they stop at the end of each day.
In the afternoon, the windows are scraped clean, and light streams in across thangkas and golden banners of silk brocade. On his seat in the shrine room H.E. Chagdud Rinpoche reviews the latest cupola design. Nearby, on a cushion with Puntsok in her lap, Khadro composes something on her laptop computer. Smoke rises as the shrine keeper burns gugul, the pedreiros burn cement bags, and the boiler burns diesel. Ordinary distinctions of time and place fall away as Terton Namkha Drimed bestows the Tagsham oral transmissions upon Chagdud Rinpoche, blessing the heart-mind of all beings with a connection to them.
Within this varied tapestry of Guru’s Rinpoche’s display, the kindness of the lama is directly evident.
Maile Wall
The rains break, fog lifts from the hillside, and morning sunlight streams down as eyes are painted on the Guru Rinpoche statue. The consecration ceremony is brief but saturated with the brilliant colors of the lamas, sangha, and more than just a little of the thick Brazilian mud. At its conclusion, with the lamas leading and to the accompaniment of conch shells, bells, and peaceful cymbals, we circle the statue many times, singing the Vajra Guru mantra before walking up to the temple for an empowerment.
Later that afternoon, people sit in the still warmth of the sun eating a late lunch of beans, chicken, and rice. A group gathers around a guitar singing softly as children play soccer in the parking lot and the Khadro Ling cows graze beside the temple.
The next morning, sparks from welding rain down on the temple entrance. Pedreiros shout from the high scaffolding and toss obsolete materials to the ground. Various kinds of power saws scream against wood, concrete, and rebar. The temple lights dim every time the elevator lifts bricks and wheelbarrow loads of concrete toward what will be the third floor. Little cement mixers reminiscent of prayer wheels turn sand, water, cement, sweat, and prayers into the mortar that binds this new home for the dharma. Their drone is so constant that one remembers them only during the silence when they stop at the end of each day.
In the afternoon, the windows are scraped clean, and light streams in across thangkas and golden banners of silk brocade. On his seat in the shrine room H.E. Chagdud Rinpoche reviews the latest cupola design. Nearby, on a cushion with Puntsok in her lap, Khadro composes something on her laptop computer. Smoke rises as the shrine keeper burns gugul, the pedreiros burn cement bags, and the boiler burns diesel. Ordinary distinctions of time and place fall away as Terton Namkha Drimed bestows the Tagsham oral transmissions upon Chagdud Rinpoche, blessing the heart-mind of all beings with a connection to them.
Within this varied tapestry of Guru’s Rinpoche’s display, the kindness of the lama is directly evident.
Maile Wall
The rains break, fog lifts from the hillside, and morning sunlight streams down as eyes are painted on the Guru Rinpoche statue. The consecration ceremony is brief but saturated with the brilliant colors of the lamas, sangha, and more than just a little of the thick Brazilian mud. At its conclusion, with the lamas leading and to the accompaniment of conch shells, bells, and peaceful cymbals, we circle the statue many times, singing the Vajra Guru mantra before walking up to the temple for an empowerment.
Later that afternoon, people sit in the still warmth of the sun eating a late lunch of beans, chicken, and rice. A group gathers around a guitar singing softly as children play soccer in the parking lot and the Khadro Ling cows graze beside the temple.
The next morning, sparks from welding rain down on the temple entrance. Pedreiros shout from the high scaffolding and toss obsolete materials to the ground. Various kinds of power saws scream against wood, concrete, and rebar. The temple lights dim every time the elevator lifts bricks and wheelbarrow loads of concrete toward what will be the third floor. Little cement mixers reminiscent of prayer wheels turn sand, water, cement, sweat, and prayers into the mortar that binds this new home for the dharma. Their drone is so constant that one remembers them only during the silence when they stop at the end of each day.
In the afternoon, the windows are scraped clean, and light streams in across thangkas and golden banners of silk brocade. On his seat in the shrine room H.E. Chagdud Rinpoche reviews the latest cupola design. Nearby, on a cushion with Puntsok in her lap, Khadro composes something on her laptop computer. Smoke rises as the shrine keeper burns gugul, the pedreiros burn cement bags, and the boiler burns diesel. Ordinary distinctions of time and place fall away as Terton Namkha Drimed bestows the Tagsham oral transmissions upon Chagdud Rinpoche, blessing the heart-mind of all beings with a connection to them.
Within this varied tapestry of Guru’s Rinpoche’s display, the kindness of the lama is directly evident.
Maile Wall
