Beginning of retreat. Some retreatants were expressing their doubt: “Do you really think Rinpoche can finish the statue before the end of retreat? That’s only four weeks away!” A group of older students who had been involved in making the statue at Williams, Oregon, sat back and said nothing, slight smiles on their faces. They knew.
Nothing much seemed to be happening. Behind the concrete platform that would become the throne base, there was a great spaciousness, the view extending to the horizon. But in Rinpoche’s room the statue’s head, hands, and hat were magically beginning to appear.
Two weeks left. A few bricks and some lotus petals were finally placed on the empty platform. Suddenly, two days later, there was a lotus seat. Then, as if miraculously arising from the center of the lotus, Guru Rinpoche’s body began to appear. At first some unassuming bricks, but then— after a couple of night visits by Brazil’s own Guru Rinpoche—the forms and folds of garments began to appear. Only one more week. The night visits became more frequent. The statue crew worked until the early morning hours, following Rinpoche’s artistic advice as he supervised every detail. After putting the final touches on the hat and hands, it was time to place the central channel. A handful of hardy yogis and yoginis stayed up late into the night sitting around a flaming bonfire, which had the dual purpose of providing light and keeping away the “dreaded borrachudos” (a mix between a mosquito and a barracuda). The statue’s central channel was placed and the head put on. When it seemed to be in the right spot, after much adjustment, Rinpoche walked to his car. As he opened the door and looked back, he realized from that perspective that the statue still wasn’t quite right. So the head came off; more chipping and grinding was needed on the neck and shoulders. When the head was placed again a silence fell across the knoll. There was nothing left to be said or done.
Final days. People began to realize they had witnessed the miraculous construction of a four-meter-tall Guru Rinpoche statue in less than four weeks: the hands and hat were in place, the long-life vase and skullcup were added, the vajra was put between his fingers. Guru Rinpoche made the promise that wherever an image of him exists, he will consecrate that image from his pureland, Copper-Colored Mountain. Through many signs and retreatants’ experiences, it was apparent on the final days of retreat that the statue had been blessed with the presence of Guru Rinpoche, and these blessings radiated out to southern Brazil and beyond.
Even though my buddies had been working themselves to the bone, I was so involved in retreat that I barely noticed the work on the statue. Then Khadro told us about the construction of the original Chagdud Gonpa in eastern Tibet, when the local deities helped by dragging trees to the site. I thought, “Gee, this is how it is here, too.” It’s magic. That night we sat up late on the Gonpa’s patio, exhausted— not sleeping but wanting to sleep. We could see a yellow fire in the dark, and silhouetted against a black curtain of sky with diamonds, Rinpoche sat and worked, his hands reaching toward Padmasambhava’s heart. We ran down into the field and prostrated.
The day retreat ended we were all photographed in front of Padmasambhava. Someone who had been deep in retreat hadn’t really seen the statue, only the platform that had been there the first week; when she saw it she wept.
Liz O’Hamill
Beginning of retreat. Some retreatants were expressing their doubt: “Do you really think Rinpoche can finish the statue before the end of retreat? That’s only four weeks away!” A group of older students who had been involved in making the statue at Williams, Oregon, sat back and said nothing, slight smiles on their faces. They knew.
Nothing much seemed to be happening. Behind the concrete platform that would become the throne base, there was a great spaciousness, the view extending to the horizon. But in Rinpoche’s room the statue’s head, hands, and hat were magically beginning to appear.
Two weeks left. A few bricks and some lotus petals were finally placed on the empty platform. Suddenly, two days later, there was a lotus seat. Then, as if miraculously arising from the center of the lotus, Guru Rinpoche’s body began to appear. At first some unassuming bricks, but then— after a couple of night visits by Brazil’s own Guru Rinpoche—the forms and folds of garments began to appear. Only one more week. The night visits became more frequent. The statue crew worked until the early morning hours, following Rinpoche’s artistic advice as he supervised every detail. After putting the final touches on the hat and hands, it was time to place the central channel. A handful of hardy yogis and yoginis stayed up late into the night sitting around a flaming bonfire, which had the dual purpose of providing light and keeping away the “dreaded borrachudos” (a mix between a mosquito and a barracuda). The statue’s central channel was placed and the head put on. When it seemed to be in the right spot, after much adjustment, Rinpoche walked to his car. As he opened the door and looked back, he realized from that perspective that the statue still wasn’t quite right. So the head came off; more chipping and grinding was needed on the neck and shoulders. When the head was placed again a silence fell across the knoll. There was nothing left to be said or done.
Final days. People began to realize they had witnessed the miraculous construction of a four-meter-tall Guru Rinpoche statue in less than four weeks: the hands and hat were in place, the long-life vase and skullcup were added, the vajra was put between his fingers. Guru Rinpoche made the promise that wherever an image of him exists, he will consecrate that image from his pureland, Copper-Colored Mountain. Through many signs and retreatants’ experiences, it was apparent on the final days of retreat that the statue had been blessed with the presence of Guru Rinpoche, and these blessings radiated out to southern Brazil and beyond.
Even though my buddies had been working themselves to the bone, I was so involved in retreat that I barely noticed the work on the statue. Then Khadro told us about the construction of the original Chagdud Gonpa in eastern Tibet, when the local deities helped by dragging trees to the site. I thought, “Gee, this is how it is here, too.” It’s magic. That night we sat up late on the Gonpa’s patio, exhausted— not sleeping but wanting to sleep. We could see a yellow fire in the dark, and silhouetted against a black curtain of sky with diamonds, Rinpoche sat and worked, his hands reaching toward Padmasambhava’s heart. We ran down into the field and prostrated.
The day retreat ended we were all photographed in front of Padmasambhava. Someone who had been deep in retreat hadn’t really seen the statue, only the platform that had been there the first week; when she saw it she wept.
Liz O’Hamill
Beginning of retreat. Some retreatants were expressing their doubt: “Do you really think Rinpoche can finish the statue before the end of retreat? That’s only four weeks away!” A group of older students who had been involved in making the statue at Williams, Oregon, sat back and said nothing, slight smiles on their faces. They knew.
Nothing much seemed to be happening. Behind the concrete platform that would become the throne base, there was a great spaciousness, the view extending to the horizon. But in Rinpoche’s room the statue’s head, hands, and hat were magically beginning to appear.
Two weeks left. A few bricks and some lotus petals were finally placed on the empty platform. Suddenly, two days later, there was a lotus seat. Then, as if miraculously arising from the center of the lotus, Guru Rinpoche’s body began to appear. At first some unassuming bricks, but then— after a couple of night visits by Brazil’s own Guru Rinpoche—the forms and folds of garments began to appear. Only one more week. The night visits became more frequent. The statue crew worked until the early morning hours, following Rinpoche’s artistic advice as he supervised every detail. After putting the final touches on the hat and hands, it was time to place the central channel. A handful of hardy yogis and yoginis stayed up late into the night sitting around a flaming bonfire, which had the dual purpose of providing light and keeping away the “dreaded borrachudos” (a mix between a mosquito and a barracuda). The statue’s central channel was placed and the head put on. When it seemed to be in the right spot, after much adjustment, Rinpoche walked to his car. As he opened the door and looked back, he realized from that perspective that the statue still wasn’t quite right. So the head came off; more chipping and grinding was needed on the neck and shoulders. When the head was placed again a silence fell across the knoll. There was nothing left to be said or done.
Final days. People began to realize they had witnessed the miraculous construction of a four-meter-tall Guru Rinpoche statue in less than four weeks: the hands and hat were in place, the long-life vase and skullcup were added, the vajra was put between his fingers. Guru Rinpoche made the promise that wherever an image of him exists, he will consecrate that image from his pureland, Copper-Colored Mountain. Through many signs and retreatants’ experiences, it was apparent on the final days of retreat that the statue had been blessed with the presence of Guru Rinpoche, and these blessings radiated out to southern Brazil and beyond.
Even though my buddies had been working themselves to the bone, I was so involved in retreat that I barely noticed the work on the statue. Then Khadro told us about the construction of the original Chagdud Gonpa in eastern Tibet, when the local deities helped by dragging trees to the site. I thought, “Gee, this is how it is here, too.” It’s magic. That night we sat up late on the Gonpa’s patio, exhausted— not sleeping but wanting to sleep. We could see a yellow fire in the dark, and silhouetted against a black curtain of sky with diamonds, Rinpoche sat and worked, his hands reaching toward Padmasambhava’s heart. We ran down into the field and prostrated.
The day retreat ended we were all photographed in front of Padmasambhava. Someone who had been deep in retreat hadn’t really seen the statue, only the platform that had been there the first week; when she saw it she wept.
Liz O’Hamill
Beginning of retreat. Some retreatants were expressing their doubt: “Do you really think Rinpoche can finish the statue before the end of retreat? That’s only four weeks away!” A group of older students who had been involved in making the statue at Williams, Oregon, sat back and said nothing, slight smiles on their faces. They knew.
Nothing much seemed to be happening. Behind the concrete platform that would become the throne base, there was a great spaciousness, the view extending to the horizon. But in Rinpoche’s room the statue’s head, hands, and hat were magically beginning to appear.
Two weeks left. A few bricks and some lotus petals were finally placed on the empty platform. Suddenly, two days later, there was a lotus seat. Then, as if miraculously arising from the center of the lotus, Guru Rinpoche’s body began to appear. At first some unassuming bricks, but then— after a couple of night visits by Brazil’s own Guru Rinpoche—the forms and folds of garments began to appear. Only one more week. The night visits became more frequent. The statue crew worked until the early morning hours, following Rinpoche’s artistic advice as he supervised every detail. After putting the final touches on the hat and hands, it was time to place the central channel. A handful of hardy yogis and yoginis stayed up late into the night sitting around a flaming bonfire, which had the dual purpose of providing light and keeping away the “dreaded borrachudos” (a mix between a mosquito and a barracuda). The statue’s central channel was placed and the head put on. When it seemed to be in the right spot, after much adjustment, Rinpoche walked to his car. As he opened the door and looked back, he realized from that perspective that the statue still wasn’t quite right. So the head came off; more chipping and grinding was needed on the neck and shoulders. When the head was placed again a silence fell across the knoll. There was nothing left to be said or done.
Final days. People began to realize they had witnessed the miraculous construction of a four-meter-tall Guru Rinpoche statue in less than four weeks: the hands and hat were in place, the long-life vase and skullcup were added, the vajra was put between his fingers. Guru Rinpoche made the promise that wherever an image of him exists, he will consecrate that image from his pureland, Copper-Colored Mountain. Through many signs and retreatants’ experiences, it was apparent on the final days of retreat that the statue had been blessed with the presence of Guru Rinpoche, and these blessings radiated out to southern Brazil and beyond.
Even though my buddies had been working themselves to the bone, I was so involved in retreat that I barely noticed the work on the statue. Then Khadro told us about the construction of the original Chagdud Gonpa in eastern Tibet, when the local deities helped by dragging trees to the site. I thought, “Gee, this is how it is here, too.” It’s magic. That night we sat up late on the Gonpa’s patio, exhausted— not sleeping but wanting to sleep. We could see a yellow fire in the dark, and silhouetted against a black curtain of sky with diamonds, Rinpoche sat and worked, his hands reaching toward Padmasambhava’s heart. We ran down into the field and prostrated.
The day retreat ended we were all photographed in front of Padmasambhava. Someone who had been deep in retreat hadn’t really seen the statue, only the platform that had been there the first week; when she saw it she wept.
Liz O’Hamill
Beginning of retreat. Some retreatants were expressing their doubt: “Do you really think Rinpoche can finish the statue before the end of retreat? That’s only four weeks away!” A group of older students who had been involved in making the statue at Williams, Oregon, sat back and said nothing, slight smiles on their faces. They knew.
Nothing much seemed to be happening. Behind the concrete platform that would become the throne base, there was a great spaciousness, the view extending to the horizon. But in Rinpoche’s room the statue’s head, hands, and hat were magically beginning to appear.
Two weeks left. A few bricks and some lotus petals were finally placed on the empty platform. Suddenly, two days later, there was a lotus seat. Then, as if miraculously arising from the center of the lotus, Guru Rinpoche’s body began to appear. At first some unassuming bricks, but then— after a couple of night visits by Brazil’s own Guru Rinpoche—the forms and folds of garments began to appear. Only one more week. The night visits became more frequent. The statue crew worked until the early morning hours, following Rinpoche’s artistic advice as he supervised every detail. After putting the final touches on the hat and hands, it was time to place the central channel. A handful of hardy yogis and yoginis stayed up late into the night sitting around a flaming bonfire, which had the dual purpose of providing light and keeping away the “dreaded borrachudos” (a mix between a mosquito and a barracuda). The statue’s central channel was placed and the head put on. When it seemed to be in the right spot, after much adjustment, Rinpoche walked to his car. As he opened the door and looked back, he realized from that perspective that the statue still wasn’t quite right. So the head came off; more chipping and grinding was needed on the neck and shoulders. When the head was placed again a silence fell across the knoll. There was nothing left to be said or done.
Final days. People began to realize they had witnessed the miraculous construction of a four-meter-tall Guru Rinpoche statue in less than four weeks: the hands and hat were in place, the long-life vase and skullcup were added, the vajra was put between his fingers. Guru Rinpoche made the promise that wherever an image of him exists, he will consecrate that image from his pureland, Copper-Colored Mountain. Through many signs and retreatants’ experiences, it was apparent on the final days of retreat that the statue had been blessed with the presence of Guru Rinpoche, and these blessings radiated out to southern Brazil and beyond.
Even though my buddies had been working themselves to the bone, I was so involved in retreat that I barely noticed the work on the statue. Then Khadro told us about the construction of the original Chagdud Gonpa in eastern Tibet, when the local deities helped by dragging trees to the site. I thought, “Gee, this is how it is here, too.” It’s magic. That night we sat up late on the Gonpa’s patio, exhausted— not sleeping but wanting to sleep. We could see a yellow fire in the dark, and silhouetted against a black curtain of sky with diamonds, Rinpoche sat and worked, his hands reaching toward Padmasambhava’s heart. We ran down into the field and prostrated.
The day retreat ended we were all photographed in front of Padmasambhava. Someone who had been deep in retreat hadn’t really seen the statue, only the platform that had been there the first week; when she saw it she wept.
Liz O’Hamill
