Flower Coriolis

By CK Wilde

Nestled in the center of a warm green dry valley of the Bhutanese Himalayas is a round hillock with a modest monastery perched upon its crest. It is the monastery of “The Divine Madman”. There is one giant gnarled tree with a small wooden bench in the deep shifting shade. The temple sits on a demon trapped in the rock beneath it. I was told it was a place of study and practice for one hundred Buddhist monks, aged one to one hundred. A small chorton chapel next to the study hall and dormitory held a Buddha and many winged lingam phalluses.

It was hot that day and we were all respectfully covered up. Our group stretched and drank water  after the long drive. I wandered off towards the temple, leaving everyone under the shady tree. I could hear the monks in prayer chanting together, young voices melding with elders. The gentle breeze seemed to change directions in a breath, the sun light dancing and coloring the grounds. A rich old smell of incense, wood, dung, and sweat filled the air. I ducked into the chapel darkness, butter lamps flickering and sputtering through the clouds of sweet sandalwood smoke. The gentle Buddha mudra hand gesture shinning bright in the close brown velvet shadows.

The chanting got louder. I padded out of the temple quietly towards the sound. I ducked my head around a corner looking in on the room full of one hundred monks. Eyes closed, in saffron and orange, throats open in prayer the monks were all six inches off the floor. I saw the sunlight under them. I stepped back. I didn’t trust my eyes and peeked around the corner again: everything was the same except two salient details. One- the monks were all seated on the floor now with no sunlight underneath them, and two- the old abbot had his eyes open and was looking at me as he chanted.

I skedaddled back to the group dizzy and breathless, my head filled with light. Later, when they finished chanting the monks went up into their dormitory. The wizened abbot and a younger monk came to greet and bless our group. When the abbot came to me he winked and smiled staring deeply into my eyes as he touched his forehead to mine.

The wind stopped.