the tibetan shops were all closed the first day we arrived in dharamsala. another monk immolation happened in tibet, the atmosphere of mourning felt all over the town. we went for an afternoon mass prayer and walked the candle march that night from tsuglag khang (dalai lama’s temple). the tibetan community of dharamsala were all out in the street and walk the march around town. snow was pouring hard.
i can’t describe my feeling. being among the monks and the tibetan people. among the chants, prayer and shout. i don’t know the language. but the language of the heart touched my very soul. i cry on the street of dharamsala and among its people. i understand this longing of going home to lhasa, i wish one day to be in lhasa and to be among those mountain once again in this very life. i thankful that universe brought me to dharamsala on that very moment. to cry among them.
never in my life i feel to be in such in a right place. that there is no coincidence like dagpo rinpoche said, where your wheel of life and karma brought you back to where you belong, to your home and you are born a new to the path of dharma. i walked myself among the march, lighting my own candle. my own very name: dian. the candle that would never die. that hope and goodness would never die.
om mane padme hum