Guru Dagchen Rinpoche on his throne teaching at Sakya Lamdre, traditional silk robes, pecha, Sashu Hat (of the Sakya tradition), murals of the Buddha's life, Tharlam Monastery of Tibetan Buddhism, Boudha, Kathmandu, Nepal, a photo by Wonderlane on Flickr.
When the day was perfect, a light breeze, sunny, just perfect moments one after another, when the humidity was like Thailand in the early spring, along the fresh sea, fragrance clean, then did they come.
Their sign, upon reflection, were the butterflies and dragonflies less restless, alighting and watching wings beating like breaths.
Sometimes you could see the leaves all turn up and wave together in happiness like they were cheering them on. The birds stood out right before their arrival … but this was something a little difficult to notice if you weren’t watching for it or knew to expect them.
Nothing seemed far away and there was a feeling of suchness … if you weren’t looking you couldn’t tell where and when they arrived – it was like they were always there.
You could say all that.
Whether they walked up or rode in a conveyance even their clothes presented a rhythm of beauty in the way, ribbons, sashes, and hems laughed and played.
And the quality of their arrival was that suddenly the immediate surroundings slowly came into clearer and clearer focus. Time slowed down so each moment was sheltered in the present. As if their arrival shepherded the presence itself.
There was nothing it was like. But perhaps the sound of a bell.
If you were capable of feeling it when close to them, there was the felling on not just being with them but that there was no distance between yourself and them.