Sherpa Story II: The face before you were born

"After I regained consciousness, I knew in my heart that my wife and daughter were dead. I wanted to get back to help them with their passage into the bardo. But the Red Army soldiers had tied me around a post and left me to die. And I felt this violent, torrent of electric surge bursting out. I did not even recognized it as it exploded from inside. For even in the darkest moment in the Labor Reform Camp I had never experienced such stark despair. I heard this foreign dark howl issuing forth from my mouth, a sonic void rippling out from my guts.

"Oh-waii-ho..."
Then I felt the distant mountain answering me back with this sub-sonic BOOM, BOOM, BOOM. As it got louder and louder, the torrent of darkness from me quickened. All of a sudden, I felt this warmth releasing like piss after holding a full bladder. I saw the glacial avalanche slowly descended and covered the Red Army's outpost like a giant hand." As the Sherpa spoke, his voice remained deep and peaceful as if telling some other person’s tale.

"The next day I was able to get my wife and daughter’s body and bury them. I lay them side by side just like the way we used to sleep in a single bed."
The Seeker started to sob. The Sherpa looked at her with such compassion and peace.
"You should drink your tea; it is getting cold." The Sherpa gently stroke her hair.
"So how did you find peace? How can anyone find peace after that?" asked the Seeker.
"Nothing happened to me. I was just grazed by a bullet. My wife and child were killed. Afterward, I stumbled in a daze for the rest of the journey. I was a walking corpse." The Sherpa paused and brushed away a moth that kept flying into the oil lamp.
"Just like this moth attracted to the light. I felt drawn to death. How I long to end it. But my fellow travelers had started to believe I was their good luck charm; I was their 'Lama.' So they fed me and washed me. I doubt I would have survived if left alone. I would probable just sit immobile on a rock until the body withered away." The Sherpa sighed. Back then, he was very closed to death. He could almost smell the dark sweet aroma of Angel mushrooms. Just one would kill a man instantly.

"So one night when my traveling companion was drunk celebrating their final crossing into Nepal. I managed to get away to the stream here. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Somehow, I find myself standing on the edge of the stream. I must have stood there for a long time because I noticed the reflection of the moon was high up in the sky. My body started to sway. The smell of death started to get stronger and I felt a deep thirst." The Sherpa shivered slightly knowing how close to death he was that night.

"Suddenly, I heard this wispy voice, ‘you are blocking my view of the moon.’ By reflex I apologized and moved to the side. Then I realized I did not notice any person there when I arrived at the stream. When I turned around, I found that indeed I was standing right in front of an old wizen woman with the brightest eyes in an amused squint."

‘Oh sorry grandmother, I didn’t know I was blocking your view,’ I apologized. As I tried to get up and leave, the old woman crackled--her voice sounded like crumbled leaves,

’ Where would you go to die? You know, I've never observed a fool trying to drown himself in such shallow water. Why don’t you do it here? It would really amuse me. Indeed, I am a hundred years old and I must keep finding entertainment to stay living longer. Don’t you agree?’ The old woman spoke in an unceasing kind of watery flow of the old Tibetan dialect of my grandmother's generation. Granny would lure me to sleep every night with such liquid voice.

‘I wasn’t really trying to drown myself in such shallow water,’ I blushed slightly.
‘Don’t lie to an old woman; I could see death stalking you like a mangy wolf. You had been standing here for almost two hours in my meditation spots.’ she chided me.
I noticed then that she was sitting in a kneeling meditation posture and next to her there were several headstones.
‘I see. You noticed. Those are my husband, sons and daughters. They had all die a long time ago and I couldn’t really remember what they die of. Isn’t it amusing ha ha...’the old woman laughed in quick staccato laugh like burst of a string of firecracker. ‘If you decided not to kill yourself tonight and entertain this old bag of bone then you better make yourself useful. Come, bring this bucket of water to my cottage. Well come along now, I hope you are strong enough to do that my little Lama...’she stood up in one quicksilver motion just like a loon taking off from the water. So I followed her into her house." The Sherpa paused and sipped his tea.

"So this was her house?" the Seeker asked in an outburst.

"Yes. After she died, I buried her along with her family and I just kept living here by myself until I met you." The Sherpa laughed at some private joke that the Seeker did not know. The seeker noticed the Sherpa had been drawing rings of circle with the spilled tea on the table all this time. The seeker had observed the Sherpa had some interesting habit of talking and moving at the same time. She kept looking at the rings of circle.

"Let me show you. Come on." The Sherpa led her by the stream. And there they found the headstone of a dozen graves. The seeker noticed that all the headstones had flowers and little bowls of fresh fruits and rice.

Bowing deeply to the old woman's headstone, the Sherpa continued his story," this old woman had been waiting for me. She had vision of me crossing the mountains and waited for me here. I was late by several weeks. Over the years, I assisted her in her ministry. Just like me, the villagers came to seek advice and healing. They called her Ahma and she became everyone's old granny. Eventually, she grew more and more frail. I started to cook and do most of the chores. Every night we would sit by the stream deep in meditation. After many years, my heart slowly thawed. And every day, a little bit of life filtered in. As the cycle of day and night, months and years blended into one long night, I had regained most of my peace. But my heart was still not totally at ease, the splinter of despair was still lodged deep in the inner recess of my psyche. On the anniversary of the death of my wife and daughter, I would go to the village and returned dead drunk. The old woman would never say any thing about that.

Then on a clear autumn full moon night, the old woman hugged me and said, 'goodbye, my little Lama.’ As she stood up I fell on my knee and begged her,‘ granny don't leave yet, my heart is still not totally calm,’

‘Alright, bring me this damn heart of yours and I’ll calm it for you.’ she snapped back.

I stood there thundered struck and searched within me for the pain and suffering. I knew she was dying and this was my last chance. I must find my heart's sorrow. I lost all tracks of time. The full moon set and a faint streak of salmon pink brushed against the horizon.

‘I can't find it anywhere.’ I stuttered weakly. Oh, I knew then that I had failed her. I could not find my sorrowful heart.

‘Well, then there is nothing to calm. Thus, I have calmed your heart. Bye, my son." with the last word, the old woman’s whole body went totally still.

I noticed then the morning star had risen above the distant glacial peaks with a bright radiance. With a deep bow, I carried her body back to the house and lay it on the bed. I wrapped her body in her phoenix and dragon embroidered wedding blanket. Then I remained there for seven days and seven nights chanting the rainbow body mantra. Right in front of me, her body started to transform into light. By the end of the seventh day, the only thing that remained were her nails and one single gold tooth. I guessed we can not take any thing with us into the bardo realm." The Sherpa finished the story with a big flourish of tracing a last circle in the table and then stringing all the circles with a straight line.

"So is your heart calm?" asked the Seeker.
"No!", the Sherpa laughed, " There is neither calm nor not-calm, hahaha..."

Slightly annoyed, the Seeker did not quite understand what the humor in failing to achieve enlightenment was. Wasn’t the whole purpose of enlightenment to realize tranquility?

Copyright to Sat Chuen Hon 09/27/00, March 31, 2007 reprint by permission only. All events and people are fictitious and not intend to portrait any real persons or life events.