within walking distance, but I feel like riding today.
“Hey boy, you’re looking good today.” The stallion trots towards me, his frame slender and strong, his neck curved with grace. As I run my fingers through his coarse mane, he lets out a big huff. “I hear you.” I put the halter around his head. “Let’s go for a ride.”
I’ve only been home for two days, but I miss being out riding. The horse did too—his hooves trample a melodic rhythm as I get into the pen.
A small step up and out of the courtyard, we ride into the rolling hills. Leaping on all fours, the stallion is in the mood to boot, and since I can also use some release, we’ll take a detour, conquering the steep end of the slopes. With the breeze on our back, the horse’s legs soar, sending clumps of grass flying up and around our ears. In no time, we’ve reached the top of the hill and circle around a few times to catch our breath.
My eyes scout the horizon. There’s not a single cloud to be seen. The tops of the mountain range glister a perfect crystalline against the vast blue yonder. My hands tighten around the reins. That’s where I’m going—where we will be going. To Lhasa, Karma and me.
I catch myself smiling. He might have stormed out of the kitchen this morning, but he hasn’t left my mind for a moment since. All the way to Lhasa, together.
My mind spins. A pilgrimage. What a grand chance to gain benefit, and a fortunate opportunity to change the family’s fate. The iron fist around me cuts my breath to a shallow wheeze. I’m sure Father will convince Karma and Dendup to let me come, but how I can accomplish what I really have set my heart to do?
My eyes on the shimmering peaks, I take a sharp breath in and spur on my horse. With a joyful leap, the stallion dashes down. The fast gallop clears my mind of any doubts that might have been lingering on. For now. And that is enough.
Here it is, the first house on the left—the ngakpa’s house. How different in today’s light. An open gate, white smoke rising from the chimney… He’s home for sure. I dismount and lead the horse through the gate. There he is at the door. His thin frame stands tall, his long black hair coils over his shoulders. I’ve never seen him out like this.
“How good to see you again.” He gestures me to follow him in.
My hastened footsteps resonate in the hollow hall. He glides to the kitchen, his long red and white scarf beaconing the way.
“Tea first.” Milky steam rises from the kettle as he pours the two cups set on the low table beside to stove. “Tea always sooths the task ahead of us—which is not an easy one this time.”
With the ngakpa’s eyes on me, I nod and wrap my hands around the cup. The heat penetrates my palms. My shoulders sag and I take a moment to ground myself, collecting some of my scattered thoughts.
Here I am, in the ngakpa’s kitchen, ready to prepare for a journey—again. Who would have thought? Not me!
“Happy to see you’re continuing your practice as a lay person.” His voice is low, a nod of approval.
He knows. The heat from my teacup spreads, rising through my arms, up my neck, into my cheeks. He knows I’m going to Lhasa.
“It’s your personal responsibility to take this journey of purification and merit making in this lifetime,” the ngakpa says. “Good, good. It helps not only you, but benefits all sentient beings.” Slowly he sips his tea, a content slurp as I struggle to swallow mine.
“Yes gen-la,” I say. His gaze, so insightful—it’s impossible to hide from. “Now that I’ve seen the suffering out here, I’m even more determined.”
He tilts his head to the side. His long coils sway in a slow motion behind.
“The years in the monastery have put you in a favorable position,” he says. “Now it is up to you to further your practice.” He must detect the apprehension in me, for he gives me a reassuring nudge.
“Nothing has changed, for you are gifted with a compassionate heart and the sincere desire to serve all sentient beings. Your determination more than compensates for the loss of monastic discipline you so fear.” Before I get the chance to think about what he’s actually saying, the ngakpa jumps to his feet. “Come, come, no time to waste.”
Again I follow him, this time to the prayer room. As we enter, my feet stall.
The thin red curtain is drawn. Golden beams of sunlight flood the room. Garlands of fresh greens crown the shrine, their sweet fragrance carried on the soft breeze from the open window. Bright hues of yellow, red, and green drift on the pearly swirls of incense, reflecting the rich ribbons cascading from the ceiling and sides of the shrine. The once eerie thangkas now reveal the dazzling depictions of our trustworthy companions on the Buddhist path. This space, which yesterday instilled a sense of dread in me, now welcomes me to step in.
“First we pray,” the ngakpa says. “Then we see.”
Seated on his cushion, he folds his hands. His eyes close and I join in prayer as the invocations to the Three Jewels, Palden Lhamo, and other Dharma protectors flow from his lips. The prayers, followed by meditation, set the stage for the divination, requesting the deities to reveal the journey ahead of us.
As the ngakpa opens his eyes again, he unwraps a set of the bone dice from their cloth. The dice roll in his open palm, their pale white shine reflecting a shimmer in his tawny face.
“When you return, you’ll learn the way of Mo.” His voice leaves no room for questioning. “It will be of benefit to all, helping to overcome the obstacles in this worldly existence.”
My eyes widen and I blink. Did I hear that right? Did the ngakpa just say I should learn divination?
“You want to be of benefit, right?” He leans in, his voice stern. “Then learn the way of Mo, for it allows us to see what might come.” His face drops as he closes his palm around the dice. “And used with the proper motivation to help others, this selfless act of giving enhances our practice on the Bodhisattva’s path.”
I open my mouth for an advanced practice like Mo, so out of reach for me, but the ngakpa raises his hand, the dice a muffled thud in his closed palm. Meeting my eyes, his relaxed gaze lingers to his closed palm, and then draws back to me.
“Your grandmother taught you well,” he says. “Your meditation practice is firm, and you have a deep understanding of emptiness and the interconnection of all things. You will learn fast, the rituals as well.” He throws the dice on the cloth between us, their clicking sounds a ringing in my ears.
My body tenses. My eyes are still on the ngakpa’s palm, now empty in the space between us. Beads of sweat form a thin veil on my forehead. My mind turns over his words. A firm meditation, a deep understanding. Me? I’m only a beginner on the path.
“Ra Tsa.” His raspy voice jolts me out of my thoughts, straight back into here and now. I lean in, my eyes on the dice, the stark lines on the gleaming bones—RA TSA. My lips form the two syllables, as the ngakpa’s recitation resonates in the room.
“It will take strength, that what you wish to achieve,” he says, his long fingers on both sides of the dice. “And strength will arise in you, just as a fire is increased when touched by the wind.”
I’m at the edge of my seat now. The ngakpa’s words stir the unnerving unease in my mind. His eyes on the dice, his hands now glide to the edge of the table. He unwraps a clothed book as his eyes turn into a dark gloom.
“All what was lost will be obtained in the West,” he says with a tone of determination.
So, we will find Uncle and the spell in Lhasa. That sounds good.
“But be it by force,” he adds, his voice raw and uneven.
Force. I bite my lip. Of course, Uncle will not give up the spell willingly, and I don’t dare to think of my family’s resolutions.
The ngakpa turn the leaves of the unbound book, nearly until the end. Following the lines with his index finger, his body sways back and forth as he reads in silence.
Still at the edge of my seat, I clench my prayer beads tight. My eyes are fixed on the ngakpa and his book. When the swaying stops, the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. My heart skips a beat. It must be a promising sign.
“Good, good.” His smile broadens. “As the strength of your power is increasing, nothing will harm you.” He looks up. A pensive glance graces his eyes. “The protectors are guarding you, but you will need to make more offering.”
A wave of relief washes over my body. Of course, I will do the offering, for no harm, that is good.
“Whatever aims you have…” The ngakpa pauses for a moment and looks up to meet my eyes. ”… these will be achieved.” He presses his lips tight. I cringe as the iron fist closes around my heart again.
I bow my head. He knows. He knows I’m going to Lhasa to try to prevent the killing the family has ordered. Will he tell them?
His eyes burn on me. I twist the string of beads in my numb fingers. Will he try to stop me? Then again, all my aims will be achieved, the divination says. That should be a relief, but at this moment my chest is about to cave in.
“You know Nordun.” His voice is gentle. I glance up, my vision a blur. “It is not easy to take responsibility for the behavior of others, or for the karma they have collected.” His eyes still on me, the ngakpa’s fingers line up the yellowed pages. “It’s only the brave that take up the responsibility to help the sentient beings that are blinded, those who cannot see.”
My breath stalls. My mind grasps the meaning of his. A lightness floods my being, for these are not words of warning—these are words of approval, of encouragement. My being sighs with relief.
“It’s not by violence or argument that one can change one’s fate, it’s only by the strength of the heart,” the ngakpa says. I raise my chin to meet his eyes. “Only when our hearts keep faith in the essential goodness of the others, and act with the purest intention, only then one can govern one’s destiny.”
Relief settles in my being as the ngakpa’s words resonate their truth in me. He’s right. I won’t be able to convince Dendup and Karma with words, let alone with my physical strength. The only way for me to change what’s planned is to act from my truth, to act from a boundless compassion. And how to do this, I don’t know yet.
My hands release the beads and roll them between my fingers at the rhythm so familiar to me. All I have are my good intentions and faith in the goodness of the others—that’s enough for now.
His eyes closed, the ngakpa’s in meditation again, receiving the last instructions for our preparations. The clicking of my bead settles my mind. I ease back into my seat. It only takes a few moments before the ngakpa sets his reassuring look upon me.
“Yes, it is foretold. All is favorable, and your strength will increase,” he says. “The power of the Dharma Protectors is with you, as is your special meditation deity.”
A smile comes to my face. That will be Green Tara, the mother who’s always come to my call.
“The offerings to praise and appease are clear.” His hands wrap his white scarf tight. “Let’s prepare for a fortunate journey.”
He sums up the list of necessary items, from special incense to shavings of precious metal, all that needs to be offered. It’s a lengthy list, a lot of work, but the gratitude in my heart makes the work light and quick. All I’m thinking of is how fortunate I am—I’m going to Lhasa—so soon.
The sun has already set on the Western peaks. Her flaming red accompanies me as I walk out of the gate, ready to go home. The work here has been done. My mind turns to the stables, where Father and the family are preparing their own. I wonder how Father has convinced them to let me come. Father’s good like that—without a doubt.
“Long day?”
Karma’s voice jolts me out of my thoughts. His tall frame leans against the wall—he’s been waiting for me. “Thought you would like some company riding home.”
There’s a wide-open smile in those gorgeous green eyes—his face doesn’t show any signs of anger left from this morning.
“I do, especially from you.” I turn on my heels, wanting to pinch myself. Did I just say that?
“Good to hear.” His voice rings with cheer—he’s not hiding any of his feelings for me.
A little leg-up and off we go, out of the courtyard, into the hills.
“So you’re coming to Lhasa then.” He throws me another one of those cheeky grins.
My heart leaps. Yes! Father did good.
“I am,” I say. “Thank you for letting me.” My eyes stay on the horizon. “Now that you and Dendup are going anyway, it’s a wonderful opportunity for me to do a pilgrimage.”
“Pilgrimage.” Karma’s voice holds a daring edge. His horse slows down the pace and pauses. “No other reason for you to come?”
My hands clutch the reins. My stomach hardens. He knows my intention! How? My mind blanks in the frantic search for answers.
“Nothing to do with me then?” he says.
I glance at him from the corners of my eyes, making sure not to face him. Is that a grin? Yes, it is! He’s teasing me, hinting at something very different—and I thought the worst, as usual.
“Ah well.” I lean back in the saddle, trying to look casual as my heart beats loud in my chest. “That too.” And I’m not lying, for this journey is more about Karma than he—or I—will ever know.
“Good.” He slows down his horse even more and leans towards me. “I was hoping so since I came here for you, Nordun.”
The emerald of his eyes draws me in. My heart surges. That man!
“I came to be with you, but the family’s decision has to be respected.” His lips pressed together, his stare sets in the distance. “Lhasa is a long way, but know I’ll return to you, for sure.”
His words seize me with an unknown longing. Oh, how I wish to be close to him right now.
“I know,” I say. “But this pilgrimage is important to me.” I halt my horse.
“I understand.” He turns his horse beside me. “That dogged determination of yours, how I love it.” He laughs and stretches out his hand. “Well, it’s one of the many things I love about you.”
I let his hand cover mine—strong, safe, warm.
“Just a few weeks ago, you could barely hold yourself on the back of a tame mare.” He squeezes my fingers. “And look at you now.”
My hand drops to my side as he stirs his horse to back away from mine.
“Come on.” His teeth bare into a grin. “I’ll dare you to a race!”
An enormous roar of laughter fills the air as he spurs on his stallion.
Dashing off at full speed, I don’t hesitate for a moment and follow in pursuit.
It’s a futile attempt, as he’s so much faster, but it doesn’t bother me at all.
I know he’ll be waiting, as patient as ever for me to get there.
He’ll be waiting at the stables—for me.