Tales of Awakening: Travels, Teachings and Transcendence with Namgyal Rinpoche

When I was 11 or 12 years old, before I'd seen it, I could tell by the way my father got when he talked about The Dharma Centre of Canada that it was unlike any place I'd been. We had visited Buddhist monasteries in use and in ruin in North America and also in Asia, where we'd lived and traveled extensively for three years.  I knew- I could feel- that this one would be special. The Dharma Centre is in the woods and there is a beautiful lake, I was told, and a new stupa, and even in the sticky summer days, we would be wearing long sleeves, tall boots and mosquito hats. I was given my own hat before the trip.

We drove for days to reach this place, which I  knew to be important- sacred- for my father, and so I decided it would be for me, too.  I was going to receive various teachings, including from Namgyal Rinpoche, I would take long walks, share space, and assist in the kitchen. This was big for me, I loved to cook and now I'd be cooking for a group of about 20 people.

Our first day we unpacked, I had my own room in the lower level of the Temple Building, just below our primary gathering space.  I was then introduced to the other people working in the kitchen and I was initiated in to service. A dish towel and an upside-down stainless steel mixing bowl (the largest I'd ever seen) were propped on my head, and a loving GONG tapped out around the bowl (with a wooden spoon or a carrot, I can't remember which).  The sound filled my head with sweet and silly vibrations- the understanding that this would be joyful service and learning.

My most precious memory of this time is written up in the book Tales of Awakening: Travels, Teachings and Transcendence with Namgyal Rinpoche, though there is so much more I treasure. I remember my mother leading a class on making mandalas with found items in nature- petals, leaves, twigs.  I remember my father spending considerable time repairing and replacing a rope, bright yellow against a rich wall of greenery, marking off the area of the Hermitage.

As days of my first retreat passed, I felt, among other things, useful and free. I walked in the woods by myself for hours at a time, I had never been able to do that before.  I learned how to make stuffed cabbage, humous, and I had my first cup of hot tea with milk and sugar, a very adult-seeming beverage. I can remember my first sip- how sweet and comforting- and I still feel that way when I stop to be present with (and perhaps for) my tea.

That summer I learned to identify more constellations, I learned how to meditate, and I tried to be still.  I learned that some people did not swat at mosquitos- ever.  It was a place where people unwound and got grounded, and although I felt very restless at times, people were (in retrospect) totally gracious and glad of my young company.

I would like to return to the Dharma Centre, arriving after the long drive through the woods. I want to smell it again, sit there again, confront my restlessness again.  The leader and spiritual head, "Sir", as people addressed him has gone beyond, but now has become more prominent in our lives through this recently released book.  I have been trying to rediscover my wonder with Namgyal Rinpoche, and with my father's clear love for this place as I designed the cover of the book.

The intention of the story-gatherers is that by the students retelling their experiences, a shared transcendence can happen.  

Please enjoy in joy.

Love,

Sarah

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Crash Course in Art Crime

This week I finished reading The Art of the Heist, Confessions of a Master Thief.  In this book Myles Connor Jr, a real Masshole, explains his long career as art collector and art thief (from the MFA, MET, Children's Museum, and Smithsonian among others).  He also describes his life as a bank robber, drug dealer, and inmate of numerous county, state and federal prisons in New England, and eventually across the U.S.  Needless to say I developed a crushlette on the guy who is now in his late 60's, out of prison, and living in MA somewhere.

Myles spent time at Charles Street Jail, which he recalls as being "in a state of putrid decay, the first floor perpetually covered in several inches of standing water, the upper floors infested by giant rats and waterbugs the size of a man's fist... In fact the place was so squalid that the United States Supreme Court eventually ruled imprisonment there to be a violation of a person's basic civil rights."

Now the jail is the luxurious Liberty Hotel. Beth Greenfield reviewed her stay in the hotel for the NYT in 2007, and described her room as "cozy yet airy, with exposed-brick walls and floor-to-ceiling windows that offered river and city views.  The modern furnishings included an off-white divan, black lacquered desk and dresser and an earth merino throw at the foot of the plush white bed."

Greenfield's experience of the place was as cushy as mine. I shot a gorgeous 50th Birthday Party on the 3rd floor rotunda and also attended a screening of a movie in the hotel's outdoor courtyard last summer... the space holds a whole new meaning now after reading Myles Connor's memoir.

...But I digress.... 

I was so disappointed to have finished The Art of the Heist, that I quickly picked up Priceless: How I Went Undercover to Rescue the World's Stolen Treasures.  The author is Robert Wittman, founder of the FBI Art Crime Team.  

I am only 40 pages into this book and have lined up the third book in my Art Crime crash course already... Chasing Aphrodite: The Hunt for Looted Antiques at the World's Richest Museum.  This book captures the countless stories of illegally traded and looted antiquities brought from other countries to the beloved museums of The United States.  

So I'm going into the minds of the criminals, the agents, the curators, the investigators, the art scholars ... probably only to learn, once again, that we are all the same.

The Berrys in France, a photo book

My family lived in Paris, France for 4 years. I visited a few times before finally moving there for almost 6 months in 2008.  This is a Shutterfly photo book I made last Christmas for my parents, which includes images from our adventures in France.

Cheers.