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If you’re wondering where to find the meaning of life, I’ve been told by a fairly reliable source that it’s written on an amulet, hanging over my fireplace.
As I see things, my mantel is not a bad place to keep the meaning of life. I understand if you think differently. Most people probably expect it to be in some remote monastery in the Himalayas, protected by a band of devoted monks. That’s a reasonable expectation. After all, that’s where I got it.
I didn’t go to the Himalayas looking for the meaning of life. That would have been a major cliché. Instead, I went to the Himalayas to climb Mt. Everest. That’s only a minor cliché.
As our expedition team trekked to Everest Base Camp, we passed the monastery of Thyangboche. Sitting on a mountaintop with snow-capped Himalayan giants in the backdrop, the monastery is as tranquilizing as ether. It is also the home of the Most Holy Rinpoche of the Khumbu.
Popes come and go, presidents lose elections, but the Rinpoche has true staying power. According to best estimates, he’s had at least six incarnations spanning three centuries and he’s been living at Thyangboche for most of the last one hundred years. As far as I can tell, he’s spent most of that time sitting on a cushion.
Despite his static pose – or maybe because of it – he’s developed a reputation for dispensing powerful mojo. Since I never pass up a chance to increase mine, our expedition team requested a formal blessing. We were led past rows of chanting monks, through a musty prayer room shelved with bound scrolls, and into a side chamber. There, cocooned in a thick saffron robe sat the Most Holy Rinpoche. Praying docilely on his cushion, he radiated passivity – Jim Jones he wasn’t. The Rinpoche would never get anybody to drink the Kool Aid.
The blessing was brief, but personal. One by one, each of us leaned over as he placed a white silk scarf around our necks. With the blessing complete, we turned to leave and that’s when it hit me. It’s not every day you get to talk to someone who has been meditating on life for three hundred years. This was my chance for some answers. I didn’t want to come right out and ask him "What’s the meaning of life?" even though that’s exactly what was on my mind. I was looking for something a bit less I’m-a-tactless-hayseed-from-the-USA. So, I worked up an alternative: "Excuse me, but I’m wondering whether you could tell me a phrase I could reflect on as I climb?"
The translator whispered my question to the Rinpoche, who paused in thought, no doubt mentally scrolling through a vast Rolodex of Deep Thoughts for just the right phrase. Something about love? No, too Hallmark. Something witty and sarcastic? No, too David Sedaris. The seconds passed. Finally, he leaned into the ear of the translator and whispered a phrase; I prepared for an epiphany. The translator cleared his throat and said: "He’ll get back to you on that."
Three hundred years sitting on a cushion in deep reflection and that’s the best he can do? C’mon now, think of something, anything. I would have settled for "Buy low, sell high." :lol:
That evening I heard rustling outside my tent. I unzipped to find a young monk with a small scarf-wrapped bundle from the Rinpoche. When I unfolded the scarf, I found an amulet. And on the amulet, freshly etched, were the words of the Rinpoche.
I had in my hand what can only be called the wisdom of the ages, the product of centuries of deep meditation. There was just one snag. It wasn’t written in English. But, this could be quickly solved – it wasn't like peace in the Middle East or anything. I would simply ask my Sherpa friend, Pemba, for a translation.
It was now all over camp that I had received something from the Rinpoche. As I approached Pemba, he turned his back. Evidently, a gift from the Rinpoche is to be seen only by the recipient. The my-eyes-only rule created an obvious dilemma.
"Pemba, I have no idea what this says. I will never know what this says unless someone else looks at it. Could you translate it for me?"
He gave me a warm Nepali smile that could only mean one thing: No.
"Pemba, I have the meaning of life in my hand and I can’t read it. Could you please take a look?"
Smile.
"Pemba, the Rinpoche wrote something on this and he wanted me to read it. Translating it for me would be a fulfillment of his work."
He agreed; curiosity probably got the better of him. He looked down at the writing.
"What does it say?" My mind was open, spirit ready.
"I don’t know," he responded.
"What do you mean you don’t know? How can you not know!"
"It is written in very old Tibetan, I don’t know it."
"Who does?"
"Nobody."
"What do you mean ‘nobody’? Obviously, the Rinpoche knows what it says, he wrote it."
"No, the Rinpoche doesn’t know. He just recites the old Tibetan from scrolls — he doesn’t know what it means."
I believe there is a moment in everyone’s life when the world suddenly turns to taffy. My moment had come. The Rinpoche, the monastery, the entire Kingdom of Nepal suddenly stretched out in all directions then wrapped back together to form a sticky compressed lump of contradiction.
I stared at Pemba for what felt like a month then turned, boots casting an arc in the dirt, and walked back to my tent in the darkness.
The next day, Pemba took my amulet and sewed it up tight in a pouch woven from the fabric of a blessed scarf. He explained that I should wear it around my neck and not take it off, even if it itched. I obliged.
Weeks later, we were descending Everest when clouds blew in. A blizzard hit us hard and left the team badly scattered along the Southeast Ridge. (This was '96-a remarkably bad year on that particular mountain.)
One of my climbing partners made a few key decisions that I think pulled everyone through. Some of the Sherpas saw it differently. They attributed our summit and survival to the amulet. It was inscribed with the meaning of life; it had juice.
The way I see it, if the amulet had real power, it would have kept the clouds away in the first place. It could send the storm off to Bangladesh. They’d be expecting it anyway.
So, how potent is the amulet? You can decide for yourself. The translation of the symbols on the amulet sit at the top of this post, as the title. The words have been there all along, waiting to be read.
As I see things, my mantel is not a bad place to keep the meaning of life. I understand if you think differently. Most people probably expect it to be in some remote monastery in the Himalayas, protected by a band of devoted monks. That’s a reasonable expectation. After all, that’s where I got it.
I didn’t go to the Himalayas looking for the meaning of life. That would have been a major cliché. Instead, I went to the Himalayas to climb Mt. Everest. That’s only a minor cliché.
As our expedition team trekked to Everest Base Camp, we passed the monastery of Thyangboche. Sitting on a mountaintop with snow-capped Himalayan giants in the backdrop, the monastery is as tranquilizing as ether. It is also the home of the Most Holy Rinpoche of the Khumbu.
Popes come and go, presidents lose elections, but the Rinpoche has true staying power. According to best estimates, he’s had at least six incarnations spanning three centuries and he’s been living at Thyangboche for most of the last one hundred years. As far as I can tell, he’s spent most of that time sitting on a cushion.
Despite his static pose – or maybe because of it – he’s developed a reputation for dispensing powerful mojo. Since I never pass up a chance to increase mine, our expedition team requested a formal blessing. We were led past rows of chanting monks, through a musty prayer room shelved with bound scrolls, and into a side chamber. There, cocooned in a thick saffron robe sat the Most Holy Rinpoche. Praying docilely on his cushion, he radiated passivity – Jim Jones he wasn’t. The Rinpoche would never get anybody to drink the Kool Aid.
The blessing was brief, but personal. One by one, each of us leaned over as he placed a white silk scarf around our necks. With the blessing complete, we turned to leave and that’s when it hit me. It’s not every day you get to talk to someone who has been meditating on life for three hundred years. This was my chance for some answers. I didn’t want to come right out and ask him "What’s the meaning of life?" even though that’s exactly what was on my mind. I was looking for something a bit less I’m-a-tactless-hayseed-from-the-USA. So, I worked up an alternative: "Excuse me, but I’m wondering whether you could tell me a phrase I could reflect on as I climb?"
The translator whispered my question to the Rinpoche, who paused in thought, no doubt mentally scrolling through a vast Rolodex of Deep Thoughts for just the right phrase. Something about love? No, too Hallmark. Something witty and sarcastic? No, too David Sedaris. The seconds passed. Finally, he leaned into the ear of the translator and whispered a phrase; I prepared for an epiphany. The translator cleared his throat and said: "He’ll get back to you on that."
Three hundred years sitting on a cushion in deep reflection and that’s the best he can do? C’mon now, think of something, anything. I would have settled for "Buy low, sell high." :lol:
That evening I heard rustling outside my tent. I unzipped to find a young monk with a small scarf-wrapped bundle from the Rinpoche. When I unfolded the scarf, I found an amulet. And on the amulet, freshly etched, were the words of the Rinpoche.
I had in my hand what can only be called the wisdom of the ages, the product of centuries of deep meditation. There was just one snag. It wasn’t written in English. But, this could be quickly solved – it wasn't like peace in the Middle East or anything. I would simply ask my Sherpa friend, Pemba, for a translation.
It was now all over camp that I had received something from the Rinpoche. As I approached Pemba, he turned his back. Evidently, a gift from the Rinpoche is to be seen only by the recipient. The my-eyes-only rule created an obvious dilemma.
"Pemba, I have no idea what this says. I will never know what this says unless someone else looks at it. Could you translate it for me?"
He gave me a warm Nepali smile that could only mean one thing: No.
"Pemba, I have the meaning of life in my hand and I can’t read it. Could you please take a look?"
Smile.
"Pemba, the Rinpoche wrote something on this and he wanted me to read it. Translating it for me would be a fulfillment of his work."
He agreed; curiosity probably got the better of him. He looked down at the writing.
"What does it say?" My mind was open, spirit ready.
"I don’t know," he responded.
"What do you mean you don’t know? How can you not know!"
"It is written in very old Tibetan, I don’t know it."
"Who does?"
"Nobody."
"What do you mean ‘nobody’? Obviously, the Rinpoche knows what it says, he wrote it."
"No, the Rinpoche doesn’t know. He just recites the old Tibetan from scrolls — he doesn’t know what it means."
I believe there is a moment in everyone’s life when the world suddenly turns to taffy. My moment had come. The Rinpoche, the monastery, the entire Kingdom of Nepal suddenly stretched out in all directions then wrapped back together to form a sticky compressed lump of contradiction.
I stared at Pemba for what felt like a month then turned, boots casting an arc in the dirt, and walked back to my tent in the darkness.
The next day, Pemba took my amulet and sewed it up tight in a pouch woven from the fabric of a blessed scarf. He explained that I should wear it around my neck and not take it off, even if it itched. I obliged.
Weeks later, we were descending Everest when clouds blew in. A blizzard hit us hard and left the team badly scattered along the Southeast Ridge. (This was '96-a remarkably bad year on that particular mountain.)
One of my climbing partners made a few key decisions that I think pulled everyone through. Some of the Sherpas saw it differently. They attributed our summit and survival to the amulet. It was inscribed with the meaning of life; it had juice.
The way I see it, if the amulet had real power, it would have kept the clouds away in the first place. It could send the storm off to Bangladesh. They’d be expecting it anyway.
So, how potent is the amulet? You can decide for yourself. The translation of the symbols on the amulet sit at the top of this post, as the title. The words have been there all along, waiting to be read.
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