Our Sacred Land

FIRST ORD


T E NOVASCOTIAN



Land is sacred to Bhutanese









The Tiger's Nest monastery perches on a mountainside in Bhutan.
T
AKTSHANG GOEMBA,
also known as The Tiger's
Nest, is a magnificent
monastery plastered on
the face of a sheer cliff 900 metres
above the Paro Valley, and
moored to the mountain by the
hairs of angels. There are only
three ways to reach it. The best is
to ride on the back of a flying
tiger, which was the method used
by the great saint Guru Rinpoche
in the 8th century. He flew into a
sacred cave on the cliffface, sub-
dued the local demon, and med-
itated there for three months
before continuing his mission to
establish Buddhism in Bhutan.
If you can't find a flying tiger,
you can ride up to the Tiger's
Nest on a tough little mountain
horse. (You can't ride down,
though; the path is too steep.)
Alternatively, you can walk,
which is the way I got there last
month. The hike takes three or
four hours.
It is a steep and brutal climb in
the thin Himalayan air, not easy
for sedentary folk of ripening
years. I was grateful for Tashi,
the nimble young guide who took
my little backpack. We got a
break at a wooden tea-house
halfway up, lunching on Bhuta-
nese specialties like ema datse,
hot chillies with cheese. Nearby
is a rock with the footprints of
Guru Rinpoche burned into its
surface.
Then the climb continued. In
the end, I didn't get into the mon-
astery. I reached a viewpoint at
the same height, but between the
viewpoint and the Tiger's Nest is
a deep gorge, negotiated via a
700-step staircase cut into the
rock face. My knees were weak
and I was slightly giddy from the
altitude. The steps are uneven,
there is no hand-rail, and a mis-
step would mean immediate
reincarnation. Nope.
The landscape of Bhutan is
peppered with sacred places.
Above the Tiger's Nest are sever-
al shrines or "chortens," as well
as temples and meditation huts.
The many temples on the valley
floor include Kyichu Lhakhang,
one of 108 temples built in a sin-
gle day in 659 by a Tibetan king
aiming to pin down an ogress and
liberate the Himalayas for the
advanca of'Ruddhrsm.




SILVER DONALD
CAMERON
There are chortens along the
trails, chortens in the fields,
chortens on the banks of streams,
where waterwheels turn prayer-
wheels that ring bells and send
off prayers as they spin. Thickets
of vertical white prayer flags
stand high on the mountains, and
brilliantly-coloured strings of
square flags flutter on buildings,
fences and bridges. The land
virtually pulses with visual testi-
mony to Buddhist reverence.
Underlying Bhutan's Buddhism
is a much older animist religion
known as "Bon," which populates
the landscape with innumerable
demons, sprites, local deities,
gods and goddesses oflakes and
rivers, lords of the earth and air.
The most famous of the many
lucky charms to ward off evil
from these omnipresent spirits is
the image of an erect penis.
Even this is evidence of devo-
tion, which you see constantly in
Bhutan. But you do not see
mines, quarries, clear-cuts, in-
dustrial smog, huge landfill sites,
nlastir. baas (which are illp.!!al)'


Bhutan's
sacramental
attitude
towards the
natural
world-
that the
world is
literally alive
and sentient
- is the
normal
human view.


(SILVER DONALD CAMERON)
chemically-nurtured golf courses,
mills and factories blowing smog
into the air and waste into the
rivers. The Bhutanese use only
what they need. Houses and
farms are built of rammed earth,
straw, slate and wood, and they
occupy minimalist clearings in
the woods. They enhance an
already beautiful landscape.
All of which raises a huge ques-
tion.
Bhutan's sacramental attitude
towards the natural world - that
the world is literally alive and
sentient - is the normal human
view. It's shared by my Celtic
ancestors, by virtually all ancient
civilizations, by aboriginal peo-
ples worldwide. Industrial socie-
ty, by contrast, views the natural
world as inert, dead, a mere
source of materials and a blank
slate for industrial manipulation.
It exists for us to pillage. That
arrogance has led us to a crisis
unparalleled in the history of our
species.
The Bhutanese evidently don't
think they're lords of creation.
Their land is sacred, and because
they treat it with reverence, it
sustains and enriches them.
Superstition? Or wisdom, clothed
in poetry? Bhutan takes us back
to the future, reminding us that
our species cannot persist on
Earth without understanding, in
our bones, the genuine sacred-
ness of the world that is our only
horne.