April 22, third day of retreat.
And another thing I love about Mcleod...
1. You never know what's coming
I could probably talk for days about Mcleod (and India)'s ability to surprise you, but for now I'll just tell you about the mysterious blessing cord lady. I was walking along the road from the library, a very steep and exhausting hill, when I paused for a drink of water and to enjoy the beautiful view. As I sat on one of the large cement slabs intended to save the lives of poor drivers from the treachery of mountain roads, I was joined by a little old Tibetan lady.
Her presence in itself was not much of a suprise, for many elderly Tibetans walk this path to the library, mala or prayer wheel in hand, chanting their mantras. Face in a wrinkly smile, mouth still working the quiet Om Manis, she took out a bag (from somewhere in her Tibetan dress, like a magic act), from which she promptly removed a woven cotton bracelet, colorful and intricate, like those friendship bracelets we once made at summer camp.
Taking my wrist, she tied the bracelet on, chanting her Om Manis all the while. After few minutes of work on the part of her shaky, arthritic hands, I had been adorned and she returned to spinning her prayer wheel and smiling.
It wasn't a traditional blessing cord by any means, but I certainly felt blessed. With my crumpled 50 rupee bill, I gave her crane 42, which she promptly placed in her bag of cords, the whole thing disappearing once again, like magic, into her Tibetan dress. The next day, for good measure (and with only a bracelet to remind me that this smiling old sprite had been real), I left crane 41 in the same spot.
And another thing I love about Mcleod...
1. You never know what's coming
I could probably talk for days about Mcleod (and India)'s ability to surprise you, but for now I'll just tell you about the mysterious blessing cord lady. I was walking along the road from the library, a very steep and exhausting hill, when I paused for a drink of water and to enjoy the beautiful view. As I sat on one of the large cement slabs intended to save the lives of poor drivers from the treachery of mountain roads, I was joined by a little old Tibetan lady.
Her presence in itself was not much of a suprise, for many elderly Tibetans walk this path to the library, mala or prayer wheel in hand, chanting their mantras. Face in a wrinkly smile, mouth still working the quiet Om Manis, she took out a bag (from somewhere in her Tibetan dress, like a magic act), from which she promptly removed a woven cotton bracelet, colorful and intricate, like those friendship bracelets we once made at summer camp.
Taking my wrist, she tied the bracelet on, chanting her Om Manis all the while. After few minutes of work on the part of her shaky, arthritic hands, I had been adorned and she returned to spinning her prayer wheel and smiling.
It wasn't a traditional blessing cord by any means, but I certainly felt blessed. With my crumpled 50 rupee bill, I gave her crane 42, which she promptly placed in her bag of cords, the whole thing disappearing once again, like magic, into her Tibetan dress. The next day, for good measure (and with only a bracelet to remind me that this smiling old sprite had been real), I left crane 41 in the same spot.
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