Christmas with Lama Zopa

The Best Christmas I ever had. As the time to go "home," read: to my parents house, grows near, I feel the ever present under the surface discomfort of it all. The intense feeling of not belonging in a place. A child and a family totally estranged by lifestyle, by belief. Its a time for walking on glass. And I remember back four years ago. I was twenty-two, and it was the only Christmas season I haven't spent in Missouri. I was at Kopan Monastery in Nepal, and had just finished the November course. Lama Zopa Rinpoche had arrived a few days later-before christmas- to teach in the evenings during a week long retreat in which we'd participate. Every Christmas, its traditional that the Westerners sponsor an early morning puja, although for the life of me I can't recall which deity it was for. In the days preceding, Kopan is covered with thick christmas lights, visible from Boudha, which are actually there in honor of Lama Tsong-Kapa day. They come down before the 25th, but their presence earlier sets the mood. That morning we wake around 4:30. Its dark and freezing. Some 200 westerners pile into the main gompa. We are on the right, the monks on the left, and the anis pile in behind (patriarchy...). A giant huddle- thats what we are- trying to squeeze the entire sangha in this gompa to see our precious teacher. I remember looking at the northern windows and seeing the patterns in the frost, and how those patterns shifted as the sun rose. We have prayer books and follow along. We are served butter tea- to the dismay of most of my friends- and since it's cold the butter quickly separates and congeals on top. Several hours later, breakfast comes around. People try to strech. We are still praying. Breakfast for us is a cheese sandwich-some kind of hard, thick yak cheese on a basic roll. The monks had some fancy omelet and people around me grumbled- a lot, that we only had simple sandwiches and the monks ate better than us. We are still praying. In those moments, nibbling the most deliciously simple cheese sandwhich I've ever had, enjoying the simplicity of butter tea, praying earnestly for peace, being blessed to be with Lama Zopa, watching the frost on the windows.... in those moments, I was really happy. It seemed the more people around me grumbled, the more things were wrong and not okay and too long (too long!), the happier I got. The blessed thing about Lama Zopa is how long he loves to pray. A two minute blessing can last for hours. In this case, I seem to recall saying dedication prayers for around and hour and a half, a bulk of which turned into a lesson on emptiness. Lama Zopa- teaching in pure passion- from his awakened heart- without thought to silly constructs like time. He's saying what he needs to say, what is soooooo important to be said. We emerged from the gompa mid morning. Five hours, maybe? And so I fondly remember a Chrismas morning that was ACTUALLY about the teachings of Christ- in a Tibetan Buddhist monastery. A morning in prayer for peace, in reflection, in wisdom and humility. What a blessing, that day. And how to hold that spirit in my heart and actions in such very dissimilar settings? How to integrate that earnest prayer in with a hectic morning and action movie afternoon? sarve mangalam