The Chicken Chronicles by Alice Walker

Author:Alice Walker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: New Press, The
Published: 2011-04-06T16:00:00+00:00

We promise, St. Michael

to learn from you.

And we thank you.

20

THE SONG BEHIND THE WORLD: THE NUNS OF DHARAMSALA

GIRLS,

Today Mommy is planting okra in another country. As she presses the soil around the seedlings she is reminded of many things: of you, and how you would eat the seeds and the seedlings, if given the chance, and of my trip to Dharamsala to visit His Holiness the Dalai Lama. The waiting and conversing rooms in the Dalai Lama’s palace are very nice and spacious, not fancy, and the palace is on a hill; it is across from a temple with many sculptures of the Buddha. (Mommy thinks it should be called his house and not his palace because “palace” always makes Mommy think of feudalism, a condition to which she has no intention of returning). After a warm and cheerful visit with him, which Mommy and Daddee and our friend Devaki enjoyed very much, we were taken down the hill to visit nuns who live in a very different part of Dharamsala. They live in the flatlands. Mommy was doing her usual thing of thinking: Oh, why are the women way down here? Hidden from view? Etc. The road down the hill was a long one, followed by a road to the convent that was fairly rough. But then, just at the end of this road, there stood the most exquisite monastery. Large, spacious, airy, with wonderful slate roofs at different levels, and cherry trees just beginning to bud. Inside, in addition to dormitory space, there was a library and classrooms. From the back windows of the library Mommy leaned into the beauty of lush and ample grounds with gardens, irrigated by what appeared to be a solar-powered water system. Behind all this rose the majestic Himalayas. It was breathtaking. The soul of woman, the spirit of woman, could find peace here. Mommy was sure of it, and so happy to have her cynicism squashed.

Through the beautiful but empty hallways and rooms we went, until we were led to a huge door from behind which came a faint hum. Our guide gently opened this door, which liberated a tidal wave of sound. There before us were hundreds of nuns in dark red and ochre robes, seated at desks on the floor, chanting an ancient prayer. The sound of these nuns praying was like a billion bees buzzing. And best of all, they were not even attempting to pray in unison but were chanting wherever they were on the page, which meant a dissonance that brought life and spontaneity to the words and urgency to the prayer. It was so powerful and unexpected it nearly floored Mommy. In fact, Mommy sat right down among the nuns and let herself be bathed in the sound of what felt like an ocean of prayer. If she could have lain down without offending anyone, she would have. She could have stayed there forever; she never wanted to leave.

She wanted to come back to you, though, even so!

Mommy had this realization: that behind the world, always, there is a song.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.