Nun of Your Business

I saw a documentary on the Ballet Russes, two Russian dance troupes who fled to the United States during World War II. After several years of hard travel, performing together every night, the troupes eventually broke up because of finances. Even the best ballet troupes in the world were not economically viable. The individual dancers ended up scattered throughout the world--one in each place--teaching dance in places like Oklahoma, California, New York, Venezuela, Australia, and England. It seemed that even big cities could not support more than a few world-class dance teachers. The dancers perfected their art during the rigorous years of working in a close group. But eventually they had to split up. This reminded me of the situation of sangha communities, even the major Tibetan monasteries and what happens to the individuals who go through that system. The Tibetan monks, for example, gain their expertise while living in a crowded monastery following a demanding schedule of classes, de

"Blastity-bleep, freezin' cold. No hot running water. Have to go out back to use the outhouse. I can't be expected to live like this!" Those were my thoughts on frosty mornings the past couple of weeks while on personal meditation retreat at a remote hermitage. Fortunately, the book The Lawudo Lama was in the cupboard. It's the biography of Lama Zopa Rinpoche's past life and the early part of this life focusing on the mountainous area of Nepal where he is from, Lawudo, Solu Khumbu. Pictured here is Rinpoche in front of his cave at Lawudo, inherited from his previous incarnation. (The cave has been closed in on the front.) I was reminded of all the meditators--and just plain people--who have to live like that all the time, no running water at all, let alone hot water. Right now, not just people in the ancient past. And so I took some consolation that having creature comforts was not a requirement for having a successful meditation retreat. Moreover--and I have