Welcome the Wanderer

There are many monasteries for monks, but when visiting this nunnery in Tibet, I felt a special sense of presence unbound, of spirits untethered by time. There was thick, woody incense smoke and when sunlight streamed through the windows, it created bold shafts of light that splice the scene. I recall a mysterious, calming atmosphere in the space and the hushed concentration of the women, intent on their prayers. The monastery itself clings to the edge of a cliff as if it might plunge into the valley below at any moment. The dichotomy of it all—the precariousness of the building and the grounded solidity of the women, the ethereal, gauzy light and the nuns’ intense focus—was fascinating.

The nuns themselves when not in prayer are curious and welcoming, but not over-reaching. They move about their tasks, cleaning, making meals, crafting the lights that illuminate the monastery. When there is call for it, they leave the nunnery to take care of people in the local communities, but mostly, they meditate and devote themselves to inner growth and nurturance. To aid in their meditations, they play large gongs, small bells, and rhythmically beat drums with soft-tipped sticks.

I have traveled to be among monks on several occasions, but with the nuns, I was suddenly even more aware of the energy they had for supporting each other and visitors. They welcomed me without words, as if the space they live in was for everyone, not just for them. I suppose this image spoke to me this week—and I hope speaks to you—because it is a reminder to live well; to take care of myself so that I might better welcome and provide care for other wandering souls.