At an altitude of 15,000 feet above sea level, in a small hamlet without electricity or running water, one of the world’s most remote schools has recently gained international attention. The school, set in Bhutan’s Lunana valley, is the subject of filmmaker Pawo Choyning Dorji’s debut feature, Lunana: A Yak in the Classroom, and the recipient of Bhutan’s first Oscar nomination. Lunana is up for Best International Feature Film at the 94th Academy Awards, which will be held on March 27.

At heart, Lunana is a story about the search for belonging. Despite Bhutan’s emphasis on Gross Domestic Happiness, an index that measures the collective happiness of the Himalayan kingdom, many of its youth yearn to travel beyond the country’s snow-capped peaks to explore the Western world. Protagonist Ugyen Dorji (Sherab Dorji) epitomizes this struggle. The teacher and aspiring singer hopes to emigrate to Australia, but is instead assigned to a teaching post deep in the mountains of Lunana, literally the “dark valley,” where toothpaste is an exotic import and yak dung a valuable commodity. 

“Can we find within the darkness what we seek in the light?” Pawo Choyning Dorji asks with his film. Judging by Lunana’s breakout success, the answer seems to be a resounding yes. From his home in Taiwan, Dorji spoke with Tricycle about what inspires his storytelling, what he learned from going into the shadows of the “dark valley,” and what we can expect from him next.

Sanjna N. Singh: What was the best reaction you received upon learning that Lunana had been nominated for Best International Feature?

Pawo Choyning Dorji: This is the first time in history a film from Bhutan has been nominated for an Academy Award, so it has captivated the nation. The film has also caught the heart of other Himalayan communities. Nepalese and Sikkimese filmmakers are messaging me to say, “I can’t talk properly because my emotions are getting caught in my throat.” Tibetan youngsters are discussing the film in coffee shops. (I don’t want to think about how they are viewing it, though, because it’s not supposed to be there yet!)

If I were to single out one reaction, it would be a message from a lama at a monastery in Bhutan where I do a lot of work. Someone had explained to him what the Oscars are and how significant this is. He offered all that he could, which was one kilo of cow butter and 50 rupees, to a statue of Guru Rinpoche, and made the aspiration that we will continue to carry Bhutan’s name forward. 

SNS: You shot the film in one of the most isolated villages in the world, but by the time you presented it, the world itself had gone into isolation due to the pandemic. How did this global isolation force you to rethink how to present or position Lunana?

PCD: Although Lunana is linguistically, culturally, and geographically very different from anything most of the world has seen, it touches on a universal human theme of seeking where you belong—of home and happiness. And I think that’s what impacted people. Because when COVID-19 started, there was a lot of suspicion, separation, and isolation. And here is this film that is very simple and touches on what everyone is yearning for. 

When it made the Oscars shortlist I asked my agent, how is this even possible? And he said that we are living in difficult times, the film is uplifting, and when it’s over you remember it more than the depressing movies. So I’m really happy that the film has been able to do this. 

SNS: It’s also interesting that as the world was going into isolation, Lunana’s isolation was ending. Can you explain that?

PCD: When I was filming, there was a part of me that wondered, am I doing the right thing? Lunana is one of the last untouched settlements in the world. Maybe I should just let the village be. Do I have a right to share their lives? Because once I do, that innocence is gone. But, just as we were about to leave, a telecom company came to install the first cellular tower, and that was a bittersweet moment for me. Of course, with modern facilities, life will get better for them. But this purity will be gone. In fact, it has already happened. The day before yesterday I got a message from Pem Zam, a young student featured in Lunana. She has a Facebook account now. So, these beautiful stories will now be replaced by, you know, TikTok.

SNS: I’ve heard that every film is an extension of the filmmaker. How much of yourself is present in your work?

PCD: There is a lot of me in the Ugyen character. I am someone who grew up in America, Europe, and the Middle East, and I came back to Bhutan at just the right moment because I was old enough to appreciate the Bhutanese way of life. I shared Ugyen’s sense of opening to this beautiful world, and his realization that his culture and traditions have so much to teach him. 

I also tried to put my own experiences in the film. I was attending [Dzongsar Khyentse] Rinpoche and we were hiking high up in the mountains. It rained the whole way. It was wet, rocky, and icy. We took shelter in a yak herder’s tent and he served us warm yak milk. The herder was barefoot, his feet full of calluses and cracks. I asked him, “Why aren’t you wearing shoes?” And he said, “I need to spend my money on essentials.” Then his son came in, wearing rain boots. That really hit my heart. The father and son rain scene in Lunana is based on that. [In the film, on the way to Lunana, Ugyen stops at a guest house where his host, Phurba (Dophu), has no shoes on. Phurba tells Ugyen he is used to going barefoot and has no money for shoes. Then Phurba’s son walks up, wearing new-looking rain boots.] When you talk about parental sacrifice, this is the Bhutanese way of life that many are forgetting. 

SNS: In addition to the physical hardship of filming at an altitude of over 15,000 feet above sea level, this remote location also posed technical issues. How did that impact your filmmaking?

PCD:  With Lunana being so far from civilization, it was almost like traveling back in time. There were no modern facilities, so we had to rely on solar batteries and chargers. But some days there was no sun. So we shot on one camera, and only charged what was essential—camera and sound of course—and used computers to transfer the footage. This meant that I couldn’t watch dailies [raw, unedited footage]. I had no idea how anything looked, until two months later, when I was in the editing room. I told my crew that if the film is an utter failure we can take pride that we made a film with zero carbon footprint! But those kinds of limitations forced me to be very meticulous about what I was shooting. 

SNS: I hear you’re working on a new film. If the core of Lunana was the search for contentment, home, and belonging, what is the emotional heartbeat of this new film?

PCD: Bhutan is unique because we were in self-isolation for the better part of the last century. Television and internet only happened in the early 2000s. Suddenly you wake up and a television set has become a status symbol. People sold their cows and their yaks for TV sets. This new story takes place during this time. It’s about change and transition.

SNS: Why is this storyline of change and transition important to you?

PCD: One time I was hiking in Lunana and this man told me, “When I was young, there was snow and ice all over the mountain, but now every year it’s becoming less and less.” And I said “Oh it’s global warming.” He said, “I don’t know what global warming is, but this is the home of the snow lion. And the snow lions are disappearing from the world.” 

And I realized the wisdom of this because what he’s saying is that the heart of enlightenment is disappearing because of over-consumption, because of putting our wants ahead of our needs. There’s so much wisdom there. It is in our constitution that the purpose of the government is to provide happiness for citizens. The whole idea of Gross National Happiness, which actually refers to contentment, is built upon that. As we modernize, we are losing that. 

So the new project is about us as a society trying to find our own place in this modern world, including what’s being gained and what’s being lost.

SNS: I remember watching a rough cut of Lunana on your laptop in Dehradun, India, years ago. I’m thrilled by how far it’s come!

PCD: It’s been surreal. You know, in Bhutan, when we say “tell me a story,” we actually say “untie a knot for me.” So stories have this higher purpose, this untying and liberating purpose. They are supposed to teach people about themselves, and about the world they live in. They’re supposed to bring people closer to enlightenment. So I hope this film’s success will inspire more storytellers and more artists from Bhutan to share their stories.

♦

Read a review of Lunana: A Yak in the Classroom here.

The post An interview with Pawo Choyning Dorji, the Director of Bhutan’s First Oscar-Nominated Film, <i>Lunana: A Yak in the Classroom</i> appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

In early 2011, Stephanie Guyer-Stevens and Françoise Pommaret set out across Bhutan in search of women believed to have come back from the dead. Known in the Bhutanese language of Dzongkha as deloms (“returned from the dead”; Tib., delogs), these women act as mediums for local spirits, heal the sick, and travel to the hell realms to bring back messages from Yama, the Lord of the Dead. Though they are not well known outside of Bhutan, deloms serve as Buddhist teachers in their communities who offer instructions on how to lead a more compassionate life (and escape the torments of hell).

In their new book, Divine Messengers: The Untold Story of Bhutan’s Female Shamans, Guyer-Stevens and Pommaret share the stories of seven women they encountered in their travels, along with a translation of the biography of an 18th-century delom. Fusing ethnography and Bhutanese religious history, the book offers an intimate portrait of the interplay between Buddhism and shamanism in contemporary Bhutan. Guyer-Stevens and Pommaret spoke with Tricycle about what these messengers from the dead can teach the living.

What are deloms, and how did you first encounter them?

Françoise Pommaret (FP): A delom is a woman who is said to have died, traveled to the hell realms, and returned to this world to save the living from the suffering she witnessed. When I was a PhD student in the 1980s, my professor introduced me to delom biographies as a potential dissertation topic, and I traveled to Bhutan to begin translating them. At that point I assumed that deloms were figures from the past. But as I was doing my fieldwork, someone told me there was a delom in his village. I was stunned—I didn’t know they still existed.

Stephanie Guyer-Stevens (SG): Decades later, when I met Françoise and she told me about these deloms, I suggested we travel through Bhutan together and document their stories. She feared they might be diminishing in number, but in fact, they had proliferated. Once we started to ask around, it seemed like everyone knew a delom. They’re not just characters from biographies—they play an active role in the day-to-day lives of their communities.

What did you discover about the everyday lives of deloms through your conversations?

SG: Deloms are very ordinary women, and they speak in very ordinary language. Unlike monks and other Buddhist leaders, they live in the village, and they’re often uneducated. They don’t choose this path—instead, they are said to have been chosen by their tutelary deity, and many don’t want the role because of the physical stress and sickness it brings. Before they are recognized as deloms, these women often fall ill with a seemingly incurable disease. Even after they are recognized, deloms are still vulnerable to illness: they say that they are hypersensitive to pollution in their environments and have to continually protect themselves from exposure to others’ negative thoughts, emotions, and impurities. And unlike in the traditional biographies, where deloms make a single trip to hell, the deloms we met reported having died many times, each time bringing back new instructions from the Lord of the Dead.

FP: Living in the village gives them a particular style of authority. While people might go to the monastery with more philosophical questions, they go to deloms with their personal problems and day-to-day dilemmas: family disputes, social conflicts—all the things that villagers do not confide in monks.

In responding to these problems, deloms teach the basics of Buddhism, but they don’t use traditional texts. The Buddha doesn’t necessarily even figure as a character. They use divination, often with rice or dice, and make offerings to local protective deities. Their guidance is what we might call the lived rollout of the teachings.

“Many don’t want the role because of the physical stress and sickness it brings.”

How do deloms navigate the space between the Buddhist world and the religions that predated Buddhism in Bhutan?

FP: Deloms definitely see themselves as Buddhist. They are guided by compassion in fulfilling their role, and they often must undergo terrible suffering. This is where Buddhism plays a big part: deloms are concerned with the betterment of the whole community. But the deities that access them are from pre-Buddhist religions, so they do have a lot of shamanic traits.

SG: In the Buddhist world, and especially the Western Buddhist world, it is often assumed that shamanism and Buddhism can’t coexist. But they do. Deloms are proof of this coexistence, and they demonstrate how pre- Buddhist deities continue to influence contemporary religion in Bhutan.

What has surprised you most in meeting contemporary deloms?

SG: One of the women we met told us it was a shame that people aren’t as interested in the hells anymore— they’re so wrapped up in their earthly lives that they’re no longer looking at the larger Buddhist picture. Originally people would seek out deloms primarily to communicate with their ancestors and dead relatives. Now deloms function more like community healers, offering people guidance.

FP: And they’re busy. I was startled by the number of people who come to deloms with their problems. Sometimes we had to wait in line for hours—getting an appointment with these women was like hell!

Related: Bhutan on the Brink

The post The Undead Shamans of Bhutan appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Nothing is permanent, so everything is precious. Here’s a selection of some happenings—fleeting or otherwise—in the Buddhist world this week.

Myanmar’s Military Releases Vitriolic, Anti-Muslim Monk Ashin Wirathu 

Myanmar’s military junta has released the Buddhist monk Ashin Wirathu, notorious for his nationalist and anti-Muslim tirades. The military government released a statement on Monday that all charges against Wirathu had been dropped, without providing reasons for his sudden release. In 2019, Wirathu was charged for sedition after he gave a series of speeches criticizing then-leader Aung San Suu Kyi and the civilian government. Wirathu thwarted authorities for months before eventually surrendering in November of last year, and the monk has been held in prison awaiting trial since his arrest, according to the BBC. The military’s statement added that Wirathu was currently receiving treatment at a military hospital, though his medical condition is unknown. 

Bhutanese Monks Join Push to Promote Sexual Education

In Bhutan, senior Buddhist monks are working to increase awareness of sexual health and rights. In addition to the standard religious services and ritual dances that occur during annual religious festivals known as Tshechu, which are held at monasteries across the country, monks are also using the occasions to teach people about reproductive rights.

Monks aren’t the sole leaders of this movement, however. For decades, Her Majesty Queen Mother Sangay Choden Wangchuk has been advocating for increased awareness of topics like reproductive health and gender-based violence among the Bhutanese population. Her work as a Goodwill Ambassador for the United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA) includes organizing workshops and training classes on reproductive health and rights, which more and more male monastics are attending. “There has been a change in the mindset of monks, who now freely discuss and advocate on issues of sexual and gender-based violence, which in the past were perceived as a private matter,” said Lopen Sherab Dorji, one of the first monks in Bhutan to participate in a life skills education training conducted by UNFPA.

Nonprofit Home Instead Donates $100 to Senior Living Community for Every Vaccine Administered at Pasadena Buddhist Temple 

On Thursday, the Pasadena Public Health Department hosted a COVID-19 vaccine clinic at the Pasadena Buddhist Temple, reports Pasadena Weekly. For every shot given, senior care nonprofit Home Instead donated $100, up to $10,000, to senior living community Pasadena Village, which supports seniors who live independently at home. Donations to Pasadena Village will help lower membership costs in the community that sets up support networks among members. This is just one of many vaccine clinics that the temple has hosted. “We’re really happy that we can be one of the sites that they use,” Kathy Kumagai, Pasadena Buddhist Temple board president, said of the partnership they’ve formed with the Pasadena Public Health Department.

Twenty Years Later, Buddhists Reflect on September 11

Twenty years ago today the attacks of September 11 stunned the world. In the first issue of Tricycle magazine that followed the attacks, leading Buddhist teachers shared practices and perspectives for the unprecedented moment in time. Twenty years later, the same teachers reflect on what their words mean today. Read more here. For more reflections on 9/11, read a blog post written by a practitioner while on retreat with Bhante G just eight days after the attacks; and a reflection by Sharon Salzberg one year later.

Sakyadhita to Honor the Life of Venerable Bhikkhuni Kusama in Memorial Service 

The Sakyadhita International Association of Buddhist Women will hold a memorial service to celebrate the life of and pay tribute to Venerable Bhikkhuni Kusuma, a pioneering female monastic who passed away on August 28. The service will be held over Zoom on September 11 at 10 p.m. EDT and will include chanting in Pali, a dedication of merit in Korean, and a sharing of remembrances. Sakyadhita’s vice-president Dr. Eun-su Cho will also share a recently recovered video of Bhikkhuni Kusuma leading the historic ordination of the first Sri Lankan nuns to become fully ordained in modern times. Interested participants can join through this Zoom link. 

The post Myanmar’s Military Releases Vitriolic Monk Ashin Wirathu appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Every year, Tamzhing Monastery in Bhutan hosts a display of Buddhist dances and cultural expressions that were “discovered,” taught, recorded, and practiced by the great Bhutanese lama Pema Lingpa (1450-1521), the Himalayan kingdom’s homegrown religious visionary and prolific treasure revealer, or terton. Through his amassed treasure teachings and his own compositions, Pema Lingpa shaped Bhutanese cultural and spiritual life, contributing prayers and practices deeply embedded in the country’s religious ecosystem. The most public and visible aspect of his legacy? The repertoire of cham (sacred dances) attributed to him and performed at religious rituals and festivals throughout Bhutan, including those performed at Tamzhing. Through these vibrant dances, every Bhutanese experiences Pema Lingpa’s influence.

This year marks 500 years of the influential legacy of the Great Treasure Revealer, and in February 2021 (on the anniversary of his passing), Bhutan launched a year-long celebration to honor him. Though an upsurge of COVID-19 cases in Bhutan makes public celebrations uncertain, the widely broadcast ceremonies of the previous year reveal a thriving tradition.

The Great Terton

Born in the Bumthang Valley, the spiritual center of Bhutan, Pema Lingpa was raised by his maternal grandfather, who taught him the skill of blacksmithing. With respect to spiritual and intellectual learning, he was for the most part self-taught. But some say that he received his education directly from Padmasambhava, the Tantric mystic who is credited with bringing Buddhism from India to the Himalayan region in the mid-eighth century, and his chief disciple, the female adept Yeshe Tsogyal.

Pema Lingpa began “discovering treasures” at the age of 27. In the Nyingma tradition, the oldest school of Himalayan Buddhism, many sacred texts, objects, visions, and dances are considered to be the rediscovered hidden teachings of Padmasambhava. These “treasures” are believed to have been hidden by Padmasambhava and his immediate disciples in the eighth century for rediscovery in later times, affording a kind of spiritual renaissance when the need would arise. 

There were those who challenged Pema Lingpa’s authenticity, which led him to perform public revelations, including the famous underwater treasure extraction at Membar Tsho (Burning Lake), in which he carried a burning butter lamp that remained unextinguished while submerged. His influence was not limited to his locale. Pema Lingpa’s teachings impacted the greater Tibetan Vajrayana landscape, as evidenced by the inclusion of episodes from his life and practices on the murals within the Dalai Lamas’ private Lukhang Temple in Lhasa, Tibet. In an age when Tibet was the central source of Vajrayana knowledge and skill, Pema Lingpa was a sought-after spiritual resource and inspiration for many renowned lamas and leaders including the fifth and sixth Dalai Lamas and the seventh Karmapa─reversing the usual flow of spiritual information.

Pema Lingpa’s tercham (treasure dances) were typically revealed during dream or meditative states in which choreographic instructions were imparted to him. The dances are spiritual teachings, prayers, and rituals that form a seamless expression of “body, speech, and mind,” three doorways to enlightenment. They continue to be practiced in a line of uninterrupted transmission in many Buddhist establishments in Bhutan.

Tamzhing─The Temple of the Good Message

In 1501, Pema Lingpa  began construction on the monastery known as Tamzhing in the district of Bumthang. The story is told that when Pema Lingpa was looking for a suitable location for his monastery, the earth spirits sent a miraculous pig to indicate the auspicious site and level the ground for its construction. Another version says that Pema Lingpa’s yidam (meditation deity), the female deity Vajravarahi, appeared in the form of a pig and presented him with the design for the monastery. It is further believed that the dakinis (female wisdom facilitators) laid the foundation wall and sculpted many of the interior statues.

Before the consecration of the temple, Pema Lingpa is said to have had a visionary dream in which Vajravarahi again appeared, this time performing a dance and telling him to learn it for the temple consecration ceremony. Upon awakening, he wrote down the steps, taught the dance to his disciples, and introduced Phag Cham (Dance of the Pig) at the temple’s consecration ceremony as an offering of gratitude to the pig. Every year the performance of this dance commemorates this providential event as it opens the Tamzhing Phala Choepa, or the Tamzhing Festival of the Pig.

Video courtesy the Pema Lingpa Foundation

The Fall 2020 Rollout

As this past fall approached, I waited expectantly for the rollout of the Bhutanese festivals, of which Tamzhing Phala Choepa is only one. The autumn calendar of religious festivals fell on the heels of a strict three-week national lockdown. From the outbreak of the pandemic, the monarchy, elected government, and central religious administration—Bhutan is a Vajrayana Buddhist country—had aligned in issuing strict COVID-19 measures restricting social gatherings. The festivals are annual community affairs that draw tightly packed crowds to the monasteries and temples for dramatic cham dances, community folk dances, and monks’ rituals and ceremonies─all held in the spirit of collective renewal and blessings. 

As it turned out, the monasteries held the sacred festivals “behind closed doors,” respecting the government’s admonition against public gatherings. This meant that all the rituals and dances were performed by the monks of the hosting monasteries, but the public was not invited to attend. Now, this is not entirely unusual. Some dances and rituals are frequently unseen by the public and performed solely for an envisioned audience of enlightened beings. But this past year, national television, the newspapers, and each of the religious institutions holding the festivals streamed the proceedings for the benefit of all to see─even rituals and dances that are normally not open to the public. And just as online technology has opened so many events for global participation, I was able to take in four overlapping festivals, which would not have been possible in previous years. 

***

A Few Highlights from Pema Lingpa’s Treasure Dances 

The year before I had attended the Tamzhing Festival in person and beheld the bountiful dance legacy of Pema Lingpa performed there. My helpful guide for this three-day event was Lopon Phuntsho, the Discipline Master and former champon (cham dance master) of Tamzhing.

Within the Pema Lingpa, or Peling, tradition, there are both dances performed by monks and those performed by lay volunteers. The opening solo, Phag Cham, is usually danced by the lay champon (different from the monk champon). He wears the mask of a boar and carries a leafy weeping willow branch in each hand─sweeping and swirling them as he leaps about dancing to each of the four directions to sprinkle blessings. (The sprinkling was literal, as it was raining.) Incense filled the air with scent and smoke to purify the space for ritual activity. Phag Cham is unique to Tamzhing Monastery and not performed anywhere else in Bhutan, or, for that matter, the world. 

The lay champon, Pema Rigzin, shared that each household from three Bumthang villages is responsible for sending a volunteer to dance at the festival─either a male to perform the lay masked dances or a female to perform the folk dances. Pema Rigzin explained that they all begin rehearsing 20 days in advance. He had been performing these cham for 11 years. 

When I asked if he looked forward to dancing at the festival each year, Pema Rigzin responded, “Because these dances are sacred, I will continue to perform them until I cannot.”

Tshering Pem, the leader of the female folk dancers, had been volunteering as a dancer for more than 20 years and had been inspired by her aunt, who had also danced. She offered that the group collectively decides which dances to perform and that each dancer is responsible for buying her own costume. 

One of the most important Pema Lingpa tercham was only performed during the chamjug, or rehearsal. This Zhanag Cham (Black Hat Dance) called Phurbai Gi Tsacham was received in a visionary dream with instructions to include it in the rituals for the consecration of the Tamzhing Temple. When Pema Lingpa awoke from his dream, he wrote down the steps in a text called Phurba Soggi Pudri (Life Razor Kilaya Teaching). He connected the dance steps with the lines of the prayer to the wrathful deity Vajrakilaya. In this dance, according to Lopon Phuntsho, the champon recites the prayer-dance sequence as he dances, thus informing the dancers when to change steps. The dancers carry a phurba (three-bladed ritual dagger) in the right hand and a skull cup in the left. In public performances, they would wear the brocade monks’ robes and Tantric black hats.

The most commonly performed Pema Lingpa tercham in Bhutan may be the trilogy of dances called Peling Ging Sum. These dances originated in the revealed text Lama Norbu Jamtsho from Mendo Cliff at Lhodrak in southeastern Tibet (just north of Bumthang). The text contains the instructions for the dances to be performed as part of a prayer cycle that is also included in the treasure text. The contents of this prayer are both chanted and danced and considered a means of identifying and subduing obstacles, as well as cultivating enlightenment. Although Peling Ging Sum is performed at festivals throughout the country, two different versions are performed at Tamzhing─a monks’ version and a laymen’s version.

The two versions of Peling Ging Sum performed at Tamzhing bring up a significant story. The dance master Lopon Phuntsho explained that the lay dance tradition was danced by the local disciples of Pema Lingpa in Bumthang from the time of the consecration of Tamzhing. With Pema Lingpa’s frequent journeys to Lhodrak, Tibet, he was given the monastery of Lhalung as a base of operations there. The monks at Lhalung adopted and danced the Peling traditions as well. After the Chinese invasion of Tibet in 1959, some of the monks from Lhalung, including the umdze (chant master) and champon, made their way to Tamzhing. They brought with them the dance traditions they had practiced in Tibet. Today, both traditions are performed alternately during the festival, demonstrating the extraordinary richness of the Peling legacy.

The serene Khandroi Gar Cham (Dance of the Dakinis) is another tercham resulting from one of Pema Lingpa’s dance lessons with Yeshe Tsogyal during a visionary trip to Zangtopelri (The Copper-Colored Mountain Paradise of Padmasambhava). The dancing monks require some assistance from other monks and dancers in donning the elaborate dakini costumes with their layers of detail: colorful brocade robes, delicate aprons of bone ornaments, braided wigs, five lobed crowns, and the central topknot of enlightenment. They move slowly and mindfully in various formations while playing the damaru (small, double-sided hand-drum) with the right hand and ringing the drilbu (small bell) with the left. The sounds produced by these instruments are corresponding reminders of impermanence and emptiness.  During the dance, dakini prayer cycles are recited by the monks. 

A delightful and unique Pema Lingpa treasure is Tshang Mai Ging Cham, sometimes called Tamzhing Tercham. Again, this dance is said to be the result of one of Pema Lingpa’s visionary encounters with Guru Padmasambhava and Yeshe Tsogyal, during which they taught him the steps. Twelve lay dancers perform this simple, folksy dance wearing yellow kerchief skirts, human-faced masks, and a white khata (ceremonial scarf) covering the top of their heads. One of the masks is said to be the craftwork of Pema Lingpa. When I asked if the champon wears it, I was told that more practical matters go into choosing who wears which mask. As the mask is quite small, it is worn by a dancer with a small head. The dancers carry and play a damaru with the right hand and ring the small drilbu with their left in simple repeated rhythms as they hop, turn, and step in various formations. 

Periodically, the performers stop while two village leaders bring out khatas and money given by family and friends to show appreciation to the dance volunteers. The village leaders approach the chosen dancers and tie the offered khata across their torso. Meanwhile, the dancer’s wife or mother usually accepts and holds the monetary offerings as the dance recommences. By the end, so many white scarves have accumulated around the dancers’ midriffs that they appear quite transformed. The spontaneous elements of the dance make it a veritable love fest.

The festival at Tamzhing ends in a grand tradition called Uday Wang, which celebrates the manifestation of the local deity Tseo Marpo, including his adoration by and blessings upon the community. Initially, five monks perform a slow and somber welcome dance for Tseo Marpo. Next, masked dancers process with the deity with pomp and musical fanfare to his throne for offerings of dance, music, incense, oblations, and a white ceremonial scarf. The local villagers perform prostrations and form a line to receive blessings from their local deity that assure a state of purification. With this final expression of community identity and local custom, the Tamzhing Phala Choepa concludes, leaving everyone sated with age-old traditions and the promise of blessings for the coming year.

The post The Bhutanese Dance Legacy of Pema Lingpa─Still Thriving after 500 Years appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Nothing is permanent, so everything is precious. Here’s a selection of some happenings—fleeting or otherwise—in the Buddhist world this week.

Bhutan Vaccinates 85 Percent of Adults in Two Weeks

On April 8, less than two weeks after the nationwide rollout of the Oxford-AstraZeneca vaccine began on March 27, the Buddhist Kingdom of Bhutan had administered the first shot to 93 percent of its eligible population, according to Bhutan’s Ministry of Health. Of the country’s 770,000 residents, more than 420,000 people between ages 18 to 104 have received their first dose. The small nation’s rapid rollout of the vaccine makes it the third country (behind Israel and Seychelles) to have vaccinated at least 85 percent of its adult population, The Economist reports. Healthcare officials are now focusing on vaccinating those who are older than 70 and residents with disabilities, according to Al Jazeera. 

Funds Stolen from Buddhist Temple in North Carolina 

The North Carolina Buddhist Temple in the city of Durham recently reported a break-in and the theft of around $1,000 from an emergency fund. Surveillance cameras captured a group of three women and one man attempting to break into a door of the temple, ABC 11 reports. The temple’s resident monk, Bhante Yatiyana Wajirapala, told ABC 11 that he immediately sensed that the group did not have good intentions when he pulled into the driveway. Two of the women approached the monk and asked him to pray for their sick grandmother, but not before he took pictures of their vehicle and called 911. By the time police arrived, the group had already fled with the stolen cash in tow. 

This robbery occurred approximately two weeks after a string of thefts targeted several Buddhist temples in Southern California. Many of these robberies shared similar reports of a group of people requesting prayers for their sick grandmother before taking off with stolen donation money. Police have not said if the crimes are connected.

Myanmar Activists Choose Protest Over Celebration

Many people in Myanmar did not participate in traditional new year festivities this week, choosing to show their disapproval of the military junta by holding protests across the country. According to Reuters, protesters were out in the streets on Tuesday, the first day of the five-day New Year holiday, known as Thingyan, which is typically celebrated with prayers, ritual cleaning of Buddha images in temples, and high-spirited water-dousing on the streets. Protestors,  wearing the clothes they would normally wear for the festivities, were seen holding traditional Thingyan pots, which contain seven flowers and sprigs and are typically displayed during this time. Others painted slogans such as “Save Myanmar” and the three-finger salute on their Thingyan pots. The Assistance Association for Political Prisoners, a Myanmar activist group, said that pro-military security forces have killed 710 protesters since the February 1 ouster of the democratically-elected government led by Aung San Suu Kyi.

Thailand Faces Its Worst COVID-19 Outbreak Yet

Thailand is facing its worst coronavirus outbreak just as millions of people head to their home provinces during the country’s biggest travel holiday, according to the New York Times. The country, which was highly successful at fighting the pandemic in its early stages, set a record Monday with 985 reported cases. Officials have ordered the closure of hundreds of bars and nightclubs, but critics say the government has been inconsistent in its efforts to bring the outbreak under control. Prime Minister Prayuth Chan-ocha stopped short of banning travel between provinces for the Songkran holiday, which began on Tuesday and marked the start of the Thai New Year.

13 Years Later, a Man Is Charged with the Murder of Zen Monk 

Prosecutors in Fauquier County, Virginia, believed they are about to close the case of an unsolved murder of a Zen Buddhist monk. The suspect, Won Yung Jung, 62, is charged with second-degree homicide in the June 2008 stabbing death of the monk, Du Chil Park, at his residence in Marshall, Virginia. The Fauquier Times reports that last week a judge agreed that there is enough evidence against Jung to certify the case to a grand jury, after an FBI agent testified that Jung admitted to being at Park’s home around the time of the murder, getting drunk and spending the night, then finding Park’s dead body the next morning. Park was found dead in the residence—which also served as a Buddhist temple—apparently several days after his death. According to two witnesses who testified last week, Jung had known Park for several years, acting for a time as the director of the temple’s legal entity on Park’s behalf, and helping with the temple’s finances. Although Jung was interviewed by investigators in 2008 and 2010, prosecutors have not said publicly why Jung was not charged with the murder until late last year. Jung was arrested at his Georgia home on November 30, 2020 and extradited to Virginia.

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In the award-winning documentary Happiness (2014), acclaimed French filmmaker Thomas Balmès captures the life of an 8-year-old monk in Bhutan named Peyangki. With his new documentary Sing Me a Song, released on January 1, 2020, Balmès returns to Bhutan to follow the now-teenaged Peyangki and creates a nuanced portrait of a young man learning about the world beyond his monastery. 

Several years have passed since the Bhutanese government began lifting bans on TV and internet use in the country, and now the daily rituals of monastic life compete with the powerful lure of smartphones. Disinterested in study, Peyangki privately forms a relationship on social media with a singer from the capital city of Thimpu and aims to leave the monastery in search of “the one he dreams of night and day.”

While other documentaries like The Social Dilemma (2020) sound the alarm on social media manipulations and their real-world consequences, Sing Me a Song offers a unique perspective: that of a young monk’s coming of age in a new era of connectivity. Caught between tradition and modernity, Peyangki’s journey, occasionally crushing and painful, has universal resonance.

Tricycle caught up (virtually) with Balmès at his home in Normandy, to talk about the tension between technology and tradition, the impacts of connectivity on society, and the power of film to hold up a mirror to our addictions.

In your documentary Happiness, Peyangki seemed to embody the Buddhist teaching about “child-mind”—approaching experience with a sense of wonder, without expectation.  When you returned for the new film, what differences did you observe? I have to say that when I came back to shoot Sing Me a Song, the first thing I observed was this scene of the young monks in the monastery, praying and playing [on their phones] at the same time. And I felt most of them had their brains turned off. The innocence that was there earlier, when shooting Happiness, that was lost. 

On one hand, this is meaningful, and connects with what the film is about. But on the other hand, I was afraid that we would miss seeing that, how Peyangki was filling up the screen with so much joy and innocence in the first film. But the reality of becoming a teenager in combination with the use of screens [changed him]. 

[In Bhutan,] they went from nothing, no screens, to, in a few months, watching 15 hours of American wrestling and porn a day. They don’t have the slightest notion of the potential negative effects of going from nothing to becoming the biggest users of screens in all of Asia. In Europe, we had TV first, and then the internet, and then mobile phones. Bhutan, they got everything all at the same time.

Did you notice technology being used in interesting ways? Or did it feel like an erosion of culture via tech addiction was taking place? From what I saw, all the teachers in the monasteries were as addicted to screens as the younger generations. In the evenings, sometimes I met with the head of the monastery, and I would see him with two iPhones, one iPad, and a computer, using all four screens at the same time. From what I observed, everybody has some kind of addiction.

Also, I think I’m the worst person when speaking about being addicted to these kinds of tools. I’ve ended up in my career with two or three mobile phones in my pocket, one for private, one for work, one for when I am abroad. So, this isn’t something I look at from a distance. Even with my family, not a day goes by where I’m not experiencing some conflict with one of my kids on this issue. It’s a daily endless battle. And how do you deal with it when homework is being done on the internet? Like my kids, everyone on Earth is spending 13 hours a day on screens. And  I don’t have the slightest clue on how to solve it. There is not a single country that has the right solution.

You hear about the people who are creating this technology, the founders of the tech companies, how they behave—they send their kids to Montessori schools where there are no screens. They know the potential threat if there is not some sort of control. I think we need to be more educated about these tools, how these applications manage to implement an addiction to the users, which are as addictive as any kind of drug.

From your observation, did Peyangki’s spiritual grounding provide a buffer against the pervasive influences of the social media apps he was so immersed in? To me, technology and the development of all these apps is connected to capitalism and consumerism. I think that [consumerism] doesn’t work on Peyangki. One of my favorite sentences in the film is when he says, “I don’t like money—when you don’t have any you need to earn it. And when you have it you need to spend it.” And he is genuinely like that, he is one of the least materialistic persons I’ve ever met. And I think that’s something he shares with many monks and people in Bhutan. I would say this attitude is less and less and is going to change. And yet, I don’t think you would hear any teenager in France who would tell you such a sentence. 

Many movies today are filled with rapid-fire montages and wall-to-wall music. I appreciated how your film didn’t tell me what to think but allowed me to engage with it, to slow down and linger in the moments and silences. It allowed me to form my own relationship with what I was watching. This relationship with rhythm and pace is cultural. It’s interesting because I cut my previous films with an older editor, and she allowed a very slow pace. With Happiness and Sing Me a Song, I’ve been working with much younger editors, born 30 years after me, and so every shot is discussed between their culture and my culture. 

To me, Sing Me a Song is super efficient, and I’m always very concerned about not being too efficient. To me, efficiency is manipulation, and I don’t want to be manipulative. I’m keen to leave a lot of time to the viewer to make up their own mind about the meaning of what is being said. 

On the other hand, I was in Sundance, showing Happiness, and two American women came out of the theater and said, “Oh my God, this is so slow, so boring!” I always take that to the editors and remind them of these two women from Sundance and say, “We must be a bit faster!”

This film comes at a time when many Bhutanese think consumer culture is eroding the country’s traditions. What do you hope Bhutanese and other viewers will take away from this film? Something I want to point out is I don’t think the film is about Bhutan. The film is about us, and people see what they want to see in it. [In Happiness] Peyangki was spending days and days with no one around, with nothing to do in the monastery, and never getting bored. Now, there is not the slightest moment of his life today where there is this emptiness. It’s done. Just like everybody. There is not the slightest moment where we can be by ourselves. Nowadays, you go to the toilet, you take your phone. I’m not sure this is the best thing we have brought to our lives.

It’s funny because I started this film 10 years ago and it could not be more apt today. Since I started the project, we have arrived at a really critical situation: [this technology] is impacting our social life, including democracy and politics. I really hope that the film will create some kind of dialogue. In France we have shown the films in schools and universities, and it has resulted in a lot of discussions. When COVID is over, we will definitely try to do the same in Bhutan as well.

The post The Monk Who Got Addicted to His Phone appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Buddhist teachings tell us that the antidote to our propensity for suffering is the noble eightfold path, guidelines that promote ethical conduct infused with compassion and wisdom. Yet in our day-to-day we cling to what we think are the ideal conditions for our personal happiness—the perfect relationship, passion, career, or city to live in that we imagine will bring us fulfillment. The recently released film from Bhutan, Lunana: A Yak in the Classroom, however, offers cinematic proof for the deeper sources of happiness within us. 

Lunana had its US premiere in January of this year at the Palm Springs International Film Festival and its New York premiere in September as part of the New York Asian Film Festival, which was held virtually. Honored as the opening selection at the Film Festival Della Lessinia in Italy, where it won Best Film, it was recently selected to represent Bhutan at the Oscars in the International Feature Film category. (This is only the second time that the tiny Himalayan nation has had an Oscar entry; the first was Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche’s movie The Cup, in 1999.)

This understated gem-in-the-rough is the handiwork of Pawo Choyning Dorji, a promising young filmmaker from this Himalayan Buddhist kingdom who learned his craft while assisting renowned lama and filmmaker Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche on the film Vara: A Blessingand later producing Hema Hema: Sing Me a Song While I Wait. The film draws us into the inner conflict of Ugyen, a young Bhutanese urbanite who sports jeans, a T-shirt with a slogan for Bhutan’s Gross National Happiness initiative, and a big set of headphones that block out the sounds around him. Ugyen dreams of breaking free of the constraints of his homeland for the promise of bigger places (Australia) in pursuit of a big-time singing career. The conflict: Ugyen has one year left on his teaching contract to pay for his government-sponsored degree. (The Bhutanese state meets its mandate to provide quality education for all citizens, regardless of how remote their locale, by offering qualified candidates a free education towards a teaching degree with the expectation that they will serve out a teaching placement equal to twice the time of their schooling.)

Although Ugyen hopes to avoid this final year of service and launch his personal plans, the education ministry assigns him to a post in Lunana, one of the most remote villages in Bhutan and probably the world. On the day of his departure, Ugyen says goodbye to his friends at the bus station and then, wearing his headphones, settles in for the long and bumpy ride north to the village of Gasa. There, he is met by two yak herders from Lunana, who will accompany him the rest of the way on the arduous, high-altitude, eight-day trek.

On the trail, Ugyen’s headphones give out and he finally hears the sounds of the surrounding environment─birdsong and the touching folksong of the yak herders: 

Like milk in a porcelain cup,
The heart is pure.
So pure that even if the cup breaks,
The milk remains milk.

Like water in a vase,
The heart is clear,
So clear that infinite beauty
Is reflected in its depth.

Two hours outside of Lunana, the entire village awaits Ugyen, waving khatas, white ceremonial scarves, to welcome and escort him the rest of the way. This reception, traditionally given to high lamas and royalty, alludes to the esteem with which they hold their new teacher. The villagers deliver Ugyen to the school─a ramshackle room with mud walls and a couple of dust-covered tables. The hopeful children listen expectantly through the unglazed windows, showing no reaction as Ugyen tells the village headman that he wants to leave immediately. The headman agrees to fulfill his request, but only after the pack horses have had a few days of rest.

Of course, what transpires during those days changes our reluctant hero’s mind. The bright-eyed school children, played by the real children of Lunana, become true teachers in this story, as they demonstrate their unfaltering aspiration for a formal education.

With scant teaching supplies, Ugyen relies on his creativity, writing all the lessons directly onto the mud walls using pieces of charcoal. When the children run out of writing paper, Ugyen resupplies them by cutting up the traditional, handmade paper panels that the villagers had installed over his windows as insulation from the cold.

As Ugyen begins to invest himself in teaching, his friends from home send a box of supplies, including a basketball and his guitar. In a scene of pure delight, the children frolic in a circle dance under the stunning Himalayan mountain backdrop as two yak herders serenade them with their favorite folksong and Ugyen heartily sings along playing his guitar. 

Watching, I understood in this scene Dorji was presenting one vision of profound happiness: a happiness uncomplicated by achievements of fame or fortune, grown from an interdependent sense of community and sufficiency mutually created and shared. This idea lies at the heart of Bhutan’s governmental policy of Gross National Happiness (GNH), which is an outgrowth of the country’s deeply embedded Buddhist character and identity. The Buddhist view that everything exists in a state of inter-relativity is key to its understanding of happiness. Enduring happiness is not self-centered or acquisition-based, but rather inclusive: happiness that exists in relationship to others and the environment. In this case, happiness generated through Ugyen’s talent and creativity was used to uplift a community in need.

And what is the story of that yak─the permanent fixture in the classroom? His name is Norbu, which means “wish-fulfilling jewel,” a symbol used in Himalayan Buddhist culture to describe one’s lama, or teacher. Although the yak provides an important function for the schoolhouse and the people of Lunana (furnishing a never-ending supply of dung used as fuel for heat), he is in fact a metaphor for Ugyen, who becomes Lunana’s wish-fulfilling teacher.

The film unfolds with the unhurried but steady pacing of a Bhutanese highlander’s trek.  The rough and spare highland conditions─no running water, heat, or electricity─are presented with a touch of humor. The movie crew lived on location in the isolated village of Lunana, at an altitude of over 5,000 meters above sea level, for two months. (Dorji admitted in an interview to having only one shower during the entire duration of shooting.) Some of the actors had never even watched a movie. Because of the lack of electricity, the film was shot using solar-powered batteries. As energy had to be used sparingly, Dorji was unable to engage in the usual process of reviewing the raw, unedited footage before leaving the village. 

Dorji wrote and directed Lunana with a restrained hand, allowing the simplicity and uncontrived kindheartedness of the Bhutanese villagers to speak for itself. But he offers a very direct message to Bhutanese young people to consider how they can invest their knowledge and skills in fulfilling the needs and dreams of their own country and people rather than running off for imagined opportunities abroad. Aside from this particular plea, Lunana reveals universal truths, or dharma, about happiness and self-realization and how harnessing our individual strengths to benefit many is the most rewarding happiness of all.

The post Teaching Happiness  appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Nothing is permanent, so everything is precious. Here’s a selection of some happenings—fleeting or otherwise—in the Buddhist world this week.

India’s WeChat Ban Controversial Among Tibetan Refugees

With debates about the Chinese messaging apps WeChat and TikTok making headlines in the US, new concern has arisen about their status in India, specifically for the Tibetan community. India has banned the apps, and two weeks ago they stopped working for residents. Many Tibetans have mourned the loss of WeChat, as it has been one of the only ways for Tibetan refugees to communicate with family members still in Tibet. But Tenzing Jigme, former president of the Tibetan Youth Congress, said he hopes the ban will help people understand the serious consequences of communicating through a Chinese app. 

According to Rest of World, a journalism organization focused on global technology, WeChat actively censors messages and blocks certain keywords, including any references to the Tibetan independence movement. Between 2014 and 2019, at least 29 Tibetans were arrested or detained based on their WeChat posts, according to the Tibet Action Institute, but the real number is believed to be much higher. In July 2019, a Tibetan man was detained for ten days for sharing a photo of the Dalai Lama on WeChat. More recently, ten Tibetans were arrested for sharing COVID-19 information through the app.

People in Tibet may be able to use WhatsApp, which is owned by Facebook, using a VPN (Virtual Private Network) to get around China’s firewall. But many people will now have to rely on international phone calls to communicate, which are expensive, and phones are always at risk of being tapped.

Sakyadhita Asks for Conference Proposals  

The Sakyadhita International Association of Buddhist Women will host its 17th conference for Buddhist women next year—and is asking anyone who is interested to submit their proposals. The theme of the conference, which is set to take place from December 24-28, 2021, in Borneo, East Malaysia, is “Buddhist Women Beyond Boundaries: Interfaith, Interdependence and Environment.” People are encouraged to submit proposals for research papers, workshops, and film screenings that relate to the theme. For more information, check out sakyadhita.org/. 

COVID-19 Pandemic Threatens Main Source of Income for Tibetan Refugees in India

Most Tibetan refugees in India make and sell sweaters and other winter clothes as their only source of income, but the COVID-19 pandemic has brought the garment buying process to a complete halt, the Economic Times reported last week. Usually the buying process begins in June, but the Tibetan Refugee Traders’ Association (TRTA) ordered all registered businesses not to buy garments until September, in the hope that there will be a vaccine by them. Most families rely all year long on the money they make over the winter, and Choe Gyaltsen, president of the TRTA, said that many Tibetan families in India will face grave financial hardship in 2021 if this year’s winter business is called off.

Bhutanese Cab Drivers Unwind in a Pandemic with Games of Archery 

A group of at least two dozen Bhutanese immigrants in New York City are turning to their country’s national pastime, archery, to cope during the pandemic, the New York Times reported this week. Archery provides this group of men, most of whom are cab drivers for Uber and Lyft, a way to unwind, exercise, and socialize at a distance—and offer prayers for the city’s comeback. They practice on land rented from a local Buddhist temple, brewing tea and eating rice for breakfast, while getting dressed in traditional burgundy tweed or gray robes. Before each match, the players say mantras to the Buddha and pour an offering of beer on the ground. As the pandemic continues, most of the players have preferred to live off savings rather than continue working and risk infecting other members of the small Bhutanese community, the Times said. There were around 24,000 Bhutanese living in the United States in 2015, according to the Pew Research Center, with most in Ohio and a significant population in Rochester, NY. 

The post Buddha Buzz Weekly: Bhutanese Cab Drivers Unwind with Archery appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Nothing is permanent, so everything is precious. Here’s a selection of some happenings—fleeting or otherwise—in the Buddhist world this week.

Monk Accused of Hate Crimes Elected to Sri Lanka’s Parliament

Galagodaatte Gnanasara, a Buddhist monk who has previously been accused of instigating hate crimes against Muslims, was elected to Sri Lanka’s parliament, Sri Lankan newspaper New Straits Times reported last week. In 2018, Gnanasara—who previously had been accused of anti-Muslim hate crimes—was found guilty of intimidating the wife of a Muslim journalist who went missing while he was investigating alleged use of chemical weapons by the Sri Lankan military. Gnanasara was sentenced to six years in prison but was given a presidential pardon by former Sri Lankan president Maithripala Sirisena after nine months. After he was released, he encouraged Buddhist monks to form their own political front. Despite Gnanasara’s popularity among right-wing Buddhists, leaders of the Buddhist priesthood in Sri Lanka have recently advocated for laws that ban monks from political positions. 

Beloved Icon of Tibetan Resistance Dies at 88

One of the longest-serving Tibetan political prisoners, Adhe Tapontsang, affectionately known as Ama Adhe, died in Dharamshala on August 3, the Central Tibetan Administration announced. She was 88. She joined the Tibetan resistance forces in 1954, providing food and provisions to Tibetans fighting against the Chinese. In 1958, Ama Adhe was arrested and served 27 years in prison, where she was one of four out of 300 women to survive a campaign of intentional starvation and torture. Ten years after fleeing to India, she published an account of her incarceration called Ama Adhe: The Voice That Remembers: The Heroic Story of a Woman’s Fight to Free Tibet. 

New York Insight Meditation Center Maintains Lease 

The New York Insight Meditation Center (NYIMC), located in the Chelsea neighborhood of Manhattan, closed its doors when COVID-19 overwhelmed New York City earlier this year. NYIMC quickly switched to online programming and has not held any in-person events since March. Now the center has announced that it has reached an agreement with the landlord of its current location, allowing NYIMC to remain in its Chelsea home for up to another ten months at a discount and with the option to negotiate terms to stay longer if it chooses. In an email newsletter, NYIMC told sangha members that this situation was a “best-case scenario” for the center. “Even with the uncertainty of not knowing if and when we might be able to safely occupy our space again, we would not likely have been able to simply walk away without litigation,” the email read. “Given that money would have to be spent, at least now we can bide our time and look forward to the possibility of smaller, in-person gatherings when it is safe to do so.” 

The pandemic has forced many sanghas and meditation centers to make tough decisions. Last month, the Brooklyn Zen Center announced that it was closing its main sangha in Brooklyn. The following week, meditation center chain MNDFL said that it was closing all its physical locations. 

Bhutan Enters First Coronavirus Lockdown 

The Buddhist kingdom of Bhutan ordered its first nationwide lockdown this week after a returning resident tested positive for the coronavirus after being discharged from quarantine, Reuters reported. A 27-year-old Bhutanese woman, returning from Kuwait, was discharged after testing negative. On Monday, however, she tested positive at a clinic in Thimphu, the country’s capital. As of Tuesday, 113 cases have been reported and no fatalities. Bhutan has the lowest number of cases in South Asia, but the global pandemic has nonetheless devastated the country’s tourism industry, which generated an average of $80 million in each of the last five years. 

The post Buddha Buzz Weekly: Hate-monger Monk Elected to Sri Lanka Parliament appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Nothing is permanent, so everything is precious. Here’s a selection of some happenings—fleeting or otherwise—in the Buddhist world this week.

Good News for Pride Month: Bhutan Moves to Decriminalize Homosexuality

In a move fit for Pride Month, Bhutan’s parliament has taken a major step toward decriminalizing homosexuality, Reuters reports. The legislative body’s lower house, the National Assembly, on June 7 passed a bill to repeal a section of the Himalayan kingdom’s penal code banning “unnatural sex,” which in practice has meant homosexuality. Now the legislation moves to the upper chamber, the National Council, where activists expect that lawmakers will vote in favor of the bill. If it passes, the act will be presented to the king of Bhutan for approval. Activist Tashi Tsheten, the director of LGBT+ advocacy group Rainbow Bhutan, told Reuters, “This is our first journey toward equality.” Human Rights Watch’s South Asia director Meenakshi Ganguly called it a “a welcome and progressive step” by the Buddhist-majority kingdom in a religiously conservative region.

Teachers Will Make the Highest Salary in Bhutan

In other news from Bhutan, the government announced that they are flipping the unofficial civil service “hierarchy” by raising the salaries of teachers and health workers above that of administration officials, according to Buddhistdoor Global. The reforms increase salaries for educators, doctors, nurses, and other medical workers, but formally promote teachers to the highest-paid civil servant positions in the country. Health Minister Lyonpo Dechen Wangmo told the Bhutanese that the move to prioritize education and health is in line with the country’s Gross National Happiness, a philosophy of governing that prioritizes sustainable development and uses national surveys to measure the psychological well-being of its citizens.

Australian Government Honors Ajahn Brahm for Work on Gender Equality

The popular Buddhist teacher Ajahn Brahm received a high honor from the Australian government for his “significant service to Buddhism, and to gender equality.” Each year on the Queen’s Birthday, the British commonwealth appointments notable people to be new members of the Order of Australia in recognition of their contributions to society. This year’s list included Ajahn Brahm, who in 2009 ordained four Buddhist nuns—the first in Australia. As a result, the senior monks in his Thai Forest tradition of Theravada Buddhism expelled him from the lineage.

Related: Putting an End to Buddhist Patriarchy by Ajahn Brahm

China’s Panchen Lama Makes First Trip Overseas

The Chinese-selected Panchen Lama, Gyaltsen Norbu, made his first trip overseas to Thailand in mid-May, attending events and giving a speech at a university in Bangkok, according to the New York Times, citing a June 10 report in a state-run newspaper. Gyaltsen Norbu, 29, told the China News Service, that the trip made him further realize the “greatness of the motherland and the Chinese Communist Party.” The Panchen Lama is one of the most important figures in the Gelug school of Tibetan Buddhism, second only to the Dalai Lama. For generations, the Panchen Lama has been responsible for identifying the reincarnation of the Dalai Lama, who then recognizes the next incarnation of the Panchen Lama. But in May 1995, three days after His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama identified Gedhun Choekyi Nyima as the 11th Panchen Lama, Chinese authorities arrested the then-six-year-old boy, and he has not been seen in public since. In December of that year, a Chinese committee selected Gyaltsen Norbu to hold the mantle instead. In April, the Dalai Lama said that he has seen evidence that the now-30-year-old captive is still alive.

Beijing Resumes Expulsions of Monk and Nuns from Yachen Gar

China has initiated a new wave of expulsions from Yachen Gar, a Tibetan Buddhist study center in a remote part of Sichuan province, according to Radio Free Asia (RFA). The mandatory evacuations target monks and nuns who migrated from outside the region to join the Buddhist complex. Tibetan sources describe the expulsions as an “ongoing process,” and a Tibetan advocacy group has called the removals “an unfolding political strategy” on the part of Chinese officials. RFA notes that a similar tactic of expulsion was used at Larung Gar, the world’s largest Buddhist institute also in Sichuan province, where, in 2017 and 2018, Chinese authorities forcibly deported at least 4,820 Tibetan and Han Chinese monks and nuns, and demolished over 7,000 homes.

The post Buddha Buzz Weekly: “Journey Toward Equality” appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.