Celebration Monastic style: Let them eat Steak!

The six-week Yarne or monsoon Retreat ended last Saturday when lots of people came to the monastery  early in the morning before breakfast bearing fruits and all sorts of small items like soap. Those of us living inside were assigned to join them for the first celebration ritual. 

Since 14 monks completed the Yarne retreat, each of us had to have 14 of the same item to offer. Tradition called for fruit but small personal items like soap or toothbrushes were also allowed. All of us non monks lined up two arm lengths apart around the perimeter of the monastery, juggling our offerings.  Having not known about this giving ritual until it happened, I was suddenly glad I stockpile food for emergency moments just like this.  I broke open a box of cookies I'd brought with me, counted out 14 three times and went to the kitchen in search of baggies. Happily after that frenzy, I was calmly in place with a smile and a shopping bag full of bagged cookies, standing between a Chinese woman with 14 plums and another Chinese woman with 14 tubes of toothpaste.

The sound of the longhorns called us to attention. The monks, in various ceremonial hats and robes all red or yellow, came down the steps from the main monastery single file parading behind the horn blowers. Each was carrying a small black begging bowl--which I recognized as the noodle soup bowls from the dining room.  As each monk passed, we had to put our contribution in that small bowl, which got pretty tricky by the time they got to my section because the bowls were brimming with apples, grapes and pears.  I slid my baggies of cookies in without dropping any, quickly one, quickly another. The line moved fast. The monks couldn't look at us or break stride.

When the parade reached its starting point, it was over.  Big empty boxes were waiting and all the begging bowl contents were dumped into them. The monks went to remove their costumes and the boxes were carried into the dining room as an offering. Breakfast was finally served.

Apparently it is also ritual tradition that all monks must leave the monastery the day after Yarne retreat ends. Having been cooped up for six weeks, they must go out to the world, so an outing had been planned, or sort of planned, and I was commandeered into participating because they needed three cars for 19 monks. The idea was to leave Vancouver and go across the water to Vancouver Island for a real leaving. But that idea involved all of us getting up before dawn to make the 7 AM ferry. I got up at 5 but it was worse for the monks. They have to do the Tara protection puja every morning: it takes over an hour, so they had to get up at 4 and were chanting away when I came downstairs at 5:30 ready to go.  That's the price of a day off.

The three vans drove through the dark in drizzly fog of 6 AM to the Tsewassen Ferry Terminal, about 20 minutes from the monastery. This was my first experience with British Columbia Ferries and it was seriously impressive. They cost but they deliver. Clean, courteous, convenient and crammed with anything you might need: bus tickets, tourist info, snacks, wi-fi, sun room seating, business center, soup bar, shopping arcade, video games...

 As we approached there were flashing signs overhead alerting us that the ferries were already 25% full: we had a fighting chance!  We paid a pretty penny for the van with 7 people, $156 to be exact, and waited patiently to board. Monks in the other vans were already inside the food court having breakfast while we waited.  Magically at 6:40 the ferry docked and the cars rolled off, dozens and dozens of them. At 6:50 we rolled on and exactly at 7 that loud whistle sounded and we pulled away from the pier. By then I and the six monks in my van were seated in the scenic view restaurant having a huge steamship style buffet breakfast for $20 each, each of the monks, I noticed, piling their plates with sausage. It was elegant.

Then we went out on deck where all the monks were all busy taking pictures of each other as evergreen islands and white sailboats went by. I got asked to take a lot of portraits. We were all back in the van for our perfect 8:40 arrival, rolled off on cue and easily made our way on very well marked roads to Butchart Gardens, a world famous attraction that opens at 9. It is indeed so world famous that the admissions clerk told us she had guides to the gardens in 16 languages including Urdu. Hearing that, for the fun of it, I got the monks in my van one in Hindi, which is cousin to Nepali, so they all understand it.

What happened next in the gardens was that the 19 monks clumped together to go around, stopping endlessly to take pictures of each other or themselves in every scene. This seemed to be quite amusing to them and they were so obsessed by it, I started taking pictures of them taking pictures of each other. We got through the gardens in record time, the longest event being the carousel where I treated them for $2 a head to a ride. The attendant was a bit boggled by 19 monks in maroon robes going up and down on the various animals-- a frog, a leopard, horses--shouting to each other in Tibetan while "Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head" played from the tinny speakers. 

We sped through the roses and Japanese garden since they apparently had enough photos, stopped at a refreshment stand where they treated me to water and themselves to water, ice cream and soda. Then back in the vans and by 10:15 we were on the road to Victoria proper. Very proper. Parliament. 

It was a spectacularly clear and warm Sunday and Victoria was crowded with tourists and locals strolling around the harbor on streets closed to cars. Nineteen maroon clad monks taking pictures of each other on the huge Parliament lawn became another tourist attraction, prompting even more photos. Then we paraded into the mobs on the car-less shopping streets, searching for a restaurant.

We found a place that set us up banquet style at two long tables in the back, a place whose menu had everything from nachos and Caesar Salad to roasted vegetable quesadillas, Thai coconut soup and mile high hamburgers. Drink orders were all fruit juice. Every monks ordered at least two dishes: one of them had a whole pizza and then the roast chicken plate. At least a half dozen monks had the 9 ounce steak.

And that was it. We had to drive like bats out of hell to make the 4 o'clock ferry because the lead van was following GPS instead of the highway that goes straight from Victoria to the ferry. That's the downside of GPS: it doesn't discriminate between types of roads so we were stuck in Sunday traffic in center city instead of whizzing north on the highway. But we made it at the last second, speeding under a lighted sign that said the ferry was 63% full. 

The monks were back in the monastery just after 6, in high spirits and in time for Joan's vegetarian Chinese supper. Yarne was officially over for another year.




~Sandy Garson "Wordsmithing to attest how the Dharma saved me from myself!"
http://www.sandygarson.com
http://yoursinthedharma.blogspot.com/
Technorati Tags: Yours In The Dharma, Sandy Garson, Dharma, Buddhist, Buddhism, Spirituality, Religion This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.
Click here to request Sandy Garson for reprint permission.
Yours In The Dharma 2001-2010, Sandy Garson Copyright 2001-2010 Sandy Garson All rights Reserved