Losar Activities at Dzamling Gar
Wood Snake Year
Divination soup the night before Losar, Losar morning Mandarava practice and breakfast, spaghetti lunch with Rosa Namkhai and games. Astrology reading for the Wood Snake Year by Dr Phuntosg Wangmo. Installation of the Changchub Dorje Stupa made by Migmar Tsering (see article).
Mandarava
Return to Paradise
By Beth Norris
A longtime cherished vajra sister reached out to me, seemingly out of the blue, to invite me to Dzamling Gar for Losar. She plucked me out of samsara. I had never been to Dzamling Gar and I hadn’t been to a retreat since our precious teacher transitioned. Obstacles instantly manifested in my mind…dog, job, grandkids, baby shower, money. Truth be told, I haven’t been a great practitioner in the recent era. Mostly I had just been doing shitro for my dead homies…people dying from fentanyl, old age, and illness… and guru yoga…alone.
I booked a ticket within the hour. I registered for two online preparation courses, ordered some chudlen, borrowed a book and text on the Mandarava practice from a Vajra friend, and made a dadar from one of my son’s hunting arrows. Fearing I’d be living on air and rice, I gathered an arsenal of foraged and purchased herbs for tea.
When I finally arrived…it was as if I hadn’t left, as if Rinpoche was still seated before me in the flesh, as if Fabio hadn’t mellowed like fine wine, as if I didn’t have bad knees, extra pounds, and graying hair. Suddenly I was a beautiful immortal dakini, manifesting orgies of yab yum, spewing blue molten lava like a volcano, relaxing in a misty rainbow on the horizon at dawn. At sunset, I’d chop open my skull to satisfy my debtors. Sleep became solid. Dreams became vivid.
The essence of Margarita Island, Khandroling, Baja, and Argentina arrived with me, a mandala of merged memories, familiar faces, and blissful winds. I hugged people I knew and kissed dear ones on the head. I teased a friend about the tent I once traded him for a bottle of Los Gatos wine. I negotiated sleeping arrangements with my Vajra sister Monica and marveled that we were in an actual apartment with amenities, instead of tents.
The immersion was intense. All days began at 7:30 a.m. and included three Mandarava practices, interspersed with yoga, dance, replays of Rinpoche, and Tsalung teachings. Some nights included Chöd. I was often the first person to the Gönpa in the morning, though a few others often joined me. One practitioner did yoga on the balcony as the sun rose. The Gönpa was so magical and beautiful with views of both the mountains and ocean. Practitioners helped me with mudras, melodies, texts, and with where to find a nearby beach of polarity with black sand in one direction and white sand in the other.
Though we ate less, we ate well. My vajra sister Monica raced to the farmers market the moment we arrived and again the next weekend, the moment it opened. She prepared fresh veggies and rice daily. We feasted on her daily creation accompanied by local cheese, olives, papayas, and tea. Neighbors joined us somedays. I called my kids to let them know I wasn’t living on air after all. Every day I went to the café for a golden milk. Irma from Switzerland, Martin from Germany, and Sebastien from France were often sidled up at the counter. Naomi often made an appearance. I savored the carrot and plum cakes. (Seriously, could someone share these recipes?).
Dr. Phuntsog’s wide advice was a precious gift. Seeing her and Rosa participating in practice daily felt so special. Fabio was patient and diligent. I spent much of my intention trying to pull my nose back so it lined up with my belly button. I felt proud that Naomi was from my home Gar and I came to wonder if Sebastien ever actually slept. He was everywhere.
During breaks, I ventured across the street for things like oranges, water, toilet paper, garbage bags, postcards, Canarian cuisine, and a really interesting massage. Though we rode cars to beaches, forest trails, and Mt. Teide, I was content living on foot, away from the traffic that is such a relentless part of my daily life back home.
Each day, I meandered along stone paths under archways of blooms. I could live forever in the beauty of the plants and flowers— the smell of the roses, rosemary, fruit, honeysuckle, and angels trumpets– in the garden that is the Dzamling Gar. The rosemary bush outside my door was as large as a tree! The birds were so loud that when I called a friend, he asked what he was hearing in the background. I spied the bird from the t-shirt.
A moment came when I realized the incredible preciousness of the folks hosting and leading the retreat. Their well-grooved efforts were a quiet perpetual dance surrounding us at all times. We were in a mandala of grace. I am incredibly grateful. Thank you so much dear ones. Happy year of the Wood Snake. Cheers to an immortal vajra life.
March 2025