My first contact with Tibetan Buddhism must have happened in my late teens. I went to the oldest Buddhist temple in Europe—the St. Petersburg datsan—on a whim, and immediately loved the place.
Like most buildings in Russia at the time, it was not in a good shape—the ceiling leaked, the walls were cracked, and many of the prayer wheels around the temple were broken or missing—but the vibe was as it is now: unassuming, sacred, and playful.
The daily service (hural) is a beautiful ceremony. Monks sit in the center of the room, facing each other, and chant mantras, occasionally using special musical instruments: drums, pipes, and tambourines. The parish sits around them in silence.
At certain moments in the hour-long ritual, the audience is invited to stand up. Sometimes it’s appropriate to hold money or candy in the palm of one’s hand (there are always people who didn’t bring any, and always some who brought extra candy to pass around) and let it soak in the good energy that’s been generat…
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