Obstacles

It had taken three years, a lot of disappointment and considerable stress to get here. But finally, it had all fallen into place. I could still use the ticket I bought last year, a mere day before it would expire, and Rinpoche and Pema had come through on the arduous visa process, in which I was an invited guest. This avoids having to pay $240 dollars per day as a regular tourist, something most dharma practitioners can’t afford. After three days in Kathmandu, I boarded the small aircraft and headed over the Himalayas. The short one-hour voyage was pleasant but uneventful, as clouds preventing us from seeing the majestic snow-covered ranges. We did see the mountains however, for Bhutan’s one small airport is nestled in a valley, and in order to land, the pilot has to deftly thread through the crags and peaks, to the horror of some tourists!

The small airport was quite distinct, done in traditional Bhutanese architectural style. However, the long immigration line was the same familiar wait. Finally reaching the counter, it turned out that, because I had an invitation, I got to go to ANOTHER, different line. This was now starting to feel comfortably like Asia. But, when I at last reached this desk, I was in for a further surprise. Being ushered into an official-looking room with a view is not a good sign. My Tibetan is pretty fair, but Dzongka is different enough that I really couldn’t make out what they were yammering about. Fortunately they speak English. Unfortunately, they weren’t speaking it to me. The gist of it was this: my visa did not match my plane ticket. I was to arrive here on March 17th, according to my visa, but here it was, the 16th, and well—I was a day early. This was a communication error, I explained, as telephone and email to and from Bhutan is a dodgy affair . Outside of Thimpu, internet is almost non-existent, and cell phones work sometimes. Electricity is also there, in some places. Yet the Bhutanese seem to have more government per capita than any other country in the world. They love tradition, order and convention. But that can easily translate into bureaucracy—when the letter of the law is far more important than the spirit. When the Earth Element is so over done, conformity becomes a straightjacket rather than a helpful framework. When structure becomes a straight-jacket. Some people, and some cultures (India for example) absolutely love bureaucracy, mainly because it gives a sense of power and rulership (earth element) to those who are really in less power (government employees) over those in more power (rich tourists who have the freedom to go where they want at certain times of the year!).

Suddenly Rinpoche appeared. My anticipation of a warm greeting and exchange of the traditional white scarf evaporated. It was replaced by a quick nod, followed by long conversations in Dzongka with the officials, in which Rinpoche was contrite, convincing, explanatory, requesting and appealing to various ideas of fairness and forgiveness, by turns! The female boss lady, who I was convinced was an avenging demon, bureaucratic fascist and man-hater, also by turns, remained firm. It was a case of “Illegal Entry” and either I would be shipped back to some foreign country, or Rinpoche would have to go into Thimpu and back, a two hour journey, and get new forms filled out, and signatures signed, a journey of unknown duration. Rinpoche was on the phone to various officials and contacts, looking up numbers and negotiating with the Demoness and her crew. Both he and I remained utterly calm, never losing our cool, smiling, joking almost as if we were enjoying the ordeal that lasted another hour. Just when it appeared all was lost and I would be in limbo for a day or more, feeling I had become a burden, I was suddenly spoken to. Did I have $200? I pulled out two crisp new bills and laid them out. Magically, all the problems suddenly melted away in a warm glow of understanding. I would pay the fine for my crime and all would be well! But this was not some under the table bribe or baksheesh as in many Third World countries. That would have been too easy, though much preferable. Instead there was another half hour of paperwork, receipts, forms and stamps. 

Finally released, we walked back into the terminal which was now empty. We found our way to the luggage carousel—which was also now empty. Where was my one lonely bag? Rallying the few employees still left in the cavernous room, including our tormentors who were leaving for the day (the last plane had arrived after all), there was further scurrying, looking, talking and gesticulating. It can to light that my luggage had gone over to the import warehouse, a short walk away. Why? This will remain one of the great hidden mysteries of the inscrutable East for some time. Waiting out in the Bhutanese sunshine, I felt light and joyous. Pema and some official walked off into a field, and came back 20 minutes or so later with my bag. We threw it into the back of his green Toyota pickup and were off.

We laughed long and hard at the entire comedy of errors. “A very tiny problem” Rinpoche commented, and we all agreed that this “barché” or obstacle was most auspicious. I had paid off whatever karmic debt was owed, and our way was now clear. Two hundred was in an incredibly small price to pay for whatever misdeeds, negative actions or problems I had created in relationship to this place. My tormentor had been my benefactor, a wrathful manifestation of ruthless compassion. If you embark on the spiritual path, it is payback time. Nuisances, blockages, hassles, become recognized as our own ripened karmic seeds. Becoming indignant, hostile or demanding or furthers our descent into the quicksand of our own delusions. Whatever happens, good or bad, is taken on the path, becomes the path. And that path is wherever you find yourself. It seems like a big responsibility to own one’s life and al that takes place within it. But then at least that life is yours. Everything arises as it should and how one meets it is everything. The victim disappears. That blessed Demoness goddess cleared by way and empowered me to the adventures that lay ahead. Our first breathless stop was the golden cremation stupa of Dilgo Khyentse, one of the greatest and most revered Tibetan teachers of the modern era. I had spent many happy days at his monastery, more than 25 years ago, as he poured forth endless initiations, transmissions and teachings: A bottomless, ever flowing fount of spiritual power. It was wonderful to meet him again here. The rich gift of dharma continued, as I walked next to Tsewong Rinpoche whose generosity and kindness is more precious than a million worlds of human gold, status and influence.

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