Tibet Stories

Mindroling Monastery is way back in the hills at the end of a dirt road near Dranang. This is the number one monk at the monastery. He invited me into his room and served me butter tea. We were with an interpreter and after sitting quietly, sipping my tea for a few minutes, I told him his monastery was beautiful. “You can stay,” he said. I pointed to my wedding ring and said, “But I would miss my wife and children.” “They can come, too,” he replied. It was as simple as that to him.


	Mindroling Monastery is way back in the hills at the end of a dirt road near Dranang. This is the number one monk at the monastery. He invited me into his room and served me butter tea. We were with an interpreter and after sitting quietly, sipping my tea for a few minutes, I told him his monastery was beautiful. “You can stay,” he said. I pointed to my wedding ring and said, “But I would miss my wife and children.” “They can come, too,” he replied. It was as simple as that to him.
	© 2005 Forest McMullin			McMullin-129.jpg