In our backyard a tattered set of Tibetan Prayer Flags flutter like butterflies anxious to be free. Four years old, their colors have faded and the individual flags have become fringed and frail from the seasonal moods of Minnesota. It makes me sad to see their decay, and happy as well.
I bought the set when I was in the small Tibetan town of Tagong. It once held a bit of an outlier reputation, almost a “wild west†sort of feel, but under Chinese occupation has felt growing pains and domestication. Or, so I have been told. The streets remained dusty, and it was not uncommon to see a Tibetan herder walking a string of horses through the back alleys.
Near the edge of town a small shop, door ajar, intrigued me with its colors. Inside, a woman who spoke almost no English sat at her sewing machine creating set after set of prayer flags. Our eyes met and she waved me in. The shelves reached floor to ceiling and were filled with varying sizes of prayer flags, aprons, wall hangings, and fabric. The woman motioned that I should look around, and I was happy to oblige.
I bought an apron in the style many traditional Tibetan women wear, two sets of prayer flags, a small wall hanging of some goddess, and a necklace of sorts. The necklace was hanging on a nail near a shelf, and was composed of a square of folded paper wrapped with brightly colored thread. I held it up to the woman and shrugged my curiosity. She pantomimed it was a sacred piece, and that I could have it. I was thrilled.
Today as I look at the prayer flags that traveled so far to grace our home, I know they are irreplaceable. The odds that I will go back to Tibet are small, and that is what makes me sad. And yet, by intention, each thread that gives way to the wind carries with it hope and a prayer for a peaceful world. It’s a beautiful design, a beautiful intention, from a beautiful culture. And that makes me happy.
Gail,
Wow, your website has changed. This is very nice. As always, your fabulous pictures makes me feel tingly sensations in inappropriate places.
-Mr. M.
This is all good, but what do you propose to do about the climate change problem. I suggest taking less flights to distant lands to cut down on carbon emissions. You go ahead and live it up in the mean time. The rest of us will do the heavy lifting for you.
-M.Y.
Dear Mr. Yunkers,
How wonderful that you take a serious view on climate change. As I read your comments I could actually feel your, um, I mean the hot air coming at me.
Thanks for the visit,
Gail
Are you suggesting that I’m a simple blowhard? I take offense to your loaded commentary. I take every moment to engage every man, woman, and child in teachable moments. The planet is dying. That is a fact. I get tired of the typical American attitude that suggests that we’ll just sit in the back seat of life and see how things pan out. I’m a man of action. For the record my breath is 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit. I don’t think that’s too hot, and neither does my cat Mittens.
-M.Y.
Mittens clearly needs more glove, er, love.
I’ll have you know that my cat Mittens gets all the love she can possibly handle. After reading to her from my favorite Environmentally conscious magazines I give her an Earth friendly — as well as animal friendly — soy based kitty treat. For some reason she doesn’t seem to like this as much as tuna, or other fish. I keep trying to tell her that she should switch to soy. I tell her that eating tuna is what the Capitalist Imperialist Pigs wants her to eat. I explain that her hunger is actually feeding the very machine that is destroying our planet. She just stares at me as she continues to scratch my sofa. She’s a constant test of my patience, but I firmly believe if I keep up my professing she will become saturated with enlightenment. I hate to admit this, but she’s just as stubborn as my ex-wife. I will prevail!
-M.Y.
Dear Mr. Yunkers,
I think I speak for the planet when I say thank you for your extraordinary concern. I think I speak for the cat when I say she wants to run away.