or if it was on any significance.
First, the mountain guide then Hadji set off crawling
as I followed with the realization that if you do not ride
the lead elephant the view is always the same. We
began crawling on all fours as screaming dragon
initiates squeezed by us with horrified claustrophobic
faces. Through out the tunnel we had to make
decisions at crossroads stitched in the sides of the
dragon.
Our mountain guide did not do so well if the third guy
in line had to back up and make the decision on
which route which was always away from the
screaming voices. Like mice that finally find the
chesses at the end of the maze an initiate stuck his
head in a hole to small for the body and jet passed us
to the entrance screaming.
We all challenge each other to stick our heads in the
hole, laughing as if we knew it was a joke but the
screams told us something different. I was push up
against a side and a tear reveled what was on the
other side. A yellow hat monk with what look like a
freshly sharpened Japanese Samaria sword would
raise the blade and as a head stuck through he
would bring it down with force as to remove the head
with one swing. From what I had saw he was not a
very good shot.
We all dared each other and turn around to go back
several times then Hadji got a bold look on his face
and stuck his head in. At that distance I could see a
shadow silhouette outline of a raised sword on the
tunnel sides coming down on to Hadji's neck. The
swordsman missed again as Hadji jet pass me to
the entrance with a horrified look on his face.
Finally, I crawled forward and stuck my head in as the
Tibetan Samaria backed off and were replaced by the
largest feet I have ever seen as my eyes slowly
followed up dragon silk trousers held up by a rope to
a mountain of a monk with a big wide smile, looking
back at me. I sat there on all fours gazing at the
shinning countenance of this high innate and slowing
crawled backward, then turning making my way back
to my companions.
November 1992 Lhasa Tibet Gregory N. O’Dell
First, the mountain guide then Hadji set off crawling
as I followed with the realization that if you do not ride
the lead elephant the view is always the same. We
began crawling on all fours as screaming dragon
initiates squeezed by us with horrified claustrophobic
faces. Through out the tunnel we had to make
decisions at crossroads stitched in the sides of the
dragon.
Our mountain guide did not do so well if the third guy
in line had to back up and make the decision on
which route which was always away from the
screaming voices. Like mice that finally find the
chesses at the end of the maze an initiate stuck his
head in a hole to small for the body and jet passed us
to the entrance screaming.
We all challenge each other to stick our heads in the
hole, laughing as if we knew it was a joke but the
screams told us something different. I was push up
against a side and a tear reveled what was on the
other side. A yellow hat monk with what look like a
freshly sharpened Japanese Samaria sword would
raise the blade and as a head stuck through he
would bring it down with force as to remove the head
with one swing. From what I had saw he was not a
very good shot.
We all dared each other and turn around to go back
several times then Hadji got a bold look on his face
and stuck his head in. At that distance I could see a
shadow silhouette outline of a raised sword on the
tunnel sides coming down on to Hadji's neck. The
swordsman missed again as Hadji jet pass me to
the entrance with a horrified look on his face.
Finally, I crawled forward and stuck my head in as the
Tibetan Samaria backed off and were replaced by the
largest feet I have ever seen as my eyes slowly
followed up dragon silk trousers held up by a rope to
a mountain of a monk with a big wide smile, looking
back at me. I sat there on all fours gazing at the
shinning countenance of this high innate and slowing
crawled backward, then turning making my way back
to my companions.
November 1992 Lhasa Tibet Gregory N. O’Dell
My Traveling Companion and I had just reached the
summit of the staircase that stretched up from the
basement of the Winter Palace in Lhasa Tibet. Two
young barefoot monks age 14 at the most, who
were wearing socks that the bottoms had worn
through, jump us and rattle on about a silk tunnel
ceremony and that we are fortunate to arrive at the
right time for the fun. I was dumb founded by the
chatter until my Chinese friend translated Mandarin
from our Tibetan mountain guide who translated
Tibet to Chinese from the young pilgrims.
The Tibetan boy Lamas led us to a room with a tall
open door at least 10 feet tall and 4 foot on center.
Just over the threshold was a silk tube called the
silk dragon which snaked trough out the dark room
and into side channels as appeared from above. I
wondered, "how many silk worms and how many
years passed to produce the silk tunnel." Inside the
tunnel came screams of horror with a occasional
fear defining laugh.
The two young monks pushed us forward as our
knees bended down to crawl into the dragon, but I
did not really understand which end we were
entering into or
summit of the staircase that stretched up from the
basement of the Winter Palace in Lhasa Tibet. Two
young barefoot monks age 14 at the most, who
were wearing socks that the bottoms had worn
through, jump us and rattle on about a silk tunnel
ceremony and that we are fortunate to arrive at the
right time for the fun. I was dumb founded by the
chatter until my Chinese friend translated Mandarin
from our Tibetan mountain guide who translated
Tibet to Chinese from the young pilgrims.
The Tibetan boy Lamas led us to a room with a tall
open door at least 10 feet tall and 4 foot on center.
Just over the threshold was a silk tube called the
silk dragon which snaked trough out the dark room
and into side channels as appeared from above. I
wondered, "how many silk worms and how many
years passed to produce the silk tunnel." Inside the
tunnel came screams of horror with a occasional
fear defining laugh.
The two young monks pushed us forward as our
knees bended down to crawl into the dragon, but I
did not really understand which end we were
entering into or
A closet Buddhist from birth, I have seized every
opportunity to participate in any spiritual rite, food fast
or initiation beginning with my first Cub Scot pin,
several baptisms, and autographs from the spiritually
developed. An initiation is a pilgrim’s rite of passage,
sometimes in the physical or in the metaphysical
sense or both. Most initiations in physical sense are
ceremonial, symbolizing transformation of the old way
of life into a new better richer life fulfilled.
In the physical sense, initiation in to any order, say the
secret rites of Masons, Rosicrucian’s , or a deep full
body dunk baptism of the Christian group of the same
name, symbolize a transformation that has already
happened in the spiritual sense or at the time of the
ceremony in the metaphysical sense.
My most profound spiritual initiations have been those
of a secret nature, at the time I did not know the
initiation was taking place in any sense. Ceremonial
rites of passage are important to mark a special time
or place which is a symbolic trigger eidetic, “able to
recall or reproduce things previously seen with
startling accuracy, clarity, and vividness (Microsoft).”
Anne my better half announced that she was staying in
Guangzhou referring to me as 'Johnny' and rightfully
nicknamed my younger travel companion "Hadji',
refused to travel along with us on our spiritual Quest
(Johnny Quest © Hanna-Barbera).
opportunity to participate in any spiritual rite, food fast
or initiation beginning with my first Cub Scot pin,
several baptisms, and autographs from the spiritually
developed. An initiation is a pilgrim’s rite of passage,
sometimes in the physical or in the metaphysical
sense or both. Most initiations in physical sense are
ceremonial, symbolizing transformation of the old way
of life into a new better richer life fulfilled.
In the physical sense, initiation in to any order, say the
secret rites of Masons, Rosicrucian’s , or a deep full
body dunk baptism of the Christian group of the same
name, symbolize a transformation that has already
happened in the spiritual sense or at the time of the
ceremony in the metaphysical sense.
My most profound spiritual initiations have been those
of a secret nature, at the time I did not know the
initiation was taking place in any sense. Ceremonial
rites of passage are important to mark a special time
or place which is a symbolic trigger eidetic, “able to
recall or reproduce things previously seen with
startling accuracy, clarity, and vividness (Microsoft).”
Anne my better half announced that she was staying in
Guangzhou referring to me as 'Johnny' and rightfully
nicknamed my younger travel companion "Hadji',
refused to travel along with us on our spiritual Quest
(Johnny Quest © Hanna-Barbera).
 | |  | |  | |  |
| Silk Tunnel initiation by G. N. O'Dell |
G N O'Dell and Monk Winter Palace of the Dalia Lama
Lhasa Tibet November 1992
Lhasa Tibet November 1992
Buddha Cliff Carving High Mountain Pool Altitude 12000 ft
Hu Ran Alias Hadji Right G N O'Dell Alias Johnny Left Tibetan
Pilgrams Asking for a photo of the Dalai lama
Pilgrams Asking for a photo of the Dalai lama
Hu Ran atop of the Winter Palace of the Holy Dalai Lama