...because it's a series of pictures of a Tibetan sky burial.

Ok, let's be more specific here: do not follow this link (which is at the end of the post) without first reading the description (and the description is pretty graphical itself, so if you're squeamish you might want to just give up here, and nobody will blame you). Also, do not follow it if you are in any way squeamish. Also do not follow it if you don't want to see a dismembered human body.

In case "sky burial" sounds awfully poetic, well, maybe call it "a feast for vultures"?

There are about 60 pictures, and this is what happens. Some Tibetan people on a motorcycle bring a dead man's body to a wide open field. Vultures start to gather. The men make many cuts in the body with hatchets, to make it easier for the vultures to eat. An incredible number of vultures crowd on the body and eat it. They fight over choice morsels. What is left is a skull attached to a spine, and legbones attached to hipbones. The men collect the remains and chop them up further and pound them on a flat stone into a pulp. This includes the contents of the skull (clearly pictured). Then they put it out again for the vultures to finish off. Which they do. A lot of feathers are left on the ground.

There are also a lot of pictures of vultures flying, sitting around, and eating.

So why am I linking to it at all? Because I think it's a fascinating document, and probably one that isn't easy to come across. *But*: I've known about sky burials for a long time, though I'd never seen one, and I knew what to expect; and I'd been curious for some time; and more importantly, my level of squeamishness is pretty much zero.

[ETA: Apparently the site where the pictures are posted has hardcore porn ads, adding a whole 'nother level of squeamishness :-). I hadn't seen them because I use Adblocker on Firefox and so I don't see any ads. I still haven't seen them, but you're warned anyway... Apologies to the previously unwarned.]

So this is the link. (Hat-tip to Pharingula.)

(This is a traditional Tibetan Buddhist burial, but definitely not the only kind of Buddhist burial. It seems very appropriate though, if you know your Buddhism. I don't think I would mind being "buried" like this. On the other hand, I really don't know if I could do the job for someone else.)

...oh, and now a section of the text by David-Néel may just have unstuck me in the scene I'm half-way through revising. In any case it's moved my thinking on -- even if it gets stuck again later.

In the extract from her book Magic and Mystery in Tibet (1929, and from what I've seen, actually better than what the title makes it sound like), she talks about a form of retreat called tsams. (And while looking for more details, I've found the same passage online, so I might as well link it...).

This retreat can be done in a monastery or in a special building, but also at home; and although it's mentioned mainly in the context of Buddhist practice, "A number of Tibetans resort occasionally to one or another of these mild forms of seclusion for non-religious motives, seeking merely to avoid disturbance while engaged in the study of any branch of Tibetan learning: grammar, philosophy, astrology, medicine, etc."

She describes the tsams done at home: "According to the rule which he has adopted, the tsamspa either may be seen or must remain invisible. In the first case, he is generally permitted to talk briefly with the members of the household, his relatives or servants, and even to receive a few visitors. In the second case, he may only be seen by those who attend him. If a visitor is admitted, he must remain within hearing outside the tsamspa's room. A curtain screens the entrance and the interlocutors remain invisible to each other as in some Roman Catholic contemplative orders of nuns. [....]
He who sees no one at all.
In this case, if the tsamspa enjoys the use of a suite of rooms, his meals are brought into one of them, while he retires into another. When he lives in a single room, food is placed next the entrance. Someone knocks at the door to inform the recluse that what he needs is ready, and then the inmates of the house leave the adjacent room or corridors for a moment to allow the tsamspa to come out without being seen. Any object is returned in the same way, the tsamspa calling attention by knocking at the door or ringing a bell."

Now, while I had assumed that some of the people in the story-world went on retreats, especially on a certain island, I hadn't thought much about the form of such retreats. But reading this, it became immediately blindingly obvious that they must do the same at home occasionally -- and especially in the "Old City" where all the houses seem to have a lot of spare space. And so they must have rules and traditions about this.

...and this gives me a perfect explanation for why our hero can sit undisturbed in her room while the rest of the House is frantically running around in circles, and nobody barges into her room to panic at her or ask her for something or other. She's simply displayed a sign of being "on retreat" outside her door. (And given the circumstances, her relatives who see it have no trouble imagining what she's doing it for. Most of them are wrong, but that is irrelevant -- they leave her alone.)

Whee! But now, to bed. Maybe I dream the rest of the solution. (Never happens, more's the pity -- but one can hope...)

I was reading the about.com page[1] about Nirvana (or Parinirvana) Day, which is tomorrow.

At one point it says, "The Buddha taught that Nirvana was beyond human imagination, and so speculation about what Nirvana is like is foolish." And this is followed immediately by an internal about.com link: "Read More: What Is Nirvana?".

I actually did laugh out loud all on my lonesome.

[1] The Buddhism section of about.com has just been taken over by a very intelligent woman whose blog I was reading more for the Buddhist than the political content, so I'm keeping an eye on it.

Some notes on the role of women in early Indian Buddhism from a book that has a few interesting points and a lot of things that irritate me (but then I'm not the primary audience for it, given that I'm not a specialist in either Indian palaeography, early Indian Buddhist history, or Indian archaeology... Still, I think I'm right in screaming at the lack of consideration for alternative possibilities in the book. Anyway.)
( This is boring unless you happen to be interested in the history of women in early Buddhism. And even then, I don't know... )

Amnesty International Irish Section is joining Burma Action Ireland in calling all human rights activists to take to the streets on Saturday 29 September from 2pm to 4pm.  In Dublin we will be assembling at the Spire on O’Connell Street but activists everywhere are urged to take the streets in their own community.

They do not say so on the site (though they exemplify it in the picture), but I would encourage people to wear red -- or russet, burgundy, orange, pink -- to the demo. Or even if you aren't going to the demo. In solidarity. Yes I know, it's a miserable day and you'll probably want to wear a coat and maybe you don't have a red coat. You can wear a red scarf. See the picture on the linked Amnesty page to see what I mean.

For UK information, and for links to Burma-related news and campaigns, see this post by annafdd (which not only saved me some work, but also reminded me that it would be a good idea to post this here).

From The myth of freedom and the way of meditation, by Chögyam Trungpa (1976).

"Meditation is not a matter of trying to achieve ecstasy, spiritual bliss or tranquility, nor is it attempting to become a better person. It is simply the creation of a space in which we are able to expose and undo our neurotic games, our self-deceptions, our hidden fears and hopes. We provide space through the simple discipline of doing nothing.

"Actually, doing nothing is very difficult. At first, we must begin by approximating doing nothing, and gradually our practice will develop. So meditation is a way of churning out the neuroses of mind and using them as part of our practice. Like manure, we do not throw our neuroses away, but we spread them on our garden; they become part of our richness.

( It goes on... )

I have to return this book, so I'm noting down a couple of things that I want to remember or look into later. (I'm doing it here because it looks like the most likely place where I will remember to look when I need them...)

From Dakini's Warm Breath, by Judith Simmer-Brown.
( Snippety snip )

This is just too funny for comment.

(From a jataka story about king Candraprabha, who was so generous that he gave away his own head)

[The goddesses living in a park try to stop the evil brahmin (Devadatta, who else?) from taking the King's head. The king protests and tells them not to hinder him, giving various reasons.] "Moreover, goddesses, this is the very spot where I sacrificed myself to a tigress and thus outdistanced Maitreya, who had set out for buddhahood forty aeons before. Maitreya bodhisattva was outdistanced by a single gift of my head!"

The book I'm reading is full of fairly insane pieces, but this is the most hilarious yet...