Jim: > Absoultely. The judgement of what is best is purely subjective, > whereas the determination of what is purest can be measured by its > effectiveness. > > By the way the only time I ever saw a turquoise bee was on the > island of Java. How did you come by the name?
It's an admitted ripoff of the nickname of the Sixth Dalai Lama, Tsangyang Gyatso. The Great Fifth built the Potala and consolidated both the religious and secular life of Tibet. And then he up and croaked, without really doing what his predecessors had done and letting his fellow monks know where he was to be reborn. They actually hid the fact of his death for some years, while a Regent ruled Tibet, claiming to still be speaking with with the now-deceased DL on a daily basis. Then, using the techniques that the Tibtetans have devel- oped, they found the dude. Late. He was already approach- ing puberty, as opposed to the "rule," which was to be discovered when he was much younger. They brought him to the Potala, he passed all the tests, and they named him Dalai Lama. But there was a problem. He refused to take his vows as a monk, and he refused to take himself as seriously as the monks around him wanted him to. During the day, he ruled Tibet as its secular and religious leader. But at night he would sneak out of the Potala and walk down to Shol-town, which was Lhasa's red light district. There, he would drink and carouse with the girls and a few of his fellow rebel monks, writing poetry and songs in the process. His songs and poetry are still considered among the best that Tibet has ever produced. He called himself, as a poet, the Turquoise Bee. I've pasted in a few of the songs in below, since you asked, from the late Rick Fields' marvelous book, "The Turquoise Bee." He was so controversial that he was finally murdered. By the Chinese, but very possibly with the cooperation of his own fellow monks, for whom he had grown a bit too controversial. I stole his name because I like his attitude. :-) Unc ********************************** White teeth smiling Brightness of skin. On my seat in the high lama's row At the quick edge of my glance I caught her looking at me. ********************************** By drawing diagrams on the ground The stars of space can be measured. Though familiar with the soft flesh Of my lover's body I cannot measure her depths. ********************************** If young girls never died There would be no need to brew beer. At such a time This is a young man's surest source of refuge. ********************************** The meeting place for me and my love Is the dense forest of the southern valley. Except for the chattering parrot No one knows about it. Please, talkative parrot Don't give away our secret. ********************************** People talk about me. What they say may be true. But just three short steps Take me to the wine house of my lover. ********************************** Don't tell me, "Tsangyang! you're depraved." Just like you I desire pleasure and comfort, too. ********************************** Meditating, my lama's face Does not shine in my mind. Unbidden my lover's face Again and again appears. ********************************** I sought my lover at twilight Snow fell at daybreak. Residing at the Potala I am Rigdzin Tsangyang Gyatso But in the back alleys of Shol-town I am rake and stud Secret or not No matter. Footprints have been left in the snow. To subscribe, send a message to: [EMAIL PROTECTED] Or go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/FairfieldLife/ and click 'Join This Group!' Yahoo! Groups Links <*> To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/FairfieldLife/ <*> To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: [EMAIL PROTECTED] <*> Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to: http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/
