Power of Prayer Flags
During the holiday season, outdoor markets sprout up, with stands selling assorted gifts. Many markets feature a stand of Tibetan goods, featuring miniature buddhas and bohdisatvas, prayer wheels, ringing bowls, and prayer flags. You can see prayer flags in front yards in some educated neighborhoods, providing lively splashes of color as well as evidence of a multicultural spirit, at least in terms of shopping.
My first experience of prayer flags was during a two month trip to India a number of years ago. My friend Julia and I spent a weekend in Dharamsala, an overnight bus trip from New Delhi (Note: An overnight bus trip in India is something you must experience). The town has a very large expatriate Tibetan community as the home of the Tibetan government-in-exile and the Dalai Lama. All over the town are long strands of prayer flags stretching from buildings, trees, and telephone poles, a pleasant contrast to the dinginess of many small Indian towns.
The strands have flags in five colors: blue, white, red, green and yellow. The colors symbolize the five elements: sky, air, fire, water and earth, very similar to classical classification of the elements. Printed on the flags are symbols of good fortune and assorted prayers. When the flags catch the wind, tradition is that the flags pass on the prayers to the wind. Putting up prayer flags in some ways resembles lighting a candle in a Christian church. It is common in parts of Asia to pass on prayers in such a way, whether by flags in the air, spinning wheels of prayers, or sculptures in the water, with prayers passed on by water, such as these below in Kbal Spean, in Cambodia.
It was enchanting to see the town covered with the colors of the flags. We walked across from our hotel through a wooded area to the sites of the main Buddhist temples. As we walked through the cool shade (cool shade in India in June is truly to be treasured), we ran across tattered bits of faded flags. I was then overwhelmed with the understanding of what the flags symbolized--calling it an epiphany or enlightenment would be overstating it, even in context of who and where I was, a man on the eve of his 40th birthday wandering around India and, later, Jerusalem.
When put up, strands of flags are strongly held together, vibrant in color and taught unblemished cloth. But over time, the colors tend to fade. The cloth thins, starts to tear. Eventually the strands connecting the flags break, some flags dangling from poles and buildings, some falling to the ground. The flags are like us, bold and strong in our youth, singing to all the joys of life in long groups of similar comrades. But our color tends to fade over time. Connections with others wither, our bodies wear and decay. Eventually we fall to earth, as others take our place.
When Robin and I moved into our house, we put up sets of prayer flags that I had bought in India several years before. They were beautiful to see on a spring afternoon, fluttering in the wind, full of color. Over a couple years of sun, rain and winter, they started to fall apart. We sometimes wondered if the neighbors disliked the ratty bits of cloth hanging in our yard. But we liked to watch the process, to find little bits of flag in the garden when cleaning up in spring. The flags were truly like the candles lit in a church, at first strong and bright, then gradually melting away. Twenty years ago, as a graduate student at Kent State University, I took a turn at the annual vigil held in memory of the victims of the shooting. I stood in the middle of the night where William Schroeder died, watching the candles placed earlier that evening fizzle out, much as lives, once strong and bright, decay and disappear.
I rarely see faded or ratty flags on display. They always tend to be new and fresh, perhaps discarded and replaced when they begin fade (in neighborhoods where everyone has the latest gadgets, it's no surprise that a faded prayer flag would be as unacceptable as a flip phone). A temporary decoration. Though it seems grim, pondering and even embracing the fate of prayer flags gives a great joy to life, as knowing the future allows one to appreciate and revel in the present, no matter how unpleasant its form may take. Perhaps it's time to put up a new set of prayer flags.
My first experience of prayer flags was during a two month trip to India a number of years ago. My friend Julia and I spent a weekend in Dharamsala, an overnight bus trip from New Delhi (Note: An overnight bus trip in India is something you must experience). The town has a very large expatriate Tibetan community as the home of the Tibetan government-in-exile and the Dalai Lama. All over the town are long strands of prayer flags stretching from buildings, trees, and telephone poles, a pleasant contrast to the dinginess of many small Indian towns.
The strands have flags in five colors: blue, white, red, green and yellow. The colors symbolize the five elements: sky, air, fire, water and earth, very similar to classical classification of the elements. Printed on the flags are symbols of good fortune and assorted prayers. When the flags catch the wind, tradition is that the flags pass on the prayers to the wind. Putting up prayer flags in some ways resembles lighting a candle in a Christian church. It is common in parts of Asia to pass on prayers in such a way, whether by flags in the air, spinning wheels of prayers, or sculptures in the water, with prayers passed on by water, such as these below in Kbal Spean, in Cambodia.
It was enchanting to see the town covered with the colors of the flags. We walked across from our hotel through a wooded area to the sites of the main Buddhist temples. As we walked through the cool shade (cool shade in India in June is truly to be treasured), we ran across tattered bits of faded flags. I was then overwhelmed with the understanding of what the flags symbolized--calling it an epiphany or enlightenment would be overstating it, even in context of who and where I was, a man on the eve of his 40th birthday wandering around India and, later, Jerusalem.
When put up, strands of flags are strongly held together, vibrant in color and taught unblemished cloth. But over time, the colors tend to fade. The cloth thins, starts to tear. Eventually the strands connecting the flags break, some flags dangling from poles and buildings, some falling to the ground. The flags are like us, bold and strong in our youth, singing to all the joys of life in long groups of similar comrades. But our color tends to fade over time. Connections with others wither, our bodies wear and decay. Eventually we fall to earth, as others take our place.
When Robin and I moved into our house, we put up sets of prayer flags that I had bought in India several years before. They were beautiful to see on a spring afternoon, fluttering in the wind, full of color. Over a couple years of sun, rain and winter, they started to fall apart. We sometimes wondered if the neighbors disliked the ratty bits of cloth hanging in our yard. But we liked to watch the process, to find little bits of flag in the garden when cleaning up in spring. The flags were truly like the candles lit in a church, at first strong and bright, then gradually melting away. Twenty years ago, as a graduate student at Kent State University, I took a turn at the annual vigil held in memory of the victims of the shooting. I stood in the middle of the night where William Schroeder died, watching the candles placed earlier that evening fizzle out, much as lives, once strong and bright, decay and disappear.
I rarely see faded or ratty flags on display. They always tend to be new and fresh, perhaps discarded and replaced when they begin fade (in neighborhoods where everyone has the latest gadgets, it's no surprise that a faded prayer flag would be as unacceptable as a flip phone). A temporary decoration. Though it seems grim, pondering and even embracing the fate of prayer flags gives a great joy to life, as knowing the future allows one to appreciate and revel in the present, no matter how unpleasant its form may take. Perhaps it's time to put up a new set of prayer flags.
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