Kopan Monastery

Yesterday I took advantage of the holiday (no traffic) and the overcast weather (cooler temperatures) to walk up to Kopan monastery, about two hours away. I had to walk through town and then out past the suburbs to the top of one of the hills that surround the city. I had heard from many people that this was a beautiful monastery, but frankly most monasteries in Nepal and Tibet are very similar in architecture, decor and upkeep, so I wasn’t expecting anything too different. One thing that is special about Kopan is that is very much alive and active with a large congregation of monks and also as a teaching monastery.

As I passed through the gates and walked up the drive I was serenaded by the young monks in their classrooms reciting their lessons and by those at play around the living quarters. I continued up towards the gompa to find it chock-full of burgundy-clad monks at prayer. This is one of the two monasteries I’ve been to (and the only one in Nepal) where a microphone is used in the gompa. I can understand how it might be beneficial in such a large room, and likely helps keep little minds from wandering during prayer times, but I found it detracted from the gentle ambiance which normally pulses through a gompa. The din inside the building was almost unpleasant, and I chose to sit outside the doorway on a bench in the garden to enjoy the chanting.

Later, as I explored the sizeable grounds I found all manner of beauty: decorated chortens, statues, fountains, bougainvillea, manicured prayer gardens and wonderful smells wafting from the kitchens. It is unlike any monastery I’ve seen on this side of the world; like visiting the Hilton after a lifetime of youth hostels. I can only assume that this is funded by a steady stream of income from tourists who go there for retreats and courses on Buddhism. I was really sorry that I hadn’t found my way up there sooner, as I would surely have gone on a retreat there myself.

What I found interesting and somewhat disturbing about my visit to the monastery is the degree of detachment I felt there. Truth be told, I could still fit in a retreat if I wanted to, but I just don’t want to. I deliberately stayed outside the gompa while I was there, and only listened to the prayers for a few minutes before moving on. Unlike virtually every other visit to a Buddhist event or site, I felt like a spectator rather than a participant. I don’t think this has anything to do with Buddhism, spirituality or faith. In fact I have also felt this way in a variety of situations around Kathmandu lately. I think that in my heart and soul I have already left Nepal. I kind of miss it.