Garthar Chöde, 2004

In the morning we were told the local tulku was waiting for us. He was sixty-four; he had been found at six, tested until thirteen, and had lived in the monastery ever since. He answered my questions and said that I myself do not know who I am, where I come from, what my past lives were or my purpose in this one, and that is why so much in this life will seem inexplicable to me. The people I meet are arranged so that I cannot fail to meet them, and so that, meeting them for the first time, I would not be lost and would behave as if we had always known each other. When he finished his tea and put the cup down, we understood the audience was over. He gave each of us a sweet and put a white khata around our necks.