tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74895135097567225452024-02-20T14:08:30.081-08:00The Words..thinley dorjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06438424040755225826noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7489513509756722545.post-4449340670449562632011-09-14T10:17:00.000-07:002011-09-20T08:03:12.247-07:00<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></div><div class="Section1" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRMtPwB025N5LgSDT1eoZtIbb3bRIOw8oS9g7EWC1itlFmZ4O-kXr0IYd26KG-s2zAGP277AibR1DDVImJVqk1CqZtlGcyNUSS-vbUZZ1gbTRcqiHtoFTYzdsPSzj0Kc8TD3SKCGl0t5k/s1600/DSC02634.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRMtPwB025N5LgSDT1eoZtIbb3bRIOw8oS9g7EWC1itlFmZ4O-kXr0IYd26KG-s2zAGP277AibR1DDVImJVqk1CqZtlGcyNUSS-vbUZZ1gbTRcqiHtoFTYzdsPSzj0Kc8TD3SKCGl0t5k/s400/DSC02634.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><h1 style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">Lamp in my Room </span> </h1><div class="MsoNormal"></div><h1 style="text-align: justify;"></h1><div class="MsoNormal"></div><h1 style="text-align: justify;"></h1></div><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span> <br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">I lit a butter lamp for the first time in my life on 23 Nov. ‘05’. Ecstatic I felt on that numbingly cold November morning.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Although I visited many lhakhangs and holy sites on numerous occasions, never did I feel so sublime, so pious, so serene and so joyous as I did on that misty winter’s morning.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">I realized that god existed everywhere, in every loving home and not just in lhakhangs and a sacred place, provided one has full faith.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"><br />
<span style="font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">At that precious moment, spiritual happiness washed over me and I felt a sense of accomplishment that I hadn’t felt in years. It was a holy joy. Perhaps god might have giggled at the humorous sight of someone lighting a butter lamp for the </span><span style="font-size: small;">first time in his room. It would have even made him whisper, “What on earth’s got into that man’s head?”</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">I was able to illuminate my room with a butter-lamp presented by my trainee friends. It was a gift wisely and wholeheartedly given as a token of remembrance to their graduating friends. Thanks to my sweet companions of Pema House, it shall always remain in my heart.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">And every time the rays of the lamp glow in my room, I remember the wonderful evening of 22 November 2005. The moment shall linger around the room in the flickering rays of my lamp.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Thinley Dorji </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><b> Kuensel, August 2007</b></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</div>thinley dorjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06438424040755225826noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7489513509756722545.post-70326208085231250762011-09-14T09:55:00.000-07:002011-09-14T23:57:15.337-07:00<h1 style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Students as teachers</span></h1><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">OVER the years, teaching has taught me many wonderful lessons which I’d otherwise have missed. Thanks to some old friends, who dragged me into this so- called “noble Profession” six years ago, I little realized then what I know now.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">My limited experience with the students has been daunting yet rewarding. There were times, I must admit, when frustration and weariness gripped me. But the good outweighed the bad. It’s important in any profession, to develop a positive attitude. We must love and enjoy what we do to make things happen and be happy to boot. As someone once said, “Unless we think of and do for others, we will never know true joy”</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Students are a great source of learning. I am more organized today because my students taught me time-management. Despite their hectic routine, I am always amazed by their stamina and the love of learning. And not just the value of time, they have taught me team spirit too. Watching them work in groups in a spirit of give- and –take has</span><span style="font-size: small;"> always been a great source of inspiration to me.</span> </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then again, I really admire, and envy, their confidence. As a school kid myself, I remember the dread I had of facing the crowd. These kids have shown me how to do so with aplomb.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="Section1" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">My students remind me that learning never ends. I have to keep up-to date to keep up their curiosity. Good teachers, they say, are born not made but I am of the later, created in one of the education colleges in my country. And, as such, I am still in the process of being made but I have the best faculty, my students, to help me along.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Another thing: my students never let me grow old. This insight I had acquired during an interchange I had with a senior teacher when I asked how she felt about teaching for more than a decade. “I don’t feel the passage of time,” she said. “Every new generation of students rejuvenates me.” Truly a teacher at heart never grows old.</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Thinley Dorji</b></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Kuensel, Wednesday, August 13, 2008</b></span></div></div><b><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: always;" /> </span></b><br />
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</div>thinley dorjihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06438424040755225826noreply@blogger.com2