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Bhutan penis

Bhutan en de Penis

Dit kleine Himalaya landje is dan weer totaal anders dan India.  Daar waar India het symbool is van preutsheid, staat in Bhutan erotiek centraal.   Flirten en vreemdgaan lijken wel de nationale sporten. Bhutan’s nationale symbool is de penis. Je ziet hem afgebeeld op tempels, huizen, winkels,…  Deze verwijst naar Drukpa Kunley die het Boeddhisme in Bhutan hielp verspreiden door middel van moppen, vuile liedjes, drank en erotiek.  Op het eerste zicht lijkt zijn poëzie heel vulgair, maar als je kennis hebt van de boeddhistische teksten zie je al gauw de esoterische betekenis die er in schuilt.   Meer info over Drukpa Kunley hier.

Eén van de liederen van Drukpa Kunley:

‘I, an ever roaming Naljorpa, visited a Kahgyu Academy,
And in that Kahgyu Academy every monk was holding a jug full
      of chung –
So fearful of becoming a drunken reveller, I kept to myself.
I, an ever roaming Naljorpa, visited a Sakya Academy,
And in that Sakya Academy the monks were splitting subtle
      doctrinal hairs –
So fearful of forsaking the true path of Dharma, I kept to myself.
I, an ever roaming Naljorpa, visited the Academy of Galden,’
And in the Galden Academy each monk was seeking a boyfriend –
So fearful of losing my semen, I kept to myself.
I, an ever roaming Naljorpa, visited a School of Gomchens,
And in those hermitages every Gomchen wanted a lover
So fearful of becoming a father and householder, I kept to myself
I, an ever roaming Naljorpa, visited a Nyingma Academy,
And in that Nyingma Academy each monk was aspiring to
       perform in the Mask Dance
So fearful of becoming a professional dancer, I kept to myself.
I, an ever roaming Naljorpa, visited Mountain Hermitages,
And in those hermitages the monks were gathering worldly
      possessions
So fearing to break my vow to my Lama, I kept to myself.
I, an ever roaming Naljorpa, visited a Charnel Ground
      and outlying areas,
And in those deserted places the Shaman Diabolists’ were
      brooding on fame
So fearful of enslaving myself to gods or demons, I kept to myself.
I, an ever roaming Naljorpa, visited a Pilgrim Caravan,
And found the Pilgrims engaged in trading
So fearful of becoming a profit-hungry trader, I kept to myself.
I, an ever roaming Naljorpa, visited a Retreat Centre,
And here the meditators basked in the sun
So fearing to relax in a small hut’s security, I kept to myself.
I, an ever roaming Naljorpa, sat at the feet of an Incarnate Lama
Whose constant preoccupation was his religious treasures
So fearing to become a collector or miser, I kept to myself.
I, an ever roaming Naljorpa, stayed with the Lama’s attendants
Who had established the Lama as their tax collector
So fearing to become a servant of the Disciples, I kept to myself.
I, an ever roaming Naljorpa, visited the house of a rich man,
Where the slaves of wealth were complaining like Denizens of Hell
So fearful of rebirth as Lord of the Hungry Ghosts, I kept to
       myself.
I, an ever roaming Naljorpa, visited the house of poor, lowly
       people
Who had placed their patrimony and possessions in pawn
So fearful of becoming a disgrace to my race, I kept to myself.
I, an ever roaming Naljorpa, visited the Religious Centre of Lhasa,
Where the hostesses were hoping for their guests’ gifts and favours
So fearing to become a flatterer, I kept to myself.
I, an ever roaming Naljorpa, wandering throughout the land,
Found self-seeking sufferers wherever I looked
So fearful of thinking only of myself. I kept to myself.’

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