June 10, 2004

The stupa (or chorten) is Buddhism's universal piece of symbolic architecture. Borobodur in Java is probably the most famous while the Shwedagon Pagoda in Burma is the largest, and they abound in the Himalayas, even in caves.
posted by homunculus 20 years ago
  • Thank you, homunculus, I feel much calmer, now.
  • stupa-ndous. Sorry. Sorry. Homunculus, you come up with real good stuff. )
  • once again, a great post from homunculus. Thanks.
  • Stupa, stupa, stupa, stupa, CHORTEN, CHORTEN! There goes my good karma.
  • p'shaw, Alnedra started it. *ducks*
  • *swings 100 ton hammer, stumbles as ambrosia ducks, falls down*
  • Moe: Yeah? Bart: I'm looking for a guy named Stu. Moe: Stu? Bart: Yeah, Stu. Last name Pa. Moe: Is there a Stupa here? I need a Stupa! Boddhi Gumble: Bwahahahaha!
  • Dressed up like a million-dollar trooper, Tryin' hard to look like Gary Cooper Stupadooper.
  • I drive slow in this old karma For in back there rides a lama, Like the tortoise he is steady And sturdy as the dharma.
  • See also this MeFi thread on restoring Tibetan monastery murals.
  • Such wonderful links, homunculus -- thanks!
  • Good way to start the day. Thanks h!
  • universal piece I'm not sure if it's a universal thing, as much as it is a common theme. Calling it universal would be akin to calling the Eucharist a universal Christian tradition when every sect does it differently, and some not at all. Great post, though, otherwise.
  • So? Did you stupa? /oops, wrong thread
  • Want to help build a Tibetan temple in California? Check this out.
  • as much as it is a common theme. "Buddhism's common theme in symbolic architecture..." Done. :)
  • Odiyan already has a Stupa, btw.
  • Do not say that I'll depart tomorrow because even today I still arrive. Look deeply. I arrive in every second to be a bud on a spring branch, to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile, learning to sing in my new nest, to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower, to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone. I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry, in order to fear and to hope, the rhythm of my heart is the birth and death of all that are alive.... I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones, my legs as thin as bamboo sticks, and I am the arms merchant selling deadly weapons to Uganda. I am the twelve year old girl, refugee on a small boat, who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea pirate, and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and loving.... My joy is like spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom in all walks of life. My pain is like a river of tears, so full it fills up the four oceans. Please call me by my true names, so I can hear all my cries and my laughs at once, so I can see that my joy and pain are one. Please call me by my true names, so I can wake up, and so the door of my heart caan be left open, the door of compassion. -- Thich Nhat Hanh
  • Now this is way cool. I'll have to send the link to daughter RedHorse in All-bug-qwerky so she can check this out!