The Garden of One Thousand Buddhas
Found: Buddhism in Northwestern Montana. There’s a lot more than you’d expect to find along the rural roads of Lake County.
Guess where I found this beautiful outdoor Buddhist temple. I'll give you a hint …it's probably one of the last states you'd ever expect. It's big, it's beautiful... it's Montana. Before my last visit, Buddhism wasn't something that naturally came to mind when I thought of Montana. I always pictured it being peaceful, but more the kind of peaceful that comes from clear blue lakes and wide-open spaces.
But now, when I think of Montana, one of the first things that comes to mind is the Garden of One Thousand Buddhas. It's located on the Flathead Indian Reservation, and it adds to the diversity and charm you don't expect to find in Big Sky Country. Yup, that northwestern corner of Montana has a unique flavor all its own. Some of it's a blend of what I imagined it would be, some of it's a blend of what I never imagined it would be, and a lot of it's colored by my own experiences up there.
The place pictured above wasn't one I found by chance. I spotted it while mapping out an adventure via roadtrippers.com and instantly knew that I had to go there. It was actually one of the stops I was most looking forward to on my 16-day, 58-stop, 3,427-mile excursion, but I'm not sure why. Maybe because it felt so out of place…it was such an unexpected find…and to me, that's what makes it all the more special. It reminds me of the theme of a Twilight Zone episode I love, "when everyone is beautiful, no one will be." Isn't that so true? Because it's uniqueness and differences that set people, places, and things apart and make them so beautiful.
When I arrived at the Garden of One Thousand Buddhas, it reminded me of a place…was it someplace I'd seen in a movie? Perhaps it was someplace I'd been. Maybe it was somewhere I imagined. Or maybe it just felt comfortable, therefore familiar. Whatever it was, it pulled me in gently, and I found my own pace walking clockwise around the circular garden. Everyone who visits is asked to walk in that same direction around the Buddha statues. And you can't help but slow down and admire them too. Strolling at a museum pace feels natural here. It was particularly noticeable for me because my trips tend to have a more hurried tempo to them.
But here, I slowed down enough to notice waves of grass drifting over the grounds beneath the mounds and mountains that watch over them. The only detectable sounds were the winds of change and the pebbles making way for my feet. When you're here, if you're quiet and close enough to the small ponds, you might get to hear the tails of coy fish dancing through the water.
Eight black stupas sit baking in the sun on the outskirts of the garden, and many, many smaller stupas housing mini Buddhas encompass the circular garden. They represent the enlightened mind, and they're worshiped by visitors leaving behind offerings such as coins, oranges, rice, jewelry, key chains, toys, and more. So many gifts are left behind that the garden keepers have to remove everything regularly, so the statues can still be seen and appreciated. There's a profound feeling this place produces, and it's probably best received when completely alone here. It's easy to lose track of time and forget where you are when you're surrounded by all that goodness on those spiritual grounds.
After wandering the grounds for a while, I headed to the gift shop for some relief from the heat. I opened the door gently, walked through it gently, and tried not to take up too much space once I was in. I felt grateful for every step and every breath. Being there made me want to stand a bit taller and straighter, take up a little less space, and express a little more gratitude. It also felt like the kind of place where nothing went to waste. I felt pangs of guilt, remembering the unfinished water bottles that were no doubt baking on my backseat.
Much like the garden, the gift shop felt like a place where you'd automatically speak softly. Use your six-inch voices, as one of my elementary school teachers so adorably used to say. I love that spin on having quiet conversations…make sure your sound doesn't travel more than six inches.
I moved lightly through the room, admiring all of the trinkets on display: the jewelry, the gold deity figurines, the mantra cards. One resonated deeply, "Viewing freedom as intrinsic to our being, we discover that our lives are what we make them. All options are open, our choices unlimited. When we have knowledge, space grants us unbounded opportunity, and time presents us with infinite possibilities for change." so I brought it and a few other keepsakes up to the counter. No one was there to ring me up, so I stood patiently, embracing silence, admiring a beautiful window view. A gentleman who'd been stocking stuff in a room filled with colorful garments entered without a sound, just a presence. He smiled a soft smile and asked if I enjoyed my time in the garden. "I did! But I have so many questions about this place." His face exhibited peaceful intrigue and signs of reading, but not being affected by my energy. We were both bringing very different energies to the conversation. I was mellowing mine a bit to match his, and he was just as cool and consistently even-keeled as a lake's surface.
"So how did a place like this end up here in Montana?" His eyebrows rose and fell as he smiled again, "Oh, it's a bit of a long story." I told him I had time if he felt like sharing. And indeed, he did. And indeed, it was quite a lengthy story that I only remember bits and pieces of. Even as he was telling it, I was forgetting some of it. You know that feeling when you read a sentence, and you have no clue what you just read, so you read it four or eleven more times to try to absorb it. Of course, that convenience isn't there when someone is live, for a limited time only telling you their name or an in-depth story. But now, I'm learning to accept and release what I forget and embrace what I remember. It's interesting the things that stand out in our minds and the things that fade into the background over time. Sometimes I'll rewind a session in my meditation app to try to grasp a point the speaker is making a bit clearer because it seems profound, and it feels like something I'm going to want to remember. But if I haven't absorbed it by the second rewind, I let it go and trust that it will find me again if it's meant to.
The man telling me the story of how the garden came to be, was kind, average-height, slim with dark brown hair and a beautiful Reese's brown complexion. He spoke with a vaguely familiar accent I was curious to identify. It reminded me of the man who used to sell me my Parliament Lights back when I was a heavy, happy smoker. I was never able to distinguish his accent either, but the more I got to know him, the more comfortable I was to finally ask where he was from. It turned out he was from Nepal. Maybe this man was also from Nepal too…wouldn't that be so interesting to have immigrated all that way to Montana. Then I remembered we were on an Indian Reservation, and I wondered if he could've been Kootenai or Salish, or perhaps Flathead or Blackfoot. Oh, how cool that would be to meet someone who deviated from traditional Native American religious beliefs to branch into Buddhism. Most Native Americans I've met hold deeply-rooted ancestral beliefs.
As I wondered about this man's ethnic origins, I began to wonder why I was wondering. What did it matter? It really didn't. But I was curious where this curiosity was coming from. Was my mind trying to paint a picture of this man's story? Perhaps one that was somewhat familiar to me based on people I'd met throughout my life? Maybe it was just my naturally inquisitive mind, curious about how this place and the people who frequent it all found their way there mixed with my eagerness to meet people of all different walks of life and all different schools of thought.
But before I got even more caught up dissecting my own mind, I decided to revisit these questions later in the car, so I could fully embrace the mysteries of the soul right in front of me and absorb the wisdom he had to impart for our brief moment in time together. We probably stood for close to an hour chatting about the temple and its past, present, and future. And we got to converse uninterrupted for quite a while. Only when a woman and her slightly rowdy kids came in not observing the unspoken, universal, six-inch-voice method did I notice this man's energy shift slightly. He was more "on," still zen, but less calm. I wondered if the combination of both of our energies was calming for each of us individually since those were the auras we were both putting out prior to the arrival of the turbulent tots.
I'm no chemist, and I regrettably never took a single chemistry class, but I've always thought that people are like chemicals, and the combination of each pair (or several) produces a unique reaction. For instance, my friend Val and I don't produce the same chemical friendship reaction as Val and Manda do. And when you mix the three of us together, it creates an amalgam all its own. Throw in a Melissa or Diana, and it's another new alloy yet again. But my new Tibetan friend and I––yes, I learned he was born and raised in Tibet––exchanged good energy with each other.
I also learned that he lived in Queens, New York for more than a few years…possibly even while I was living next door in Manhattan. What are the odds?! He told me that the man who imagined and devised the design for the Garden of One Thousand Buddhas was either a descendent or an incarnation of one of the Dalai Lamas. (I can't remember which he said.) And 25+ years ago, that man escaped from his country in the midst of political unrest. His name is Tulku Sang-ngag Rinpoche, and ever since childhood, he had a vision of building a sacred space somewhere in the mountains. With his family and disciples caravanning along with him, the spiritual leader made his way west for a destination unknown. Where they'd settle was left entirely to destiny.
As they made their way into the Northern Rocky Mountains, Tulku felt as though he'd been there before. He felt a sense of belonging and familiarity, and so he decided that's where they'd settle and bring his vague vision to life. At the time, he didn't know it'd be the circular garden it turned out to be. But one night, while his family was asleep, Tulku had a dream so vivid it woke him up out of a sound sleep. Not wanting to wake his wife in the middle of the night, Tulku crept into the bathroom and drew his vision of a wheel on a piece of toilet paper. It would later become the initial blueprint of the Garden of One Thousand Buddhas.
And there, on White Coyote Road in Arlee Montana, for the past 20 years, people of all forms of faith come to walk the clockwise path to enlightenment. The Buddhists believe that everyone who walks by the 1,000 Buddha relics is sending and receiving blessings. Tulku brought his vision to life right there on the Flathead Indian Reservation, and the garden became a place where different cultures have merged and influenced each other, forming a beautiful melting pot for these two cultures. The tribe members speak and perform ritual ceremonies regularly, and the Ewam community often presents them with gifts from Tibet in return.
I left this place feeling quite inspired...by the blending of two foreign peoples, by the dream that went from inception to toilet paper to fruition, by my own ideas on how to make the world a better, happier place. As I headed further north, I revisited my thoughts from earlier. I got to thinking about judging books by their covers and how trying not to judge is standard, and not wanting to be judged is something most of us can relate to, but then some new perspectives arose. I started thinking about how we try to say more about who we are on the inside, on the outside. We express ourselves with clothing, hairstyles, jewelry, tattoos...sometimes we even use our cars as extensions of ourselves, whether it be with bumper stickers or choosing a make and model that portrays the kind of image we want to put out on the road. For example, I like my cars to look tough and mean and angry, portraying a sort of tough-guy road persona. And I especially like how that image seemingly contradicts my four-foot-ten, Shirley Temple-looking self. You'd never expect little young me to crawl out of a big, black Ford F-450 pickup truck, and I like that. I like surprising people, and I like to be surprised by them. Guess what – you thought I'd have a last name like McKellen cause of my freckles and fair skin––think again, it's DeFazio! And make sure stars and sprinkles and confetti burst from your hands as you say it…De-FAAAZ-io.
We, the human race, want and don't want to be judged by our external appearances. Don't assume that I'm X, Y & Z and believe P, Q & R because I'm a woman, because I'm young, because I'm short, because I'm white, because I have ears and eyes and two lips that I gnaw on all the time. But I will wear my National Parks hoodie because I want you to know what I'm big into and I will continue to purchase shirts that represent the places I've been because I'm proud I've been to them and I like for them to represent me as I represent them. I'll continue to dye my hair because I'd rather it be red than white. And I enjoy wearing at least one ring on all ten of my fingers for a whole host of reasons, and I'd love for you to ask me where they're from…each one has a special origin or story all its own.
Show of hands, who likes taking personality tests? I enjoy them from the simplest, silliest "Which Disney Princess Are You" to the most elaborate what-are-your-innermost-strengths-and-weaknesses evaluations. I don't typically share them on social media, but I understand why many people do, and I've learned to admire it. You want you and me and others to know more about you. That you have beautiful green eyes, and you're a giver above everything else. You aced the "How Well Do You Know Your Yiddish" test. And got 100% on The Beatles lyrics quiz. These are all things that represent you beyond what your external features can depict. And what you're saying is, I want to be known for who I truly am...I want to be seen and heard and loved.
We all want to be seen and heard and loved. No one wants to be lumped in with something they're not – thrown under labels they're not. And I think most of us want to be represented and appreciated for our uniqueness. Maybe sometimes we want to keep all of our splendor and spiders buttoned up behind a suit to play it safe for a job or a first date we're nervous about and want to be on "best behavior."
We're all the same, and we're all different. We're more than our jobs, more than our physical features, more than what we've done, more than the mistakes we've made, more than the victories we've achieved. What if we all wore our stories on the outside? Our wants, our fears, our traumas, our triumphs…would they say more than our hairstyles and skin tones, outfits, and outlooks? Would it increase compassion for our neighbors, our fellow humans, or would we judge with even more abandon?
I wonder how many people I also speak for when I say that I don't just want to be defined by my skin's pigmentation or my gender, but instead by my art, my kindness, my care, my giving, my travels, my stories…some of my experiences. These original forms of self-expression…I find them beautiful…and frankly, these truths are more interesting than any assumptions that can be made by what we look like.
I don't want to hold us all to unrealistic expectations by implying that we need a moratorium on using race, religion, and gender to label people. I guess what I'm saying is, let those descriptors be just another ingredient to the recipe of every individual. No one ingredient or component necessarily defines another. And each of us is made up of at least enough quirks and characteristics to fill a fishtank fit for a dolphin. And maybe we could all be kind as we educate each other as to which labels we feel comfortable wearing.
Surely, every individual has their own unique preferences as to which labels they feel comfortable wearing…"Yes to European, no to wife, yes to artist, no to hippie." You could label me a fruit gal since I love fruits, but even that label has some holes in it because I hate honeydew and cantaloupe. You can call me a woman because that's what I am and I'm comfortable with it. You can label me white, but it's such a bland color – I'd much rather be categorized as magenta or turquoise, or magenta with a few splashes of turquoise because those feel much more expressive and exciting to me.
I also like the idea of describing people based on the way they made me feel…she was warm, he really listened to me, she made me uncomfortable, he felt distant. We can only make decisions and form opinions based on the information that's in front of us…but when it comes to making up our mind about a stranger or someone we've just met, maybe it would be a good practice to start choosing my personal favorite answer on any given standardized math test…E) Not enough information is present. Anytime that was an option on any kind of mathematical equation beyond first-grade basics, that was the answer I was going with. And I think to an extent, we can apply that same deduction here. Of course, some scenarios require that we use our instincts to make our best judgment…do I feel at ease around this person? Do I have enough time to cross the street safely? How does this cheese look? How does it smell? Is it appetizing? Is it moldy? Am I going to love it, or might it make me sick? Am I willing to risk not liking it in hopes that I might love it? You get the picture.
In this results-driven, faster, more efficient, skip-the-directions, skip-the-introductions world we live in, it's no wonder we're so quick to label the purple-haired, funky-clothes-wearing lady on the subway a loony. Or assume that the well-dressed man stepping into the back of a Mercedes is a wealthy businessman. Or insinuate that the cranky mother who just yelled at her rambunctious son is any less loving. Maybe they're really a doctor, a con man, and Mother of the Year. Or maybe they're exactly what your first impressions told you they were. Regardless of what they are or aren't, each of us is so much more than meets the eye. We all have wins and losses, worries and journeys, dreams, and fears. So, let's let actions, not limited interactions or physicalities, be what defines the people we meet (or never meet). No matter how we've received them, up close or from afar, let's always try to remember that every individual is more than their words, looks, and actions. And if you start to forget, just think of how much more there is to who you are than the way you look, eat, drive, snore. We are beautiful, and we are powerful beyond measure.
