The Dharma Journal

Frank T. Morano

Description

A book of stories and conversations for the spiritually curious by a seeker whose life has been guided by a quest for the universal truths of life.
ABOUT THE DHARMA JOURNAL
Too often we settle for living without resolving the essential mysteries of life: Where were we before we were born? What is the purpose of our lives? Where do we go when we die?
Frank Morano is a seeker of wisdom who has had extraordinary experiences. The Dharma Journal chronicles his quest for answers to these transcendent questions, and the wisdom he found in ordinary and extraordinary people.
You will share his wonder and delight in exploring teachings from Western and Eastern religious and spiritual traditions, as he traveled throughout the USA, Asia, and Europe.
You will read about his unusual encounters with little known cultures and his irresistible pull towards the Tibetan people and their struggle to preserve their culture and identity.
The Dharma Journal is a book of stories and conversations for the spiritually curious. It includes guidance from world famous figures, such as Margaret Mead, John Lennon and Mother Theresa, as well as several personal audiences with the fourteenth Dalai Lama.
Whether you are interested in mysticism, meditation, spirituality, exotic cultures, or travel, you will find it in The Dharma Journal, by a spiritual explorer whose life has been guided by the pursuit of universal truths.

Sujets

• Philosophie et théologie
• Mysticism
• World Cultures
• Memoir
• Travel
• Tibetan Buddhism
• Spirituality
• Reincarnation
• Meditation
• Dalai Lama
• Religion
• Family

Informations

• Publié par: Trafford Publishing
• Date de parution: 06 juin 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781490708133
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 53 Mo

Extrait

The Dharma Journal
 
 
 
A quest for wisdom leads to extraordinary encounters with wise men and women across the globe.
 
 
Frank T. Morano
 
 
 
© Copyright 2023 Frank T. Morano. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.
 
ISBN: 978-1-4907-0812-6 (sc) ISBN: 978-1-4907-0814-0 (hc) ISBN: 978-1-4907-0813-3 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023905010
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only. Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
Trafford rev. 05/26/2023
www.trafford.com North America & international toll-free: 844-688-6899 (USA & Canada) fax: [phone]
 
 
 

Author Frank Morano with the Dalai Lama in Dharmsala India, Sept 23, 1985, the year of the Ox and the day he was given his Tibetan name, Tenzin Wang-du, by the King of Tibet, Tenzin Gyatso.
Inspiration
I am forever grateful to the King of Tibet, His Holiness Tenzin Gyatso, Ocean of Wisdom, the 14 th Dalai Lama.

Photo of His Holiness taken by author
Devotion

Ling Rimpoche
This effort to record the Dharma wisdom I have received in my lifetime is devoted to the sixth incarnation of Ky abje Yongzin Ling Rimpoche, the highly realized Tibetan lama whose incarnation was discovered by the Great Thirteenth Dalai Lama. In turn, Ling Rimpoche revealed the incarnation of the God of Compassion, Chenrezig, the fourteenth Dalai Lama.
The Sixth Yongzin Ling Rimpoche was revered for his scholarship, wisdom, dedication, compassion and spiritual awareness. He seldom travelled and stayed at his residence on a mountain above Dharamsala where he spent his days in meditation, teaching, and occasionally granting audiences. I was humbled and euphoric when I heard he had agreed to grant me an audience.

When Tibetan refugees in Dharamsala prayed for teachers, Ling Rimpoche gave us his blessing for the building of a school for Tibetan refugee children.
Dedication: To my sons, Ananda and Vajra
Look at the sky.
The stars tell you a story.
Stories teach us how to live.
 
Study the holy books,
The story of our Gods.
Stories teach us how to die.
 
Stories are the medium
Between the fire and our food.
Nourish yourself. Share your story.
 
Stories are the conduit
Between the fire and warm water
In which we bathe. Purify yourself.
 
Look at your hand. It tells your story.
Look at your lover’s face,
Bathe yourself in her beauty.
 
Nurture her with your seed.
Study the story called life,
And pass it on to your children.
 
Love, Dad
Table of Contents
Inspiration
Devotion
Dedication
Chapter 1     Listening to the Birds
Chapter 2     My Birthday Wish
Chapter 3     My Birth Religion
Chapter 4     My Personal Tormentor
Chapter 5     The Question Kid
Chapter 6     My Heritage
Chapter 7     Getting Lost
Chapter 8     Snake Hill, Our Enchanted Park
Chapter 9     The Beggar
Chapter 10   New York City Trains
Chapter 11   Mid-Century Streets of Chinatown
Chapter 12   The Jade Teacup
Chapter 13   The Pure Hand Temple of Wisdom
Chapter 14   The Ahh So Attitude
Chapter 15   Youth Gangs of Ozone Park
Chapter 16   Country Girl
Chapter 17   Greenwich Village
Chapter 18   My Sister-in-Law, Michele
Chapter 19   Terry Street-Car Kelsey
Chapter 20   My Neighbor, John Lennon
Chapter 21   The Woodstock Guru
Chapter 22   Yoga, the Journey Through You, To You
Chapter 23   Going Green
Chapter 24   Cosmic Consciousness
Chapter 25   Bangkok, Another World
Chapter 26   The Ancient City of Bangchalong
Chapter 27   Dharma Talk in Bangchalong
Chapter 28   Khun Huaradong, Man Who Laughs Loud
Chapter 29   The Village Monk
Chapter 30   Kam-dii , Good Karma
Chapter 31   The Khun Yutitom Touch
Chapter 32   The Crystal Buddha
Chapter 33   Guesthouse for the Gods
Chapter 34   Nepal, the World’s Altar
Chapter 35   The Kumari
Chapter 36   Mother India, The Cradle of Civilization
Chapter 37   Road to Kashmir
Chapter 38   Dharamsala, The English Teachers
Chapter 39   Ling Rimpoche
Chapter 40   The Apple Story
Chapter 41   Ratu Rimpoche, the Secret of the Magic Box
Chapter 42   The Master of Past Lives
Chapter 43   Tibetan Children’s Village
Chapter 44   Our First Audience
Chapter 45   My Life-Giving Bowl Empowerment
Chapter 46   Maharaja of Rajasthan
Chapter 47   The Chaka Rock
Chapter 48   Good Vibrations
Chapter 49   Omens and Agreements
Chapter 50   The Yong Ling Rimpoche School
Chapter 51   Our Second Audience, The Presence
Chapter 52   Continuing the Conversation, the Second Audience
Chapter 53   Tibetans and Hopis
Chapter 54   The Tibetan State Oracle
Afterword
Chapter One
Listening to the Birds

Frankie-boy, as I was called, at age four, on the roof of our three-story house listening to the birds.
My extended family’s two-hundred-year-old home was the only three-story house in a two-story Brooklyn neighborhood. It was the tallest, the oldest and the most solidly built. All three stories had very high ceilings, making it twice as high as the more modern two-story houses around us. At the time, the United States was one hundred seventy-seven years old, and our house was older.
My immediate family lived on the top floor, my grandparents, who were the heart of our world, lived in the middle floor apartment, and my Uncle Tommy’s family lived on the ground floor. Uncle Tommy was my Godfather and was the foundation of the house and our family. He maintained the boiler room and wood shop in the basement and he did the landscaping in the front and back yards. Every day after work he could be found swinging a hammer, building something, shoveling soil, or planting a tree, and I loved to watch him work. I was equally at home in all three apartments. I went up and down the fire escape, popping in through the windows in each apartment to eat and to collect food for the wild birds.
My home at 257 Hemlock Street was the site of my first Dharma experience. Courageously for a four-year-old boy, I made my way up the iron steps of the fire escape in the back of the house that led onto the roof, where my companions, the wild birds, waited for me. To risk my life to see the wild birds, to hear their songs, and to watch them come to me for food was, to me, an act of devoutness.
From my rooftop, I had a panoramic view of everything important in my world. I could see the tops of the two-story houses that led all the way up to Highland Park, which was a nature preserve and our reservoir. From my vantage on the roof, I could see the only nearby building taller than our house, the Blessed Sacrament Church which we all attended.

Fulton Street between Hemlock and Crescent Street
Below me was my grandparents’ vegetable garden and the tall ladders that anchored the clotheslines that went to each house. North and south of Hemlock Street were houses. Looking east along Fulton Street I could see the Greek restaurant, the funeral home, the candy store, Talata’s toy store and Long’s Ice-Cream Parlor. To the west were the Italian grocer, the bicycle store, the pizza parlor and the German delicatessen. In the distance, nine blocks away, was the biggest building in our neighborhood, our school, PS 171 Lincoln Public School. Its massive size rivaled the Catholic church, symbolizing the tension between Church and State that was rampant across the country since the birth of our nation.

Until PS 171, Lincoln Public School was built in the 1800’s, Blessed Sacrament Church was the tallest structure in the neighborhood so that nobody could look down upon it.
Directly below at the side of our house were the Norwood Laundry and an alleyway with garbage cans from the Fulton Street stores. Although numerous cats congregated in the alley amidst the trash, birds would risk their lives to go there to find food. As a young child, I thought birds were little angels because they had wings. To me, they looked like God’s magical paintbrushes with which he colored the sky. I thought they could fly to Heaven and know God’s thoughts.
I loved birds more than any other animal because they were always alert, always looking for food and aware that they were food. If they daydreamed for a second, people would shoot birds with BB guns and sling-shots. I thought those people who hunted for sport were insane.
I loved wild animals because they were sane. Animals that were kept as pets, whether they were birds, cats or dogs, did not seem normal to me. The more animals associated with humans, the more neurotic they became. Only God’s wild animals were perfect, never mentally sick, deformed or depressed. I wanted to be in their presence. I often told people that I wanted to be a farmer or live in the jungle someday. They laughed and said, “in your dreams.” I dreamed about it all the time and eventually those dreams came true.
The quieter I was on my rooftop, the more still I became, the more the wild birds