Topic: Tibetan Sky Burial

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Tibetans have really unique methods of 'burial.' This was an interesting piece someone wrote on witnessing some of it, ill put some other things on the thread:

Vultures and Voyeurs: A Tibetan Sky Burial - Tibet

Death. It is an ugly word to most of us, one we try to live life ignoring. Of course, we all are going to die – later, rather than sooner, is the hope. What happens to our corpse depends on various factors: religious beliefs, cause of death, financial means, care and concern of survivors. Most of us will be buried, though cremation is gaining ground in Western cultures. Few of us expect to be eaten by birds. At least we hope not to be, unless we are Tibetan Buddhists.


I try not to wonder what his name was, not to ask questions. Who made his heart go thump? The same heart that is being cut from his corpse. Did he have children whose faces he lovingly caressed with his hands? The same hands that are being hacked from his arms. What did he do with those arms? Were they strong? What did they build and create, or did they destroy, cause harm? Was there a woman who closed her eyes and gently inhaled the scent of his hair as she tenderly stroked his head? The same head whose skull is burning on a small bonfire...


Tears well in my eyes, and the questions keep coming. Who else is shedding a tear for this man? A wife? Children? Friends? Colleagues? If they exist, they are not here. It is just me, a monk, two men with axes, one man fanning a fire, another calling for the vultures to come, a handful of Tibetans passing through, six Chinese tourists and three fellow foreign backpackers.


Involuntarily, I reach for Emily's hand, the Canadian who has come along to watch the Tibetan sky burial and who is also disgusted by the scene. Frozen we stand, 30 feet from the concrete block, our eyes closed. But the whacking sounds break through the crisp morning air, making it impossible to escape the fact that a dead man will soon be breakfast for birds. I am saddened. I am scared. I am shaking. Yet, I open my eyes. Mesmerized and even energized, I need to watch.


Thankfully, the viewing is limited. Though I clearly saw his emaciated frame, his toothpick-like legs tucked under him, as the two men sat him up, in preparation of the first cut: splitting the skull. Silently, I said a prayer. I hoped he was a good man, who had a full life and lead an honorable existence.


A Chinese tourist dashes forward with his tripod-mounted camera, on which is a monster lens that would make the paparazzi proud, but the monk waves him away. Quietly, we stand and stare. Having checked my watch, I am wondering how long it takes to cut up a corpse. Turns out, 30 minutes of hard chopping.


Bodies – those of babies, children, adults and the elderly; it doesn't matter – are brought from as far as 200 miles away to this long-held sacred hill overlooking the Tibetan village of Langmusi in the mountains of central China, and the expectant vultures eagerly circle. As I am told by a Tibetan, "the spirit just borrows the body." He explains that this day's dead man will move on to another realm – which one, of course, depends on his karma. And so there is no reason to be sad; the spirit of the man is gone, only his shell remains. When asked why no loved ones are present, he replies that family and friends are forbidden from attending. Prior prayers were said at the house by a monk, but now is merely the time to dispose of the corpse. The questions abound, but the man's English is limited, and so I stand there mulling over the mess in front of me.


Flying feathers, squawks, pushing and shoving – the birds move in for their morning meal. I move in as well. Again, I consult my watch. How long will it take for the dozens of vultures to devour the corpse? The monk doesn't mind us approaching; he is too busy checking out the kick-ass camera of the Chinese tourist. Though there isn't too much to see, except for the birds, flashes of flesh and the remains of past sky burials.


At my feet is a skull, as well as a little girl's pink shoe and a blue china cup with flowers. Colorful clothing, rusted hunks of metal, bits of bone and more skulls are strewn about. It had been explained to me that the bones are ground with barley, so that the vultures consume every bit of the body. But clearly that isn't always the case. A headless skeleton lay a few feet from the feasting vultures. No arms, but the spine, rib cage, legs and feet are intact – an example of shoddy work, I am sadly told. Camera in hand, I approach. And, yes, I click away.


Thirty-five minutes later, the vultures fly away. The monk moves on, cameras are encased and the remaining bit of burnt skull is packed away, so that one day the family can carry it to the holy city of Lhassa in Tibet.


Sparkling like sapphires in the May sky are the piercing blue eyes of my sister Stephanie. My friend Fran's smile dances down from the cottony clouds. The morning breeze carries with it the laughter of my colleague Belinda. Down the hill I go, my nephews' hands in mine. I am in China, but my family and friends are here with me. Giddily, I grin. I am happy. I am alive.

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(Most Tibetans dont allow pictures thats why you wont find many of the event even with google help - theres a few tho).



Witness to a Tibetan Sky-Burial

A Field Report for the China Exploration and Research Society

by Pamela Logan

Drigung, Tibet; September 26, 1997

On the steps in front of Drigung Monastery, a dozen monks chant. Before them on the courtyard flagstones lies a body, wrapped in white cloth, which was carried in on a stretcher an hour ago. The monks are praying for a spirit that was once present here, but now is emancipated from its former home. It is the third such visitor today, for Drigung Gonpa has a profitable but gruesome specialty: disposal of the dead.

My team and I arrived here last night, after a long day's drive from Lhasa to Meldor Gungkar County in Central Tibet. Drigung monastery is on a steep hill, overlooking our camp. Above the religious complex is a site for "sky burial," a term meaning disposal of a corpse by allowing it to be devoured by birds. The birds, which are summoned by incense and revered by Tibetans, cast their droppings on the high peaks. Sky-burial is practiced all over the plateau, but Drigung is one of the three most famous and auspicious sites.

After the chanting is over, we walk up a well-trodden path to a high ridge, keeping a respectful distance behind the funeral party, which has come all the way from Lhasa to discharge this final duty to their departed friend. The charnel ground, or durtro, consists of a large fenced meadow with a couple of temples and a large stone circle of stones at one end where the ceremony takes place. Prayer flags hang from numerous chortens, and scent of smoldering juniper purifies the air. Vultures circle overhead, and many more are clustered on the grass, a few meters from the funeral bier.

Tibetans practice several forms of disposal of the dead, but sky burial is the most common method and indeed a very practical one in a land where fuel is scarce and the earth is often too hard to dig. For me, this is an extraordinary opportunity, for these days not one visitor in five hundred is privileged to witness the ceremony I'm about to see. But I am apprehensive, too, wondering how I will stomach the sight of death.

Men in long white aprons come out, and unwrap the corpse, which is naked, stiff, and swollen. The men hold huge cleavers, which are in a few strokes whetted to razor sharpness on nearby rocks. The bright sun and clear blue sky diffuse somewhat my ominous feeling. The coroners themselves, are not heavy or ceremonial, but completely businesslike as they chat amongst themselves, and prepare to start.

Tibetans believe that, more important than the body, is the spirit of the deceased. Following death, the body should not be touched for three days, except possibly at the crown of the head, through which the consciousness, or namshe, exits. Lamas guide the spirit in a series of prayers that last for seven weeks, as the person makes their way through the bardo--intermediate states that precede rebirth.

As the first cut is made, the vultures crowd closer; but three men with long sticks wave them away. Within a few minutes the dead man's organs are removed and set aside for later, separate disposal. The vultures try to move in and are prevented by waving sticks and shouts. Then, the cutters give a signal and the men all simultaneously fall back. The flock rushes in, covering the body completely, their heads disappearing as they bend down to tear away bits of flesh. They are enormous birds, with wings spanning more than 2 meters, top-feathers of dirty white, and huge gray-brown backs. Their heads are virtually featherless, so as not to impede the bird when reaching into a body to feed.

For thirteen minutes the vultures are in a feeding frenzy. The only sound is tearing flesh and chittering as they compete for the best bits. The birds are gradually sated, and some take to the air, their huge wings sounding like steam locomotives as they flap overhead. Now the men pull out what remains of the corpse--only a bloody skeleton--and shoo away the remaining birds. They take out huge mallets, and set to work pounding the bones. The men talk while they work, even laughing sometimes, for according to Tibetan belief the mortal remains are merely an empty vessel. The dead man's spirit is gone, its fate to be decided by karma accumulated through all past lives.

The bones are soon reduced to splinters, mixed with barley flour and then thrown to crows and hawks, who have been waiting their turn. Remaining vultures grab slabs of softened gristle and greedily devour them. Half an hour later, the body has completely disappeared. The men leave also, their day's work finished. Soon, the hilltop is restored to serenity. I think of the man whose flesh is now soaring over the mountains, and decide that, if I happen to die on the high plateau, I wouldn't mind following him.

 

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http://www.travelchinaguide.com/cityguides/tibet/sky-buria.htm

Stupa burial and cremation are reserved for high lamas who are being honored in death. Sky burial is the usual means for disposing of the corpses of commoners. Sky burial is not considered suitable for children who are less than 18, pregnant women, or those who have died of infectious disease or accident. The origin of sky burial remains largely hidden in Tibetan mystery.

Sky burial is a ritual that has great religious meaning. Tibetans are encouraged to witness this ritual, to confront death openly and to feel the impermanence of life. Tibetans believe that the corpse is nothing more than an empty vessel. The spirit, or the soul, of the deceased has exited the body to be reincarnated into another circle of life. It is believed that the Drigung Kagyu order of Tibetan Buddhism established the tradition in this land of snow, although there are other versions of its origin.

The corpse is offered to the vultures. It is believed that the vultures are Dakinis. Dakinis are the Tibetan equivalent of angels. In Tibetan, Dakini means "sky dancer". Dakinis will take the soul into the heavens, which is understood to be a windy place where souls await reincarnation into their next lives. This donation of human flesh to the vultures is considered virtuous because it saves the lives of small animals that the vultures might otherwise capture for food. Sakyamuni, one of the Buddhas, demonstrated this virtue. To save a pigeon, he once fed a hawk with his own flesh.

After death, the deceased will be left untouched for three days. Monks will chant around the corpse. Before the day of sky burial, the corpse will be cleaned and wrapped in white cloth. The corpse will be positioned in a fetal position, the same position in which the person had been born. The ritual of sky burial usually begins before dawn. Lamas lead a ritual procession to the charnel ground, chanting to guide the soul. There are few charnel grounds in Tibet. They are usually located near monasteries. Few people would visit charnel grounds except to witness sky burials. Few would want to visit these places.

After the chanting, the body breakers prepare the body for consumption by the vultures. The body is unwrapped and the first cut is made on the back. Hatchets and cleavers are used to quickly cut the body up, in a definite and precise way. Flesh is cut into chunks of meat. The internal organs are cut into pieces. Bones are smashed into splinters and then mixed with tsampa, roasted barley flour.

As the body breakers begin, juniper incense is burned to summon the vultures for their tasks, to eat breakfast and to be Dakinis. During the process of breaking up the body, those ugly and enormous birds circle overhead, awaiting their feast. They are waved away by the funeral party, usually consisting of the friends of the deceased, until the body breakers have completed their task. After the body has been totally separated, the pulverized bone mixture is scattered on the ground. The birds land and hop about, grabbing for food. To assure ascent of the soul, the entire body of the deceased should be eaten. After the bone mixture, the organs are served next, and then the flesh.

This mystical tradition arouses curiosity among those who are not Tibetan. However, Tibetans strongly object to visits by the merely curious. Only the funeral party will be present at the ritual. Photography is strictly forbidden. Tibetans believe that photographing the ritual might negatively affect the ascent of the soul.

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Yep, that "was" a human being. Now its vulture-food.

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