Spring is a beautiful season in this part of the world. Except it’s a Monpa beauty - darkness without moon or sun a superior and terrible domain of imperious clouds, rain and marching thunder. I awoke again to the banging thunder drum the thunder dragon’s long drawl of rolling clasps that echo throughout the labyrinth of mountains spread in all directions. Through these deep gulley’s the echo of thunder rolls on and on through the pitch blackness. Lightning rips open the heavens freezing the moment in electrical gyrations forked like an electric eel squirming across the sky –CRACK –BOOM-ROLL…Waves across the silky nightline valley in phantasmagorical kaleidoscope of purple, orange, and gold strikes. The river below also looks like lightning slithering across the rugged grasslands of the valley floor. Thunder thrums across the strings of the Guru’s instrument PLUCKING out mantras for mortals-ALL HAIL THE JEWELL IN THE LOTUS- BIRTHED BY THUNDER MANIFEST IN LIGHTNING –THE GURU”S LIGHTNING –MY LIGHTNING TOO!