The Reason We Began

Hands threading bone beads onto a cord over a worn wooden workbench, a small wooden dish of loose beads nearby
He Counts to 108 Twice, Then Pulls the Knot
Morning at the stringing bench: one bead, then the next, a count checked from both ends, and the knot that closes a mala made by hand. Read more...
A yak bone mala coiled on a painted wooden cabinet beside a lit brass butter lamp and two small brass bowls by a window
Kai Waits for the Bowl to Finish Before Turning Off the Lamp
The studio after the last card is dated: one strike of a singing bowl, one bead for each breath, until the sound is gone. Then an invitation to listen. Read more...
Weathered hands in maroon wool sleeves holding a yak bone barrel bead mala, the ivory beads banded with brown and grey
His Old Mala Is the Color of Strong Tea
Two strands of bone beads on the bench, one new and one worn for years. What changes in yak bone when you wear it every day, and what does not. Read more...
A five-pronged vajra with blue-green inlay resting on dark wool felt on an old wooden table, a small butter lamp lit behind it
The Prongs Bend Inward, Like a Hand Closing
Kai unwraps a five-pronged vajra and a crossed double vajra, and we look at what the shape has meant in Tibetan tradition. Read more...
A raw turquoise nugget set in frost-rimmed host rock on stony ground, a worn striped bead in the soil beside it
She Holds the Stone to the Window Before She Names It
Natural, stabilized, dyed: a stringer reads each turquoise bead in daylight, and why we would rather give a stone a humbler name than a false one. Read more...