Early Morning Dream

It was the quiet stillness of dawn, a little past 4:00 a.m., when I rose to feed Norzang. Once he drifted back into peaceful sleep, I slipped into my thoughts and composed a response to a job interview questionnaire. The clock neared 6:00. With another hour to spare before the rhythm of the day returned, I let myself sink back into bed, unaware that I was about to wander into a dream stitched with memory, regret, and longing.

In this dream, the world wore a dim hue, like a painting left in the rain. I found myself reliving the time after I had resigned from the civil service—three years ago now. I’m the scene, I was working at a private company, eyes always glancing toward another job I had applied for, hoping for something more stable. But as I teetered between opportunities, our family finances grew thin, and so did my confidence.

I carried a quiet weight—one that whispered I may have stepped off a more secure path. Norzang was older in the dream, and the faces and places I once knew had shifted with time. My new workplace was close to RIM, and with each passing day, I was haunted by the fear of being recognized—of old friends seeing me and wondering what went wrong. A sense of shame gnawed at me gently but persistently. I began hatching silent plans to migrate abroad, chasing the idea of a better income, but the road was misty, the destination unclear.

Amid these swirling thoughts, my wife’s voice echoed—reminders of choices I had made, words laced with love but firm with truth.

Then, the dream carried me to Pachirong—a serene stream flowing between Bumpa Log and Joenkhar. I was there with Pema Khandu, his brother Sonam, and Pem Drakpa. We crossed the stream together and approached a strange structure—like a house with its gate closed, compelling us to climb through the attic to enter.

As Sonam attempted to jump down, I handed him a rope to guide his descent. But before he touched the ground, he lost consciousness. In a rush, I called out for Pema Khandu to help, but then suddenly he collapsed—his body limp, blood at his mouth. A chill swept through us. Panic painted every face. And just before I could understand what had happened, I awoke—heart pounding, dawn light seeping in. 

With that, I rose from bed and began preparing to head to work.
This was written shortly after the dream, at 7:05 a.m. on April 30, 2025.

First appointment with my Family doctor

The morning of April 26th, 2025, began with a quiet urgency. I woke early to prepare Norzang for his post-UTI checkup at Terra Nova Clinic — a small but important milestone after days of worry. His appointment was at 8:30 AM, and we moved quickly, feeding him and catching an Uber under the soft light of dawn.

At the clinic, the receptionist greeted us with a smile that offered a brief moment of calm. Not long after, our nurse — warm and attentive — called us in. She examined Norzang thoroughly, her hands gentle yet precise. When she finally looked up and assured us that he was cleared of any post-infection concerns and was in good health, I felt a wave of relief wash over me.

Still, there was a lingering thread of uncertainty: some of the blood tests taken earlier at the Richmond Hospital had not produced results. Whether it was a simple oversight or something else, no one could say for sure. To be cautious, we were asked to return and redo the blood samples — tests crucial to rule out the faint possibility of genetic jaundice.

Later that afternoon, I returned to the clinic once more — this time for myself. It was my first appointment with the same nurse, having officially registered under her care along with my wife. Sitting across from her, recounting my medical history, felt oddly vulnerable yet necessary. After listening carefully, she offered thoughtful advice on my struggles with constipation and persistent headaches. She suspected migraines but urged me to undergo blood work to search for deeper causes — tests that I would take alongside my son on Monday morning.

Understanding the inevitable delay this would cause, I informed my boss, preparing for a late start. It felt fitting somehow — this shared moment between father and son, both stepping into the quiet, sterile halls of Richmond Hospital, each in search of answers, each carrying a better hope for healthily life.

Art, Love, and the Story of Us

Since childhood, art has been my quiet companion—a place where I could dream freely and express emotions words could never quite capture. Doodling, sketching, painting—it’s always been more than a hobby. It’s been a part of who I am.

I’ve long dreamed of learning the sacred principles of traditional painting, especially the kind rooted in culture and symbolism. Though formal training never came my way, that didn’t stop me. I’ve kept learning, one brushstroke at a time, this time digitally, inspired by the diverse forms of art I’ve encountered over the years.

When our son was born, I felt a deep urge to immortalize this new chapter of life—something meaningful for both me and my wife. So, I picked up my pen and iPad with a purpose. Slowly, through late nights and quiet thoughts, an idea bloomed into form. And now, the digital painting is complete.

Though far from perfect, it holds everything that matters—my emotions, my gratitude, my love.

At the heart of the piece stands the Vajra, a symbol of masculinity in Buddhism—indestructible, powerful, unshakable. It represents our son, Kunga Norzang, whose presence already echoes a quiet strength. He is rare, radiant, and resilient—just like the Vajra.

Wrapping around the Vajra are delicate flowers, representing my wife—my partner, my muse. Their soft curves and graceful bloom speak of her love, beauty, and the effortless grace with which she embraces motherhood. Each flower reaching out in different directions symbolizes the many roles she plays in shaping our son’s world.

This painting is a tribute to them both—a mother and son duo, forever etched in my heart.
May the flower forever bloom with beauty,
And may the Vajra rise with strength to carve his path in this vast, unfolding world.

With love,
Written at 12:32 a.m. on April 21st, 2025, while lying beside the two souls who inspired it all.

 

Snowfall 2025

It was that time of year when winter tightened its grip, bringing the temperature down to a biting -4°C. After days of heavy, brooding clouds, nature finally decided to let go, draping the world in a fresh layer of snow. It’s often said that snow doesn’t fall in the harshest cold but when the air begins to soften—and this time, Vancouver proved it true. From February 2nd to 3rd, 2025, the city witnessed two days of continuous snowfall, turning the streets into a afresh winter wonderland.  

3rd February 2025, Brighouse School ground.

While the flurry was a sight to behold and a refreshing change, it also brought life to a standstill. Work was postponed, routines disrupted, and for those who rely on daily wages or outdoor labor, the snowfall was more burden than beauty. My own office was closed on February 2nd, giving me an unexpected pause in my week. But by the next morning, as I set out for work, the sun began to break through, hinting at clearer days ahead. According to the forecast, better weather was on the horizon—good news for everyone.  

This week also marked a special milestone—Kuenga Norzang reached 37 weeks, and with perfect timing, he experienced his very first snowfall. A beautiful omen, I thought, a sign of good fortune and well-being for both him and my wife. As I sat on the right-side seat of the 364 bus to Langley, waiting at Scottsdale Exchange at 9:07 AM, I took a quiet moment to reflect on this new chapter, letting the wintry landscape outside mirror my emotions—cold yet full of warmth, still yet moving forward. 

Happy NEW Year 2025

As the calendar turned to 2025, my wife and I honored our tradition of visiting Thrangu Monastery in Richmond. Every year, we prioritize this plan to offer prayers for good fortune and to ward off any potential obstacles that may lie ahead in the unfolding months. On the first day of January, we followed our usual routine, boarding the bus with excitement and anticipation. We arrived at the temple at precisely 12:30 pm, and as luck would have it, the caretaker had just locked the door for her lunch break. However, upon seeing us, she kindly reopened it, granting us entry.

We spent a few peaceful moments inside, prostrating ourselves and offering heartfelt prayers for the well-being of our family. In my hands, I held a bouquet of flowers, which I handed to the caretaker, who then placed them on the altar with reverence. Time was tight, though, as the bus back was soon due, so we made a quiet circuit of the monastery before heading back home.

It was already later than usual for lunch by the time we arrived, but we quickly prepared a meal and ate before diving into the next plan of our day. In the evening, we paid a visit to Joemar, eager to share the gifts we had not been able to exchange over Christmas. After a lunch, we notified Joe of us being ready to come over, and he graciously picked us up. It felt wonderful to reconnect after months of being apart, exchanging greetings and gifts in a joyful reunion. 

By evening, we returned home, settling into the familiar rhythm of preparing for the busy days ahead. As the days of 2025 unfold, we hold on to the hope that each moment brings peace, strength, and happiness to all. May fortune smile upon us all, as we continue to embrace the journey ahead.

Thank you-2024

The year has been a flow of lessons, a reservoir of memories etched in laughter, tears, and the quiet triumph of happiness. Each emotion woven its way into the tapestry of 2024, a testament to the highs and lows that shaped us. As the year bows out, a moment of silence is owed—a reverent pause to honor the good health and the fruition of dreams, the seeds of plans now bearing fruit.  

Before me lies a horizon casting a colorful clouds or varying shapes. The incessant rain that drummed on Vancouver's rooftops over the past few days made way for a glorious sunshine on this final day of the year, a poetic farewell to a chapter well-lived.  

Two years in Vancouver—a years of growth, self-discovery, and the quiet transition into adulthood. This city has been more than just a backdrop; it has been a mentor, a witness to a phase of life that feels like a bridge between who I was and who I am becoming.  

With gratitude, I lift my thoughts to the Triple Gem, a humble supplication for the blessings that colored this year. To my family and parents, your prayers have been my anchor, my light on the darkest of days. And to the child within me—thank you for never losing faith, for holding onto dreams, for daring to believe in the beauty of becoming.  

Here’s to 2024, a year that was, and to the countless tomorrows waiting to be written.

Snowfall Dream

I found myself in the company of Pema Chophel, my childhood friend and neighbor, and Pema Khandu, the son of Mem Lam Norbu. My youngest brother, Sangay, was with us as well. The scene unfolded near Genden's old house, as we passed under its old house, attached to what once served as the main altar room.  

Together, we descended the village path, our steps taking us above my aunt’s house. There, Sangay paused to climb a small tree that stood just below the terrace of my upper farmland. A few more steps down the path, I suddenly felt a surge of excitement and began shouting, “Snowfall! Snowfall!”  

In an instant, the entire village was blanketed by a delicate sheet of snow, transforming the familiar landscape. Looking up, I saw the majestic Yomzangmo mountain cloaked in white, its peaks glistening under the snowfall.  

And then, just as quickly as it had begun, I awoke. It was 6:46 a.m. on the 24th of December, 2024. 

2024 - reading List

 1. Psychology of Money 

-Morgan Housel - 3rd November 2024

2. Grit ~ How to keep going when you want to give up

- Martin Meadows- 10/11/2024

3. I was never broken 

-Moonsoulchild- 11/11/2024 10:48 am

4. One Man’s view of the world

-Lee Kaun Yew- 28/11/2024

5. Can Asians Think?

-Kishore Mahbubani-12/12/2024

6. Article by Lopen Karma Phuntsholing

On Strengths and Weaknesses of the Four Traditions of Tibetan Buddhism (19/12/2024)

7. Change Leader

-Michael Fullan -29/12/2024

5RESEARCH

Graphic designer

When the government extended the unlimited working hours from December 2023 to April 2024, I seized the opportunity to work full-time. By early February, with just a few months left before graduation, I began searching for a full-time job. I contacted the Production Manager at Bento Express in Richmond, a sushi production company, and secured a position as a production operator, working 30-35 hours a week over six days, with weekdays off and weekends on duty.

On April 14th, 2024, I applied for a Post-Graduation Work Permit (PGWP) and my wife applied for a spousal work permit extension. A few days later, I received a temporary work visa valid for six months until October 2024. Though it took a few months to get the official permit, it finally arrived on August 24th, 2024. During this time, I applied for numerous jobs, faced several rejections, but remained hopeful and persistent.

On August 27th, I got a call for a Graphic Designer position, a role that matched my passion perfectly. After a virtual interview and submitting multiple rounds of sample work to showcase my strengths, I was invited for an in-person interview on August 2nd. Taking the bus from Brighouse and changing at Stockdale Exchange, I arrived at Highspeed Printing Inc. at Surrey in just an hour, despite Google Maps estimating 1 hour and 19 minutes.

The owner briefed me about the company and my responsibilities, and I received a few hours of training. We agreed that I would officially start on August 7th. That same week, I got interview invites from two other companies for Administrative Assistant positions. One was part-time with Moriva Construction Company, but due to scheduling conflicts, I had to decline the offer, though the owner kept my resume for future opportunities. The other job decision is pending, but for now, my focus is on the Graphic Design position.

At the shore of Jericho Beach

 On the 10th of July 2024, I whisked my wife away to Jericho Beach for a much-needed break. The past few weeks had been tough on her, as she was feeling emotionally drained after conceiving our child. We hopped on a bus and then caught the SkyTrain, navigating through the bustling streets that required a detour due to road maintenance. 

Upon arrival, we were greeted by a warm sun that was just right—not too hot. I hadn't packed a change of clothes, so I stayed dry on the shore. My wife, however, was prepared with her swimwear and eagerly plunged into the sea. She swam for a while, then returned to the shore where we savored "Chadpati," a spicy mix of Wai Wai noodles, chilies, and onions, followed by a crisp apple she had brought along.

The beach was alive with people soaking up the sun and relishing the serene ambiance of the sea. Couples strolled hand in hand, families laughed and played, friends gathered in joyous groups. Some ventured into the water to swim, others canoed or boated. Both young and old basked in the shared joy of the day. 

After an hour of blissful relaxation, we made our way back. It was a wonderful escape, marking our baby's second outing. I dream of the day I can bring our child here again, perhaps on the very same date, and watch him delight in the beauty of this place.

A Day of Roots and Growth: Celebrating Social Forestry Day

Every year on June 2nd, the earth beneath my feet and the memories in my heart resonate with a celebration that has shaped my life: Social Forestry Day. As a nature lover from a tender age, this day was always a cherished festival, an art of soil, saplings, and smiles. It is more than just a day to plant trees; it's a day that nurtures memories, fosters community, and sows seeds of environmental stewardship.

I fondly recall my primary school years when Social Forestry Day was celebrated with full excitement by our principal. The barren landscapes surrounding our school transformed into a heavenly natural park, thanks to our collective efforts. Initially, we planted around our school campus, but as our initiative grew, so did our reach. One memorable year, we planted saplings atop Murbi village, just below the grand stupa on the way to Serdam Goenpa.

Preparation for the day was an adventure in itself. A few days before the event, we were sent to Phongmey, the nearest road point, a two-hour trek on foot. Armed with empty bamboo baskets, we fetched tree saplings, which were stored in a corner of our school until the big day. On Social Forestry Day, we carried these saplings to the designated location. The day before, we dug holes one meter deep, ensuring cow dung was ready to enrich the soil.

Watering the plants was an unconventional task. We used beer bottles as makeshift watering cans, which sometimes posed a risk of breaking and causing injuries. Despite these challenges, the day we planted the trees atop Murbi village remains etched in my mind. Under a bright sun, we ascended from our school, traversing the Bumpalong valley to reach our destination. Each of us carried our packed lunches, while the elder students hauled the essential tools: hoes, shovels, and spades.

The saplings, supplied by the Forestry Park Office, were accompanied by a speech from late Ranger Pema, who graced the occasion with his presence. His speeches on the importance of the day and the significance of forestry left a lasting impact. The saplings were carefully wrapped in small plastic bags to keep the soil intact. We would tear off the plastic, mix the soil with cow dung, and gather humus from the forest floor to ensure the saplings had the best start.

As we worked, the air was filled with the sounds of nature – insects buzzing and birds chirping. Grasshoppers and ants, unfortunately, sometimes fall victim to our activities. After completing the plantation, we were treated to a refreshing drink. Our school management ingeniously mixed orange juice with water to quench our thirst, creating a drink that was a delight to our young palates. If the budget allowed, we also received a Parle-G biscuit, a coveted treat among us.

In years when we planted around the school, the afternoon was dedicated to literary activities themed around Social Forestry Day. Art contests and extemporaneous speech sessions were highlights. One year, when I was in class six, I eagerly participated in both contests. Though I didn't win the art contest, I triumphed in the extemporaneous speech, securing a cash prize of Nu. 300, sponsored by the Forestry Office. Elated, I saved the money, only to have it stolen from my wallet during a summer vaccination session. My teacher was not present, and other visitors had been around, and I suspected them of the theft. Discovering my empty wallet broke my heart, and I regretted not treating myself sooner, but it taught me the value of using and safeguarding my earnings.

Today, the fruits of our labor are visible in the towering trees surrounding my old school. These once fragile saplings now stand as sentinels, protecting the school from wind and storm, and providing shade and beauty. They have become homes for countless animals, insects, and birds, adding to the school's aesthetic charm. Seeing these trees mature and thrive is immensely satisfying, a dream realized after more than two decades.

I miss those days and the sense of purpose and camaraderie they fostered. As I reminisce on this Social Forestry Day, I extend my gratitude to everyone involved in creating these memories. 

Written on June 2nd, 2024, before getting out of bed, as the memories gently unfolded in my mind, I wish I could visit those saplings-turned-trees and relive the magic of those days.

Thank you for the memories, the lessons, and the growth.

Meshing licence :)

 In early May 2024, my brother Sangay conceived the idea of obtaining a forklift license. He successfully located the office where we could apply for the license. Grateful for his initiative, I agreed to accompany him to the office on May 11, 2024. We set off for Surrey city, embarking on our first visit there to accomplish this mission.

Lacking sufficient funds, I requested that he cover both our expenses, promising to repay him when my financial situation improved. It was a fine, sunny Saturday afternoon. After completing our shifts at midday, we boarded the 301 bus from Richmond, Brighouse. The hour-long journey took us through picturesque streets, finally delivering us to Surrey. We walked for 18 minutes from the bus stop to the privately operated office.

Upon arrival, we found the office bustling with people. Some were there for the same purpose as us, while others were preparing for their driving tests. A receptionist greeted us warmly, and after explaining our purpose, the licensing process began. We requested training, and the owner arranged for a cab to take us to the training ground. However, after several minutes of waiting without a cab arriving, the owner arranged for us to travel in a customer's vehicle, likely a close acquaintance of his. The couple drove us to the training site, where an instructor awaited our arrival.

The instructor began by teaching us about the Class 2 stand-up forklift. My brother and I took turns practicing, with Sangay performing better due to his prior vehicle training. Nevertheless, we both managed to understand and operate it. Next, the trainer introduced us to the Class 4 forklift, which was easier for us to handle as its operating system resembled that of a car.

After nearly an hour of training, we took a bus back to Richmond, feeling accomplished. Our mission was successful, and we are hopeful that this newly acquired skill will aid us in our future job searches.

MBA - The End!

The culmination of my Master's degree journey in Business Administration came with the signing off of the 5th Term. Reflecting on the tiring 15-month ride, it was a swirling blend of worry, anxiety, stress, and joy, among a myriad of other emotions. Six hours of weekly classes, countless sleepless nights, looming assignment deadlines, the perpetual struggle to manage finances, and the balancing act of part-time work - all traversed the same path, sometimes harmoniously, sometimes in discord.

As I proudly don the badge of master's degree, it symbolizes not just academic achievement but a repository of wisdom and experience, a testament to the investment of countless hours and unwavering dedication. With these hard-earned lessons in hand, I eagerly anticipate the opportunity to apply them, to carve a path where I can make the most of this newfound knowledge.

Yet, amidst the flurry of achievement, my deepest gratitude extends to my wife, my stalwart companion throughout this arduous journey. It's her unwavering support, and her resilience in the face of time constraints and health challenges, that enabled me to navigate this academic odyssey unscathed. Her sacrifices, often overlooked, deserve the utmost recognition. Though I was the one attending classes, it was a shared endeavor, her silent battles echoing my own.

The final class, culminating in a group presentation on the memorable date of 21/03/2024, marked both an end and a beginning. As I ambled out of the classroom, heading towards the bustling Yaletown train station, I couldn't help but feel the weight of emotions lingering in the air. Within the hustle and bustle of people and traffic, there was a palpable sense of relief, a release from the burdensome stress that had accompanied me for so long.