Vajra Ihasa

Tibet, 1994

There are a few beloved objects I cannot give away. But the rules of this project require that everything appearing here be gifted. So this copper vajra, or “thunderbolt”—a Tibetan symbol of the diamond-like clarity of the awakened mind—must stand in for the most valuable object I own.

In May of 1994, during my around-the-world overland odyssey, I traveled by car from Kathmandu to Lhasa. Though I’m not an avid shopper, there was something I wanted to find in Tibet. I was seeking a ring in the shape of a vajra. But also: It had to be thogchag.

The word thogchag means “sky iron.” Tibetans believe that, eons ago, a war erupted between the gods and demigods. In the thick of battle, many small objects fell to Earth. Appearing as amulets, rings, buckles and talismans, these ancient objects were forged in heaven, created from lost alloys of iron, bronze, copper—even material from meteorites.

Visitng an open-air market in Lhasa, I bought a sack of tangerines from a young man with ruddy, sun-scarred cheeks. The crimson braid woven into his black hair placed him from Kham, in eastern Tibet. Around his neck, on a thin red cord, he wore a simple ring, iridescent in the sunlight. When I expressed my admiration, he let me try it on. The well-burnished thogchag ring—in the shape of a vajra—fit my finger perfectly.

“How much you give?” The young Khampa asked me. “No, no, no,” I replied, horrified. “I can’t buy this from you.” I’d seen enough fake thogchag to know this was the real thing. It was an heirloom, many centuries old. “How much?” he insisted.

If I didn’t buy the ring, another traveler would.

The ring has been on my finger for more than 25 years. I often wonder about the previous owners—all likely Tibetans, their lives a vast unknown to me. And I marvel, of course, at the vagaries of fate that delivered the ring to my hand. Even today, the object awes me. It’s like something from a Marvel comic (Thor’s hammer, or Dr. Strange’s Eye of Agamotto), waiting to bequeath me its secret power.

Someday, I may find out what that power is. But I suspect a similar magic lies, dormant, in every vajra—even the one here—as it awaits its destined caretaker.