I journeyed to a Tibetan refugee camp in India to seek the knowledge of the oldest living reincarnate lama, Ripoche Ricochet. He was living in a temple carved into the side of a cliff. His acolytes suggested that I bring him an offering as this was expected of seekers of knowledge. So I prepared a dish of cinnamon, pasta, beef, cumin, all spice, red pepper, garlic, tomato sauce, topped with melted cheese. Carrying a thali heaped with this offering, I ascended the silk rope ladder to the lama's temple home. When I entered the temple, as my eyes adjusted to darkness, the only illumination that of a yak milk butter lamp, I found the weathered old lama sitting in the center of the temple with his third eye staring brightly into heaven, his face glowing in the radiance of holy ecstasy. I place my offering before him and lifted the bronze cover to reveal the dish I had prepared. He took but single whiff before inquiring "What's this buzzard puke?" And that is how I came to select my avatar.