The Imperial War Museum: easily London’s most bombastically named institution. And as if the name weren’t intimidating enough, keeping guard beyond the entrance are two vast 15-inch guns, one from HMS Ramillies and the other from HMS Roberts (despite living by the gun both were ignominiously scrapped, being denied the honour of going down in battle). Merely walking in front of them is alarming, like tempting a snarling dog. Before even stepping inside you’d be convinced that the IWM was a temple to blood-soaked militarism.
But just to the east of the museum lies something unexpected. The Tibetan Peace Garden (Samten Kyil in Tibetan), funded by the Tibet Foundation and designed by sculptor Hamish Horsley, was completed in 1999. Like a sort of Stations of the Cross, only minus Jesus and the Cross, it offers a condensed tour of Tibetan Buddhism.
At the entrance sits the Language Pillar, based on the 8th century Sho Pillar found in front of the Potala Palace in Lhasa. Inscribed on it is the Dalai Lama’s message advocating world peace written in Tibetan, English, Hindi and Chinese. Beyond the pillar lies the garden’s centre ensconced with shrubbery. Its circular shape echoes the The Wheel of Dharma, or Dharmachakra, the Buddhist term for cosmic law and order and also referring to the Buddha’s teachings. In the middle, set in black Kilkeeny limestone, is a bronze mould of the Kalachakra Mandala. In Tibetan Buddhism there are three Kalachakras, The Outer Wheel of Time (the external world), The Inner Wheel of Time (the human body), and the ‘Other’ Wheel of Time (the practice leading to Buddhahood). The Kalachakra Sand Mandala is a representation of these three Kalachakras in unison, only here (and somewhat ironically) cast in bronze. Encircling the mandala are eight benches of grey York stone, symbolising the Noble Eightfold Path to nirvana, right view, right thought, right speech, right livelihood, right effort, mindfulness, and concentration. But particularly striking are the four sculptures in Portland stone representing the elements, Air symbolised by the arch you pass under, Earth Fire and Water by the sinuous or jagged lines corresponding to their nature. The fifth element, Space, has no sculpture as the entire garden conveys its essence better than a tangible monument.
But in this tranquil space it can be easy to overlook the enigmatic symbolism of its design. Whether or not you appreciate the Buddhist influence, no one can avoid being charmed by its serenity, its layers of greenery sheltering you from the world. When you finally do leave however its impossible to ignore the IWM’s double guns, an abrupt reminder of the world’s aggression and violence. You also find the Language Pillar before them. But approaching it from a different angle you now notice the strange shapes on top, outlined against the sky. They are depictions of jewels upon three steps, representing peace, understanding and love, the preconditions of Buddhist practice. Like a beacon to a world weary of war, they stand in contrast to the brooding artillery beyond. While the IWM memorialises the world’s blood-soaked history, the Tibetan Peace Garden offers balm and hope for a better future.
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