On the Buddhist Trail in Dharamsala
Finding my Buddha Nature with the likes of the Karmapa, Tenzin Palmo, Chamtrul Rinpoche and Orgyen Tobgyal Rinpoche.
By Heather Elton
Part One: Dharamsala
I fell in love with Himachal Pradesh while travelling from Manali to Leh, through the Sangla, Kinnaur, Lahaul and Spiti valleys last summer. This land of high Himalayan passes and remote valleys bordering on Tibet are a sanctuary for some of the purest and most ancient forms of Tibetan Buddhism, and I felt utter awe by the beauty of the landscape and the Buddhist culture. I couldn't wait to return and last April, I visited Dharamsala, or more precisely McLeod Ganj, the picturesque small town that is seat to the Tibetan government in exile.
I book into Pema Thang, a spacious and clean Tibetan guesthouse with wooden floors, perfect for yoga, and a balcony looking over the snowy peaks of the Dhaula Dhar range in the Indian Himalayas, the Kangra Valley and the small mountain that is residence to his Holiness the Dalai Lama. My day begins with a hearty bowl of tsampa (barley) porridge with banana and honey, and a South Indian coffee on the terrace of Chonor House, a traditional Tibetan hotel filled with antiques, painted murals, floral rugs and embroidered paintings. I can see the Tsuglagkhang Complex that houses the Namgyal Monastery, important shrines, a bookshop and library, the Tibet Museum, and is the official residence of the Dalai Lama. It is very shanti. I then take a leisurely walk on the kora, a ritual circuit that circumambulates the small mountain, on a path that meanders through a deodar pine and rhododendron forest, is illuminated by the morning sun and offers glimpses of the surrounding peaks. I hear a lone monk chanting high up on Windhorse Hill that is strewn with prayer flags sending prayers throughout the valley. They seem to carry the melodious vibrations of his voice. Tibetan pilgrims from all over India walk the kora, most in traditional Tibetan dress, spin the prayer wheels and recite the mantra Om Mani Padme Hum (Hail to the Jewel in the Lotus), while counting beads on their malas.
I follow the path up to the Namgyal Monastery to sit in meditation before the 3 m high gilded statue of the Shakyamuni Buddha, Guru Rinpoche (also known as Padmasambhava the Indian monk who brought Buddhism to Tibet in the 8th CE.), and Avalokiteshwara, the Bodhisattva of Compassion and who the Dalai Lama currently represents on earth. Avalokiteshwara has a thousand arms, with eyes in each hand, to look for suffering beings. He is the great warrior alchemist who postpones his own enlightenment to help all suffering beings attain liberation. The Namgyal monks chant and do an elaborate puja that lasts for days and culminates with the symbolic act of erasing the coloured sand mandala they have meticulously built that represent the impermanence of life. Despite the continuous throng of tourists, there is an incredible calmness here and I observe the lama tending to the altar. His mouth covered with a mask, so he won't breathe on these very sacred and precious Buddhas (including the skull of Avalokiteswara, as he continually fills offering bowls with liquids and lights the butter lamps. Buddhists arrive and prostrate three times to Guru Rinpoche, some fall to their knees, others on to their bellies, and walk clockwise to make offerings to all the Buddhas, katas and small change in hand. Groups of Hindu tourists arrive busily, talking on their mobiles and snapping pics. Elder Tibetans and Western buddhists sit on the floor in meditation, chanting with crystal malas in hand. Despite all the chaos, mediation comes so easily it is difficult to stop. It feels as if I'm supported by energy of the room and drop deep into my heart.
Another temple, next door, has a painted Kalachakra (Wheel of Time) mandala on the walls and exquisite gold statues of Tara, Avalokiteshwara and the Kalachakra deity. I walk around these temples in a clockwise direction and spin the prayer wheels. An old Tibetan woman does her prostrations. It's the first time I've seen the planks of wood with soft cushions and pads for the hands. She offers to teach me. I place my hands in prayer on my head, throat and heart, and drop on to my belly, before placing my knees on the floor, then slide forward, forehead to floor and arms stretched with lifted hands in Namaste. Then I slide back to my knees and stand up. The woman is in her seventies and is doing them twice as fast as me. "Slowly, slowly..." she says. I think, 'I'm a yogi. These are easy.' When you take refuge in the Buddha and do the Preliminary Ngondro practices, 100,000 prostrations are required before the serious Tantric teachings begin. I decide to do 108, the sacred number of beads on a mala. The next day my abdominals are so sore I can barely roll over, let alone do Chaturanga. Perhaps my motivation was wrong.
This is the first time I've been to Dharamsla and, travelling alone, I'm reassured at how safe it feels here. I discover that there is plenty to do around McLeod Ganj and I could easily spend months here. I spend a day at the impressive Bagshu waterfall, 2 km from McLeod Ganj, popular with the monastics as a place to wash their clothes. I slowly walking upstream, past hundreds of burgundy robes drying on rocks, people sunbathing and dipping in refreshing pools of water fed by in small cascading waterfalls, having picnics on giant boulders, to the big waterfall at the top which cascades 30 feet in the monsoon. Further up is Shiva Shack and I head there hoping for an Indian thali lunch. Inside the stone house, built of stacked horizontal slate that looks like an alpine hut in the Canadian Rockies, are 20 Israelis, fully dreadlocked and pierced in grunge fashion, drinking beers, smoking the local cannabis that Himachel is famous for, some drawing in journals, others talking loudly, all experiencing a very different world far away from the war in Israel. Fortunately outside, sparkling clean water flows from the well and the magnificent views of the valley make this perch one of the most spectacular restaurant locations in the world. I share some parathas with a group of Punjabis who've come here every Sunday for 12 years.
Sixteen km from McLeod Ganj is the Nobulingka Institute (named after the Dalai Lama's original summer palace outside Lhasa that was destroyed during the Cultural Revolution), an exquisite center dedicated to Tibet's sacred and traditional arts inspired by the Buddhas's teachings – thangkas (Tibetan scroll paintings), applique thangka, sculpture and woodwork. It provides training, education and employment for Tibetans. The institute is beautifully designed with traditional Tibetan architecture and landscaped water gardens. I have a Thukpa noodle soup in the outdoor café, before heading to the shop to purchase a small golden Buddha and a yak wool jacket.
I order my birth chart from the Tibetan Medical and Astrological Institute and it will take 7 months to finish. The Library of Tibetan Works and Archives has more than 100,000 titles in the form of manuscripts (printed by hand from carved wooden typographic blocks), hundreds of thangkas, statues and other artifacts; and over 6,000 photographs. It also runs a publishing house. In the museum, I'm astonished by a 3-D mandala of a crystal palace made from rainbow hues of silk threads, and suddenly I understand what a Tantric visualization might look like.
The Tibet Museum, in the Tsuglagkhang Complex, tells the tragic story of the Chinese occupation and the subsequent Tibetan exodus through photographs, interviews and video clips. The film, “Under Cover in Tibet” depicts the hidden reality of life for Tibetans under current Chinese occupation. To make this film, Tibetan exile Tash Despa returned to the homeland he risked his life to escape 11 years ago, to carry out secret filming with award-winning, Bafta-nominated director, Jezza Neumann (Dispatches Special: China's Stolen Children). Risking imprisonment and deportation, he uncovers evidence of the cultural genocide described by the Dalai Lama. He finds the traditional nomadic way of life being forcefully wiped out as indigenous Tibetans are stripped of their land and livestock and are resettled in concrete camps, a shocking story happening today, yet reminiscent of the genocidal way Sitting Bull and the Plains Indian Sioux tribes culture were wiped out when they were corralled onto reservations at the end of the 19th CE. The film reveals the regime of terror that dominates daily life in Tibet with no regard for human rights or freedom of speech. Tash meets victims of arbitrary arrests, detention, torture and ‘disappearances.' A woman tells her story about how Chinese police came to her house in the night and dragged her off for ‘enforced sterilization' – practice they like to use on ethnic Tibetan women - where her fallopian tubes ripped out without anesthetic. The film documents ethnic genocide, hunger and hardship being endured by many Tibetans and impact of the enormous military and police presence in the region. Tibetans are forced to learn Chinese without which they cannot get a job. They have become the ethnic minority in their own country and live in dire poverty. There are shots of Tibetans doing prostrations, while soldiers try to intimidate them, high-stepping in military style as if to prove their superiority. Despite the fact that China obviously has taken total control of Tibet for decades, it seems unlikely they will crush the Tibetans unwavering belief in Buddhism and the Dalai Lama.
When I walk back out on the streets, I realise that most of Tibetans here have risked life and limb, spending 20 days crossing Himalayan passes in the freezing cold, with minimal food, travelling only at night to avoid being shot by the Chinese – all this to be near his Holiness the Dalai Lama. I see crippled frostbitten feet and the suffering these people have endured. A few thousand Tibetans continue to escape each year and India generously accepts them as refugees and provides land for them to live. Of course passports are a problem, as well as wages, and they're still refugees 60 years on.
On 17 March 2011, Phuntsok Jamyang, a young monk from Kirti Monastery in Tibet set himself on fire and died in an act of self-immolation. Kirti monastery has been a center of protest against Chinese policies and was especially active in the 2008 Tibetan uprising. Self-immolation, or the offering of oneself as a sacrifice, has been tolerated by some Mahayana Buddhists for centuries. It's an urgent cry for help. Indian newspapers document the increased Chinese military presence at the Kirti monastery, which is currently under lockdown by armed security personnel and police attack dogs. Four people have been killed and 400 Buddhist monks have been ‘detained' which really means they are subjected to barbaric torture. In McLeod Ganj, and elsewhere, lay Tibetans fast in support of the Kirti monastery and a candlelight vigil winds through the streets of McLeod Ganj at dusk. I see no monks on the scene. All the protestors are Tibetan civilians and friends. The Dalai Lama advocates peaceful negotiations, nonviolence, supported by Buddhist beliefs that our enemy is our best teacher and we need to maintain equanimity in difficult situations. Of course, that might change when the Dalai Lama dies. At the moment he has retired from political office and Lobsang Sangay, a Harvard graduate has taken over the leadership of Tibetan government in exile.
I always attend a few yoga classes with North Indian teachers to see what they're up to. I've met some interesting ones over the years, but too often it amounts to sanctimonious preaching and dry teachings, heavy on the pranayama, delivered in a patronizing tone by a pot-bellied, bearded, swathed-in-white swami type. Quite a few Astanga yoga studios have opened offering 200-hour Yoga Alliance certification, and I'm skeptical about this South Indian yoga style being taught up here. I request a private lesson with a Tibetan yoga teacher hoping to learn Tibetan Yantra yoga. He says he's not authorized to teach it, but we could do India yoga. I don't bother but we have an interesting yoga chat. Up in Dharamkot, there's an afternoon Tantric class, led by a Japanese-trained Israeli, who guides us to focus on sensing prana in the subtle energy body and moving it to the chakras, while doing asana. After a few of these forays, I decide to spend my time studying the Buddhist Dharma and do my own practice.
Part Two: The Dharma
Tibet has been producing awakened beings for centuries, like an assembly line, and I suspect that Chamtrul Rinpoche Lobsang Gyatso (http://www.chamtrul-rinpoche.com/) is one of them. He was born in in 1963 in Golok, Eastern Tibet and is recognized as the 3rd reincarnation of Chamtrul Pema Nangsel Dorje. Chamtrul Rinpoche is a Khenpo (Ph.D. in Buddhist philosophy) and came to India in 1996. I attend his teachings each afternoon at the Zilnon Kagye Ling Nyingma Monastery, a glorious mountainside perch illuminated by the late afternoon sun. He sits like an immoveable Buddha behind his desk, dressed in the traditional yellow shirt and burgundy robes, flanked by bookshelves containing silk-covered volumes of the sacred Tibetan Kangyur manuscript, rows of small Buddhas, photographs and odd paraphernalia like a crystal Eiffel Tower. The room is beautiful with thangkas hanging on the walls, a Tibetan carpet covering the floor and meditation cushions to sit on. To his side is a table full of gifts, stacked silk katas, an offering mandala, as well as a large crystal ball through which I can see his reflection inside.
Above his head is a photo of an old thin lama, sitting on a rock, surrounded by a rainbow. Refracted rays of light stream in through the windows and, at other times, there are intense thunderstorms. It's an intimate and powerful place and I arrive early to simply sit in his presence. Each week, Rinpoche teaches a different aspect of the dharma, all of which are part of the Mahayana Buddhist path, but specifically the alchemical tantric Vajrayana path that is said to be the direct path to enlightenment over one lifetime. I study The Four Noble Truths, Vajrasattva, and Emptiness and Compassion. It requires intense concentration to absorb this extremely complex philosophy, and sit on the floor for two hours. By the end of each week, almost all the students have disappeared. Although I understand almost nothing, I'm captivated by everything he says.
I cannot possibly do justice to Rinpoche's patient and elaborate teachings that lead us through logical Buddhist arguments that deconstruct concepts of self, form and time to prove that nothing inherently exists outside our perception of them, and that this fundamental misunderstanding is what leads to our suffering. He patiently explains that we are trapped in this worldly realm of endless cycle of birth and death (samsara) due to impure perceptions. He reminds us that Siddhartha Gautama's (Shakymuni Buddha) most profound realisation is that all compounded phenomenon (things and experience) are impermanent and subject to change, except for pure awareness that is unchangeable and permanent. If we understand this, the whole Vajrayana path makes sense.
“Whatever is impermanent is subject to change. Whatever is subject to change is subject to suffering.”
—The Buddha
The Four Noble Truths lays down the ground, or path, to understand why we suffer and how to stop suffering. He says that once we know that suffering exists we must eliminate it by removing the causes of suffering. Suffering is not of dependent on external forces, but on what we have done previously – karma – and continue to do through our habitual patterns, non-virtuous acts and negative emotions, all that lead to mental defilement that obscures our true Buddha Nature and compounds suffering. Of course, one might ask, if nothing inherently exists, neither god, Buddha or self, then what is ‘it' that knows the nature of impermanence, dissatisfaction, selflessness and who determines what is virtuous or non-virtuous? The cause of suffering is ignorance - our profound misunderstanding of the nature of life. Ignorance obscures true reality and binds us to a world of illusion. Fortunately, we can diminish our suffering if we realise that karma and defilements take place within us. I really understand this on a theoretical level and try to put it into practice. I sit in meditation for hours in front of Guru Rinpoche and Avalokiteswara in the Namgyal Monastery.
Often it feels like my mind is a fly stuck in honey, trying to detach itself from the same thoughts. I think of myself as a witness, observing this process with non-attachment and non-judgment, as if I were a psychiatrist examining someone else's mind. I can see my habitual thought patterns that lead to self-cherishing, clinging to the ego, and even my attachment to the belief that this Buddhist path really works. In life, whenever a challenging situation arises, I try to create space between it and my reaction to it. I try not to stir up emotions like anger, desire, jealously, pride and react in a way that disturbs the mind. And this is very tempting. Instead, I just watch these thoughts, rather than engage with them, like an alchemist transforming negative emotions into a useful mind. My ego withers and for a brief moment the precious quality of humility floods in my heart. I begin to realise that thoughts cannot bind me, hold me, or grasp me. They are like clouds, coming and going, without bothering the sky.
I sign up for another course with Chamtrul Rinpoche on Bodhichitta, or cultivating the enlightened mind, something that is at the heart of the Mahayana school. He refers to The Way of the Boddhisattva, written by the 8th C saint and scholar, Shantideva, who encourages us to act with generosity and kindness, and dedicate the merits of our actions for the benefit of all other beings, and by doing so collect the merit and wisdom that we need for Buddhahood. Sometimes this sounds a bit like putting the ‘fear of god' into people, that if we don't act in a virtuous way that will we be destined to one of the horrendous Buddhist hell realms. So our motivation has to be pure. Compassion is the cornerstone of Buddhist path. I have to admit that I really struggle with compassion. No problem with dogs. I look into their eyes, there is pure heart connection, and I melt. The trouble lies with humans. Each of us manifest the situation we're in, so sometimes it's difficult to be compassionate when really I think they're idiots and deserve the fruit of their actions. I ask Rinpoche about my lack of compassion and he reminds me that it's all Buddha nature and what I observe in them is in fact my own projection, so I need more compassion for myself.
Despite our best intentions to be virtuous, selfishness and negative emotions still present obstacles on the path. The best tantric remedy is Vajrasattva, the Buddha of Purification. Rinpoche describes Vajrasattva and his consort as sitting in tantric bliss about an elbow's length above my head, their bodies luminous and empty, intangible, like the reflection of the moon in water or a rainbow. This luminosity represents the glow of our Buddha nature. I visualize a flow of light falling from their mystical union into my crown chakra, an irresistible flood of nectar washes away all physical illnesses in a stream of puss, rotten blood, spiders, toads, fish, scorpions, and all harmful actions and obscurations as black liquid, dust, smoke, clouds and vapour, through the pores of my skin, lower orifices and feet, as an offering to all beings that I owe a karmic debt. Rays of light radiate and luminescent mantras spin, and I imagine Vajrasattva dissolving into me in an act of non-dualism, understanding that there is no external deity. I must become utterly absorbed to the point where I become the deity, and no longer feel the presence of ‘I' doing the practice. It's not a game; it's about transforming my very being. Even though I'm just a beginner and get stuck continually, I honestly feel this kind of intense concentration makes me feel lighter and more pure. One time, I felt a presence of Vajrasattva inside of me and, in his honour, flowed him through my astanga practice. Supposedly, these gods (that don't exist) enjoy the sensations of embodiment of flesh.
When I first encountered Tibetan Buddhism, I was really alienated by the deities. I come from the Canadian prairies, a place that taught me to appreciate subtle beauty of vast expanse and the majesty of the Canadian Rockies. I grew up largely atheist and a committed existentialist. I thought Tibetan deities were gods and could not relate to the highly ornate and seemingly baroque imagery. I preferred to watch my breath, Vipassana style. Now I understand their purpose. In the Tantric system, mantra and deity are tools to train the mind to become a Buddha and to possess the necessary compassion and wisdom to be of genuine service to the world. They make the mind subtle and blissful, necessary qualities to see the Buddha nature of our own mind. Rinpoche says, “A blissful mind is a very subtle mind and that kind of mind looking at emptiness is very different thing than the gross mind looking at emptiness and that is why one cultivates bliss.”
For sure, I need more bliss to grasp the vast, subtle mind of our teacher and his detailed machinations on Emptiness and Compassion. On the Vajrayana path both conventional truth and ultimate truth exist, as well as different kinds of beings - yogis, gods (supreme beings), human beings and hungry ghosts. He says, “A human will perceive a substance as water, while a hungry ghost will see it as puss (water burns their throat), and a supreme being will see nectar. It all depends on our capacity. Yogis are considered even more pure than gods and perceive not just the nectar, but also the deity. They see everything as omniscient, primordial wisdom and see through the delusion of solidity into space and energy. This is why almost all tantric rituals have an element of purification to eliminate the obscurations that prevent us from seeing things how they really are.” Of course, all these states are just representations of our mind.
Ordinary humans only seem to have the capacity to see objects as sold and real, and this is a result of our mistaken perception. Because we perceive the world through our senses and these create imprints or impressions, - ‘sense objects,' our experience of the world is entirely subjective, and hence lead us back to this false notion of ‘I” that we believe is real and permanent. This is the great illusion. External appearance is really just a mental projection experienced by the mind. While it's true from the ‘conventional truth' perspective that a mountain won't vanish if we turn away (and, in fact, it's useful to say it exists to facilitate communication in the relative world), but seen through the gaze of ‘ultimate truth' by those with pure vision, all objects break down into quark-like particles and are a shimmering dance of energy.
I've always been fascinated with metaphysical speculation both in Buddhist and India yogic philosophy. (Not that I get it.) In the Yoga Sutras, Patanjali states that no two people see an object in the same way. Neuroscientists also say that we can never experience an object directly, but only as a reflection of light and shadow on the retina. It's not existent, just a reflection of the mind. When objects are projected onto ordinary perception as light, motion and mass, they arise purely in relation to a self that is itself an empty construct. Science attributes awareness to neuronal activity in the brain and the rest of the central and peripheral nervous systems, yet awareness, per se, does not seem to reside in the neurons themselves but in the converted patterns of energy they evoke. Everything that we experience, including the body and its sense organs, and the sensations, thoughts, emotions and memory resulting from our consciousness, is different from pure awareness. Therefore, everything that we think of as ‘I' – mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual – is impermanent and subject to cause and effect. Only pure awareness, or primordial wisdom, is infinite, with no beginning or end, and exists beyond time. It is intangible, impersonal and inconceivable.
Rinpoche asks us, “Where does this is ‘I' exist? Is it found in our physical form or beyond?” When we look at an object, we can never find the object itself. “He goes on to prove that the foundation of the body doesn't exist. He says, “The body is comprised of arms, legs, skin and bones, but there is no one thing that is the body. It's only a sum of its parts. It's only imputed on the form of the body. Does is the hand exist? No. The finger is not the hand, nor the fingernail. If you analyze it logically, in detail, you see that all physical forms break down until you get to what modern physics calls a ‘quark', the smallest part of the atom. Buddhists realised this 3,000 years ago and call it the ‘particle-less particle'. There is space between the quarks – shivering waves of energy, but they never touch. This pure energy is ‘emptiness' and that is the ultimate truth.”
He explains that when we experience the world through our senses, we only ever find objects of desire; not the Self. As long as we desire anything, it leads us back to a false notion of ‘I' that we cling to. Suffering arises from attachment to desire. Self-grasping, or ego-clinging, obscures the innate emptiness of the Buddha mind that is always pure, clear and luminous, with thoughts and emotions that are like clouds covering a clear, blue sky. This Buddha Nature exists within all of us and we are capable of moving through the obscurations and delusions of samsaric existence to realise primordial wisdom –Dharmakaya - and attain liberation, become awakened. One entire class is dedicated to the 37 different stages of enlightenment.
Rinpoche introduces another fascinating concept. Apparently, things only exist in inter-dependence or relationships with everything else. He explains: “We cannot think of ‘dark' except by thinking of ‘light'. We cannot think of ‘time' without reference to ‘space.' It's like Einstein's theory of Relativity: we cannot think of anything except in contrast and in relationship with something else. If you don't compare things, nothing can be bigger or smaller than anything else.”
I ask him if this is how the psychic powers of the Maha Siddhis manifest, where realised beings transform their illusory body into the size of an atom or as large as a mountain, can become infinitely heavy or weightless as in levitation, physically manifest out of thin air or, like the Tibetan Lung-gompa runners, fly through time and space. He shares a story about how the great yogi saint, Milarepa, used to lie down on the sky to prove the idea that tangibility is all perception, and how when the king of Tibet offered Padmasambhava gold (instead of body, speech and mind) he scoffed and manifested heaps of gold out of thin air. So, yes, it is possible to materialise thought into physical form, but the omniscience of Buddha is beyond the ordinary mind.
"All worldly pursuits have but the one unavoidable end, which is sorrow: acquisitions end in dispersion; buildings in destruction; meetings in separation; births in death. Knowing this, one should, from the very first, renounce acquisition and heaping up, and building, and meeting; and faithful to the commands of an eminent guru, set about realizing the Truth (which has no birth or death)." – Milarepa
Part Three: Ani Tenzin Palmo, Todgen Yogis, Tashi Jong Gompa & Deer Park Institute
I'm reading Vicki MacKenzie's book, A Cave in the Snow, about Tenzin Palmo, the daughter of a fishmonger in London's Bethnal Green. Palmo came to India in the 60s, was ordained as a Buddhist nun by her guru (the 8th Khamtrul Rinpoche of Tashi Jong monastery) and eventually lived in a remote cave, 13,200 feet in the Himalayas, for 12 years. She slept sitting up in a mediation box for three hours a night and survived temperatures of below – 35 C. with snow seven months of the year. The last three years were spent in complete isolation, until a police inspector rudely knocked on her window and demanded that she leave India as her Visa had expired, breaking her silence. She has become a Buddhist legend and a champion for the rights of women to attain spiritual enlightenment. I read this book about six years ago and was hugely inspired by it, but reading it this time I suddenly realise that all of this happened very close to here. I jump into a taxi and head to Tashi Jong Gompa and Ani Palmo's nunnery.
When the 8th Khamtrul Rinpoche came to India in the 60s, he brought with him ten elite Himalayan yogis called Todgens (or Tokdens). The lineage dates back to the 17th CE when the 4th Khamtrul Rinpoche started a yogi sangha. Togden means “those who have realisation of the nature of the mind.” Their practices include the Six Yogas of Naropa (inner ‘tummo' heat, illusory body, clear light, consciousness transference, forceful projection and bardo yoga) and Mahamudra meditation, as well as many other Drukpa Kagyu secret tantric practices. Although they are fully ordained monks, the Todgens keep the matted hair and white robes of the Milarepa tradition.
Today, there are more than 15 yogis from the old and new generations at Tashi Jong. Some are undergoing a profound training that requires many years to complete, and most of them have been in retreat for more than 15 years. They get to wear the yogi's robes after 12 years of practice, at the completion of their first stage of training. Although they always remain in strict retreat, occasionally they come out to lead monks during important ceremonies.
I arrive at Tashi Jong in hope of catching a glimpse of a yogi. I think ‘where would I be if I were a Todgen' and follow the path to the very top of the monastery. It's a sweet place with grand views and flowers everywhere. I arrive at the highest house and inquire about the Togdens and am told to go upstairs. Here is the samadhi of Amtrin, one of the originals who passed away on 1 July 2005 at the age of 84. Apparently, at the time of his death, despite the fact that it was monsoon season, the weather cleared completely for that whole night and the next morning. When a highly realized being dies often their body shrinks in size and peculiar formations are found in the cremation ashes. Sometimes an eye, tongue and heart might remain (corresponding to realised body, speech and mind), as well as an odd assortment of small right turning conch shells, colored pills and gemstones. The mummified relics of Amtrim are exquisitely enshrined in this room surrounded by windows. I do my style of prostration, Surya Namaskar, in his honour and sit. Serenity and warmth fills the room. I feel the energy of the space.
On the way down, I take a remote path and end up in an old section of the monastery with an old house, chorten and prayer flags. Through a fence I see two Todgens, with their long dreads wrapped on top of their heads, eating lunch. I keep hidden as I suspect they are on retreat and wouldn't want to break their silence. That would be very bad karma indeed! Back in the main gompa, the monks have finished the Long Life puja and I visit the stupa where the 8th Khamtrul Rinpoche was cremated and a Bodhi tree spontaneously grows from inside the structure. Sacred Lama dances (Cham) get underway in the courtyard. The dance ritual was first performed in Tibet more than 300 years ago, was brought to India by the 8th Kamtrul Rinpoche in 1958, and Tashi Jong monks have performed them faithfully ever since it. The dancers wear elaborate brocaded costumes and large masks and dance in highly stylized movements, against the backdrop of the snow-covered Himalayan peaks and the constant beat of drums and rich tones of solemn chants. A Todgen is leading the ceremony.
Late afternoon, I arrive at the Tenzin Palmo's Dongyu Gatsal Ling Nunnery. It was founded in 2002 to give young women from Tibet and the border regions the opportunity to realize their intellectual and spiritual potential. Her other main intention here is to reinstate the Togdenma (yogini) tradition. Since the Drukpa Kagyu lineage was founded in the 12th century, it has been renowned for its highly accomplished yogis and yoginis, but with the Chinese occupation of Tibet the female lineage has almost died out. I enquire at the office if Tenzin Palmo is around and they say she is and that I can make an appointment with her the following week. I think ‘yes, I'll definitely drive an hour and a half for tea with a realized being.'
Bir is another Tibetan refugee settlement about 50 km from Dharamsala. It began in 1966, when the highly reputed 3rd Neten Chokling Rinpoche (1928-1973) brought his family and a small entourage to Himachal Pradesh. With the help of foreign aid, he bought over 200 acres of land and established a Tibetan settlement where 300 Tibetan families were given land to build houses. Chokling Rinpoche built the Neten monastery and his disciples formed its first sangha. When he passed away in 1973, his eldest son, Orgyen Tobgyal Rinpoche (b. 1951), assumed responsibility for completing his father's vision. The 4th Neten Chokling incarnation was born in 1973, in Bhutan, and was brought to Bir at a young age to be raised by Orgyen Tobgyal Rinpoche.
The main town of Bir is a bustling filthy little place, with dreadful food, and dogs so dangerous that it's ill advised to go out at night. (It seems like an appropriate place to study tantra.) But the surrounding landscape is spectacular with colourful homes perched up the mountainside beside a clear running river and overlooking tea plantations, rolling fields of wheat and tsampa (barley) strewn with prayer flags and views of the Himalayas. Bir is also famous for paragliding, as well as being home to a few illustrious Tibetan film directors. Dzongsar Jamyang Khentyse Rinpoche's first feature film, The Cup (Phörpa) (1999), was based on events that took place here during the 1998 World Cup final. The 4th Neten Chokling Rinpoche is the director of the film Milarepa (2006) and Orgyen Tobgyal Rinpoche acted in both of them. My purpose in coming to Bir is to visit Deer Park Institute, a center for Classical Indian Wisdom Traditions set up by my teacher, Dzongsar Jamyang Khentyse Rinpoche, as part of Siddhartha's Intent (http://www.siddharthasintent.org/), that hosts guest lectures and workshops with reputed scholars and mediation teachers. Orygen Tobgyal Rinpoche is teaching an obscure tantric sadhana (practice) and I decide to stay for a few days and visit Tenzin Palmo on the way back to Dharamsala.
HIs teaching is held in the Manjusuri Hall with a giant gilded statue of Manjushuri Buddha (Wisdom). Even against such a magnificent backdrop, Orgyen Tobgyal Rinpoche (OT) with his inimitable style as a great orator takes center stage. He is powerful and eloquent, with a hint of wrathfulness that makes me think of Manjusuri, himself, wielding the large sword of discernment. His teaching of Chime Phakma Nyingtik ‘Trinle', or Wisdom Manifestation, is so indescribably beautiful and sweeping in scope and I stop taking notes and am simply awestruck.
This particular teaching is a terma, or treasure teaching, concealed by the 8th CE teacher, Guru Rinpoche, with the intention that it be revealed at specific times in the future. Termas are hidden treasures (texts, relics and transmissions of teachings) concealed by Padmasambhava (Guru Rinpoche) and his consort Yeshe Tshogyal. A terton is a dharma treasure discoverer. Thousands of volumes of the profound, authentic and powerful tantric teachings and material objects have been miraculously found in the earth, water, sky, mountains, rocks and mind by tertons, through the powers of the spirits, non-human beings, and through psychic powers by gifted human beings. By practicing these teachings, many of the followers have attained enlightenment. The Nyingma school has the richest tradition of treasure teachings. Once discovered within the mindstream of realised beings and are transmitted orally to a worthy disciple. Through the terma tradition, Nyingma teachings, transmissions and lineage of enlightened masters have remained unbroken up to this date.
Right away OT tells us that he will not give us the empowerment and we're lucky, otherwise we'd have an obligation to do the practice. But without the transmission, it's simply too ephemeral to grasp. A few hours later I see why he made the right decision. Initiations or empowerments are direct transmissions of esoteric wisdom gleaned from the enlightened mind of a Vajra master (tertöns or treasure revealers) to the mind of the disciple. It empowers the student with the meditative techniques for inner transformation, necessary to accomplish the union of bliss and emptiness, and awakens the inherent wisdom and enlightened qualities within us. Since what is being transmitted is not mundane knowledge, but enlightened wisdom that goes beyond our worldly knowledge and language, only a qualified guru with first-hand experience, not a well-versed scholar, can fulfill the task. Apparently, without empowerment, we shouldn't even hear this teaching. OT says that since Dzongsar Jamyang Khentyse Rinpoche (who owns the teaching) asked him to teach it that he can't refuse, but that any bad karma ensued will go to DJKR.
What can I say about this obscure text laced with secret Vajra words, tantric symbolism and so much hidden meaning, that it takes OT 18 hours to explain 12 pages of text, and sometimes 40 minutes to illuminate one Tibetan word? I see why some dharma is considered to be beyond ordinary human thought and why most tantric teachings remain secret. Essentially, like most Vajrayana practices, it generates and dissolves an elaborate visualisation of a deity – in this case, Chime Phakma Nyingtik, who I believe is a form of Tara. It's like constructing a technicolour, 3-D mandala in the mind where the whole universe is seen as a realm of immaculate purity populated by celestial light beings with indestructible diamond bodies that radiate rays of light in all directions to completely purify everything and all beings everywhere. I love this idea of the ‘formless form' and supreme beings having intangible, luminous light bodies. Nothing is solid here; all is transparent. The teaching is so infinitesimally detailed, and the spectacular beauty he invokes so elegant and profound that I feel utter awe. I follow his description, image by image, through the sadhana and for a brief moment get a glimpse of what emptiness, primordial wisdom and the Dharmakaya actually looks like. OT's extraordinary illumination of the text is only possible because he actually practices it. That alone is astonishing.
According to the Buddhist doctrine, Buddhas have three kāyas or bodies: the Nirmānakāya body manifests as solid material forms; the Saṃbhogakāya manifests as luminosity - light and rays - intangible forms only perceivable by those with visionary clarity; and the Dharmakaya, or truth body, is the sphere of unconditioned potentiality and embodies the principle of Buddha Nature's absence of self, the emptiness of the enlightened mind and transcends the forms of physical and spiritual bodies. According to tradition, those skilled in meditation, such as yogis and highly-realised Tibetan lamas attain this form of clear light upon the reaching the highest dimensions of practice. One manifestation of the Sambhogakaya is that when an enlightened being dies, a transformation occurs into the Rainbow Body leaving behind only hair and nails. The Sambhogakāya body appears in the cosmic realm, or pure land, known as Buddha fields. But what does this have to do with us mere mortals?
At the same time OT invokes the gods, he also brings the teaching back to mundane reality to give practical advice about the practice. He emphatically states that all these incredible qualities belonging to supreme beings exist within us, but we have to actually believe this otherwise it won't work. We must develop the conviction that now I am who I truly am. He calls it “vajra pride.” He says, “You won't gain Buddha qualities as a result of the practice. Don't think that through the practice, you'll become the deity. That's lazy! You must become the deity NOW. It's important to attain the clarity of the visualization, as if something appears in a mirror, but without vajra pride it remains an empty image.” The whole point is to purify our perception and see things as they really are in a state of non-dualism. By practicing in this way, he says that we will very quickly transform ourselves. “The most direct path to liberation is to trust the Rinpoche that this is true, otherwise study sutra and tantra more. Or accumulate a lot of merit and purify obscurations. And, if even this doesn't work then you don't have the right karma to proceed on the Mahayana yoga path.”
After the teachings were over, I mention to a couple of friends that I brought two thangkas to Bir to get brocaded. I clearly remember OT saying that for a thangka to be of any use in my practice, it needs to be consecrated. So, they insist that I go to his house and see if he is good to his word. OT lives in a magnificent Tibetan-styled house on landscaped gardens surrounded by high walls. Every single object refers to the dharma and resonates the beauty and devotion of someone with a refined sense of spiritual aesthetic. I feel very small indeed, as I knock on the giant door. The Indian servants let me in but are obviously too afraid to disturb him. In front of me is a large mahogany table with tormas and two fierce lions. I'm definitely not moving beyond it, so sit down to meditate. When I finished the mantra and visualization, OT's translator appears and I explain why I'm here. He disappears for a moment and then invites me in to meet OT. We unravel the thangkas and he blesses them. Standing behind them, I must have caught the blessing because I was overcome with joy and walked out on a cloud. He smiled at me as I left. He is a man of tremendous presence.
I get a call from the DLG Nunnery saying Ani Tenzin Palmo needs to re-schedule our meeting to the following day, so I go back to Tashi Jong with my two dharma pals. As soon as we arrive, who should appear on the path in front of us if not the nun herself, also on her way to meet with Khamtrul Rinpoche. She's friendly and has a piercing gaze, and is in extraordinary good shape, a sprightly being, from all the years of climbing to her cave. She graciously suggests we go in first. I offer Rinpoche a white scarf (kata) and he blesses me. He is only 30 and is the incarnate of the previous 8th Khamtrul Rinpoche who was Tenzin Palmo's guru and good friend. Apparently, the first time she met this version of Khamtrul Rinpoche when he was about 6, he clapped his hands together with delight and said, “Oh, my nun is here.”
We go up to the top of the mountain, to Achin Togden's samadhi surrounded with windows offering a panoramic view. I see a deer climb up onto a rock outcropping and stay perfectly still for what seemed ages. Soon Tenzin Palmo comes into the room. She pays her respects to her old friend with a big smile, beaming with love, and sits behind me to meditate. I am overcome with tears of joy and feel my heart chakra open. I simply cannot believe that Tenzin Palmo, Tashi Jong and the Togdens have suddenly all manifested in my life. I feel such gratitude to the spiritual path.
The next day, I arrive at Dongyu Gatsal Ling Nunnery for our appointment. Her private study is spacious and packed with books and a writing desk, seemingly dark brown and burgundy, with clear light streaming through the windows. She sits in an upholstered chair in her robes; me on a matching couch. She is very close. If I was at all nervous, her genuine kindness and humour immediately puts me at ease. I don't want to waste her time. I briefly tell her about my spiritual experiences 25 years on the yoga path, with forays into shamanism and Vipassana meditation, how I've always believed the guru lies within but with the Vajrayana path a guru is essential, and while I experience much more joy and ease in my life, I doubt that moksha (liberation) is possible in this lifetime. That's a problem for me. I'm not asking her to be my teacher as I have a superstar Vajra master, but since all Buddhist practitioners are essentially on their own path, I wonder what my practice should be. She laughs, “Isn't that the million dollar question?”
According to Ani Palmo, the main challenge for Westerners trying to practice Tibetan Buddhism is not only finding the time in our busy lives, but that there are so many distractions in our culture. She says, “Despite the fact that our minds are where we actually live, they are like rubbish heaps. Every day newspapers, television, radio, gossip, years of negative mind chatter and futile memories of things people did to harm us churn around in the mind – resentments, jealousies and frustrations going way back to childhood, and they stay there fermenting. And then, on top of this junk pile we want to build a beautiful spiritual temple. We want to become great meditators and wonder why it doesn't work. So, before we try to add grand tantric visualizations to this mess, we need to empty the mind with Shamatha meditation, or they will not penetrate into a deep part of the mind beyond words.” I agree completely but I've deliberately been emptying my mind out. I rarely read newspapers and didn't have a TV for 25 years, and I've been doing yoga.
About the tantric practice, she says, “The visualizations of deities are emanations of the ‘wisdom mind' as they have appeared to realised masters throughout the ages. Because of this they can open us up to extremely deep levels of consciousness. To transform the mind completely, we need a method that can reach these deeper levels. Visualization is skillful conduit back to very profound realms of our psyche that cannot be accessed through logical, linear thinking. The deeper and more primitive levels respond to images rather than words. But the whole point is to get realizations, not visions, where truth stops being a mental construct and becomes real. Only when the mediation drops from the head to the heart and is ‘felt' can transformation begin to take place. When that happens, the heart opens and there is no ‘I,' and that is a relief.”
She cautions me about being too ambitious. “Many people take on too many ‘commitments,' or Buddhist practices, and what is intended to be a transformation of your life into real meaningfulness and joy, becomes just a heavy burden and there won't be any time to actually look at the mind. If we really want to transform our lives, it's essential to integrate the practice into our everyday life until there is no separation between practice time and our life, our relationships and our work. We need to really get our ethical life together, be responsible for our actions, and understand what is virtuous and non-virtuous. Deal with non-harming, not lying, refraining from sexual misconduct. Come to terms with own our anger and greed, and inherent delusion and confusion. Know that the world is a reflection of the minds of the beings inhabiting it.”
On the subject of Boddhicitta, she says once we start to clear out the rubbish heap, we will have more clarity. “You will see people more clearly. See their suffering behind the facade. We want to be happy but, the confusion and poison in our mind, unintentionally, create problems for ourselves and others. This is the same for others, so compassion should naturally arise. We cannot have genuine wisdom without compassion, or genuine compassion without wisdom. This should be your motivation as to why you are doing this practice. The best way is to cultivate a compassionate heart, Boddichitta, and act for the benefit of all sentinent beings.” Compassion is the cornerstone of the Buddhist path and she recommends that I practice Tong Len on the tube.
I ask about her nuns and the intention to train them to become Togdemnas. Not surprisingly, it's been challenging to find a yogi willing to pass on the transmission of the Six Yogas of Naropa. The nuns have just come out of a 3-year retreat and the Togden from Tashi Jong told them they had to do another 12 years! She found someone else in Tibet to do it but he suddenly died. On a recent trip to Tibet, she visited a nunnery with 7,000 nuns. Part of their tantric practice involves meditation, neck deep in a hole in the earth and staring at the sky. What an extraordinary image to see all these hills with small still heads turned upwards in meditation. They also practice ‘tummo' where they put damp sheets on their naked bodies in sub-zero temperatures and dry the sheets by generating inner heat. With a dry sense of humour, she says that Tibetans are extremely ‘focused.' I laugh. Ani Palmo is confident that the right teacher will emerge for her nuns. I offer to sponsor a nun, as it's too late for me to be a Togdemna in this life, but I'd really like to help someone else do it. I admire Tenzin Palmo for her earthiness, her extreme practicality and her ability to bring the practice down to earth and into our life.
Part Four: Delhi and His Holiness the 17th Gyalwang Karmapa
My trip to Delhi made me wonder why I'm so fortunate to be in the presence of these high lamas and realised beings. Expecting to spend a quiet night with a good friend before leaving to London, suddenly we're invited to an exclusive dinner and teaching with the 17th Karmapa. Amazingly, only 50 people are in attendance. I even get to sit in the front row, so close it's a bit strange, as only weeks ago I was part of the spiritual circus queuing with 1000 other people to see him at the Gyuto Monastery. I wonder why he's actually here at all since he has such a demanding schedule and why isn't the room jammed. But this is a charity event put on by a wealthy Indian man.
The Karmapa is only 23 years old, but he has such tremendous presence I can believe he's been reincarnated 17 times - since his lineage began in 1110 CE. He's very handsome, with incredible radiant skin, and a serious composure that only occasionally breaks into a warm smile. He is spacious and calm. The wise words from this very-old-youngster is that life can be chaotic and disturbing with unexpected events that are out of our control. (I find this laced with tinge of irony, considering his own recent disturbance that involved the Indian police uncovering a large stash of Chinese Yuan in his monastery and the media had a feeding frenzy.) He says, “Nothing is beyond the realm of possibility, yet if we get sick or something bad happens, we are surprised. We never know when disturbing things will happen, or the degree of intensity. There is no reliable consistency in life. So, if we cultivate the view that ‘everything is possible,' the mind can be more prepared and be calm and spacious when it the unexpected happens.” It's a very auspicious way to leave India and I'm most grateful for all the teachings I received and the time spend focusing on my practice. I feel purified and calm and ready to take on whatever unexpected thing comes my way in London.
© Heather Elton 2011