A Life Well Lived

A Life Well Lived

Beloved Lord of Refuge, how can we can never repay your kindness.

Merging into the expanse of Wisdom

you will continue to benefit countless beings …

If you don’t reflect on death and impermanence

There will be no way to practise Dharma purely.

Practice will remain an aspiration,

One that is constantly postponed.

And you may feel regret the day that death comes,

But by then it’s too late!

Kyabje Chadral Sangye Dorje Rinpoche

While working on the final stages of the book, (Who Lives? Who Dies) I received the news, early one morning, that my teacher Chadral Sangye Dorje had passed away in Parping, Nepal.

A few days earlier I had received a warning that he was unwell and had immediately thought to put together a list of things I would need to do and pack should I have to leave quickly for Nepal. I knew very well that if I received news that he had ‘passed away’ I would very likely be in no state of mind to attend to all the details of making a sudden and hasty departure. Surely enough, that ‘word’ came on the 5^th of January 2016.

He had actually passed into ‘Tukdam’ (final meditation state) on the 30^th of December 2015 at 17.35 but as he had requested his close family members not to announce his passing until he had fully merged into Maha Paranirvana, they carefully kept the occurrence a very strict secret. Not even people working on the premises inside Rinpoche’s compound were aware of what had taken place.

Chadral Rinpoche lived to the considerable age of one hundred and four, counting by the Tibetan system which includes the months of gestation prior to birth. His had been a grand and long life and one which had been of benefit to countless sentient beings.

He guided and took care of me for more than twenty years and the gratitude I feel along with the sense of the deep connection which will always exist between us is something which is not possible to describe in words. Along with the late Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche he was one of the central and most important people in my life.

Since 2009 it had not been possible to meet face to face with Rinpoche but for me personally, this had not been an issue. I had had the great fortune to be able to spend much time with him and was guided closely through my retreat years. I had been extremely fortunate to be able to go to him when I needed his advice or to verify ‘experiences’.

Others were not so fortunate however and a whole new group of people both young and old from all walks of life and all parts of the world missed that precious opportunity of direct contact with him. Nevertheless, his influence continues to reach far and wide.

Before 2009, Rinpoche was very accessible although he never lingered too long in any one place. There were a few occasions when things might not have gone the way some people might have expected but this was part of the beauty of his style and expression. He was never a Lama to compromise on the things that he held dear, neither could he be ‘brought around’ once a decision about something or other had been made.

A hundred and four years is a long time to be alive in the world. Rinpoche met with and was and an influential force in the lives of so many people. He saved countless lives and lived out his term without compromising his convictions in any way. His life was one of simplicity and integrity and stands as a testament and shining example for all those of us who were fortunate enough to witness at least a part of it as also for those who were not.

He spent time in worlds so incredibly different. Imagine Tibet in the early nineteen hundreds long before the Chinese occupation and try to compare that world with the one in which we live now? He moved seamlessly through both, never missing a step, never faltering in his determination to benefit sentient beings.

Practical and Yet Spontaneous

Rinpoche was a supremely practical man who did not possess even an ounce of hypocrisy. He was so direct and to the point that some feared him. Although he was very much a Tibetan ‘Yogi’ he could also be quite traditional. However, it simply was not possible to narrow him down and label him as either traditional or non-traditional because he rose to meet every occasion from a place of complete spontaneity.

His focus was always on the ‘essence’ of things, and he had little time for or interest in anything else. He was a living embodiment of the Buddha’s teachings, which he had so completely ‘owned’ through his own practice and experience and he encouraged all of his students to do the same.

Rinpoche’s spontaneity arose from his moment-to-moment capacity to live in the present, which gave rise to many unexpected little incidents, some of which could be quite humorous.

I remember one morning when we were buzzing around and preparing for a trip up into the hills of Darjeeling. We thought we had things pretty well in hand but when it was announced that the car had arrived, Rinpoche suddenly leapt up from his seat and began to head towards the door. We quickly grabbed the warm clothes that he would need that day, and awkwardly tried to dress him as he moved. Once he got into motion it could be difficult to pin him down. His daughter Semo Tara Devi was there on that occasion and between the two us we managed to put a jumper on him and also drape his trangju and sen (yogi skirt and shawl). But then suddenly he was heading towards the door again so Tara grabbed one shoe and I the other. Only when Rinpoche was actually climbing into the car were we able to see that he had a different shoe on each foot. Certainly, Rinpoche had not noticed.

Dry words in a book on a shelf were for the scholars. Rinpoche moved freely through the fields of experience. There was joyfulness around him and a scintillating sense of freedom without boundaries. Even so, it should be noted that Rinpoche was also a brilliant and prolific scholar who authored, at least, three volumes of works which are widely read.

Authentic

He was tremendously learned in an organic way; his learning came through experience, and it revealed itself with considerable authority and power because it was so completely authentic.

This authenticity never moved me more profoundly than on an occasion when a small group of woman students gathered one afternoon in his room in Salbari Gompa in order to receive the Bodhisattva vows.

Some weeks before this event, a long-time Western student and I had been discussing the practice of Guru Yoga in general and Chadral Rinpoche’s Guru Yoga in particular. I had been deeply impressed by the way my friend had recounted some of his personal experiences in this regard. He had discussed the various qualities of different sadhanas (practices) but then pointed out that the Guru Yoga of Chadral Rinpoche was so potent that the blessings which flowed from it were almost palpable. He had said something to the effect that you can almost ‘hold’ the blessings in your hands and feel the weight of them.

The image which his description had conjured in my mind remained with me very clearly, and that afternoon when we gathered to receive the vows I kept remembering it.

I had taken Bodhisattva vows already on several occasions with other teachers; however, a European student of Chadral Rinpoche’s requested that he give them to her, and I found myself in the fortunate position of already being present in the room and therefore able to be part of this small group. I was delighted by this happy occurrence.

There might have been five or six of us present that day. If I remember correctly, we were just two foreign women, a couple of Tibetan nuns and one or both of Rinpoche’s daughters.

At that time, Rinpoche was staying in the small room upstairs in his house in the Salbari compound. We were called together and then he beckoned us to enter the room and close the door behind us. We stood before him in a line across the width of the room. Rinpoche meanwhile, sat on his meditation cushion on the floor ensconced in a large furry cape.

Although I had spent a lot of time around Chadral Rinpoche in an informal way, I had only been present on a small number of occasions when he gave formal teachings or empowerments. This turned out to be one of those rare occasions.

Rinpoche asked us all to make prostrations and as we did so, he picked up his bell and damaru (small hand drum) and began to chant the lineage prayer of the Longchen Nyingtik Tradition. Rinpoche’s lineage is a remarkably short and powerful one originating in Kuntuzangpo, which passes on to Jigme Lingpa, Gyalway Nyugu then on to Patrul Rinpoche, Nyoshul Lungtok and Khenpo Ngachung, who in turn passed it on to Chadral Rinpoche and Nyoshul Khenpo.

I don’t recall that I had any particular expectations of what was to come except a pleasant sense of anticipation which in no way could have prepared me for the impact of what was to follow.

As soon as Rinpoche’s deep and rich voice began to intone the lineage prayers I felt myself suddenly and quite inexplicably catapulted into a ‘timeless state’ which was absolutely saturated with blessings, so much so, that even though I had barely completed my three prostrations, a surge of tears rose up and began to flow.

I was not at all prepared; no handkerchief, no tissues, not even a long shirt sleeve to come to my rescue. These were not the emotional tears of joy or sorrow; these were tears that overflowed from some previously untapped source in my being. With every passing moment, it was as though Rinpoche was opening wider and wider the faucet on a stream of grace. Not only did the tears flow from my eyes but my nose was also streaming. I had never had any such reaction in previous gatherings where we had all taken these same vows. This was something quite unprecedented and really took me by surprise.

For the entire duration of the gathering, this flow continued. I recall feeling some embarrassment at not being able to control what was happening or even blow my nose. I was a complete mess, so much so that I did not notice if anyone else was as affected as I was. I only recall how relieved I felt when it all ended and I could rush off to my room and wash my face and re-compose myself again.

As Conventional as He was Unconventional

In many ways, Rinpoche could be quite conventional, and yet in others, he was quite the opposite.

One instance of the manner in which Rinpoche could be unconventional, and which most people would not have been aware, prior to his passing away, caused many some surprise. This only emerged when the family compound in Parping was opened to the public. On the walls of the Lhakhang, which had been built inside the compound, were painted the Hindu deities of Shiva with his consort Parvati. On the left side of the shrine; Krishna with his consort Radha and their entourages along with various other representations of this kind.

Directly in front of the temple entrance, and housed in its own separate building, a Shiva lingam of generous proportions.

To some traditional Buddhists, this would seem like a grave eccentricity in the Lama and something quite inexplicable.

However, Rinpoche had gone beyond the narrowness of needing to confine himself solely to the accepted and traditional Tibetan Buddhist pantheon. He saw no conflict of interests. What these images represent is an expression of ‘energy’ in its many and varied forms and this ‘energy’ is universal.

On more than one occasion I was with him when we visited a Hindu shrine. One which he dropped into regularly, was the shrine on Tiger Hill near Darjeeling and there were others in various locations.

Integrity

There was complete integrity in all that he did, and this is no doubt why he could carry so powerfully the traditional alongside the non-traditional.

He made it very clear that he would not perpetuate himself in the lineage of ‘Tulkus’ and requested that no one search for his ‘reincarnation.’ In recent years, after the passing of several great masters, a number of ‘Tulkus’ were put forward as candidates, and much controversy ensued. Rinpoche made his position crystal clear on this point and thus avoided any future complication.

He had always steered clear of the monasteries and large institutions and consistently underlined the importance of doing practice in solitary retreats in order to have direct experience of the essential points of the ‘dharma.’

On several occasions Rinpoche made the comment that some people who came to him and who were dressed like ‘practitioners’ actually had no stable inner experience, while there were those who seemed to be very ordinary and who did not have the appearance of being a ‘practitioner’ yet who were in fact ‘true practitioners.’ To Rinpoche, a ‘true practitioner’ was someone who had recognized the natural state and achieved a measure of stability in settling into That.

He underlined for us the fact that we cannot judge anyone by appearances alone.

He established many retreat centers after he moved to India in the late 1950,s so that those who came to him would be able to practice in suitable locations and thereby actualize the teachings by gaining first-hand experience of them.

Practice

He clearly pointed to the fact that one has to practice the ‘dharma’ in order to gain benefit from it for one’s self and in turn for others. He had spent many decades of his life doing just that and often under the most trying conditions. For many years he had wandered around Tibet, staying in the caves or in a small tent with little more than what he could carry over his shoulder. He could easily have passed his days in comfort and plenty in one of the rich monasteries. He truly had lived as an example of what he later encouraged others to do.

The master is not able to give us something that we do not already possess. He/she simply alerts us to our true and inherent potential. It is for us to understand and gain true experience of our inmost natural state by taking his/her advice to heart. Rinpoche gave his students every opportunity to do this, providing the conditions needed to really settle down and practice.

He established many simple places where practitioners could come together, or where they could be alone in order to practice the Dharma without distraction.

He always emphasized the need to gain experience in retreats and almost all of his direct students have undergone a retreat or two under his guidance and care at one time or another.

Compassion

That our lives should be an expression of what can bring benefit to others is the motivation of a true Bodhisattva whose every action is geared to turning others towards the ‘truth’ which is within themselves. Rather than spending our precious lives and energy in meaningless activities and distractions, he encouraged us to benefit beings through sincere and concerted practice motivated by Bodhichitta. As with the perfume of a flower which need not ‘do’ anything particular and yet which affects and purifies the whole surrounding area with its scent, so too should our practice radiate its fragrance throughout space.

Soon after Rinpoche escaped to India from Tibet he took a vow renouncing the consumption of meat. This happened in nineteen sixty, long before it became fashionable. Prior to that, he had been as rabid a meat eater as any other Tibetan. Once he decided to abstain, however, his stance was unshakable, and all the temples and retreat centers under his guidance became ‘no meat’ zones. Here again, he was an example of what he preached and living to a grand age underlined the fact that human beings can subsist very healthily and happily on a vegetarian diet.

He made it a mission to release countless fish from the fish farms in Kolkata and elsewhere. Other kinds of wildlife were also rescued in a similar way.

His compassion revealed itself through a long stream of activities that brought freedom, on one level or another, to countless sentient beings.

The Humor

It was a delight to spend time in Rinpoche’s company. There was always plenty of laughter and light-hearted banter. There were so many humorous incidents, but one instantly springs to my mind.

One year, we were in the Lhakhang retreat center up in the Helambu Region of Nepal. At that time a group of devotees had come up from Sermatang to accompany Rinpoche to their monastery.

Around thirty of the older and higher ranking people from the village had made the journey on foot in order to welcome Rinpoche and accompany him back. They brought with them a sturdy little pony which Rinpoche was to ride on the way down the trail to the village. This particular pony was an old favourite of Rinpoche’s and had carried him around on other such occasions in the past.

On the morning when we were due to leave everyone gathered near Rinpoche’s hut. He climbed onto the pony, a big happy smile spreading over his face. One lama went ahead of our group wielding a large kukri blade in order to make sure that the pathway was cleared of any debris or stray branches and the rest of us followed behind.

Barely had the small horse begun to move than it let out a loud fart. We could see Rinpoche ahead shaking with laughter and everyone behind followed suit. The animal continued on in this vein every few minutes all the way to the Sermatang. Goodness knows what he had eaten for breakfast. Suffice it to say, we kept a respectful distance behind…

The View

Above all else, Chadral Rinpoche encouraged us to recognize our ‘true nature,’ because absolutely nothing else will be of any use to us in the long run. This and this alone is the chief and crucial point. In recognizing and practicing, one brings into balance all other factors in one’s life. It is the great panacea, the one thing which brings resolution to all that causes confusion and suffering in this world.

On one incredibly precious occasion when he gave a couple of us some ‘pith’ instructions, he referred to the advice given as the ‘blood of his heart.’ Such ‘treasure’ has the power to liberate countless beings; we need only open our hearts and pray with one-pointed devotion. Our devotion is like the sun that melts the snow on the top of the mountain of the Guru’s blessings.

Devotion

A few days after the news had been broken about his ‘passing,’ I made my way up to Nepal from the South of India.

I had gone to Nepal for the first time in almost a decade in August of 2015 and had the great good fortune to see Rinpoche on a number of occasions.

I had gone in order to pay my respects while I was still in the region and had made my way over from Darjeeling, having spent the summer months in my retreat hut in one of his centers in the hills.

The latest visit, however, although following just a few months after was under very different circumstances and carried with it a very different mood.

Being the middle of winter and in the grip of not only the cold but also profound economic and political misery, there was an added dimension to the sense of sadness at his passing.

Crippling power cuts and shortages of every kind were the order of the day and these were not due to the after-effects of the powerful earthquake that had struck only months before. These had been brought on by the greed and short-sightedness of an elite few.

Despite all of this, however, or perhaps because of it, the population near and far came to Parping. They came in droves to pay their respects and receive the blessing’ of the reliquary.

Initially, I had passed some days inside the temple shrine and participated in the ceremonies that were taking place. However, it soon became too crowded so I withdrew to a spot outside and below the temple area. Every evening before the prayers ended, I would head up to the temple building and stand near an open window in order to recite the words of the Guru Yoga prayers with all the Lamas who were gathered inside.

For me, this proved to be the most moving moment in the days during which I could be present. Invariably, as soon as the Umsey (chant leader) began to sing this particular prayer, his voice would crack and waver. Sometimes he would have to stop chanting all together and then another Lama would take over.

Rinpoche had brought so many of us together and the feeling that we were and are one big family remains. How can we ever forget his kindness?

A Life Well Lived

Day after day I sat and watched the stream of humanity, young and old, rich and poor pass by and through the temple precincts in which the Kudung was being housed. It was not easy for these people to make this journey to the fringes of the Kathmandu valley. Their transport was inadequate and often terribly over-crowded. It was a costly journey for most people and also extremely uncomfortable. Yet they came and kept coming.

It is profoundly moving and humbling to see how one life, which is motivated towards the good of others can influence so many in juxtaposition with those who are motivated by temporary gain and greed at the expense of so many.

What a stark contrast and the more moving for being so.

We need good examples of how to live our lives and how to give precedence to what is most meaningful. It is not as though we are going to have endless chances to do this.

Everywhere we look we can find countless examples of lives spent in dissipation and distraction while a well-lived is a rare thing indeed.

I can only rejoice in Rinpoche’s example which was and remains so deeply meaningful not only me but to so many. The radiance of what he gave the world will continue to have its beneficial effect long into the future if in fact, humanity has a long future before it…

In these days and times, we can be sure of nothing except the ‘one true thing’ of which we have spoken repeatedly throughout this tome.

May we be moved to discover this for ourselves and thereby make our own lives resonate with what is truly meaningful.

With the pure motivation of Bodhichitta (the wish to achieve enlightenment for the benefit of all sentient beings), each one of us has the power to transform our world.

May we keep this in our mind and heart; always.

Precious Bodhichitta, the highest attitude

Where it is unborn, may it arise

Where it is born, may it increase,

rising ever higher and higher.

Prayer by Shantideva

The Psychology of Fear.

'One is never afraid of the unknown; 
one is afraid of the known coming to an end.'

Jiddu Krishnamurti

*****

It is true; we are bound only by what we believe.

Only by what we ‘think’ we know.

This is not to say that we should undo everything we know; everything that we have ever learnt. Even if we could do such a thing, it would not be possible and in many ways, it would be counterproductive.

However, a certain ease can arise through the recognition of the possibility that we are not as ‘bound up’ by our conventions and our day to day routines as we might have previously supposed and been led to believe.

We have the power to turn our mind to whatever we choose, whenever we choose. This kind of freedom is something that we normally take completely for granted and yet so very much depends upon it and upon the knowing of it.

Imagine if we were to invest as much energy into the ‘search’ for truth, as we invest in distractions and all manner of unimportant things?

With focused and determined Self-Enquiry it would take very little time to unravel the mystery of our existence. Yet, how many feel motivated to do this? We quite naturally gravitate to the quicker, easier and more immediate gratifications.

There can be a deep inner resistance to stretching our boundaries. Often we may not even be aware of this resistance. It is bred into us from the earliest possible age and in a thousand different little ways.

Modern societies rule through the psychology of fear.

Think of how we are monitored in almost every way and we are constantly told that it is for our good; that it is for our protection.

When we begin to ‘question’ we also begin to unravel the knots that bind us to certain premises and beliefs that we might previously have taken as a given.

Fear can be an incredibly inhibiting and stultifying emotion, yet in all sorts of ways, it constantly sneaks into our lives and challenges us.

Remembering death and impermanence is a great way for us to cut through our shell of hesitation and fear. We have insulated ourselves in order to ‘protect’ ourselves and yet the result is that we end up with nothing. Without an understanding of our inmost nature we are at the mercy of our fear of death.

In this modern world the emphasis is on our material existence which insinuates constantly that our happiness depends upon accumulating more ‘things.’ Yet we all know in our heart of hearts that this is a load of bollix.

Bring ‘death’ into the picture and everything changes.

The ‘problem’ with ‘death’ is that there is no ‘solution’ for it. There is no ‘fix it’ and get on with a 'life' program. It has been tried of course, and many may claim that they have been helped. But most of these approaches offer temporary solutions; ‘feel good’ excursions which in the end are little more than delaying tactics. It is not easy to be really honest with ourselves but in the end it is far, far kinder.

When we do not know ‘who and what we really are’ we are unable to fully enter into the unedited story of our lives and of all lives.

We were born to recognize our innate freedom.

It is as simple as that.

Herein lies the whole purpose and meaning of our existence. We can phrase it in countless different ways, but in the end, all ways lead to the one true thing.

The only impediment to our finding this out within ourselves is our own ‘mind’ and the conditioning fears to which it has been subject since the moment of our birth.

It requires determination and focus to unravel such tightly bound habits as the ones which we have unwittingly formed.

Quoting the words of Jiddu Krishnamurti;

'What is needed, rather than running away or controlling or suppressing or any other resistance,
 is understanding fear; 
that means, watch it, learn about it, 
come directly into contact with it. 
We are to learn about fear, not how to escape from it."

It is very easy to conform to what your society or your parents and teachers tell you. 
That is a safe and easy way of existing, but that is not living…

To live is to find out for yourself what is true.'

*****

Lyse Lauren

Great Compassion

Homage to the Beloved Lord of Refuge. 

We can never repay your kindness. 

Merging into the Expanse of Wisdom you will continue to benefit countless beings...

"Limit yourself to just a few activities 

and undertake them with all diligence."

Kyabji Chadral Sangye Dorje

"One of the 'activities' that Chadral Rinpoche undertook with 'all diligence,' was and remains, the annual fish release into the sacred Indian river, the Ganges. This happens right at the point where this vast river finally flows out into the Bay of Bengal and the wide open sea.

He began this project in the 1960,s with little more than an old wooden canoe, a few bucket loads of fish and a couple of helpers. Today the work is carried on primarily by his wife, Sangyum Karmala and various sponsors and volunteers. It is now a large operation involving many helpers, a number of boats and many truckloads of fish which are purchased from the fish farms in and around Kolkata and then released with prayers and auspicious mantras into the milky green waters of the great 'Mother Ganga'.

During the 1990,s I used to wonder about the little black pouch that Rinpoche always wore around his waist. He guarded this pouch very carefully as it was stuffed full of various denominations of Indian and Nepali rupee notes which devotees had offered for the purchase and release of fish. He was thoroughly scrupulous about the offerings which came in. Each was assigned to its own purse which denoted a particular cause, but somehow the funds for the 'fish release' were always very abundant and the little black pouch was fairly bursting at its seams.

However, this had not always been the case. When Rinpoche first began this project, he was only newly arrived in India as a refugee from Tibet and extremely poor. In those days he was establishing the very first Buddhist Meditation Three Year Retreat Center in Sub Continent and as they could not afford to hire many workers, he rolled up his sleeves and took up a shovel, carrying and laboring on the repair work site with everyone else.

Funds for the Fish Release were very scarce. One time the monastery caretaker walked into Rinpoche's room with tears in his eyes. He had just discovered that Rinpoche had sold a lovely piece of precious brocade, one of very few items that they had managed to bring with them from Tibet. With these funds he had bought a dial up phone so that he could call Kolkata to order fish and keep tabs on progress for the annual end of year release!

The caretaker was in a state of utter misery a good deal of the time during those years of scarcity. He was always wondering how on earth they would all be able to eat and carry on the general business of very simple living, but Rinpoche was never concerned and always waved him away with words of solace, telling him that ‘all would be well.’

I know that Rinpoche would have given the clothes off his own back in order to keep on releasing fish into the Ganges. In fact he ordered Lolu, the caretaker, to sell some of his scant personal possessions in order to do just this, on more than one occasion.

I used to watch Rinpoche's handpicked group leave from Salbari Gompa every year for this great event, with tears in my eyes, wondering if I would ever have enough merit to be allowed to go with them and help. They all stayed at the house of a Marwari Hindu who had taken a 'shine' to Rinpoche's 'project' and Rinpoche, ever mindful and sensitive of others, was always careful never to take more people with him than was absolutely necessary for the task at hand. He did this so as not to over step or impose on the kindness of a generous donor.

One year, however, I decided to take matters into my own hands. At the time, I was living in a small retreat hut in the forests of the Darjeeling hills and had come to know that Rinpoche had arrived at his Salbari Temple. He had journeyed from Nepal and was already on his way to Kolkata. I did not want to ask for permission and risk being sent back to my hut, so I just packed a few things, went down the hill and caught the night train. After arriving in the wee hours of the following morning and finding myself a suitable lodging, I made my way to the place where I knew the ‘release’ would be taking place. I was able to arrive at the banks of the Ganges just as they were all preparing to begin work that day.

It was naughty of me to go without his permission, but I never once regretted my decision and Rinpoche never said anything to reproach me nor showed any sign of displeasure at my unasked for appearance. Within an hour I was chugging out onto the river on a funky old wooden tugboat together with one of the Lamas. The two of us had loaded our boat with the help of a band of Indian workers, with large, waist high buckets filled to the brim with fish.

Four other boats, each with two helpers to unload the buckets came and went in a constant procession as we began to release the truck loads of fish that were been bought down to the river.

It was hard work in the unforgiving sun, but we barely looked up to notice it. Throughout most of the day, Rinpoche sat quietly on the banks and watched us come and go. There was such a special atmosphere, like a rain of blessings enfolding the whole procedure and although we labored for hours without any breaks, none of us faltered or felt tired.

Many times I found myself with tears in my eyes and quite involuntarily, mantras and prayers flowed from our lips as we lifted bucket after bucket-load of fish and poured them in droves into the waters. The moment of their release was so exhilarating. It was a joy to watch them flicker away like sparkling darts as the rays of the sun's light flashed for a moment off their silvery fins.

As it turned out, the year I went was one of the last that Rinpoche, already well into his nineties at the time, could attend in person and his wife, Sangyum Kamala and others have come forward now to carry on the work.

Just think of how relevant and how meaningful this work, which had such humble beginnings, has now become. This is not just a symbolic act that shows remarkable foresight and conveys a powerful message; this is a living demonstration of something much deeper, which has profound implications.

The fish in our seas are being caught indiscriminately and in droves and who is giving anything back? Can we take and take without end?

*****

Before concluding, I want to add a brief mention of something that happened to a young newly-wed couple who were about to embark on their honey moon on the Andaman Islands. This story is a remarkable tale that reveals the intricate and subtle underlying threads between the motivation and the activities of those who live, work and exist in this world only to benefit others.

On the day of their departure, the young, newly-weds were walking through the Kathmandu airport, when they noticed an elderly Lama sitting to one side with his family and entourage. It was Chadral Rinpoche, about to set off for Kolkata to undertake the annual fish release.

As the husband’s family members were all long time devotees of Rinpoche, he immediately went over to receive the Lama’s blessing. During this encounter Rinpoche made some comments which the young man was not able to fully understand at the time. He had asked Rinpoche to bless them on their trip and this Rinpoche had graciously done. However, he had also said something to them that they had both found very unexpected and disturbing.

He had said something major was about to happen and that much life would be lost as a result. As a political conflict was raging in Nepal at that time, the couple attributed his words to this. Rinpoche had told them that he was going to Kolkata to buy and bless fish which had been raised in fish farms. He had told them that he would release the fish into the Ganges and that he was praying that by doing this, he could save a few lives.

The couple offered a donation towards the buying of the fish and he thanked them and then added that it would be offered in their name, but not only for their long life, but for the benefit and long life of all beings.

It was mid-December in the year of 2004. Exactly two weeks later there was a huge 9.1 earthquake near Indonesia. The massive quake released a gigantic tsunami that devastated a vast swathe of south-east Asia and took with it some quarter of a million lives. It happened just off the coast of Aceh, not far from the Andaman Islands where the couple was still holidaying at that time. The newly-weds lives were spared but their known world thereafter was completely shaken and they could never forget the timely words or the powerful blessing of the Lama."

(This excerpt is from the chapter called Ransoming Lives and is quoted from my third book in the Series, Shades of Awareness.)

The above photo was taken in Neyding retreat center in Helambhu region of

Nepal in 1996.

Rinpoche is front right.

DoDrupchen Rinpoche is front left.

Just behind him and moving towards the right. The prince of Sikkim, Gyaltse Chogyal, Tulku Ozer, Semo Tara Deva, Rinpoche's second daughter, Kartok Situ, and one Gomchenpa whose name i do not remember.

 I am standing right at the back towards the left of the picture.

The Wind in Your Hair

When I was growing up in New Zealand there was a motorcycle advertisement that used to be played a lot on the radio. It was before the days of compulsory helmets for motorbikes and bicycles. I can still remember the tune so clearly and the feeling which it used to evoke.

and if you don't know what its like to take a (cycle) someplace,

in your own time, with the wind in your face,

it's a great shame...

One of my unalloyed joys while living in India is that one still has a choice as to whether one wears the headgear or not, at least this is very much the case in the small temple town where I currently live. 

Most of us here, choose to ride un-helmeted.

Laws do in fact state that helmets are 'compulsory' but when I step out onto the street I am lucky if I count the helmets I see on one hand!

This is India after all. One seldom rides above 40 ks an hour on a good run and hey, my wheels are powered by a whole 50 ccs!

We all have certain things that just instantly make us  'happy.' Simple and innocent joys are the evanescence of our lives.

Read on in Pieces of a Dream

Dancing With Fear

Whoever and whatever the force that brings us into this world and to which Rumi is so eloquently 'pointing,' it is, without doubt, the greatest mystery of life, yet our attention gets constantly caught up by peripheral considerations. Our 'fears' and 'hopes' are at the forefront of the peripheral preoccupations which shape and mould our movements in this world.

Usually, these limit us in various ways because we are bought up to exist within clearly defined boundaries. We tend to move through this life believing that this is how it is and will always be and we become so entrenched in this 'idea' that most people live their whole lives this way, never knowing the unique and infinite potential that is right in front of them and within them.

Yet all around us, we see that there is a vague stirring of dissatisfaction, an inner rumbling of discontent, a deep and a deepening inner sadness, but if the cause of these symptoms is not addressed they become a 'disease,' chronic and stupefying.

"Zombiism is a word that encapsulates the rise of a modern trend; the age of the living dead. When having too much of everything has simply overwhelmed the senses and left an awful lot of people in a semi-conscious state. Look around, look closely, look at the unsmiling faces, look into the dull, unshining eyes.

As miserable and frightening as this picture may appear to be, it is nevertheless within our individual hands to turn our own mind and life around. We don't need to change ourselves or do anything accept recognize the treasure that exists within us. The mystery of being that surrounds us in every breath and in every moment of our lives need not be 'created;' it already 'is,' we have but to stop and notice it.

Reaching out to grasp our infinite potential requires the ability to look into the face of mind-created fears and tackle them from the place of intuition and spontaneity.

There is one incident that Chogyam Trungpa recounts in his autobiography that I have never forgotten and which made quite an impact on me when I read it, back in the nineties. No doubt because I had a somewhat similar experience and could very much relate to his situation. It had happened somewhere in Tibet when he was a young man, probably in his early twenties, prior to the Chinese invasion of Tibet.

He and two assistants were on their way somewhere in the mountains. Their path ran past a monastery and as they approached, they heard the deep, rumbling and guttural sounds of a large Mastiff guard dog. As they got nearer they saw the animal chained to a post near the entrance gateway. It had worked itself into a fine frenzy over their approach and was snarling, frothing and wrenching at its chain in a most unfriendly manner.

The two assistants were tense and stiff with anxiety as no doubt Trungpa also was, however, there was no way to skirt this path or take another route. They had to continue on their way with the hope that the animal would remain securely tied to its post.

Just as they crossed the gateway of the monastery, however, the dog suddenly managed to pull itself free of its chain and immediately rushed upon them in a black ball of fury and fangs, intent on attack.

It was at that very instant that Trungpa did something completely unexpected and inexplicable. Instead of trying to escape as his two attendants immediately tried to do, he turned around towards the animal and charged straight at it making a loud sound as he went.

The dog was so startled by this turn of events that it yelped and backed off in an instant and uncertain truce. No one was hurt and they were able to continue on their way, somewhat ruffled but unmolested!

I love this story, it is a shining example of taking fear by 'the neck' and looking it straight in the face. Naturally one would not want this experiment to go wrong and in Trungpa's case, it did not. It certainly requires remarkable courage and daring.

I have a few of my own 'dog stories' in Tibet which took place during the 1980s and on one occasion with several large man-eating beasts at a burial ground near the foot of Mount Kailash, into which I had inadvertently stumbled alone.

I could not have turned on those animals because there were five of them and they were not fat and well-fed dogs used to human company, these beasts were wild and hungry and used to the taste of human flesh. I did the only thing I could have done in that situation, other than running, which was not an option as I was near a cliff face that fell away at least 100 meters to a valley below, so I just sat down and began to sing and it worked!

These are extreme examples of confronting and dealing with fear, yet no less valid for being so and rather memorable of course. This is not to say that we should endeavour to 'overcome fear.' Fear is an extremely important and vital life protecting mechanism. However, there are a number of factors with regards to facing our fear and the way that we deal with it that can be very liberating.

I am not advocating the headlong or blind rush towards the object of fear, despite the story that I just related. I have mentioned these incidents because they are a striking example of, tackling a problem outside of the use of conventional wisdom. Trungpa’s response which demonstrated openness and spontaneity bought about an entirely unexpected outcome.

Why not turn our lives into a dance and dance our way through it, since after all, as has been pointed out very succinctly on many occasions, 'none of us are going to get out of this alive.'

If we allow ourselves this kind of openness if we are willing to surprise ourselves and others, we place in our hands a key that can help us to unravel mysteries of being.

But exactly how you might ask and understandably so? There is no 'how' there is no set formula. The way manifests once we begin to dance and then the dance becomes the way. It requires only an inner intention, decision and courage.

The dance of life implies a joyous and spontaneous attitude, a willingness to accept change at the very instant that it arises before us, in whatever form that it may be manifesting and a willingness to break free of conventional wisdom and live in the moment.

We are sure to be surprised by the outcome.

Dance when you've broken open.

Dance if you've torn the bandage off.

Dance in the middle of the fighting.

Dance in your blood.

Dance when you are perfectly free.

Rumi

Maha Kartikai Deepam, Lighting the Sacred Flame Atop Arunachala

Lighting the Flame on the Hill of Fire!

Every year during the month of November an ancient ceremony is enacted at Arunachala in the South of India.
A huge copper cauldron is carried up to the summit from the Arunachaleshwar Temple and filled with ghee offerings, many of which are carried up by local and visiting pilgrims.

Each evening as the sun sets the lamp is ignited and burns throughout the night for ten consecutive days.
A lot of the foreign visitors run out of town during the main day of the festival, but i would not miss it for the world.

There is something very special about the atmosphere in this place during these days.

Come dusk on Deepam day, most of the town surrounding the entire Hill are outside on their rooftops. Everyone has ghee lamps prepared and offerings of flowers and incense.

When the sun is setting in the wast and the moon is rising in the east the head priest at the main Arunachalesvar temple sends a signal from the inner sanctum at the exact and auspicious moment.

A flare shoots up into the sky and the great cauldron atop the hill is lit and bursts into a mighty flame. At that instant a roar rises up from every place in and around the Hill.

The crowds cries out Harohara, three times. This translates as; This is a sight for the gods to see!

It is a truly exhilarating moment.

In a world torn apart by hatred, fear and the endless divisions created by countless human minds, we can take heart in the united joy which ignites itself as the eternal flame at Arunachala!

Arunachala is the sacred Hill which represents the Agni Lingam (Fiery Element) of India.

The following link will take you to one of my previous and more detailed posts on the;

Kartikai Deepam Festival

Acceptance

Accept--then act. 
Whatever the present moment contains, accept it as if you had chosen it...
This will miraculously transform your whole life.

Eckhart Tolle 

No matter how bad things may get, there is still a way for us to find the seeds of hope and peace right there in that difficult situation.

Life can deal us a series of blows and we might either give in to our misery and bitterness or dig deeper to find the point of our surrender and subsequent acceptance. 

Acceptance of what is is the beginning of making peace with ourselves and the world.

If we are ever to find any shreds of peace and happiness in this world, the sooner we welcome acceptance into our lives the better.

Do we really have any other choice at the end of the day? Aside from orchestrating our own swift demise, which is no solution at all,  but merely drags out our suffering on a subtler plane where we have even fewer choices.

We are not advocating a dull quiescence to whatever life throws our way. Rather what is being pointed to here is a calm submission to what cannot be changed. Whatever can be changed and whenever that opportunity may arise one should be ready to act, keeping in mind, that it is always better to err on the side of kindness to oneself and others.

***

A few days ago I headed outside on my bicycle. It was just before four pm and some heavy storm clouds were rumbling in the distance so I thought it wise to get out and complete my evening routine of walking and cycling before the rains came in.

Continue reading in Return to Forever

Discovering the Space Inside and Out

The Way the Leaves Shine

Discovering the space which is within us and which surrounds us is a delicate matter that requires nothing more than a very simple shift of attention. If you can stay with the moment 'between thoughts' a whole world of infinite existence and beauty will begin to emerge as naturally as the sun rises bringing on the dawn...

*****

In the early nineteen-nineties, I spent several months in a retreat centre which was located near a pilgrimage place called Asura Cave in Parping, a small village on the southern fringes of the Kathmandu Valley. This cave was said to be the place where the great Master, Padmasambhava meditated and realized the state of ‘Mahamudra.’(That which is unchanging)

Day after day I would climb up the hill behind the cave. In the still, early afternoon air, which throbbed with heat and sleepiness, one seldom met anyone on the way. Indeed many were taking a nap during those very hours.

Each day, at the same time, I would walk past the cave and take a small dirt track up the hill behind. It wound its way steeply between rocks and shrubbery. The scent of ash from countless sticks of incense filled the air with a peculiar pungency which could almost be intoxicating at this time of the day. It was this smell, which rose in the heat from a large incense burner, which I associated with the place, the time and with the atmosphere.

At a certain point after climbing up the path the way opened out to a magnificent view which swept down the valley, across unfolding fields of rice paddy and on into the descending, dusty distance. Occasionally one could even spot the glistening spires of Himalayan peaks far, far away to the north.

Even though I knew those peaks were always there, it was only very infrequently that one could gaze upon the snowy summits from this vantage point and be thrilled by the spectacle of those distant giants.

A few more steps and one arrived at a small terrace-like a plot of earth which rested directly above the ancient cave. There were a few scrubby trees here and there. These had somehow escaped the knives of the women who came to gather fodder for their cattle and goats. The limbs of all the trees had been hacked and chopped so relentlessly, over the years, that they never grew beyond a certain height. Between these small trees were hung line upon line and row upon row of colourful prayer flags that fluttered and waved in the breeze.

I would invariably turn my back on the grand view that swept down into the valley of Kathmandu, in favor of a less spectacular vista which opened out onto a small group of hills which were dotted with tiny hamlets, nestled here and there between the folds of undulating, bare earth, greenery and layered rice terraces.

One friendly branch offered some welcome shade from the heat and glare of the westering sun and there I would sit, motionless.

At that time of the day, the light would appear to glitter on the leaves of a distant Bodhi tree at the base of a nearby hill. This rather ordinary and innocent reflection would invariably and very quickly engross my attention and still the wandering, restless mind.

I cannot say why a few shimmering leaves could hold my attention enthralled hour after hour, day after day, but come noon, the irresistible pull of that one spot on the hill would draw me from the dusky interior of my room and out into the light of day.

In the stillness of those hours, there was a silence so full and so overpowering that thought was not even possible. In the absence of thought came a spaciousness that would give wings to the current of life within.

The happiness and peace of those silent hours could assuage even the sharpest anguish, restlessness or pain that might appear at other times. If I happened to climb the hill with a heavy heart, burdened by the transient but nevertheless, sharp worries of the world, within minutes of arriving there, all would be swept away in the blessed glitter of those distant dancing leaves of light.

The eyes were open and yet unseeing, the breath came and went less and less. There was a sense of merging towards the hub of a gigantic turning wheel. While the world spun on its way, all that had been previously scattered, drew in and focused itself to a potent point that had no circumference.

Grace flowed like an intoxicating balm into the weary waters of the mind.

In stillness, wisdom arises spontaneously to reveal the space inside and out.

The one that ‘sees’ and ‘knows’ and ‘thinks’ ceases to be and there is only the being itself, only the seeing itself…

(This is an excerpt from my  book
Who Lives? Who Dies? What We Need to Know Before We Go)

*****

For Kindness Sake

Leunig

"When in doubt,

It is better to err on the side of kindness..."

The immediate reaction of many upon seeing the cartoon above might be, 'oh, here we go again, another moralistic lecture...'

Potent images in the press and media of previous days have flooded cyberspace. In a world where the senses are overwhelmed by 'bad news' and where mass and tragic outcomes, which are often caused and then exacerbated by a relatively small group of selfishly motivated, greedy individuals, can cause the mind to shut off and tune the 'noise' out. There is always something going on. Recently I heard a new phrase, 'compassion fatigue...'

However, every now and then one image will emerge which will cut through all the indifference, through all the debate and all of the noise.

If there is a saturation point at which the mind's ability to cope with and embrace demands upon our 'conscience' then those which touch us directly at the level of the heart, have the capacity to summon inmost and boundless compassion. That fount taps into an inexhaustible ocean of grace which can swiftly bring all the other barriers down in one great crash.

Suddenly the excuses, the arguments, the ignorance and the indifference dissolve.

Like a bottomless spring that bubbles up, seemingly, from 'nowhere,' spontaneous acts of kindness spring from the depths of our being. They are not contrived, nor are they limited.

Imagine a world in which beings could exist without this?
Would you or I want to live there?

There is a favoured spot where I often go to watch the sunset and enjoy that final hour of daylight. It is on a small stretch of road some miles from the town. It lies in a rural area among rice paddies and open fields and has been slightly elevated. The only source of shade on this stretch is one isolated Tamarind tree of considerable age. Its generous branches have sheltered many a wayfarer over years and decades...

Yesterday I ventured there for a little respite from the noise and dust of the road and town and to my dismay found it had been cut down!

Little pieces of it remained scattered about. It felt to me, as though a senseless murder had just been committed. What has taken years to grow had been hacked down in just a few miserable minutes.

The scene of this 'crime' is now completely changed. The 'tree of refuge' which had harmlessly and silently abided in this place for so many years, was, no more. Gone the gentle atmosphere of shade and refuge; in its place a shade less expanse, strangely empty and now entirely at the mercy of the relentless tropical sun.

In contrast to this and not far away, the careful and back-breaking work of planting numerous Banyan trees goes on afoot. The vision of a few far-sighted souls who may never personally enjoy the shade or grace that these trees will bestow, but who, nevertheless are sowing the seeds that future generations will enjoy.

The effort required to plant and nurture each and every sapling is considerable and yet it is going on in striking contrast.

Every day we can witness acts of kindness if we make it our business to notice such things. Even when they may express themselves in the smallest of gestures they still belie something deep and fundamental to our inmost being.

There is much misery in this world; the sort that is often caused by careless, thoughtless destruction, yet the very same hands that are the cause of the destruction are equally capable of bringing about the most amazing transformations.

We need be in no doubt at all as to how important and crucial are the collective and small individual thoughts and doings of each one of us.

Read on in Pieces of a Dream

The Precious Present

The Tibetans have a saying;

You will have to stand for a very long time 

with your mouth wide open

before a roasted partridge will fly into it...

It is a rather droll way of expressing high levels of improbability, but nevertheless useful, in reminding us that some things that we may pine and hope for are simply

'unrealistic.'

The fact is that we could stand outside 'forever,' with our mouths agape and there is no way in the world that a 'roasted partridge' will ever fly in!

Continue reading in Return to Forever

Surrendering to Life

Allowing ourselves the freedom to surrender into the present moment is a profound and joyful 'letting go.'

Only our fears, expectations and preconceptions hold us back from realizing the true potential of what is right here and right now!

We have so many preconceived 'agendas' as to what we think should be; as to how things should work out and yet 'life' hardly ever happens just as we would like.

Most often the things we want we do not get and the things that we don't want come along uninvited and all the while the unwelcome shadows of impermanence and disappointment are ever trailing us, so that when we actually do get something we want, we must be alert, for it can be snatched away from us at any moment.

When we carry preconceptions in our mind and heart we can never hope to find real happiness or peace in this world because the reality of what is unfolding moment to moment is almost never what we expect.

There fore, life ends up being one long disappointment.

Continue reading in Return to Forever

When the Earth Begins to Tremble

Contemplating life from a lofty ridge in the Himalayan foothills can be a risky business, perhaps none more so than now!

Naturally, we feel that our meagre 'existence' is, in some inexplicable way, important to the world.

However, the 'reality' is incredibly humbling.

'We live, move and have our being' upon a mighty, living and moving organism, for such is this Earth that gives us the very foundation, sustenance and refuge that we often so roundly take for granted!

When the Earth begins to wake and tremble we all must stop and take notice...

"It’s more than unnerving to be tossed about in an earthquake, the whole mechanics of being caught up in the movement of the earth’s plates and tectonic zones potentially lays us open to a complete shakedown and not just physically but psychologically as well.

When I was about eight years old, I remember waking up one night in Nelson, my home town in New Zealand, and thinking I was being driven in the back of a horse-drawn carriage that was bumping over a potholed road at great speed. Moments later, I understood that it was the earth itself that was heaving, not some imagined carriage.

Now, so many years later, I find myself in a tiny, fragile hut, clinging to a small outcrop of rocks several thousand feet up in the Himalayan foothills and pondering over the impermanence of life.

I built my “tin palace” some years ago. It sits on a forested ridge about 2000 meters from any other human habitation, save a small retreat centre and Buddhist Temple. It is rather near the edge of a precipitous cliff that drops about 250 meters to a small cluster of houses which are nestled at its base.

I had often mused that I would not like to live just below this cliff, but when the earth becomes unstable, living on the top of it is also not such a pleasing sensation.

On the 25th of April at 4:45 am, my long time winged friend, a species of dark iridescent blue bird found in the Himalayan foothills, landed with a thud on the tin roof. This had become a familiar sound to me over the years. My eyes popped open in time to see one black eye peering over the side of the awning into my loft. She was letting me know that it was time for me to get up. I took a little longer to heed her call that morning and paid the price as she jumped up and down at five-minute intervals, reminding me, like a snooze alarm, that she was waiting for her cheese.

This had been our little ritual over a good many years. Despite the fact that I had only recently returned from 24 long months away, she had not forgotten and no sooner had I settled back in than she resumed her old habit of waking me up at the crack of dawn.

I was reluctant and slow to get going that particular day. No sooner had I taken my first gulp of Darjeeling tea than a furry head appeared at the little side window in my kitchen. Shortly after that, there was an almighty crash on the tin roof, as a large simian male dropped down from the tree above the hut. It was not a promising beginning to my day.

This was followed by various annoying and inconvenient visitations from hairy and hungry monkeys of all sizes and generations hailing from a large group that had been roaming about these forested hills for the past few years. Joining in the fray were three excited dogs, frantically enjoying the chase as they tore in and out through the bamboo railings of my fence and dashed around the base of trees as monkeys taunted and teased them from the safety of the branches above.

By 11am I was worn out with trying to keep vigil on my little stock of food and remaining pot plants and stay sane. All possibility of meditation and quiet time in the loft had flown out the window the minute these visitors appeared. Despite threateningly dangling my slingshot at the monkeys, who were by now making a sport of leaping from the branches onto my roof making the loudest crash possible, there was little I could do to keep the group at bay, so I just continued on with my usual daily routines as best I could.

Around noon, having no sooner sat down and taken a couple of mouthfuls of my midday repast, there was a strange tremor and creak. My first thought was, “monkey.” But then the tremor continued and increased. The hut began to sway and the wooden beams made strange creaking, groaning sounds. Soon I heard an eerie, deep rumbling sound. I managed to stand up and noticed that the water in the small pond outside was splashing back and forth.

It was a big quake, accompanied by all of the unsettling emotions of surprise, alarm, shock and fear.

Read on in Pieces of a Dream

The Guru of Impermanence

Our lives are as fleeting as a cloud...

On the 25th of April at 4.45 am, my long time winged friend, a species of dark iridescent blue bird found in the Himalayan foothills, landed with a thud on the tin roof of my tiny hut.

This had become a familiar sound to me over the years. My eyes popped open in time to see one black eye peering over the side of the awning into my loft. She was letting me know that it was time for me to get up.

I took a little longer to heed her call that morning and paid the price as she jumped up and down at 5 minute intervals, reminding me, like a snooze alarm that she was waiting for me to put out her cheese.

This had been our little ritual over a good many years. Despite the fact that I had been away for two long years, she had not forgotten and no sooner had I resettled back into my 'tin palace' at Das Mile Retreat Center, than she resumed her old habit of waking me up in the mornings.

I was reluctant and slow to get going that particular morning.

No sooner had I taken my first gulp of Darjeeling tea than a furry head appeared at the little side window. Shortly after that there was an almighty crash on the tin roof, as a large simian male jumped from the tree above the hut onto the corrugated iron sheets.

It was not a promising beginning to my day!

This was followed by various annoying and inconvenient visitations from hairy and hungry monkeys of all sizes and generations hailing from a large group that have been roaming about these forested hills for the past few years.

Joining in the fray were three excited dogs, frantically enjoying the chase as they tore in and out of the bamboo railings of my fence and dashed about among the trees while the monkeys taunted and teased them from the safety of the branches above.

By 11 am I was worn out with trying to keep vigil on my little stock of food and remaining pot plants and stay sane. All possibility of meditation and prayers at the shrine in my loft had shot out the window the minute these visitors arrived.

Despite threateningly dangling my slingshot at the monkeys who were by now making a sport of leaping from the trees onto my roof making the loudest crash possible, there was little I could do to keep the group at bay, so I just got on as well I could with my usual daily routines.

Around midday I had no sooner sat down and taken a couple of mouthfuls of my midday repast, than there was a strange tremor and creak. My first thought was, 'monkey'. But then the tremor continued and increased, the hut began to sway and wooden beams made strange creaking, groaning sounds. Soon I heard an eerie rumbling sound. I quickly tried to stand up and noticed the water in the small pond outside splashing back and forth. It was a big quake accompanied by all of the unsettling emotions of surprise, alarm, shock and fear.

Cries soon started up from the villages on either side of our forested ridge and also from below. people were running in all directions in a bid to flee their houses.

Read More in Masters, Mice and Men

Volume Three in the series, Shades of Awareness