by Marco Pallis
PHOTO: BLAIR HANSEN.
Ösel Mukpo, the Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche.
PHOTO: WILLIAM KARELLIS.
Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche and the Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche.
PHOTO: LEE WEINGRAD.
Karmê Chöling in Barnet, Vermont.
PHOTO: JANE COHEN.
Ösel Tendzin himself is arrogant and humble, resourceful and impatient, and always willing to regard his position as a further training process. Working with him takes no struggle, and he is quick to apply what he has learned. My training of him is primarily through close and critical observation. My approach to administration and the community in general has been to give more and more responsibility to people but to hold the nerve center in my control, and I am teaching Ösel Tendzin to do likewise.
For their part, community members are taking on more and more duties, contributing their full- or part-time energy. A large number of authorized meditation instructors throughout the country work personally with newer students. In a few cases early leaders in the administration have fallen out through ambition and lack of vision, but they have remained as faithful practitioners. On the whole I find that all of the members of the community are becoming mature people committed to working on themselves and for others. They begin to feel at home in their new Buddhist world. In their manner of respecting and helping each other there is no need for big brothers, yet they have a genuine affection for leadership and sense of constant forward vision. They begin to present themselves with confidence and even elegance, although there could still be problems of exclusivity and self-satisfaction.
Throughout this time I have been conducting numerous seminars and public talks, making regular visits to the east and west coasts, and each year there have been more people in attendance. The size of our centers, as well as of the Vajradhatu Seminary, has grown accordingly. In the autumn of 1976 we completed a major construction project at Karmê Chöling, including a large shrine hall, halls for vajrayana practice, classrooms, dining hall, library, staff quarters, and dormitories for visitors. In Boulder we purchased a large older building to accommodate the expanded office needs of Karma Dzong and Vajradhatu. Community members did extensive renovation work on the building, to which we gave the name Dorje Dzong, and the top floor was converted into a handsome shrine hall capable of accommodating six hundred people. Other projects are in the planning, including a major group retreat facility at the Rocky Mountain Dharma Center.
We have also had more wonderful visits from teachers of the lineage. Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche made an extensive visit in 1976 which was personally very moving for me. The response of our students and the progress in their practice have certainly contributed to prolonging his life, and he has promised to visit us again. His Holiness Dudjom Rinpoche, head of the Nyingma order, also paid us a visit, and his teachings have greatly benefited many of our students.
As I conclude my writing of this chapter, His Holiness Karmapa is with us again on his second visit, accompanied by the twenty-two-year-old Jamgön Kongtrül of Palpung, whose previous incarnation ordained me when I was eight years old. This time the hospitality and genuineness of His Holiness’ reception have been spotless, reflecting the maturity of the students, their lack of resistance, and their fearless devotion. Consequently His Holiness is enjoying himself thoroughly, as if coming to America were returning home rather than traveling to a foreign country. He has given his confirmation and blessing to Ösel Tendzin as Vajra Regent as well as to my son Gesar as the rebirth of Jamgön Kongtrül of Sechen. He has also requested me to act as one of the principal organizers of an international affiliation of Karma Kagyü institutions.
At this point, for the purpose of reviewing what has been achieved and what needs to be done further, as well as to devote time to practice, I have decided to set aside the year of 1977 for a personal retreat. During this year all of my students, headed by Ösel Tendzin, will have the opportunity to continue on their own. I have no doubt that they will be able to carry out the vision of the golden sun of dharma, energetically extending themselves for the benefit of beings and arousing the authentic dawn of Vajrasattva.
Editor’s note: Small revisions were made to the 1977 epilogue following the author’s death, according to instructions given in 1985. It is the revised epilogue that appears here.
Epilogue to the 1971 Edition
IT IS ELEVEN YEARS since we arrived in India and I’ve since traveled twice as far again to Colorado, U.S.A., where I am writing this from my home. Upon being asked to do an epilogue for this new edition of Born in Tibet, I began to think about the nature of these last years. Their most outstanding quality has been the strength of the teachings, which have been a constant source of inspiration during this time in India, Britain, and America.
Adapting to these new ways of life after the colorful and simple quality of Tibet, where people were so in touch with their natural environment, has been truly a great adventure. It has been made possible by the continually active presence of Jamgön Kongtrül of Sechen and Khenpo Gangshar, my teachers. They taught about a basic sanity that has nothing to do with time and place. They taught about the neurotic aspects of the mind and the confusion in political, social, and other structures of life, which are universal. I have seen many fellow Tibetans as well as Westerners drawn into these problems.
Jamgön Kongtrül had incredibly precise insight when he dealt with people’s minds, not only in the technical aspect of teaching meditation and philosophy, but also in the whole feel of his communication in which he acted as a host or mirror. He had that kind of patience which permits other people to grow. His inspiring way of teaching allowed his disciples vast amounts of space and encouraged confidence in their own energy. His skillful means were the embodiment of all those qualities of being truly awake; a miracle. The great wisdom of the lineage was manifested in him. For me the inspiration that he gave is so complete and unique that I have no further desire to hunt for another guru.
He always used an event or situation as part of the understanding of the universality of a guru. When my relationship to him became too ego-gratifying, he would leave and have Khenpo Gangshar work with me. This would shock me through the hesitations and clinging to the guru as the only savior. This situation forced me to rely on independent intelligence. For example, Kongtrül would not help me work out the very complicated administration of my monastery.
I felt that in some ways this spiritual journey was made with Khenpo Gangshar (whose name means “whatever rises is self-liberated”) while we worked together on the philosophical texts of the abhidharma, madhyamaka, prajnaparamita, and many others. There had to be a transition from learning to practice. This was particularly reinforced by seeing the human aspect of the abstract political and religious tensions and by learning about compassion and communication. For instance, the teachings had to be presented in simple and direct language to laypeople. I had to throw hesitation overboard and go directly with the dance of life. Khenpo Gangshar taught that the teachings of yogis like Tilopa and Naropa still applied to twentieth-century man. Again a situation similar to that with Jamgön Kongtrül developed. This occurred when I had to decide whether or not to leave Tibet. So there was a continuing state of aloneness and the simplicity inherent in it.
Living in India and then in the West has been a process of progressively leaving behind those physical things connected with home. In India I still had the security of some familiar things and the warmth of friends. While receiving an introduction to new situations, my life continued the karmic pattern of teaching and learning.
The inspiration of Kongtrül Rinpoche’s teaching on communication and a succession of coincidences, including a Spalding scholarship, brought me to England and into contact with the people and the rich details of life at Oxford. It seemed to be a survey of new ground. It was also the first time I had been the object of that fascination which is noncommunicative and nonrelating, of being seen as an example of a species rather than as an individual: “Let’s go see the lam
as at Oxford.”
Born in Tibet was the first attempt to get through the cultural barriers publicly. The book was received somewhat as a description or travelogue, but the atmosphere of the teachings did not seem to be generally perceived.
One particularly beautiful thing to hear in England was Western Buddhists giving talks on the dharma. It was so refreshing to see that the teachings could be presented in the local language. I was reminded of the last words of Khenpo Gangshar who said that because of the universality of the teachings his attempt to teach Chinese officials through an interpreter were not entirely fruitless.
At the same time it was an uplifting experience to see such interest in the actual practice of meditation, even though the attitude was somewhat solemn and serious, blending perhaps with the natural climate of Britain. The invitation to teach at Johnstone House Contemplative Community in Scotland was very significant. The wildness of the endless rolling hills was somehow reminiscent of Khenpo Gangshar’s freshness, although the involvement with trusteeships and organization had nothing whatever to do with the atmosphere of Jamgön Kongtrül and Khenpo Gangshar. I tended to feel apprehensive of the power structure, but the inspiration of communicating the practice of meditation continued with a feeling of their presence, as was also true of the talks I gave. We were offered the opportunity to take over Johnstone House and did so in April 1967 when we established the Samye Ling Meditation Centre for the purpose of providing a place to retreat, study buddhadharma, and practice meditation.
As the scene developed, the emphasis was on meditation in action. Samye Ling became the training ground for the living of daily life with the simplicity of meditation. But somehow the desire to expand, the romantic idea to make a successful and glorified empire seems to be natural and inevitable in the human mind. Materialism came to play a permanent part in the maintenance of the house. With great disappointment I watched the business inspiration and the center take a direction apart from my original aim.
My return to India in 1969 took the pattern somewhat of a political and social obligation. But apart from that, I had a memorable retreat at Taktsang in Bhutan, where it seemed that I was reunited with Guru Padmasambhava, who had meditated there before bringing Buddhism to Tibet. There I experienced again the powerful and wild yogi quality of Khenpo Gangshar.
Coming back to Britain, there was the question of whether to continue the experience of Taktsang. The hesitation was powerfully expressed in a car crash in May 1969 in which I was paralyzed on the left side. This led to my taking off the robe. The purpose of this was to gain for me personally the strength to continue teaching by unmasking, and also to do away with the ‘exotic’ externals which were too fascinating to students in the West. These had a devastating effect, as the law of karma clearly manifested. You cannot keep up hypocrisy until the very attainment of enlightenment; sooner or later the covering shatters and you have to face direct and honest communication.
It was a question of relating in terms of the image as “monk” or of just ordinary man. The attempt to keep control of such powerful energy in this situation highlighted for me the necessity of a union of wisdom and skill, both for my own sake as teacher as well as for my pupils. Such exposure was overwhelming. It was a direct message, as Jamgön Kongtrül had taught, of seeing the guru in the current event of situations. The accident not only brought me more completely in touch with wisdom again but it also finally cut through the seduction of materialism. Keeping the image of monk in order to handle situations was an imbalance of skillful means.
When a guru makes a great change in his life, it is often an opening for great chaos among the pupils who regard him as an object of security. Very few are able to go along with the change. In this case it was as if removing the mask or destroying the image provoked uncontrolled passions and possessiveness among disciples and friends. Great ignorance and paranoia pervaded, in that each person ignored his own reaction and projected it onto the situation. Nevertheless, the creative energy continued with strong conviction and the direction was still clear.
During this time my marriage to my wife Diana took place in January 1970. This brought an even stronger reaction among the more possessive followers who regarded their guru as “lover.” They began what may be called “hunting the guru.” When this occurs the person is no longer open to teaching. The ego game is so strong that everything nourishes it and the person wants only to manipulate, so that in a sense he kills the guru with his own ignorance.
This situation reminded me of the time when Jamgön Kongtrül’s disciples tried, with the best of intentions, to reinterpret with their scholarly research his, Jamgön Kongtrül’s, own words in order to show him their real meaning. They attempted to help him out with tremendous violence and feelings of superiority. This ignorance of one’s real purpose can be called the basic twist of ego. Such a situation requires a gap or space in communication which allows passion to lose its intensity; then creative communication can continue.
At this time, in much the same pattern as in my coming to Britain from India, there was a succession of coincidences including invitations from spiritual friends to come to North America to teach. I decided to come for a time. I do not believe that there is a divine providence as such, but the situation of karma and the wildness of Khenpo Gangshar and Jamgön Kongtrül directed me to cross the Atlantic with my wife in the spring of 1970.
Because of visa difficulties, we had to stay in Canada for six weeks or so. As happens, this turned out to be a good opportunity to feel the ground and to soften our expectations of the United States. Requests for teaching presented themselves and I gave a number of seminars while waiting to go to Tail of the Tiger, the meditation community in Barnet, Vermont, started by some of my students from Samye Ling. The founding of this center was not premeditated but rather, following the teachings of the lineage, came about quite spontaneously in March 1970.
This center, where there were both my old students and many new people, was the first auspicious circumstance of my stay in North America. The reception there was symbolic of my future relationships and experiences in teaching in the United States. One feels an extraordinary neutral energy rather than the reputedly destructive energy. As I found on subsequent lecture tours, this seems to be generally true all over the country in spite of the pressures everyone experiences.
Responses to the seminars given in Vermont were very vital; serious interest was shown in the teachings and many people decided to go into long retreats, which seems to be the general pattern since then (California, New York, Boston, as well as here in Boulder, Colorado, where a second center is being started).
My plans at the time of writing this epilogue are quite open. There will be seminars here and in Vermont, lecture tours, and whatever else comes up as the karmic pattern continues to reveal itself.
APPENDIX 1
The Administration of the Kagyü Monasteries of East Tibet
tridzin The supreme abbot.
gyaltsap The regent abbot.
khenpo Master of studies, in charge of academic work. He conducts both the hinayana and the mahayana rites.
dorje loppön Master of rites. He conducts the vajrayana rites. (Both the khenpo and the dorje loppön officiate at these rites in the absence of the supreme abbot).
drupön Master of meditation, head of the retreat center.
gekö Senior monk in charge of discipline. Head of the administrative body. He receives visitors to the monastery and keeps lists of the monks and novices.
kyorpön Senior tutor under the khenpo.
chandzö Senior secretary under the abbot.
umdze The precentor, in charge of music and chanting and of the timetable of assemblies.
chöpön In charge of the arrangement of the altars and shrines and of their proper upkeep, including the decoration of votive offerings.
champön Master of dancing; trainer of the dancers in the “mystery plays” of which each monastic order has its own particular form.
> nyerpa Bursar, in charge of the personal finance, lodging, and food of the supreme abbot. He also manages his property.
tratsang The collegiate council for the monastery, working directly under the gekö. In charge of all the finances of the monastery outside the supreme abbot’s obligations and all the festival properties.
tra-nyerpa A lay treasurer. All donations to the monastery which come under the charge of the gekö and the tratsang are received and administered by the tra-nyerpa.
junior tra-nyerpa In charge of catering and domestic work; he can be either a monk or a layman.
geyö Title given to a number of men with authority to keep order among the monks, who also attend to the general tidiness of the monastery.
chöyö Assistant to the chöpön, who attends to the assembly halls, shrine rooms, altars, etc.
machen Head of kitchen.
jadrenpas Members of the domestic staff.
jamas Cooks.
chumas Water carriers.
Except for the supreme abbot, the regent abbot, and the senior secretary, all other members of the monastic administration hold office for three years but can be reelected.
All young monks on entering the monastery, from whatsoever background, must begin with the more menial tasks, rising later according to their abilities.
MONASTIC FINANCES
The organization of Tibetan monasteries was somewhat different from that practiced in other Buddhist countries.
The Tibetans have always lived for and in their religion and from the time that Buddhism was introduced their religious centers have been the pivot of the community. Large and small properties were continually being donated in order to establish monasteries; the produce of these lands became a source of monastic income while at the same time increasing the means of livelihood for the inhabitants of the district.