Cave in the snow. A western woman’s quest for enlightenment

by Vicki Mackenzie

  ’She’s not ordinary – I think she came in with a pretty pure mind,’ said Lama Palden Drolma, a Californian woman who earned her title ‘Lama’ after completing a three-year group retreat within the USA under the guidance of the eminent teacher Kalu Rinpoche. She had invited Tenzin Palmo to speak at her newly opened Sukhasiddhi Foundation in Mill Valley, San Francisco.’To me her whole life is inspirational,’ she continued. ‘The fact that she has stayed a nun for thirty years is an achievement in itself. Her dedication is awe-inspiring. In her you can see that the dharma has truly worked She’s warm, natural and personallyI don’t sense much ego there. She’s also an extraordinarily clear teacher, expressing the dharma in a very direct and meaningful way. So many people have wanted to hear her that we’ve had to turn a lot away.’

  It’s ironic, therefore, that for all the undoubted success of her teaching programme, the number of followers she has gathered, and the increasing strength of her reputation, Tenzin Palmo remains singularly unimpressed by her newly-found career. She could so easily become a guru, the position is there so obviously in the offing. But it’s a job she simply doesn’t want.

  ‘I just don’t enjoy it. It gives me no joy,’ she admits candidly. ‘When I’m teaching there’s this little voice inside me which says, “What are you doing?” And so I think it cannot be right. Of course, I meet a lot of lovely people I normally wouldn’t meet. Everyone’s very kind. Strangers become friends. And I learn a lot from being in different situations, answering questions, teaching. Actually, I often think I learn more than the people I’m teaching. I see things in new ways. It’s helpful. But it’s just something that I don’t want to do with the rest of my life.’

  In the meantime she continued. There was a job to do, a need to be met. Other women were seeking Enlightenment and she had to respond. Her Bodhisattva vow, ‘to free all suffering creatures and place them in bliss’, demanded it. In doing so she had expanded her scope considerably, from seeking her own liberation as a woman, to helping other women achieve the same goal. Just as she had been among the first Westerners to discover Buddhism, to become a nun and to live in a cave in the snow-bound Himalayas, Tenzin Palmo, aged fifty, was still pioneering – still forging the way ahead, this time on a more ambitious scale. And so without any fuss, and just the occasional sigh, she carried on.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Challenges

  From being a cave-dweller Tenzin Palmo had become a jet-setter. From being entirely stationary she had begun to move across the world at a frantic pace. From being silent she now spoke for hours on end. From living the most simple existence she was now exposed to the full gamut of late twentieth-century life. The world that she had re-entered was a radically different place from the one she had left in 1963 when she had set sail for India. She saw for herself the stress and the insecurity, the job losses and the new phenomenon of homelessness. She read about increased crime, escalating violence and the drug problems. She witnessed her friends pedalling faster and faster in an effort to keep up. She noted governments everywhere swapping the principle of public service for economic rationalism; and now the new luxuries were cited as silence, space, time and an intact ecology. And she experienced first hand the great need for spiritual values in an increasingly materialistic society.

  ‘People are parched with thirst,’ she said. ‘In Lahoul there was a richness to life in spite of all the hardships. Here people are hungry for some real meaning and depth to their lives. When one has stopped satiating the senses one wants more. That’s why people are aggressive and depressed. They feel everything is so futile. You have everything you want, and then what? Society’s answer is to get more and more, but where does that get you? I see isolation everywhere and it has nothing to do with being alone. It’s about having an alienated psyche.’

  More specifically to her own story, by the mid-1990s the Western world had got over the first flush of its love affair with Buddhism and was beginning to take a cooler and more mature look at the complex, exotic religion which had come among them. That it had taken the Occident by storm was no longer in dispute. Thinking people of all ages and from all walks of life throughout Europe, the USA, Canada, Australia and New Zealand had been awed by the profundity of its message and drawn by the quality of the lamas who had delivered it. As a result Buddhist centres, specifically Tibetan Buddhist, had mushroomed all over the globe. But now the honeymoon was over. The early disciples, after thirty years of investigation and practice, began to see a more realistic – and human – face of the religion which had been transplanted into their soil. Flaws emerged, discrepancies arose and while Eastern mores may have forbidden outright criticism of its established religion and spiritual figureheads, the West, with its right of free speech, had no such scruples. By the time Tenzin Palmo hit the world circuit, certain aspects of Buddhism were being loudly and publicly challenged – and with them, by implication, Tenzin Palmo’s chosen way of life.

  The first object held up for scrutiny was the guru – regarded as the Guardian of the Truth, Infallible Guide and, in Tibetan Buddhism, as one with the Buddha himself. ‘Guru is Buddha, Guru is dharma, Guru is sangha also,’ went the prayer. The reasoning was logical. The Buddha mind was absolute and all-pervasive but the guru was here on earth in the flesh. The Tibetans had an analogy. The Buddha was like the sun, all-powerful and shining on everything, but still unable to make a piece of paper burst into flames. For that you needed a magnifying glass, a conduit to channel the energy, hence the guru. Even so, it was a precarious position for any human to maintain, let alone a man set down in a distant land among foreign people and strange ways. Inevitably several gurus quickly fell off their pedestals amidst a clamour of publicity.

  Tenzin Palmo’s old friend and mentor, Chogyam Trungpa, whom she had met when he first arrived in England from Tibet, led the way, with a series of scandals which came to light mostly after his death in 1987. Trungpa, it was revealed, had not only frequently sat on his throne reeking of alcohol, he had engaged in several sexual relationships with his female students as well. It did not matter that he was not of a celibate order, the confusion which ensued was widespread. Many students tried to emulate him by also taking to the bottle and several of his female partners claimed their lives had been destroyed by his philandering. This notoriety was followed horribly quickly by the news that his chosen successor, American-born Thomas Rich, who became Osel Tendzin, not only had AIDS which he had kept secret but had infected one of his many unknowing student lovers.

  With the lid off, other ‘wronged’ parties came to light to blow the whistle on their gurus. One woman brought a $10 million lawsuit against a very popular Tibetan teacher for alleged sexual misconduct. It was settled out of court, but not before rumours of the man’s philandering had swept the entire Buddhist world. (In Dharamsala, however, the Tibetans frankly did not believe a woman would dare denounce a lama and put the whole episode down to a political plot.)Zen teachers acknowledged that ’sexual misconduct’ was rife among their members. British writer June Campbell, in her book Traveller in Space, told eloquently of her secret affair with the highly esteemed lama, the late Kalu Rinpoche, describing how confusing and undermining her clandestine affair had been. Jack Kornfield, one of America’s most established Buddhist teachers and authors, added to the controversy by stating, almost casually, that he had interviewed fifty-three Zen masters, lamas, swamis and/or their senior students about their sex lives and had discovered ’that the birds do it, the bees do it, and most gurus do it’. He went on to say: ‘Like any group of people in our culture, their sexual practices varied. There were heterosexuals, bisexuals, homosexuals, fetishists, exhibitionists, monogamists and polygamists.’ The point he was making was that Eastern spiritual heads are no more special than anyone else, but it didn’t help. The issue at stake was the supposed infallibility of the guru and the abuse of spiritual authority and power.

  Confronted by the revelations, the Dalai Lama openly declared himself shocked. ‘This is v
ery, very harmful for the Buddha dharma. Buddhism is meant to benefit people – that is its purpose, its only purpose. When you really examine it such shameful behaviour is due to a lack of inner strength and shows that in actuality there is a discrepancy between Buddhism and their life, that the Dharma has not been properly internalized,’ he stated, before announcing that the only remedy for such a dire situation was for all culprits to be ‘outed’. ‘You must mention them by name, publicize them, and no longer consider them as a teacher,’ he avowed.

  The Western Buddhist world, with its idealistic new converts, was rattled as disclosure followed hard on the heels of yet another disclosure. It was true that hundreds of followers were perfectly happy with their Tibetan teachers, finding in them supreme examples of morality, wisdom and compassion. Some disciples of Trungpa even spoke in his defence.

  ‘My teacher did not keep ethical norms and my devotion to him is unshakable. He showed me the nature of my mind and for that I’m eternally grateful,’ stated eminent American nun and teacher Pema Chodron, director of Gampo Abbey, Nova Scotia, in the Buddhist magazine Tricycle. ’Trungpa Rinpoche taught me in every way he could that you can never make things right or wrong. His whole teaching was to lead people away from holding on to some kind of security, to throw out the party line. However, we’re always up against human nature. The teacher says something and everyone does it. There was a time when he smoked cigarettes and everyone started smoking. Then he stopped and they stopped. It was just ridiculous.’

  But these defenders of the faith were the silent majority. The disaffected were making all the noise and the scandals were tarnishing Buddhism’s previously squeaky-clean image. Those whose lives had been touched by the fallen gurus rushed off to the psychiatrists (and the press) to tell of their anguish and doubt. In particular the new breed of articulate emancipated females were especially vociferous, claiming that this was one more instance of male power exploiting and betraying women.

  They had a point. While religious teachers of any faith engaging in sexual activity with their disciples was morally and ethically questionable, within the context of Tibetan Buddhism it was arguably more so. Tibetan Buddhism had tantra, the legitimate sexual coupling between spiritual partners which was said to inspire both parties to higher levels of attainment. To be chosen by a guru as a consort for such a mystic union, therefore, was to establish you as a very special woman indeed. In many cases it was irresistible. With the guru seen as Buddha, how could a woman resist?

  Tenzin Palmo arrived in the midst of the storm. In the dock was the guru, dubbed by one American commentator ’this poor dysfunctional model’. This was the pillar that Tenzin Palmo had trusted her entire spiritual life on. To her mind the guru was the heart of the matter. Khamtrul Rinpoche had been, quite simply, the most important person in her life, the only ’thing’ she had missed in all those years in the cave, the man whose memory could still induce uncontrollable sobs years after his death. She surveyed the scene with her cool, detached eye.

  ‘Of course where a lama is acting dishonourably it is extremely damaging. It creates an atmosphere of rivalry, jealousy, secrecy and chaos. I have heard of some lamas creating a harem situation, or having one or two secret liaisons. In such circumstances the women have a right to feel humiliated and exploited. It’s also hypocritical. The lama is posing as a monk, yet he’s not. I don’t see how that benefits the dharma or sentient beings. It’s a very different situation from a lama who has not taken celibacy vows having a consort openly, and a decent steady relationship,’ she stated.

  The woman who had laughed off Trungpa’s sexual advances when she was just nineteen, and who still managed to remain friends with him, was hardly going to take the high moral ground, however. ’Some women are very flattered at being “the consort", in which case they should take the consequences. And some women only know how to relate to men in this way. I sometimes feel we women have to get away from this victim mentality,’ she said crisply. ‘It is also necessary to understand the strange situation these lamas have found themselves in. They were brought up in a monastic setting among hundreds of like-minded men and now find themselves in a strange land being the only lama in a community of Westerners. There’s no one for them to turn to for companionship and advice, and they’re surrounded by devoted disciples who are only too willing to please. With the very heavy sexual prominence in the West, I believe many lamas misread the signs and are surprised to find the women are taking their advances towards them seriously. It’s a lot of misread messages which is leading to confusion all round.’

  Much of the current problem, she deduced, was due to the fact that Westerners had little experience and no education about how to look for and find their real guru. Nor did they understand what the function of a true guru was. Eastern masters were fashionable, Westerners’ thirst for spiritual leadership, any leadership, was immense. Their naivety and susceptibility therefore made them easy prey to misunderstandings and in some cases spiritual and sexual exploitation. In Tenzin Palmo’s experience the business of finding a guru was, in fact a highly specialized task indeed.

  ‘In Tibet it was understood that when you meet your root guru there is this instant, immediate mutual recognition – and instant trust. You inwardly know. The problem with the West is that people might meet a charismatic lama, have a surge of devotion and think this is it! Even if they had a connection with Tibet in past lives the chances of meeting up with their lama again are actually very slim. Their root guru could be anywhere, or even dead, as most of the high lamas perished in the aftermath of the Chinese invasion. Previously, it was much easier. The lamas were reborn in their own districts and so it was much more likely that you would refind your guru again,’ she explained.

  ‘Many Westerners have false ideas about what a guru is,’ she went on. ‘They think that if they find the perfect master with the perfect teachings they’ll immediately get it. They believe that the guru is going to lead them through every step of the way. It’s a search for Mamma. But it’s not like that. A genuine guru is there to help people to grow up as well as wake up. The real function of a guru is to introduce you to the unborn nature of your mind and the relationship is one of mutual commitment. From the side of the disciple she or he should see whatever the guru does as perfect Buddha activity, obey whatever the lama says, and put into practice whatever the lama instructs. The lama, on his part, is committed to take the disciple all the way to Enlightenment, however many lifetimes that may take. In that lies its glory and its downfall. If it is a genuine lama you have the certainty of never being abandoned. If it is not a genuine lama you open yourself to all sorts of exploitation.’

  The Dalai Lama had his own recipe for distinguishing between an authentic guru and a fake: ‘You should “spy” on him or her for at least ten years. You should listen, examine, watch, until you are convinced that the person is sincere. In the meantime you should treat him or her as an ordinary human being and receiving their teaching as “just information”. In the end the authority of a guru is bestowed by the disciple. The guru doesn’tgo out looking for students. It is the student who has to ask the guru to teach and guide,’ he said.

  Tenzin Palmo had other ideas, especially when it came to lamas suggesting sexual liaisons. ‘One way to judge if he’s bona fide is to see if he’s pursuing old, unattractive women as well as the young, pretty ones!’ she suggested. ‘If he were a genuine lama he would see all women as Dakinis, young and old, fat and thin, pretty and ugly, because he would have pure view! And if the guru were genuine you can always say no without feeling you’ve blown it. A true guru, even if he felt that having a tantric relationship might be beneficial for that disciple, would make the request with the understanding that it would not damage their relationship if she refused. No woman should ever have to agree on the grounds of his authority or a sense of her obedience. The understanding should be “if she wished to good, if not, also good", offering her a choice and a sense of respect. Then that is not exploitat
ion.

  ‘Actually real tantric liaisons are extremely rare,’ she continued. ‘I once asked Khamtrul Rinpoche, “Seeing as sexual yoga is such a fast way to Enlightenment, how come you are all monks?” And he replied, “It’s true it’s a quick path but you have to be almost Buddha to practise it.” To have a genuine tantric relationship first there must be no feeling of lust. Then there must be no emission of sexual fluids. Instead you must learn to send the fluids up through the central channel to the crown while doing very complicated visualization and breathing practices. All this requires tremendous control of body, speech and mind. Even yogis who have practised tumo for many years say they’d need one or two lifetimes of practice to accomplish sexual yoga. So these tantric weekends on offer in the West these days may give you a jolly good time, but little else!’ she said.

  For all the accusations, the distrust, and the general uneasiness, Tenzin Palmo’s own feelings towards Khamtrul Rinpoche never wavered, not for a second. ‘I can say that Khamtrul Rinpoche was the one person I felt I could trust completely. One of the greatest blessings of my life is that never for a single moment did I doubt him as a guru, and as my guru. He guided me infallibly. I never saw anything I needed to question. He was always completely selfless and wise,’ she said emphatically.

  To many Western Buddhists, however, the guru had been mortally wounded. It was not just the scandals that had eroded his position, it was the times themselves. In the last seconds of the twentieth century it was being stated by some that the guru-disciple relationship had run its course. The figure of the guru was, they said, a product of the patriarchy with its emphasis on structure and hierarchy, and with the rise of female spiritual power the patriarchy’s days were rapidly coming to an end.