Habemus Lamam! Habemus Dharmam!

Usually we don't talk religion and religious orientation at work. But after the recent announcement of a new Pope, some of my colleagues came out as Catholics. One of them said during a coffee break he still paid church taxes but neither attends mass nor uses any of its other services because he didn't agree with some of the positions held by the Roman Catholic Church.

Then looking at me he went on to praise Buddhism, which in his perception of a casual onlooker, was easier to embrace because it was a tolerant philosophy rather than a hierarchical religion. According to my colleague, Buddhism was not standing for values that were out of touch with our time – unlike his faith of origin.

I couldn't bring myself to destroy his superficial impression of Buddhism. Religion is not the right topic for a coffee break anyway and criticising one's native religion in front of outsiders is not exactly what a well-bred Tibetan girl should do. So I merely replied that although Buddhism is a philosophy, when it's lived out in Asia, people also practice it like a religion and I added that with regard to the challenges of our times, Tibetan Buddhism faced its share of problems. Then I pretended I had to hurry back to my desk.

Of course Tibetan Buddhism has its problems. It's just that unlike Western Christians, we don't complain in public.  There are taboos and don’ts. Openly challenging authority, whether religious or worldly, is one. So it's perhaps understandable when outsiders come to assume that the grass is greener on our side.

In practice, some of the challenges the Roman Catholic Church is confronted with are amazingly similar to those of Tibetan Buddhism: Abortion comes to mind, celibacy, homosexuality, women priests, paedophiliac clerics and child-abuse - to mention but a few topics off the top of my head.

To a Tibetan Buddhist, the Catholic Church actually doesn't seem as bad as some of its members say. In fact, my own experience has been positive through and through. As a school kid, for instance, I was a member of the Catholic youth organisation in my town. It was a girls scouts' type of club where I spent many happy hours with kids my age. I also took part in the annual, weeklong summer camps led by the friendly and always cheerful Reverend in our community. I would celebrate mass with them, joining in the chants and murmuring Pater Noster.

Neither the Reverend nor any of the adults, nor the other children ever excluded me because I wasn't Catholic. That claim to absoluteness that it is the only true faith was not taking place on the ground. I wasn't baptized and technically a heathen, but no one tried to convert me or made me feel unwelcome. The church I experienced as a child was open, generous and inclusive.

But what about the Vatican saying abortion is murder, homosexuality is a sin and celibacy is a must? Sometimes I wonder why people get so worked up over the Pope. In daily life, it's pro-choice, same-sex marriages are legal and paedophiliac priests are exposed and punished. With the long-established and firmly grounded legal system that separates the church and state - which both sides respect - people have long emancipated themselves from the dictum of the Church. Where is the problem? I wish we could say the same about Tibetan Buddhism and society. 

The separation of religious and worldly spheres was never instituted. Current attempts to implement it in the Tibetan exile polity are in their infancy and don’t look promising, to tell you the truth. The Dalai Lama formally announced his withdrawal from politics two years ago and I was speculating about the significance in Could This Really Be It? But by now, it's all back to business as usual. He can be seen travelling the world to meet political leaders as in the days when he was the official head of state, and he continues to express political views to the exiled Tibetan populace on every occasion, explaining that though he is retired from politics, it is his duty and his right to freedom of speech.

Apart from the institution of the Dalai Lama and monastic Buddhism, the Dharma or Buddhist teaching itself sometimes has clear positions with regard to a proper or improper action. The reference point is whether an action is conducive or averse to reinforcing a person's Buddha-potential. Take the view on homosexuality for example: I believe same sex relations are grouped under "sexual misconduct" along with sexual intercourse with children, relatives, people in a relationship with another person, etc. 

"Sexual misconduct" is also one of the five basic negative actions any Buddhist should refrain from. The other four in that category are killing, lying, stealing and using intoxicants. All five are considered extremely detrimental to realising one’s Buddha-potential because they are said to reinforce mental delusions. It’s common Buddhist practice abstain from these five negative actions by taking a vow. That puts homosexual Buddhists in a very difficult position. Our Lamas normally don't talk about it either. When they get asked during Q & A and have to say something, it's a difficult balancing act between compassion and trying to guide people according to what the Buddhist scriptures say. 

The Catholic Church sometimes is also criticized for its strict adherence to celibacy for its priests which many find outdated: Priests should be allowed to get married; celibacy it is said, is a big hindrance in recruiting new priests, and that when what is natural is repressed, what is unnatural will arise: Unholy stories of paedophiliac priests are quoted as proof of the unnaturalness of the Catholic sacerdotal system.

Here too, there are negative parallels to the Tibetan monastic system. Particularly with regard to celibacy, the monasteries face similar challenges where hundreds of males of different ages and generations live together and somehow have to get to grips with their sexuality. Stories of sexual (child) abuse in Tibetan monasteries abound. But while the Catholic Church rightly has to face up the storm of public anger and is struggling to find a solution for paedophiliac priests and child molesters, when it comes to Tibetan monastic Buddhism, there is a veil of silence on the topic. There seems to be nobody to speak up for the victims, nobody to sensitise the offenders, even nobody raising the issue for open discussion.

Another practice for which the Catholic Church comes under fire is its refusal to allow women to become priests. When the whole of society is in post-gender mode and other reform-minded Christian orders have adapted to the signs of the time, the Roman Catholic Church for many looks out of touch with reality when they refuse to accept female priests. The argument is that among the apostles of Jesus Christ, there was no female.

Again, they are not alone! Tibetan Buddhism too has refused to allow women to play an equal role. Here too, the Buddha is invoked to defend the position. Not only are there extremely few female religious leaders or Lamas, but also women cannot become fully ordained even as simple nuns. I blessed everyone on this tedious topic in Emptiness And Empty Talk. Correct me if I'm wrong but I believe this fundamental point of inequality has not changed even now that it is somehow possible for Tibetan nuns abroad to obtain some sort of Geshema degree.

Geshe or Geshema is the highest degree in Tibetan Buddhist study; it’s a PhD in Theology so to speak. But in order to be allowed to study the entire body of knowledge necessary for passing the Geshe exams, one needs to be ordained. If nuns now can become Geshemas, it either means: Rejoice! Full ordination for nuns was materialised! Or it’s a kind of “compromise” Geshe degree only given to nuns, but fundamentally they are still blocked from full ordination or equal treatment. Which one is it?

When it comes to abortion, the position of the Tibetan clergy is perhaps somewhat more pragmatic than that of the Catholic Church, but I suppose the act is still considered killing in the eyes of the Dharma. According to Buddhism, when the sperm and the egg unite is also the moment when the mental continuum begins. To give it to you straight, in Buddhism we are dealing with a living being complete with body and mind the first instance of inception and abortion is murder. The karmic consequences of killing are said to be grave.

The Buddhist position on abortion is also nicely illustrated by how Tibetans count their birthdays. When a child is born, it is considered one year old because the time during pregnancy is included. They don't abruptly switch back to zero once the baby has left the womb as it’s done in the West. In my eyes, this further underlines the Buddhist view that the foetus is considered fully human from the start of the embryonic stage.

Fortunately, abortion is one of the topics where representatives of Tibetan Buddhism seem to be taking a new approach. In this case, they do not appear to literalise as in other cases, but allow for a more pragmatic view. For example, the Dalai Lama has said that if the pregnant woman was not in a position to guarantee the welfare of a baby, it may be better to abort than to carry the child to full term. It's about personally weighing the pros and cons and self-responsibility. Abortion is still killing for Buddhist believers, but the decision is left with the individual. That's pro-choice, reasonable and the way it should be. Why can’t our Lamas show the same flexible spirit and humility with regard to other issues such as homosexuality and women-priests?

And what do we make of another perception that Buddhism is non-hierarchical and laisser-faire whereas Catholicism is top-down and rigid? To me the two institutions of Pope and Dalai Lama look practically identical in terms of hierarchical organisation. Dalai Lamas are chosen as infants, Popes are elected as old men but traditionally both have been endowed with political power in addition to their religious role. Popes are actually the Bishops of Rome but unlike the other Bishops they are endowed with political power through their own state, the Vatican. The Dalai Lama is actually "just a Lama of the Gelug order" and not even its nominal head, but at the same time, he is also the absolute political leader of Tibet. Both positions combine worldly and spiritual power in personal union.

Whereas the person becoming the Pope can be elected from any Catholic order, much to the chagrin of Tibet's Buddhist schools, only the Gelug order has had the prerogative to institute a Dalai Lama. For more than 500 years since the Mongol invaders created this institution, with Altan Khan installing the abbot of Drepung monastery, Sonam Gyatso, as ruler of Tibet, no other Tibetan Buddhist order could even hope to nominate the head of state. That's how Tibet got its most recent form of government. It was a circumstantial and historical creation that was never challenged despite serious structural shortcomings, for which Tibetan society continues to pay to this day.

While the Catholic Church and the Pope are always under scrutiny by the public, there is no such thing in the Tibetan context. Tibetan Buddhists by and large, still value integration into society and subordination to authority. Although freedom of expression is nominally encouraged under the banner of democracy, it is not genuinely appreciated particularly when it begins to deviate from the official view.  An illustrative political example is the recently displayed attitude towards advocates of Tibetan independence.  A religious example where the authorities have been most unaccommodating is the socially disastrous Dorje Shugden affair.

If my nominally Catholic colleague from work had any clue about some of the things that are going on in Tibetan Buddhism, would it still appeal to him more than his faith of origin? Perhaps what my colleague mainly sees is the universal message of peace, compassion, and happiness. Live and let live. Cool message for our times, doesn't hurt anyone - who could object?

But the core of Buddhism, if I have it right, is that there is no individual self. The belief in a stable self leads to all kinds of troubling emotions and hang-ups subjecting us to the cycle of birth and rebirth. We are bound to come back again and again, if we are lucky as a human, if we are less lucky as an animal, a hungry ghost or a hell being or a god. There is not only "life after death", but also countless lives and countless deaths in all kinds of realms and forms. The individual self is lost in the process.

How cool does Buddhism still look? 

Maybe not too cool: Some Westerners drawn to Buddhism are already beginning to take the Dharma apart, redefining it to suit their outlook. Integral parts such as rebirths are declared to be "Asian cultural baggage" which progressive modern Western Buddhists can do without. Here today, gone tomorrow. 

On the other hand, there are also efforts on the so-called traditional Asian side to "upgrade" Buddhism in relation to Western science such as physics, psychoanalysis and more recently neuroscience, perhaps in an attempt to make Buddhism more palatable to the West. When we look at the symposiums conducted by the Tibetans under the header "Mind & Life" the goal on the Tibetan side seems to be to find as many areas as possible where Buddhism somehow can be seen as converging with science.

The Dalai Lama said if science proved that a Buddhist view was incorrect, then we would have to correct the Buddhist view. Leaving aside the high-handedness such a statement could convey particularly to all the other - non-Tibetan - Buddhist orders around the world, I ask myself whether those participating scientists are equally as eager to incorporate insights from Buddhism and adapt science accordingly? And what about spots where the two diverge? 

As cool as the approximation of Buddhism and science sounds, personally I prefer an attitude that was expressed by Dzongsar Khyentse, the filmmaker-Lama from Bhutan, who said in all naturalness that if anyone can learn anything in an exchange between Buddhism and science, then it's the scientists. I love the matter-of-fact self-confidence coming out of this statement.

It's great for Buddhists to be interested in science. Exposing the Tibetan Sangha to science and modern education in general is absolutely needed and it's a shame if it hasn't been done already. The aim should be to have a modern, well informed and critically thinking Sangha that is all the more firmly grounded in the Dharma. What the aim of introducing science into the Dharma should not be, in my humble view, is to make Buddhism "better", because Buddhism needs no enhancement.

If people reject Buddhism because they find it unscientific and fantastic, ideologically too rigid or unrealistic and unachievable or "too Asian", that's no problem for Buddhism. That's exactly where the much-lauded cool part about Buddhism comes in: It's "Take it or leave it", no claim to absoluteness, no ill feelings. 

Also if you happen to have a personal issue because of a specific position on a topic like homosexuality or women's role in the Sangha, I believe there is always a workaround because in the end, Buddhism is about improving one’s mind to the extent where one can eventually make it out of the samsaric cycle. No one but us can judge our mind and the inner motivation for doing or not doing something. There is no external arbiter.  We must give account ourselves. In this sense: Flout hierarchy :--)

When Buddhism was on the verge of extinction in India, the Tibetans saved it by bringing it to Tibet providing safe haven. As a result, many Tibetan Buddhist masters have arisen ensuring that this knowledge is carefully preserved, passed on reliably and in its entirety from one generation of masters to the next. They have done a superhuman job. Now that the Tibetans lost their country, one could perhaps say that Buddhism is saving us back: Where in the world would we be as a people under the current circumstances, had we not the Dharma to offer? Who would care?

I'm in agreement with my Roman Catholic colleague from work. Buddhism is cool. Actually it’s so cool, I rejoice:  “Habemus Lamam! Habemus Dharmam!”

Mountain Phoenix

Related Essays

Taking The Essence

Greetings From The Animal Realm

Om Mani Padme Hum! My neighbour's cat died yesterday. Mikey was shy, seemingly indifferent and like most indoor-only cats he was fat because all he did was eat,  sleep and hide under the sofa. I'm not too fond of cats but a few times when his owner was out of town, I would refill Mikey's food and water bowls and clean his litter-box. So there was something like a personal connection and I was a bit sad when I heard he was no more.

Immediately I had to think of what we would do when our dog dies. He is getting old for a dog his size. He doesn't see so well anymore. The vet said he´d need a routine surgery to improve his vision. And although my mom insists he is just acting lazy, I suspect he doesn't hear so well anymore either because when we call him, he often doesn't react.

We owe this four-legged friend who has been with us since he was an eight-week old puppy. Were it not for him, we would never be as active as we are as a family today. Through rain or snow, nothing keeps us from doing our walks three times a day, every single day we have lived with him. And due to him, our kids have always loved the outdoors. When they were barely two, they could easily do a steep two-hour hike up the hill without any fuss, which amazed even our hardy farmer relatives in Tibet during the kids' frequent visits as toddlers – all thanks to our dog, their perfect walking companion.

Recently, the Lama talked about the Six Realms into which one could be reborn and that the human realm was considered the most fortunate because only as humans could one actively work towards attaining Buddhahood and have the best chance of breaking the Samsaric cycle. In order to motivate us to diligently practice Dharma, he pointed out the rare opportunity humans have and contrasted that to the situation of animals. That it would be easy to fall into the lower realms at any point, so we should practice as long as we had the opportunity.

Animals have a very poor chance even for achieving a better rebirth let alone attaining Buddhahood, the Lama continued. Dogs, he illustrated as an example, spend most of their day sleeping; their lives are driven by instincts and the chance to work on themselves and improve their lot was very limited. The only chance animals have for a better rebirth, the Lama pointed out, was through coming into contact with the Dharma.

He then cited the funny story of a fly resting on a dry cow pat when it was flushed three times around a Stupa by heavy rain and as a consequence of the involuntary circumambulation, the fly could improve on its rebirth and came back as a human.

At another occasion the Lama recounted a story about the Indian Buddhist saint Vasubandhu and a pigeon that had its nest right above his window. Hearing him recite Mantras and prayers each day was enough for the bird to eventually be reborn as a human who later went on to become one of Vasubandhu's disciples :--)

After I heard the Lama recount these animal tales, I began letting my dog sit with me in the prayer room in the mornings and started taking him along on occasional Kora in the hope that the circumambulations have a positive imprint on his mental continuum so he could be reborn as a human. I can't believe I'm doing this. I feel a bit like one of those Lhasan Polas you can see on the Lingkor with some sheep on the leash liberated from the butcher and now faithfully sauntering along behind them.

There were also these elderly Inji ladies who would bring their lap dogs into the temple during teachings. First I was put off by them. No decent Tibetan would ever bring something as dirty as an animal into a Lhakhang! That was just too unhygienic and disrespectful. But my view changed, as I began to understand the motivation of these ladies: All they were trying to do was give their pet a chance to "absorb" some Dharma for a better rebirth. So not only did I become more tolerant, but I too began bringing my dog into the temple even though he was bigger than those cute little Apsos and Spaniels one could tuck away into a handbag!

Alas, we must have overdone it with our love of animals: one day the temple care-taker put up a "no dogs allowed" sign at the entrance.

Some of my Tibetan friends say dogs here have a better life than many a poor person in Tibet. They say it in a way that you almost get the impression dogs shouldn't receive all this attention. They are amused to learn that dogs here have ID cards, get annual medical check-ups, vaccines and if necessary also surgery. But it's not the fault of "privileged dogs" when some humans seem to have tougher lives than them. What to do? It's all karmic after all, is it not? Rather than resent the "injustice", better move on and do something positive to improve one's future Karma.

When I look at my dog's merit account it really appears in good shape: He hasn't hurt anyone, doesn't lie nor cheat. He doesn't bite or act violent. Unlike some of those little capricious house dogs I've come across in Tibetan homes in India and Nepal, he is not a loose cannon better locked away every time visitors arrive. He gives my family so much affection. He is always the first to greet me enthusiastically when I come home from work in the evenings. Even with regard to food he is detached which is rare for dogs bred in the West.

In Tibet I saw dogs which are completely in control of their food instinct. On Losar day for example, my cousin would feed his huge Tibetan mastiff guarding the house by placing three lumps the size of tennis balls on a plate in front of the dog: One lump is Pak made of Tsampa, one is made of rice and the third made of meat. A good dog, my cousin taught me, would first eat the Pak, then the rice and only then the meat, which is exactly what his dog did.

Most dogs bred in the West that I've seen would eat anything put before them and as much as you gave them and still beg for more. But our dog has never had this obsession with food. He only eats when hungry and only as much as he feels like. Even if you gave him sausage which is his favourite, he would walk away after a few bites. Sometimes there are entire days when he goes without food. He then only drinks a little water.  It's almost like he is fasting.

When I think about it, from a Buddhist point of view he is really trying the best he can as a dog. And in terms of managing food cravings, he is definitely more advanced than some of his human housemates. Actually his merit account looks in better shape than my own.

Sometimes I see the children whisper Om Mani Padme Hum into our dog's ear. Hopefully the Mantra of the Compassion Buddha sticks. Not only has our dog helped the children to become sturdy walkers, in a way he is also helping them to train their capacity of consideration and thoughtfulness. As much as they are bringing Dharma to the dog, the dog too in his capacity is giving back Dharma to the children. They are very gentle around the dog, never shout, let alone hit him.

It is said that Buddhas and Bodhisattvas take deliberate birth in the animal realm to benefit these creatures. They take birth in any of the Six Realms for that matter as long as it helps beings. There are also many stories about previous lives of the historical Buddha before he reached Buddhahood in which he took birth as an animal. These so-called Jataka Tales make for great goodnight stories for your children. 

One such tale particularly popular among the Tibetans is "The Four Harmonious Friends". It's frequently depicted in Tibetan art such as monastery murals. The essence of the story is to illustrate the importance of acknowledging our interdependence and the value of peaceful cooperation and friendship in order to live harmoniously.

Buddha was the bird, his two disciples Shariputra and Maudgalyana were the rabbit and the monkey respectively and the Buddha’s cousin, Ananda, was the elephant.  Thanks to their good example, peace and harmony spread among all animals in the forest. Even the humans living near-by benefitted from the positive Karma the animals created and they cherished them and made food offerings to them as a token of their gratitude.

When our dog dies I would like to request the monks to do prayers for a good rebirth. I don't know whether that's a Tibetan custom. Perhaps the monks will think it's exaggerated and extravagant to pray for a dog. But then we include sems can thams jad in our prayers and dogs clearly qualify as a part of "all sentient beings", why should we not request the monks to say prayers for a dog?

I would like to have his remains cremated and hope to take the ashes to Tibet. It would be nice to release it together with my children on the same mountain facing the monastery where my dad's ashes were spread. After all, our dog comes from a line that was originally bred in Tibet. If his final resting place can be where his ancestors came from and facing a monastery, maybe his chances for a better rebirth increase further.

As a child, I always wanted to own a dog. It wasn't possible because both my parents were working. So he is my childhood dream come true. People often say their dog is like a family member. I definitely feel related to him. When I take him for a walk, strangers occasionally stop to comment on how beautiful our dog is and then they inquire about the breed. I would jokingly say, "He is the same breed as his owner - Tibetan."

With another Sakadawa around the corner it's the perfect time to remember the kindness of animals. They are helpless while we exploit them as sloggers, kill them for our food and make fancy apparel out of their skin. They cannot protest either when we keep them for our entertainment as pets or stare at them locked up in cages in a zoo and have them do stunts for our pleasure as circus animals. But as Buddhists we are taught that all beings including animals have been our loving mothers and fathers countless times. We can try our best not to unnecessarily harm them.

Have a great, memorable Sakadawa!

Mountain Phoenix

Dog Person

Related Essays

Happy Sakadawa!

Taking The Essence

To a child it looked like the grownups were building sandcastles in the sandbox: Both my maternal and paternal grandfathers used to play this game every morning in their homes: "Om Vajra Bhumi Ah Hung...," sprinkle rice grains here, "Om Vajra Rekhe Ah Hung…," sprinkle rice grains there. Then rub the vessel, rub, rub, rub with your right ell, sprinkle rice grains on the vessel, stack a ring, fill it completely up with rice, stack the next, smaller concentric ring, again filling that up with rice grains, all the while solemnly mumbling important-sounding words until the whole tower culminated in a conical construct that was to be destroyed at the end - just like a sandcastle.

It seemed like the Tibetan version of the Sisyphean task - the same thing over and over without a visible result. But while Sisyphus was condemned to roll the rock up the hill only to see it roll down again shortly before reaching the peak, my grandfathers offered and destroyed Mandalas voluntarily and enthusiastically until the end of their days.

Little did I know that the Mandala offering was an integral part of many people's regular Buddhist practice and that it could contain the entire Buddhist path all the way up to enlightenment in one go. It had a deep meaning.

I was reminded of the Mandral because my aunt asked me to come over a while ago. Whether I could donate my grandfather’s religious belongings to a monastery in Tibet? My Somola had no special affinity for Buddhism but was thoughtful enough to look for a suitable solution for the sacred objects lying around the house collecting dust.

Symbolising the Mandala offerings

Upon taking a closer look, I discovered my Pola's old Mandral. After half my lifetime was spent in Dharma oblivion, I somehow became interested after all and - funny enough - one of the first things I had learned was the Mandral using my hands as Mudra to symbolize the offerings. So when my aunt allowed me to keep my grandfather's Mandala set saying she was happy it remained in the family, I felt elated: Now I could practice with "the real thing" just like the others, that was my first thought. I didn’t anticipate the new significance that was to grow out of the inherited Mandala set.

Initially attracted by the Buddhist message of how the three poisons – ignorance, greed and anger - influence our actions and keep us rotating through Samsara, and how through systematically developing strong ethics, wisdom and compassion we could save us from ourselves, the Mandral gave me a first taste of the backbreaking work the implementation of these ideas into one's life could actually become.

In public, Mandalas are usually offered at the beginning of a Buddhist teaching to the Lama who is going to give it. At home, the Mandral would be offered to your personal Lama under whose guidance you normally practice and whose blessings or inspiration you sought to make progress. In the prayer, all kinds of things were given away as a gift to the Lama in exchange for the teaching or the blessings. You basically offered the whole universe. I was under the impression that the Mandala was a method to make us less attached to things and become more generous, although at the back of my head I had some doubt about the effectiveness because after all, we were offering fantasy things we didn’t own. Even though I had learned that in Buddhism things were never just what they seemed, I was unable to connect that insight to my Mandala situation at the time.

I don't know how my grandfathers went about learning it but I began by trying to draw all the objects that appeared in the prayer: The holy ground, the fence, the king of mountains in the centre and all the other components, arranging everything in the correct sequence. When I was half way through, having a tougher and tougher time to draw elements like "automatically growing fields", I began to suspect that I was trying to reinvent the wheel: Someone somewhere must have made a better drawing already. I can't possibly be the only person on the planet wanting to learn the Mandala offering? Bingo! I found a very helpful illustration.

http://www.rigpawiki.org/index.php?title=Thirty-seven_Point_Mandala_Offering

This picture then served as a visual crutch to memorise the prayer. To intensify the exercise, I downloaded it from the internet and recited along in the evenings when walking the dog. After a few weeks, I got it. Next time in Buddhism class, when everyone was offering Mandalas to request the teaching, I had caught up with the others: I knew my offering by heart and inside out.

But now that I had my own Mandrel set, again I needed to learn the ritual or procedure. The mental picture and the words were there but where and when to place the heaps of rice grains, the rings, when does the rubbing come in et cetera?

So I found myself a video in the internet of a Mandala offering to which I practiced simultaneously rewinding as many times as necessary – basically many, many times. Eventually I did master the ritual - only to realize a while later that I still wasn’t there: I had merely got on top of the mechanics that were visible from the outside. The real work hadn’t even begun!

In order to make the Mandala offering effective, you had to try and understand the deeper meaning: So what did "the ground" represent? What was the meaning of "the fence" and all the other things that appeared in the prayer? And why did we offer objects like the minister, the elephant, the horse, the general, the queen, the treasure vase and so on, when they didn't belong to us?

What looked trivial like building sandcastles turned out as a highly sophisticated method to induce a change to our habitual thinking pattern. All the outer, ritual action was there to trigger an inner, mental transformation. Whether it was the Mandala, the water offering or the prostrations – they were all a means to an end. The end was to get to a higher or broader, more aware or deeper level of mind.

Looking up and down the Internet and in bookshops or talking to friends was a good start but at one point, I realised, nothing can replace the wisdom of a good Lama. There are things that are not available “out there” that you can only hope to catch if you find a qualified Lama and stick around for long enough. In my case, this meant continueing to attend Buddhism courses and offering Mandrels with good intention but without really understanding the deeper meaning for almost three years until I accidentally heard the Lama explain it more as an aside:

"The ground" was your mind and the offerings represented the positive mental attributes you were determined to develop and for which you requested the teacher's inspiration and blessing. The minister, for example, stood for flexibility, the horse for concentration, the general was equanimity, the queen joy and the treasure vase symbolized the power of memory. I guess the destruction at the end is to teach you that you shouldn't get all uptight about reaching these qualities. They are fundamental but if you get hung up you lost before you started.

The Lama also spoke of inner, outer, secrete and ultimate Mandala and depending on the level of understanding, an offered object could have several meanings. The Mandala was one of the many tools the Buddha gave people so they could achieve a mental transformation according to their individual ability and determination. You could custom-build your Mandala: As a beginner you would offer it with a mindset to accumulate wholesome and reduce negative Karma and aim for a good rebirth. As a moderate student you offer it with the intention to develop your mind to the level where you can overcome cyclic existence or rebirth altogether, and as an advanced practitioner you would offer the Mandral with the inner attitude to achieve enlightenment for the sake of all.

Offering a Mandala was something so basic in Tibetan Buddhism yet it could also become very elaborate containing the whole Buddhist path with the bulk of the action happening invisibly for external observers. Tampering with the Mandala set was merely assistive equipment for the work on the inside, that’s what the Lama’s comments made me realise.

The good news out of this long Mandala learning story is that I don't need to learn a whole lot more other techniques such as reciting 100,000 mantras or going on long retreats. With the Mandala, it is possible to achieve more than I could hope to handle. It’s like a one-size-fits-all garment perfect for any need.

But something else happened when I used my grandpa's Mandral gear the first time and noticed that the Tog for crowning the Mandala was missing.

Neither my aunt nor my mom remembered where the Tog could be. The only thing my mom knew was that it was made of noble metal. Maybe it was in the safe at the bank? I was barely able to hold the full Mandala with my two hands it was that heavy already. I wasn't keen on adding more weight with a fancy silver or golden Tog.

Just around that time my cousin, a Buddhist monk in Tibet, came to visit. It was a Herculean task to obtain a tourist visa because the authorities suspected he would seek political asylum in this country. I never had a doubt he would not return. Once when we were in Tibet discussing his Buddhist education, the option to flee to India came up. It is generally accepted that the Buddhist training one received in the Tibetan monasteries in India is superior to the one in the homeland. But my cousin replied: "Aché, I can't leave. What would happen to Tibet if all the good people left? A few decent ones must stay back."

When he noticed that my Mandral was missing the Tog, he made me one out recycled cardboard without further ado. It reminded me more of a Roman Catholic bishop's hat but it did the job at no additional weight.  

Mountain Phoenix' Mandala set 

Altogether my Mandral had now become very personal: It came from my maternal grandfather who grew up in Tibet before the arrival of the Chinese, it was being used by me, who was born in a democratic, occidental setting, and it was crowned by my paternal cousin, a Buddhist monk in Tibet born after the Cultural Revolution. It is said that the Mandala symbolizes the universe and amazingly my Mandral really did contain my little world!

Now I was fully equipped but offering a Mandala remains a difficult task. The visualised offerings don't take shape fast enough. The pictures in my head often lag behind the recitation which goes on rhythmically. The Lama said with Dharma practice it’s like with weight training: You build your strength step by step. The more you exercise, the easier it becomes.

Meanwhile I also discovered a trick: Sometimes when I imagine my Pola and I are doing the Mandala offering together, sitting in front of the altar side by side, mumbling the words together, doing the visualisations together and dedicating whatever positive vibes come out of the exercise to the benefit of everybody including ourselves, that's when the visualisations are a little less difficult.

I also remember my dad and my grandma and there is a sense of continuation. Through the Mandral I feel close to them and when I add the Tog to crown my Mandala, my brave cousin comes to mind in his monastery in Tibet upholding the teaching and providing guidance to the community. In my eyes, he stands for all the brave Tibetans who decide to remain in Tibet come what may.

Through the Mandala I finally also understood that the central role accorded to Lamas in Tibetan Buddhism is justified. Lamas are not the heroes of Tibetan culture for no good reason. If our Buddha potential was the seed, a qualified Lama could make the seed sprout so we develop strong roots. Their work was unparalleled and indispensable.

For the longest time I used to have an aversion against Buddhism because I held it responsible for the loss of our country. I was unfairly politicizing Buddhism which was never meant as a form of government to start with. Buddhism has always been about the sentient beings and how to improve their situation with complete disregard for worldly concepts like “country” or “government”.

Who would have thought that I become a person that offers Mandalas? Lamas did not figure in my set of acquaintances either. But there is a common Tibetan saying: "As people get older, they remember their roots; as birds get older they stay on the tree" or in Tibetan:

Mi rgas dus rang-yul; bya rgas dus shing ‘go

How many times have I heard the saying and it never struck a chord?

Now it rings true.

It looks like I have been taking many things way too literal. With the circular Mandala I have come full circle too. Things fall into place and I feel good about it. I feel like old wine in new skins. 

Mandala is khyil khor in Tibetan, which means "turning from the middle" or "taking the essence". It boils down to offering all our positive, wholesome potential of the past, the present and the future to our own enlightenment and to the enlightenment of all beings. It's a huge, ambitious task but I decided to try to take the essence just like my grandparents before me, my cousin in Tibet, and loads of other people around the world whom I don’t know.

May everyone find their source of inspiration!

Mountain Phoenix

All written content on this blog is copyrighted. Please do not repost without seeking my prior written consent.

The Return Of The King

Sershul, Photo: seseg_h's photostream

There was this tune lingering at the back of my head, a song I heard my dad sing when I was little. When he burst into this song, I knew it was a special day marked by great happiness, humour and laughter. In all these years, with so much music coming out of Tibet, I have heard no other Tibetan near or far sing this song.  The melody is peculiar, yet so easy to remember. If prompted, I’m confident, I could reproduce it right here and now.

I never got to ask my dad what the song was about while he was alive. It lay dormant for years until the other day, when I suddenly heard it and couldn’t believe my ears: My Pala’s song was on Youtube! And the interpreter was – ruffle, ruffle – folksinger Riga! You know, the rustic Amdo guy in Chupa with the long, carefully styled “because-I’m-worth-it” hair and the mandolin. He is in a whole lot of videos but check out this specific one: 

So that’s what my dad’s song was about: the fabled Gesar of Ling, superhero of the Tibetans! Not that I’m too familiar with the epic or anything. The only thing I know about the man is that he fought countless battles and won them all. Boy, if the stories were ever true, those must have been the glory days, when the Tibetans were in control.

No offense, brother Riga, but I liked my dad’s interpretation better. You will forgive a daughter for adoring her father. Not only was his voice more powerful, but also when he sang, his whole body would sway to the music with joy while you stand there rather tame and timid. But you do good job! You melodised the song, gave me the words. Now the amorphous tune in my head has a shape. Your song brought back memories of my old man and made me reflect on the story he adored more than any other story in the whole world.

My dad always kept a book on his night table – paperback, beige cover with light-bluish frame and in Tibetan script. Neither an aristocrat nor a cleric, he was lucky to belong to a small group of privileged people who received something like a modern education back in old Tibet. But he never went on to make anything out of it. The only books I saw him read were comics, and this Tibetan book at his night table. Either he reread the thing over and over again or he advanced at a snail’s pace because that book lay there for ages: It was the story of Ling Gesar Gyalpo.

According to my mom, growing up as a schoolboy in Lhasa with an older brother who was an important Buddhist reincarnate, he had to read the story in hiding. Apparently his teachers didn’t like to see him waste time reading useless stuff. For them, the Tibetan script was holy, taught exclusively with the aim to read Buddhist texts; using it for something as profane as a bellicose novel was a transgression. Gesar glorified violence, they said, and indulging in the story would turn people into Lalos (“barbarians”) and throw them back to the Dark Ages.

That’s a pretty extreme standpoint my dad’s teachers were taking. From my viewpoint, Gesar is just a story, what´s all the hype? But in hindsight, limiting the written language to Buddhism must have been the dominant view back then because we’ve never had much in terms of secular literature worth the name. The good news is it's gradually changing for the better. The bad news is change is really very slow. 

Care for an example?

Few years ago at a Tibetan gathering, I heard the Dalai Lama talk about the importance of the Tibetan language and he gave tips to youngsters on how to work on their Tibetan. He said: “If you want to improve your Tibetan, you should read Peja (Buddhist scriptures)”.

We can all imagine the youngsters jumping for joy on the inside exclaiming: “Yeah, Peja! Finally! So exciting”!

No, seriously, chances that Tibetan kids are eager to improve their grasp of the language by studying religious books are about as promising as telling kids here: “If you really want to improve your English, you should read the Bible”. - An absurd idea.

Amazingly though, in the Tibetan context, studying Buddhist texts to improve your literacy doesn’t sound absurd, it is plain common sense. I guess that shows not only do we have a gigantically gaping hole where other countries have a rich, exuberant secular literature, it also shows we’re so used to that huge hole we don’t take notice of it. Maybe that’s also the reason why the Gesar epic is so popular, because that’s all there is, because we simply have no other works worthy to be called a literary tradition?

Of course, technically one can learn a lot about the structure of the language and loads of new vocabulary from Pejas, it’s very true. But to be honest, the subject matter is dead boring if you’re not into Dharma. Can you seriously blame anyone if they went for Gesar over Peja or King Arthur over the Bible?

I am sure my dad found ways to keep reading Gesar as a boy. He always did what he wanted. Not because he was selfish but because he was someone who thought about things and stuck to his views even when others went the opposite way. Buddha knows we had our disagreements but when I look back, I must concede this is the one redeeming quality that distinguished him from the pack. It’s not an exaggeration when I say he didn’t give a damn. If there were any parallels between his superhero and him, maybe it’s this kind of audacity.

John Wayne

After Tibet opened up in the early 1980s he was among the first to return. After each visit, he would bring back books on Gesar. For some reason, which I haven’t understood, the Chinese are very fond of the epic. So my Pala always found enough material.


Fittingly, he also enjoyed watching Hollywood movies of the “epic film” genre. He was particularly fond of the ones that played during classical antiquity such as “Ben Hur” or “Quo Vadis”; and he loved war movies like “The Longest Day”, and of course Westerns. His heroes were actors like John Wayne, Charleton Heston, Charles Bronson, Steve McQueen, and Robert Mitchum. 


But he always remained a loyal fan of his indigenous Tibetan hero, Gesar of Ling, until his last days.

My old man never touched a Peja in all his life, if you ask me. Still I conclude from comments his surviving peers make that his Tibetan didn’t pale in comparison to some of the erudite clerics who used to live in our vicinity. Astonishing for a Tibetan of his generation, that he somehow managed to become “cultured” without cosing up to Buddhism.

Assuming Riga and my dad used the same lyrics, I was really surprised to learn from the video that the Gesar song is actually a prayer in the form of a glu (“mountain tune”).

Looking at the structure of the Gesar song through my Western lens, it appears to be a tercet with Dactylus as the metrical foot, but no clue if that’s a popular form. The Tibetan folk songs I’ve seen are mostly fourliners with three stanzas and a lot of repeated lines. The Gesar song in contrast has 15 stanzas in total, grouped into 3 parts with five stanzas each and a break after parts one and two and no repeated lines whatsoever.

What's the core message of the Gesar song?


I am guessing from the ultra-short title mngags.bcol that this is about Gesar being sent down to earth by Buddha (mngags) with the mission to subdue or convert enemies to Buddhism, but I am not sure. At least it would match the content.

It begins with Gesar intimidating his enemies by announcing he is no other than Padmasambhava,  sometimes referred to by Tibetans as “second Buddha”; that he was the Dharma-King Trisong Detsen in an earlier life; in this life, he descended to earth into the land of Ling as the divine child Thoepaga (“the one who likes to listen (to Dharma)") who later becomes Gesar with the goal to subdue darkness and spread Buddhism. It’s established from the beginning that he is supernatural and the enemies have no chance – it’s basically saying: “Don’t even think about it” :--)

In the second part, Gesar names his adversaries: the Hor, the Mon, the Djang and another group spelled bdud in Tibetan, which is the way "devil" is written. 


Except for the Djang, who are still known under the same name to modern Tibetans (Naxi in Chinese with their centre in Lijiang/Yunnan; Tibetan: Sadam), the other names don’t ring a bell. “Hor” is a very unspecific term. It could be anyone “from the north” irrespective of ethnicity or religion. The term is also used to refer to Mongolic groups. “Mon” is not clear either. Since the song locates them in the south, my guess is they were tribal, jungle people on the border to Burma or India (as in the verbal relict “Mon Tamang”?). No idea who is meant by the last group, "devils". Maybe a Muslim group to the West?

Gesar defeats all these nobodies but conspicuously there is no mention of the Rgya - the Chinese. If they are also left out in the epic that might explain why the Chinese are so fond of the Gesar: Political reasons.

Gesar then continues to awe his enemies by revealing that he is also a great sorcerer, enjoys divine support from his wife who is an emanation of Tara, and receives guidance from another supposedly powerful female, perhaps his Madam Grandmother, called “Manene” (Ma as in “mother”, Nene as in some eastern Tibetan dialects for “granny”, from the Chinese nainai?).

In the last part, Gesar lists even more divine helpers such as 80 Mahasiddhas, troops from every Dzong small and large, and so on. This funny enumeration reflects the spirit of the time nicely and what was considered “powerful” back then in that kind of environment.

Giant Gesar statue in Kyegu/Yushul

I wonder though, how his battles took place logistically. Gesar’s supposed homeland around Dzachukha –Nangchen- Sershul- Kyegu, where northern Kham and western Amdo converge, is basically an empty country - nomad ground. Presuming the man Gesar is historical and his homeland was really in the area of what is present-day Sershul County in the north of the Kardze Prefecture/Sichuan and the Yushul Prefecture/Qinghai, how do we have to imagine that worked?

The last stanza wraps up the goal of the song: It’s Gesar’s appeal to follow him: “Hearing this tune is balm for the soul”, he begins (literally he seems to say “it’s caramel for the mind”, very funny), and he goes on to warn the listeners: “Not hearing this tune is none of my business” meaning: If you don’t listen to what I say, you can’t be helped. And the last line goes: “You! Remember Thoepagawa” meaning: Don’t forget what an important person I am, and better believe in the things I teach - or something to that effect.

The use of direct speech, imperatives, conditional clauses and waiving of honourific language give the Gesar song a haunting and forceful flavor. There is real drama resonating from the words.

Now I can also see why my dad enjoyed this song so much: Whoever sings the song slips into the role of Gesar since it is sung from his perspective. All those “divine vibes” are transferred to the singer, so to speak, and in your mind’s eye you become one with the victorious king who is so overpowering that everyone immediately has to surrender. Since he says he is Padmasambhava, Buddhists could even claim singing the song is a form of Guru Yoga :--)

Kidding aside, the massive Buddhist overtones in the song come as a surprise.

Is this authentic given that Gesar supposedly precedes the advent of Buddhism in Tibet? Is the song perhaps a more recent invention? And how does it compare to the epic in terms of content?

Even though personally I’m definitely more into Dharma than fanciful super-hero stories – sorry Pala, another disagreement:--) – the one thing I’ve always adored about the Gesar story was its indigenously Tibetan, heathen origins. I found its non-Buddhist origin thrilling although it’s not clear to me what the pre-Buddhist culture was really like. Gesar is one of the very, very few examples I associated with a genuinely Tibetan creation. I am therefore a bit taken aback that the song is so thickly covered with a sugar-sweet Buddhist frosting.

                 

Gesar depicted as Padmasambhava surrounded by 

Buddhist symbols, holding a Vajra in his right 

hand

Perhaps being Gesar wasn't considered being good enough and so he was turned into a Buddhist God? I would have preferred if they had left him be Gesar, even if that means he was merely a petty tribal king. At least he would have been our petty tribal king.

Amalgamating Gesar into Buddhism, making him Padmasambhava, plus Trisong Deutsen, plus a powerful sorcerer, plus a brilliant commander-in-chief, plus giving him a Buddhist deity for a wife, in my eyes is not subtle at all. It’s taking a sledgehammer to crack a nut - plain overkill. As if the Tibetans were ashamed of their own creations as parochial and then clumsily tried to soak everything in Buddhism thinking that would make it "better".

Why wasn't the good story left unchanged?

In a way it points to the intolerant side of Tibetan Buddhism. Even though outwardly it is portrayed as the creed that promotes peace, tolerance and compassion, inwardly non-conformist elements were simply absorbed.

Bon too, seeemd to have shared Gesar’s fate. Bon is said to be Tibet’s original creed but all explanations make Bon sound like a version of Tibetan Buddhism. Today Bon represents one of the five official schools that make up Tibetan Buddhism. It is so completely assimilated into the Buddhist fold that its own adherents could get offended when someone drops a hint at their "unkosher" Buddhists origins. So sad. But it doesn't have to stay that way. Maybe one day, Tibetans will be self-confident enough to welcome a Bon revival movement à la "Back to Roots" without feeling threatened as Buddhists.

The tendency to absorb non-conformist elements into Buddhism seems to have a long tradition. Usually we find nothing wrong with it because Buddhism has enriched our culture so much. But it also came at a cost: The way we adopted Buddhism left no space for indigenous Tibetan creativity. We turned the very creed known for its tolerance and compassion into an ideological straightjacket which gave us tunnel vision and in the end also cultural impoverishment: That’s why Tibetans have no secular literature to inherit, few old histories recorded, hardly any accounts from earlier Tibetans, no novels, no biographies, etc.

One could say Buddhism spread to many other countries in Asia and everywhere it led to this process of absorption and assimilation of local creeds. But I wonder whether it has been this extreme as in the Tibetan case where it just gobbled up the the entire indigenous culture? Buddhism is really all we have. Take away Buddhism and what is left that would constitute our “Tibetanness”? It’s very sad. It feels as if we sold our souls over the new creed - when that wasn’t required. When you see how Tibetan society responds to new ideas differing from the majority in more recent times, it makes you wonder whether we have become any better over time.

What would my dad think of the idea that Buddhism kidnapped his superhero?


Maybe he didn’t even care. Maybe he thought it’s still a good story. Maybe he thought Gesar is whatever you believe he is. He is the container of our projections: Whatever you put in comes back smiling at you.


At least, that's what I like to believe!

So as a gesture of respect for the King of Ling – whether he is divine or not - and as tribute to my old man, I am now going to memorise the lyrics so I will be able to sing the Gesar song to my kids with all due kingliness, just like I heard my dad do many years ago.

“Lu alla, alla, alla….” 

Mountain Phoenix

Gesar and his queen Drugmo, Gesar 

festival somewhere in the highlands

All written content on this blog is coyprighted. Please do not repost entire essays on your websites without seeking my prior written consent.