So there I was, an alien ingrate—filthy with I, me, mine, an old broken record with a beard—lobbying for sat-sang with one of the most accomplished lineage holders and Buddhist teachers of our time…
In 1977, under the direction of His Eminence Deshung Rinpoche, we started Jetsun Sakya in New York City, and the lamas, like graceful swans, flocked to our tiny lake. After five or six years, however, our beloved Deshung Rinpoche was mostly teaching elsewhere, like in Washington, California, Taiwan, Singapore, to name a few. The monk His Holiness the Sakya Trichen recruited me to import to New York was at least proficient in English, had an Acharya degree from Varanasi’s Sanskrit University, and started attending ESL classes at Columbia University. Before we knew it our basic skills as dharma students and meditators were being reviewed and drilled. A kind of informal dress code was initiated and an anti-hippie, pro-yuppie policy instituted. Our new captain took his responsibilities seriously and he had our beloved guru’s blessings. So most of sharpened up and embraced the new regime. But clearly there is no replacing a teacher like HE Deshung Rinpoche III, (whom only a few years later, HH Dilgo Khentse Rinpoche sat up in full meditation posture for the three day Kudung shrine ceremonies before cremation.) Some of the older students drifted off, making a fuss before they left. The new lama made various alliances, and like many people with strength and pride, he suffered some from perfidy transactional—big city—relationships breed. The beyond worldly, instantly purifying presence of ‘our own’ Lama was gone. Other high lamas, somewhat in the league of Rinpoche would visit and teach us and they too were at times rankled by our center’s lack of grace. But a few of us stuck it out, and after the growing pains, many positive accomplishments in all three departments of the Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha, were accomplished. Serious practitioners arose, our three-and-a-half years teaching on the Nong Sum, given by HE Deshung Rinpoche and interpreted by Douglas Rhoton—The Three Levels of Spiritual Perception—was published. Also, a number of monks and nuns were ordained as a result of coming to our dharma center and associating with the lama. This was all achieved, in a number of decades under the direction of the accomplished Khenpo Pema Wangdak, and a tidal-like movement of center members, old and new, within the karmic maelstrom that is New York City. Having collectively attempted in that manner to further the Dharma some, I moved to Cambodia after it claimed me in several ways—a much larger discussion for some time later. Now, having traveled back to Northern India, ostensibly for Ngor Luding Khenpo Vajradhara’s cremation, I’m also compelled to complete—in whatever time remains—that other imperative Dharma task: one’s personal ‘sadhana’ and its singular purpose of perfecting the Sage’s highest intent.
So this day, the 14th in the first month of the Tibetan lunar calendar, celebrating the parinirvana of Jetsun Milarepa, I was expecting to have a happy reunion with my four time Lam Dre Vajra Master. But as we know
…in the Dharma, things aren’t always suppose to go just one’s own way…
Our school, in the last few decades, has grown very large, and spread out, now having rotating Trizins, functionally meaning there’s potentially three lineage heads teaching tens of thousands of lay practitioners, and many more monks, in centers and monasteries all over the world. Right now (at the time of this writing), in a post Covid-restriction comeback, there are scheduled events for Malaysia, Nepal, Singapore, Taiwan, Western Europe, and then America. It’s a year and half’s agenda. The good news is I sat in His Holiness’s receiving room for three successive Kogo (Vajrakilaya) blessings. After the second one, I started to swoon. I became entranced as wave after wave of Tibetans came in, received blessings, divinations, and encouraging words for the sick and ailing. I started thinking how it’s the same as in Cambodia: the motivating factor for seeing the lama, or loak ta, are to receive prayers and blessings of long life, health wealth, happiness, and protection. It’s that and, of course, to feed the profound devotion that many have for their Guru. There, in Cambodia, foreigners (baarang) are noticed, catered to, and then, according to their needs and wants, accommodated one way or another. Having chased-down my much in demand Guru, here in Dehradun, to secure both guidance and assistance with my practice, it looked for a moment like I just might receive some good old American preferential treatment
…later I heard this was a traditional Tibetan practice, you invite everyone—but then place a dragon at the door…
Then, a tap on the shoulder came from His Holiness’s head assistant and I was politely informed that because of the crowds there would be no time for me today. I asked what time tomorrow, and he said 11a the door was opened. But no real assurances of getting an audience then, on account it was ‘Losar Dashi Delek,’ I surmised, seemed forthcoming. I stood up and His Holiness made eye contact with me, as he dispensed his umpteenth blessing and paused his greatly kind words. How long are you staying, he inquired. I answered, inaccurately, three of four days. He thought, and then said with a smile, I’ll speak to you in America.
“…instead of chasing after more teachers [like Trungpa Rinpoche], I began to follow the teacher in my own heart, the Inner Presence, which in the face of all obstacles seemed to assure that I always arrived where I belonged…” (PMS, Learning to Trust Inner Peace, Elephant Journal, ‘12)
Thinking I correctly knew his schedule—as it turned out, I didn’t—and that America could be a year-and-a-half’s wait, I became a little desperate. I had needed to do a fire puja for a Vajrapani retreat under HE Deshung Rinpoche since 1980. Also, traveling back and forth to America from Cambodia was something I’d stopped doing since the first Covid wave. And, as I had recently finished the two major Sakya retreats—three-and-a-half months for Vajrayogini and nine-and-a-half months for Hevajra—I had both questions and answers I needed to communicate and verify. I’d been telling myself I wanted to complete at least one fire puja while in India several years before even making this trip. Otherwise, I might never be able to validate and pacify my hard-won efforts from the last five Dharma-driven years. Also, there were my Dharma writings, and what retreat to do next—things He simply hadn’t the time nor desire to answer
…things one can figure out for themself—as if it were forty-five years ago when we’d just run to the Guru for whatever…
Before I knew it, I crossed the line and said, “But I live in Cambodia.” Implying, ‘America does me no good.’ Then, I crossed the line again, and said, I could stay there (in India) for as long as I wanted. Meaning, I had an open schedule. Which was quite true, as I had more than five months left on my visa and no one to answer to if I needed to stay longer. It’s then I realized my breach of manners toward not only an elevated personage, but an incarnate Buddha who intentionally took rebirth as the Sakya Trizen to save a near thousand year tradition from extinction after the tragic diaspora from Tibet. Denial, usually so accommodating and cushioning, fled like protective Dharma wards at death. I realized there would be no personal talk with His Holiness at this time while in India. But for obvious reasons, I consoled myself, thinking His Holiness had spelled it out, saying, “as you can see, we’re very busy-busy now.” There was no questioning that, and there should have been no objections on my part to begin with. At this point, the assisting monk said something like ‘you can’t stay here,’ thinking perhaps I might become a problem. At the same time, His Holiness looked a bit at pains, as he proceeded to dispense blessings and charms to his needy Tibetans. It hit me hard. I was being dismissed—through no real fault of anyone’s, except the enormity of need to treat the endless suffers that stream into His world
…knowing I might not have an audience with Him in America or anywhere else—ever again...
My parting words were, ‘OK. We’ll talk later, then.’ Which I have said before, its appropriateness, then as now, questionable both in decorum and truthfulness. Also, it may have fueled fears in the attending monk that I might be returning to the Podrang in the next few days. Thus stunned, and roundly demoralized, I left without even getting my red string (the venerable Brahmin’s cord from ancient times) as everyone else had
…I padded out the door to retrieve, in a sea of others, my lonely shoes from Cambodia…
I exited, unexalted, the blessed Royal Podrang grounds for, lest we forget, this is a palace of a Dharma King, no less than the Potala in Lhasa. Or, in a less understood way, Angkor Wat where just as in Tibet both the high and the low associated together in tantric rituals
…abhisheka and coronation melding into one…
It’s then I recalled all the troubles Milarepa had had with his Guru, Marpa. The flat out rejections, the physical abuse, the intermediary role Marpa’s wife had to play to assuage the disciple’s broken morale and to receive from her as intermediary the Master’s texts for higher teachings. I also recalled the last meeting with my tsawei lama, the similarly sublime Deshung Rinpoche
…how we pressed foreheads for a uncertain length of time—making his attending brother uncomfortable…
If today was in fact my last interview with His Holiness, one that went a bit awry, then I shall keep it as a gentle reminder of Mila’s plight and hope that a fraction of the dharma blessings he gained from the painful lessons he suffered with his Guru are transferred not only to me but to all those in need of anything timelessly good. From pith instructions on Mahamudra mediation to compassionate divinations, instilling in fearful disciples a ray of hope
…and above all else, I shall remember one’s predispositions are infinitely transformable…
Offering up my greed and aggression, fueling the need for a dharma practice that serve my needs only, and not those of others’ first. I’m also reminded today, that with the right teachings from a qualified Guru, and diligent practice that spares the practitioner no pains—as was so much the case with Milarepa—comes the accumulation of merit and wisdom, the infallible, inner Guru’s guiding hand, that never disappoints or fails the disciple.
Out of my dejection, I realized that the dragon at the door, admitting inside only those who should be with that Guru, was actually me—doing everything wrong—needing, as a mature, and still evolving practitioner, to be let go.
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