|
Our last post ended with Tulku Urgyen's vision of the dakini. "When he woke from the 'dream' he was surprised to see the dakini still visible at a slight distance. But as he gazed at her, she slowly disappeared. " Why tell the story of Tulku Urgyen Rinpoche? Tulku Urgyen was father to four sons (being a householder yogi rather than a celibate monastic). Each son, as gifted as their father in learning and meditation, shared a ready sense of humour. 1 Son Number One, Chokyi Nyima Rinpoche was born in Tibet and escaped with his father and family, aged eight. A student once asked Chokyi if he could read minds. “No, no… I just watch your faces. They tell me everything.” Then he added, “If you want privacy, relax your forehead.” 2 Sadly, after a productive life overseeing monasteries, nunneries, and practice centres in Tibet, India, Bhutan, and Sikkim, the second son Tsikey Chokling Rinpoche died from a stroke-related illness in 2020, aged 68. 3 Son Number Three, Tsoknyi, was born in Nepal in 1966. Once during a retreat, a woman told Tsoknyi Rinpoche she felt tense, tight, and spiritually “not good enough.” He listened, nodded, and replied: “First thing: eat more chocolate. Then meditate." She burst out laughing, just as he intended. Then he explained: “When the body relaxes, the mind stops attacking itself.” 4 Son Number Four is Mingyur Rinpoche, born 1975. An airport security officer once asked Mingyur, a robed monastic, what he did for a living. Mingyur Rinpoche replied, smiling: “I teach people to do nothing, very well.” The officer stared, confused, and waved him through without further questions. An interesting detail about Mingyur Rinpoche is that he suffered debilitating panic attacks from childhood until a young teen. Surprising, eh? Wouldn't you consider someone from a long line of meditators to be above such things? Aren't panic attacks for common folk such as us? What's that all about? Find out in the next post!
0 Comments
Our last post ended: By the time the Tibetan exiles arrived, the 1960s had dawned. Hippies and seekers were on the trail: wide-eyed, curious, and more than ready for what the lamas brought with them. *** One of the handful to escape, at age 41, was a lama by name of Tulku Urgyen. He came from a family of acclaimed meditation masters, stretching back centuries. Lucky to get away. But it wasn't just luck. He had inside info. What? From whom? Fast forward: western students of Tulku Urgyen later compiled his life story from hours of teachings and anecdotes recorded on cassette tape. The biography, Blazing Splendour, is a gobsmacking read. It records how the 'inside info' was delivered in a vision by a dakini, described as fierce yet luminous, with a commanding presence. (Bear with me. A dakini is a wisdom figure of light who delivers visions arising in heightened mind states, that feel intensely real. The sort of thing Alexandra David-Neel was deeply curious about.) From the biography: One night Tulku Urgyen dreamt he'd awoken in a cave and nearby stood a dakini of incredible beauty, captivating to behold and wearing exquisite jewellery. He asked what would happen to Tibet. “Thirty-six months from now”, she said, “the Buddha’s teachings in Tibet will be stamped to the ground and the land left in darkness.” Tulku Urgyen cross-examined her about certain factual events, to test her accuracy (she was spot-on). When he woke from the 'dream' he was surprised to see the dakini still visible at a slight distance. But as he gazed at her, she slowly disappeared. (Blazing Splendour, chapter 32) Strange stuff, hey? But why even tell you this? Find out in the next post!.  In 1924, a daring Belgian in her mid-fifties, Alexandra David-Neel, ventured where few Westerners had been before: the forbidden land of Tibet. Closed to the outside world from the mid-1800s, the ban shielded Tibet from the hungry eyes of colonial Britain and expansionist China. For her, incognito was the name of the game. Alexandra adopted local dress, staining her clothes. She darkened face and hands with soot to match the weathered look of local villagers. She squatted by the track, out in the open, when she needed to poop. Like I said, incognito. Why make the dangerous journey? “From my youth I felt attracted toward Tibet, drawn by its hidden hermits, its highest initiation, and the profoundest doctrines of Buddhism. I longed to reach the land where these teachings were still guarded by wandering yogis.” (paraphrased from her own words) She'd long prepared for the trip, studying Tibetan language at the Sorbonne in Paris in her twenties. Little did Alexandra guess she sparked an ongoing tradition: an active curiosity amongst Westerners for Tibet’s spiritual riches. Ironically, when China invaded Tibet in 1959, the very knowledge-holders Alexandra had sought were forced into exile. Much was destroyed and millions of lives lost, yet a handful of yogis and scholars escaped into India and Nepal, carrying sacred texts, fragile manuscripts, and their living traditions. By the time the footsore Tibetan exiles arrived, the 1960s had dawned. Hippies and seekers were on the trail: wide-eyed, curious, and more than ready for what the lamas brought with them. To be continued in the next post ...  Photo: Mizina on canva You know what it's like.
You pick up your phone to do something specific, and before you know it you're scrolling through a bunch of videos. Catching my eye the other day: a baker moulding dough into a massive balloon that constantly shifted shape like a creature alive. Hands folding, slapping, turning, stretching the dough.  Grab a cuppa, fluff up the pillows, settle in. Here's a tale about my mother-in-law Aileen, who moved to Kyogle from Sydney in 1996 at the ripe old age of 80. Motivated by escape from Sydney winters, her sights were on Southeast Qld but there was a catch: her older brother Keith.  Photo by Karolina Grabowska
How do you like your towels? Rough and scratchy? Raspy as sandpaper? Not a fan of gravel rash? Me neither. Soft and fluffy! Lovely on the skin and does a better drying job, too*. You can create a soft, silky environment in the mind when your meditation includes self-kindness.  Self-compassion. Turns out it can save and support us through times of difficulty. And the run-of-the-mill ordinary blips of the day.  We’re driving home from the school bus. My son is eleven. Suddenly, a grisly, hairy, huntsman spider dashes onto the dash. |
Categories
All
Categories
All
|
RSS Feed