​​
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  ...

​
STORY THREE

​Why tell the story of Tulku Urgyen Rinpoche?

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!

Young Mingyur's panic attacks began around age seven or eight. His neck would tighten, breath constrict, and heart thump, bringing on fears of a heart attack.


Where did the fear come from?


The occasional violent weather of the Himalayas terrified him. 

"The snow doesn’t just come from above. It comes from every direction," he wrote. "Winds can be so strong that they shake the whole house. At those times, I would cling to a pillar to secure myself."

Stranger danger further unseated the shy child: "If somebody new came to my village, I’d get scared. If they came to my home, I’d panic."

His mother took him to doctors who gave him a clean bill of health. The next step was to consult his yogi father. 


Could meditation help? 

Tulku Urgyen taught Mingyur how to safely notice the sensations of panic with curiosity, rather than avoiding or fighting them head-on.

He showed him how to use breath and sound awareness as support for connecting with the wider sky of awareness behind the 'clouds' of panic.

In time, Mingyur discovered calm inside the chaos.

Learning to 'be with' and eventually overcome the panic attacks inspired the direction of Mingyur Rinpoche's teachings today.


 Retreat 

Meanwhile, young Mingyur's life didn't stand still. Despite the vestiges of panic, he embarked on his first three-year meditation retreat at age thirteen. 

That's right, thirteen. Although a very young age to start a long retreat, he badgered his father until he got the okay.

Think that's amazing? Wait till you hear the rest of the story. There's more to come!

​

​STORY FIVE

​

Imagine if your CV looked like this:

👉 Your first three-year retreat starts aged thirteen (unusual for your age group). Your longstanding panic attacks are gone by the time you emerge at 17.

👉 You start a second three-year retreat straight away, taking on the duties of retreat master (coz your learning is so remarkable).

That takes care of ages 13-20.

From ages 20-25, you’ll be assistant professor at the same monastery where you've been doing retreat and before long, abbot as well.

The monastery is the prestigious Sherab Ling in northern India, home to approx 750-1,000 Tibetan monks.

You'll pursue your own advanced academic Buddhist studies alongside your duties and take spurts of time for personal solitary retreat.

Busy boy about to get busier.


👉 The international stage awaits. 

By your mid-20s, you're teaching meditation and Buddhism internationally, garnering a wide audience both in the West and in Asia. 

Neuroscientists want you.

Leading neuroscientists invite you to participate in cutting edge research to measure the effects of meditation on advanced meditators. (You look quite a sight with your head connected up to the tabs and wires of an EEG machine).

Of course, the neuroscientists are blown away by the impressive results. 


👉 But wait, there’s more. 

You’re about to turn a big corner.


😮 YOU'RE ABOUT TO WALK AWAY. 😮


Age 36, your heart’s desire is to follow in the footsteps of the yogis of old in a traditional multi-year "wandering retreat".

A wandering retreat?

That is, wandering from place to place, for years on end, no fixed address, no maroon robes, no shoes, no status, no assistants, no money, no comfort, no contacts, long hair, total insecurity, completely incognito.

You'll have to beg for food. You'll dedicate your long, unoccupied days to meditation.

Here’s the kicker: to successfully pull it off, you'll need to slip out of the monastery unnoticed, in the dead of night.


Can you do it? 


Our upcoming final story tells how Mingyur Rinpoche quietly left his monastery one summer night, leaving a 'gone fishing' style note.


BTW, Mingyur Rinpoche authored a New York Times bestseller The Joy of Living: Unlocking the Secret and Science of Happiness, in 2007.
​

​

​STORY SIX


An empty room

One ordinary summer lunchtime in 2011, an attendant knocked on Mingyur Rinpoche’s door … no answer. Looking inside, an empty room greeted him with a goodbye letter on the desk.
“By the time you find this letter, I’ll have begun a long retreat. (Don't worry, I'm not having a mid-life crisis”). read the full letter here

He sent his love and promised to be back. Err, in a few years' time.

Years earlier he'd confided in his father, Tulku Urgyen, about his plans. (Remember him from email #2, the guy who’d escaped Tibet after the vision of the dakini?)

“If you really want to do this,” his father had cautioned, “don’t tell anyone, including our family members. Just go and it will be good for you.”


On return to his monastery in 2015, after four and a half years wandering penniless, Mingyur Rinpoche resumed his regular projects and responsibilities. 

He called on writer friend Helen Tworkov, to help pen a memoir recounting important insights from the first month of retreat, a period of adjustment which had been particularly difficult, challenging and instructive. (quotes below)

*In Love with the World: A Monk's Journey Through the Bardos of Living and Dying by Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche and Helen Tworkov, Random House, 2019.


Alone


Slipping out of the Bodhgaya monastery had gone according to plan (tick ✔️).

But matters quickly went pear-shaped, emotionally.

Mingyur Rinpoche had not calculated the effect of being alone for the very first time in his life. It hit him like a ton of bricks.

As a special lama, he'd always had attendants and been surrounded by people who loved him. 

His practical skills were non-existent: he'd never even bought a train ticket.

On reaching the local Gaya station, exhilaration turned to horror on finding himself engulfed in the squalor and noise of a crowded Indian railway platform.


Train travel

Idealistically, he'd opted to travel third-class (a new experience). It would be a long ride, an overnight trip to Varanasi. (Have you ever encountered third-class on an Indian train? Intense.)

“I anticipated that getting onto the train would diminish some anxiety. But the time spent flattened against the door by a human wall instead provoked more anxiety. I assumed that things would be better when I found a place to sit on the floor, but the continuous contact with strangers falling against me made me feel isolated and agitated. I thought it would be more comfortable when I found a place on the bench, but shortly after, I panicked at the sound of the train whistle."

The hard stone floor of destination railway station, Varanasi, was his initial plan for the next three nights. However, rats running helter-skelter prompted a switch to the grotty dormitory provided by the station. 

After the stipulated three nights maximum, time to move on.


Where to now?

Nearby Kushinagar would do. It's a pilgrimage site marking the place where the Buddha went to die. Mingyur Rinpoche has a brief stint in a simple hostel until his money runs out. 
Every. last. rupee.
All. gone.
That night he dines on leftovers begged from a restaurant.


He sleeps in a grove near the Buddha’s cremation monument.

“As the light faded, I could not believe it … my first night outside. ... I was now adrift. ... All my life I had been in the presence of others, but I had not recognised the cushioned depth of protection they provided. … I was seized by the full weight of solitude, the feeling of being very far from safety and utterly undefended. “



Severe food poisoning


Prophetic. The restaurant leftovers turn out to be spoiled.

A serious bout of food poisoning that lasts days, ensues.

A dangerously high fever and he’s all alone.

The thirst! To get water means stumbling to a water pump under the unbearably hot sun. The repeated exertion, along with gastro, weakens him.

It gets worse and worse.

Oh dear, here it comes ... death (almost).



Rescue

In a stroke of good fortune, someone he’d met on the grounds in previous days happens to be passing by and notices Rinpoche’s limp body collapsed beside the pump.

Hospital.

He returns to consciousness strong, confident, grateful and in love with the world.


Long story short


For common folk like me, the whole thing would be a huge trauma.
Mingyur Rinpoche was, you could say, prepared.

Remember all that monastic training and the long retreats? His training had been all about the mind and the heart: in the waking state, the dreaming state and (a speciality of Tibetan Buddhism) through the process of death.

He was able to stay lucid and curious through the death process. (If you're finding this a bit of a stretch, I'm hearing you.)

Anyway, long story short, the near-death experience was transformational.

The upshot was courage and joy; he felt completely supported by the world, day and night, from then on. He was able to complete his wandering retreat on the plains of India in the winter and caves of the Himalayas in the summer.



In Rinpoche's own words:

Later, in an interview with Buddhist magazine, Lion's Roar:

What was it like to go from being an important Buddhist teacher living in comfort in a monastery to an anonymous sadhu, the ascetic Hindu yogis who beg and live on the streets of India?

"It was a good way to practice my meditation on letting go.

“The best part was being able to travel freely, with no commitment or schedule. It was complete freedom, like a bird flying in the sky. Of course, it was not without fear. I was homeless ... I would beg, and people would give me some money or food. Other times, they would just tell me to go away. 

“Now, through this experience, I feel I am free like a bird soaring high in the sky. I am free and can fly everywhere.

“(That doesn’t mean that I can fly, okay? Don’t think that I can fly!)




Warm wishes, Shakti 🧡

This is the final instalment in a series of six Tibet-related stories as a prelude to Anytime Anywhere Meditation. 

Go to Tergar International to find a teacher near you for the ANYTIME ANYWHERE MEDITATION, either in-person or online.


PS,

IN LOVE WITH THE WORLD


Rinpoche's book, In Love with the World, is interspersed with remarkably clear observations about mind and life, and about managing difficult feelings like fear and pain, which Rinpoche relates to his own challenges during the wandering retreat. 

For example:
​

• Fear weakens when it is fully felt and observed, rather than avoided, analysed, or controlled.

 

• The more rigid our sense of self, the more surface we provide for the arrows of pain to hit.

 

• The universal orientation towards happiness and away from suffering points to an innate quality: our basic goodness.

 

• We can practice noticing the spacious awareness that is with us in the background all the time and be supported by it.

Understanding that many of us don’t have much time but still seek meaningful change, Mingyur Rinpoche created this short, comprehensive program to make meditation accessible and practical for modern life, drawing upon his extensive training and personal experiences.

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 Maria Kovalets on Unsplash

​

​

​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.

Illustration by Art Attack on Unsplash