Dreaming Of Danzan Ravjaa

Bloom is on the Tulip

Well, it’s election morning here in Mongolia, and I’m doing what any prudent citizen would do – skedaddling. Polls open in 15 minutes, and I head to the airport in two hours to jet off and have a summertime squiz at my American motherland. I know that doesn’t exactly get me out of the Lunatic Election Zone, but I will be on retreat for half my stay, so. In Mongolia, hundreds of candidates from maybe a dozen parties are vying to occupy the nation’s 76 parliamentary seats. I haven’t written about this because, frankly, I can’t make heads nor tails of it. I know one candidate personally, and I’m rooting for him, but that’s it. Michael Kohn dropped by last night and said he’d be on the scene and filing reports for BBC and Agence France Presse, so watch the wires tomorrow.

 

I leave feeling that we had a really productive spring – publishing Jetsunma’s Stabilizing the Mind book in Mongolian, conducting four meditation workshops based on its teachings, translating and giving transmission for the Palyul Monastery protector prayers, translating a chunk of our Dzogchen preliminary practices which we’ll teach in the fall, getting a Palyul dharma throne built, offering several classes on bodhicitta, helping visiting luminaries like Alak Zenkar Rinpoche in their activity, preparing to write grants for two very worthy projects, setting in motion a possible lama tour in October...hey, not bad!

 

Last night, we had a lovely tsog for Dakini Day, a perfect wrap-up. It’s not a large group, but it’s dedicated. Here is Enkhtsetseg, the main student of 104-year old Amaa, leading the group in Jetsunma’s dedication prayer:

 

“By this effort, may all sentient beings be free of suffering.

May their minds be filled with the nectar of virtue.

In this way, may all causes resulting in suffering be extinguished,

And only the light of compassion shine throughout all realms.”

 

 

 

 

Afterward, several of the students surprised me with a tremendously generous offering that, with a little added on, will be used to purchase 1000 copies of Jetsunma’s book to distribute for free at the opening ceremony of Sakyadhita’s International Conference of Buddhist Women. Several others presented letters and small gifts for Jetsunma with heartfelt requests that she come to Mongolia and teach them. I can't wait to deliver these in person. This gave me such hopefulness about the future of our project here, and it was symbolized for me by the following image. When I returned from Australia in early March, my friend Saraa gave me a Chinese Tulip plant for my new apartment. It had one full bloom which soon fell off. No other blossoms appeared until just a few days ago. This bud, just ready to burst open in glorious crimson beauty, sums up perfectly how I feel just now.

 

 

 

 

Of course there’s one more reason I’m excited to be returning home. That’s right, North American birding. Internet reports indicate I have a healthy shot at four lifers: Henslow’s, Saltmarsh Sharp-tailed, and Nelson’s Sharp-tailed Sparrows, as well as my old nemesis, Mississippi Kite. Yowza!

 

More reports soon from the far side of the pond. I really should finish packing...

American Religious Landscape

OK, tipped off by Philip at the Tricycle blog, I just killed 45 minutes clicking around the cool graphs and comparative data from the Pew Forum on Religion & Public Life's big ol' U.S. Religious Landscape Survey that they released the other day. So can you. I won't tell your boss, promise.

Seems like Buddhists make up about 0.7% of the adult U.S. population, so there are maybe 2-3 million of us running around the States. Also, along with our Jewish brethren (there's a lot of crossover, resulting in two hilarious book titles: The Jew in the Lotus and That's Funny, You Don't Look Buddhist), I'm happy to report that we weigh in as the most liberal politically and most tolerant of other religious paths and lifestyles.

One bizarre bit stuck out for me. 67% of Buddhists reported they were "absolutely" or "somewhat certain" in their belief in God! Then I saw that the question read, "Do you believe in God or a universal spirit?" But still. With this and some of the others I felt the wording of the questions skewed toward a Christian and/or monotheistic religious perspective that I would have had trouble answering accurately if I had been surveyed. For example, the one the Jehovah's Witnesses ate up read like this: "IF RESPONDENT HAS A RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION, ASK:] Now, as I read a pair of statements, tell me whether the FIRST statement or the SECOND statement comes closer to your own views even if neither is exactly right. First/next: My religion is the one, true faith leading to eternal life, OR: many religions can lead to eternal life." Well, no educated Buddhist would frame the goal of Buddhist practice as "eternal life." We would say "liberation from samsara" or "enlightenment." But then the Pew folks did note that some of the respondents might not have been too well educated in the actual theology of their respective traditions.

Anyway, we'd all be interested in your own observations in the comments.

Pale By Comparison

So I did have lunch today with Jungly John, aka John Bellezza, who, it turns out, is quite an interesting feller, having carved a completely unique archaeological niche for himself studying the pre-Buddhist culture of ridiculously remote northern Tibet (his latest offering: the monumental, 842-page Zhang Zhung: Foundations of Civilization in Tibet).

 

Joining us was Glenn Mullin, who curated and authored the catalogue for a new show up now through August 18 at the Rubin Museum of Art in New York City, entitled “Buddha in Paradise” (link to review also has a cool slideshow).

 

Tomorrow, I’m going to try to connect him with Don Croner, who’s recently back from a horse trek into Khuvsgul Province’s Darkhad Depression (I know, sounds like a plea for quality medication) and beyond. And perhaps also Prof. Vesna Wallace, just in to boost her Mongolian language in preparation for her new gig occupying an endowed chair for the Numata Professorship of Buddhist Studies at Oxford University's Balliol College.

 

Vesna will almost certainly be attending Sakyadhita’s 10^th International Conference on Buddhist Women here in Ulaanbaatar, organized to a large extent by the dynamic Ven. Karma Lekshe Tsomo. On Saturday, I attended a lecture Lekshe gave at the local FPMT center on the History of Buddhist Women. Very nice, gently provocative lecture and I snapped a few pix:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tom Kelly’s also in-country (some Mongolia shots at the linked site), riding herd on a National Geographic crew producing a piece on the Mongolian horse. Hamid Sardar is dropping in tomorrow to set up his new high-end tourist adventure camp in a remote Khuvsgul Valley and begin shooting his new film. Also Michael Kohn, researching for the next edition of Lonely Planet's Trans-Siberian Railway Guide (he also kindly gave me a copy of his latest book, Dateline Mongolia: An American Journalist in Nomad's Land, which I thoroughly enjoyed). Who knows who else; the summer parade seems endless.

 

My neurotic conclusion from all this? Everyone’s doing something more interesting than me. Weird thinking, right? Or pathetic, if you prefer.

Oma Goodness

Elsewhere in the mail came my mother’s reaction to my new tattoo. Oh, you think you know the general gist of it? Think again:

 

“Just read your latest blog, and not only am I so deeply touched by your (our) connection with Amitabha and your beautiful explanations and comments, but am blown away by the new tattoo - can't wait to see it in person in about 2 weeks!”

Whoa. She goes on: “(of course the next tat will be "Mother" surrounded by a heart)”

 

Well, it oughta be. I mean, how many layers of cool is that? My own mother not only using the slang term ‘tat,’ but appreciating its beauty and the fact that it symbolically resonates with our common bond through Buddha Amitabha. That is to say, she met me once in New York City so we could both attend an Amitabha empowerment bestowed by HH Penor Rinpoche, and that’s deeply meaningful to both of us. Though one could say we had it anyway, that event really sealed our indestructible connection. In the unlikely event that I outlive her, I now feel confident she’ll greet me in Amitabha’s pure land of Dewachen with one of her big hugs, having already manifested a freezer filled with homemade turkey soup and calorie-free Ben & Jerry’s.

 

Oh, and did I mention my mother’s 81? (Sorry, Ma) Like, today. I feel it’s no accident her birthday’s on the summer solstice, the longest that the light dispels the darkness. A part of one of our common aspiration prayers says, “May we be born in good families.” Well, at least I nailed that one in a previous life. My mother (and it must be said, by extension, my two older sisters) have offered me such unstinting and consistent love and support through every improbable decision I’ve made and every kooky bend and twist my life has taken, it’s really just impossible to repay such kindness. The best I can do is live this life as purely as I’m able, and hope it makes them happy, and even sneaks a little something into their karmic accounts.

 

I’ll be on your doorstep before you know it, Ma. I love you, and happy, happy birthday.

 

(“Oma” in the title refers to the German name that her grandchildren call her. The helpless addiction to puns is genetic. See previous paeon.)

Mail Bag -- Updated

As you might imagine, there are pros and cons to maintaining a public presence such as this. But since I like to see the silver lining as half full, let’s look at one of the pros: cool mail.

Recently, one Jamie Hubbard, who occupies the Yehan Numata Chair in Buddhist Studies at Smith College (do click this, and run your cursor over the photo; it’s hilarious), sent an e-brick through my window saying he was in town and could he buy me lunch? He could, and did, and it was most enjoyable, not least of which for the following two reasons. The first was that he informed me a consortium of Massachusetts colleges was planning a spring 2009 conference on Buddhism in Mongolia. Very cool (especially if I can, you know, attend). And secondly, he received my recent declaration that my pals Sue and Erka were sharing the distinction of being declared my new co-Very Best Friends as a challenge. Not only did he send me three more bags of Dean’s Beans Ahab’s Revenge, but also a passel of quality t-shirts commemorating “The Many Flavors of the Dharma: Celebrating Buddhism in the Pioneer Valley.”

It’s hard to read here, but the graphic lists no fewer than 44 dharma groups. In north-central Massachusetts. Now, just let that sink in for a second. And Jamie? The theme music’s swelling; come on up and get your sash and tiara – you are, for the time being, my new Very Best Friend.

Another dispatch came from long-lost Lynne in Philly to steel me for the arrival of the near-mythic individual known to lurk around the Himalayan plateau named Jungly John. I may or may not have met him in Kathmandu in ’96. I hope Jungly jingles in so I can find out for sure. If not, who cares? I still get to say I met someone named Jungly John. The rest of the note was a bummer, though, as Lynne says she’s dropping in this summer just when I’m bailing out.

But the prize for outta the blue mind-bender clearly goes to Stevan Davies. He’s a Professor of Religious Studies at Misericordia University (Dallas, PA – I had to look it up, too) but that’s not hardly the weirdest part. He writes in to confess to me that he shares my peculiar obsession with the completely obscure Dharma Protectress Gungyi Lhamo, and to prove it, he attaches the following image of a Mongolian antique miniature he copped on Ebay (thanks, fellas, for selling off your country’s culture to the highest bidder):

 

In further correspondence, I knew we were deeply simpatico when he made me spit my Ahab’s Revenge over this line: “There is just something special about a nude bright blue wrathful goddess on a Bactrian camel. We don’t have those in Northeastern Pennsylvania .” Prof. Stevan, I know just how you feel.

I was originally going to title this post “I’m Gungyi, Dammit!” but the con part of blogging is that there are other eager correspondents who, strangely, don’t find my irreverence nearly as funny as I do.

 

Update: Christian, in the comments, asks if I've written about Gungyi Lhamo before. Yup, here.

Jetsunma Live

In the comments to the previous post, Sister Sangye perused Amitabha Buddha’s 48 Vows (scroll down, you'll find 'em), and issues an understandable harrumph at #35:

 

“If, when I attain Buddhahood, women in the immeasurable and inconceivable Buddha-lands of the ten quarters who, having heard my Name, rejoice in faith, awaken aspiration for Enlightenment and wish to renounce womanhood, should after death be reborn again as women, may I not attain perfect Enlightenment.”

 

Now, my read on this is that in most historic cultures, and even today, it can be exceedingly difficult as a woman to extract oneself from heavy social pressures, onerous traditions, imbalanced laws, physical danger, etc., in order to pursue a renunciate spiritual life. In many cases, it might be an easier road to follow that path as a man, but that certainly doesn’t mean it’s the only road.

 

In fact, when we look into the legends of the female Buddha Arya Tara, we discover that when she was on the cusp of enlightenment, responding to the chauvinism of the male lamas of her time, she made the vow to always appear in female form, in order to debunk concepts of prejudice. I’m sure glad she did.

It was the very experience of hearing my female root teacher, Jetsunma Ahkon Lhamo, teach live that made the Buddha’s wisdom and compassion so meaningful and irresistible to me. I went to hear her in August of 1990, not consciously looking for a teacher, or a spiritual path, at all. In fact, I’d spent most of my life actively hostile to such things. I didn’t even much like the atmosphere of my temple when I first walked in. But – and I still have trouble explaining this, except in terms of strong karmic seeds from previous lifetimes – within ten minutes of her beginning to teach, I was a total goner. Though I didn’t fully understand it, I knew what Jetsunma was saying was the truth, that she was speaking from a place of direct experience of that truth, and that I was about to radically transform my life to accommodate this new reality and this woman I knew would be my teacher for life.

 

It therefore pleases me no end to tell you that you too can have the experience of hearing and seeing Jetsunma teach live, no matter where you are, through the magic of digital technology. Starting this Thursday, June 19, Jetsunma will begin a teaching series called “Turning the Mind to Dharma,” designed especially for those new to Buddhism, or simply curious about it. The class will begin at 6:30pm US Eastern Standard Time (handy time zone converter here), and we will stream the live video at our website here. There’s no cost to watch, and if for some reason you can’t catch it, no worries. We’ll offer a podcast of the whole video very shortly thereafter. I’m gonna tune in. You?

Tat Three

Way back in September, 1990, I received my first Buddhist practice. Together with a small group, Jetsunma Ahkon Lhamo conferred the lung (lit. “wind” or reading) transmission for Tertön Migyur Dorje’s concise practice of Amitabha Buddha. I got a tape of the chanting melodies, studied HH Penor Rinpoche’s short commentary, and did it every day. To this day, in the center of my heart, I have a special love for Amitabha, and the one who connected me to him.

 

Why? Even among supremely compassionate beings, his compassion is off the charts. According to my teachers, his Dewachen (Great Bliss) is the one manifest pure realm – his “field of enlightenment” – that is accessible to schlubs like me, not just realized bodhisattvas. All that’s required is devotion, even for a moment, even just a few recitations of his name or mantra, to create the causes for rebirth in this realm.

 

Why is this important (and what’s the difference between this and the Christian aspiration to ascend to heaven)? Well, let’s say one has given birth to a bit of bodhicitta – the aspiration to achieve enlightenment so that one can then help all other beings do the same. Because of Amitabha's great power and blessing, Dewachen offers an environment that is completely conducive to this aspiration, with none of the nasty obstacles of this rotten world. All elements support Dharma practice and, once realization is achieved, it’s the ideal springboard for emanating into other realms to begin really benefiting others. And this is the difference from the Christian view. Buddhist pure lands are not designed for eternal bliss, but rather to afford the optimum conditions for rapid enlightenment so that one can re-enter samsara as a condition oneself for the liberation of others.

 

The Mahayana sutras are sublime in their descriptions (here and here). I mean, just dig Amitabha’s 48 vows (scroll about halfway down)!

 

From the Vajrayana point of view, Amitabha is the source from whom Padmasambhava, my lineage founder, emanated into this world. They are inseparable in their essence, and the Vajrayana includes a special practice called Phowa through which one can easily transfer one’s consciousness to Dewachen at the moment of death. My own teachers are deeply connected to this practice, and I’m personally banking on it because I’m not confident the conditions will come together for my enlightenment in this life.

 

Anyway, I’ve always harbored the wish to share Amitabha’s blessing with others, and on Friday I contrived the means in my own peculiar way – getting an especially gorgeous rendering of Amitabha’s mantra, Om Ami Dewa Hrih, tattooed on my left forearm. This is something I’ve wanted to do for years, but never found calligraphy that had the right combination of power and aesthetic grace. Then I found Brother Tashi Mannox.

 

Tashi is the artist behind London’s InkEssential, creating “Quintessential Designs for the Skin,” including several variations on Tibetan script. After Tashi popped up in an E-Sangha thread I created on Dharma tattoos, I emailed him to introduce myself and ask if he had ever done an Amitabha mantra. He said no, but was willing to do one for me, and considering that I was a monk, offer it for free. I was dumbstruck, but even more so when his artwork arrived in the mail. An absolute masterpiece and I vowed to find just the right day to honor it on my body. That day arrived last Friday, a full nine months after receiving his work, the 10^th day of the lunar month sacred to Padmasambhava.

 

I engaged the artist Tulgaa, who did my other two tats, and this time even made a house call. He’s so precise and has such a capacity for concentration that I knew it would be sublime. A little over two hours later, I was relieved to be proven right:

 

 

I’m so pleased with this one, and look forward to the opportunities it will create to talk about Amitabha with others. I’d say this was my last, but I have one more idea nagging at the back of my mind if I can summon the courage and find just the right image...

Enthronement

Right now, the main thing on my mind is bringing qualified Nyingma lamas to Mongolia. The three years of work we’ve done here so far has set the table: the texts are here, the foundational teachings on renunciation and bodhicitta have been given, networks are in place, local organizers are ready, and the appropriate requests to the teachers have been made repeatedly. There’s only one thing left. Well, one or two, but one main thing.

 

When I made my trip to America in November, I had occasion to speak with Jetsunma about coming to Mongolia. She expressed her strong wish to come, and the intention, barring “obstacles or shifts in merit” or something to that effect. I said, “Well, how can we increase the odds and remove obstacles?” She had only one instruction: build a teaching throne in the style of Palyul Monastery.

 

We received a generous donation in Australia for just this purpose, but strange difficulties prevented me from finding the right means to get it done in, until now. Through my friend Lama Purevbat, I will sign a contract today with the Ochir (Vajra) Company to build said throne. Later, Lama Purevbat’s students from the Mongolian Institute of Buddhist Arts will create the decorative details. The basic construction should be done before I return from America, and the detail work before August is over. It’ll look something like this at our Maryland temple:

 

 

Now, let’s head off some potential misunderstanding, shall we? Lamas don’t ask for thrones to be built so they can sit on thrones. What lama worth his or her salt would give a hoot about that? The purpose of a Dharma throne is to elevate the teaching to a place of deep respect, not the teacher. This hearkens back to a pithy lesson from Mipham Rinpoche called the Four Reliances (short commentary here):

 

“Rely on the message of the teacher, not on his personality;

Rely on the meaning, not just on the words;

Rely on the real meaning, not on the provisional one;

Rely on your wisdom mind, not on your ordinary, judgmental mind.”

 

In this case, building the throne creates the auspicious condition for the arrival of the Nyingma teachings generally, and the Palyul teachings specifically.

 

I would be remiss if I did not add that the total cost will be a wee bit more than what was offered by our Australian friend. If you would like to contribute to this meritorious project (or, shoot, any of our projects, we got plenty), click here to go to the MBRP home page and then click on the donation graphic at the bottom. We’ve switched over to PayPal (though you need not have a PayPal account) and I can’t get the dadblasted donation button on this page to work properly. Sorry for the extra click or two, but thank you from the bottom of my heart!

UB's Burning, Dial 99999

Waking up to a strange, grumpy morning. We’re in something like Day 10 of the annual 2-3 week hiatus in the hot water supply when repairs are made to winter damage. And as we edge toward the summer solstice, because Mongolia for some inexplicable reason has renounced Daylight Savings Time, the cats mew into my barely-washed, unshaven face at sunrise, which happens to occur at 4:30AM and streams into my uncurtained, eastern windows, deaf to my pleas for an hour more of rest. Sun’s up. Breakfast time. Then I snap to. Something’s burning! I sit up and glance outside. Yes, something’s really burning. The whole city’s blanketed in thick, white smoke:

 

 

 

 

Yesterday, temperatures spiked to 95/35 and last night the collision of a careening front caused a quick, but vicious lightning storm that must have ignited the parched landscape into wildfire somewhere. I just pray it wasn’t worse elsewhere. The freak snowstorms just 10 days ago proved disastrous in Mongolia’s eastern provinces, killing 52 people, thousands of domestic animals, and demolishing hundreds of gers.

 

This world.

 

OK, let’s shake it off a bit and look hopefully forward, shall we? I had the pleasure yesterday to finally meet Ven. Karma Lekshe Tsomo (whose story involves surfing contests and near-fatal snakebites), the American nun who heads Sakyadhita, the International Association of Buddhist Women. She is in town to tend to the details of the organization’s 10^th International Conference on Buddhist Women. Exploring “Buddhism in Transition: Tradition, Changes and Challenges,” the conference will be held here in Ulaanbaatar from July 1-5. I’m very sorry to have to miss it; I just bought a ticket yesterday that will take me to the States June 29^th. But I will have details very soon about local registration. I’m also hoping Lekshe will be able to accept my invitation to pop in to our final meditation workshop later this afternoon and meet the wonderful women (and handful of men) who have been studying and practicing with us this spring.

 

Finally, a funny picture from my recent Gobi jaunt. There really wasn’t much to write about; it was so quick and maybe you’re tired of hearing about cold Siberian winds. Anyway, here was our traveling group posed at the Shambhala gate: Ven. Chingerel, a young Mongolian nun I brought along simply because she’d never been; the driver’s girlfriend, I think; Jeff Watt, curator at the Rubin Museum of Art (and creator of the astounding Himalayan Art Resources site), towering above us all; Orna, a PhD candidate at UC Berkeley; some Dutch woman we invited to tag along whose adopted name, which escapes me, translates as “Heaven and Earth” and who explained she was directed by some sort of celestial council to go to the Gobi to undertake critical but vaguely defined work to recalibrate the universe; and a monastic impostor:

 

 

 

 

Title ref for you fuddy-duddies.

Amaa II

Wow. Y'all're completely inscrutable. Impervious to scrute. I thought for sure posting pix and tales of 104-year old (you did catch that, right? 104?) Amaa would provoke declarations of wonder in the comments. But perhaps you were struck speechless, an affliction from which I rarely suffer, I'm afraid.

 

Anyway, 'tis spring, and my thoughts would not wander from my beloved, so I contrived to visit Amaa once again yesterday afternoon. More stories, more laughs, and an unexpected visit from Ani Kunze, just back from a months-long jaunt in Dharamsala, Moscow, and who knows where else.

 

This was a very sweet moment. Both are dedicated Chöd practitioners, though Amaa’s got Kunze by a good 70 years. It was their first meeting. I felt a poignant sense of historic tableaux – the ancient crone who persisted in her practice with almost unimaginable determination through seven decades of actively hostile Communist rule, and a leader of the new generation of Mongolian Buddhist women coming to pay her respects and receive her blessing. Naturally, I faded back and took a few photos. I got lucky. Feeling a bit shy, I only took three shots, but one of them was this:

 

 

That’s a keeper.

 

I also want to clarify something from the last post. It turns out Amaa did not do a solitary retreat in a cave for two years. She said she was actually the youngest of 16 tantric practitioners who went to the remote countryside for extensive teaching and practice with a powerful Tibetan lama by the name of Zundui. They managed to stay together for a little more than two years before the Communist zealots got wind of their enclave and forced them all to flee. Some were caught, others escaped and melted into the general population.

 

Amaa seems full of stories of the unusual cat-and-mouse with the cops these lamas played. One of her teachers, Artiin Mergen Pandita, was with a friend when the troopers came. He quickly made two circles of sand on the ground and told his friend to stand in one while he stood in the other. He told his friend, “No matter what, don’t move.” As the armed men approached, however, the friend couldn’t contain his fear and crawled out of the circle. As soon as he did so, he became visible and was captured. The lama remained invisible inside his circle and escaped.

 

Zundui also escaped several times in odd ways. Once, he had gone to visit his mother with two horses. The authorities, who were trying to round up all the high lamas, got wind of this and galloped over to her home. On approaching, Zundui and his horses could not be seen, but they were confronted by two bears and ran away. Another time, Zundui was on his horse and detained by another on horseback. Zundui asked the other, “I wonder how heavy you are?” He then pinched the man’s clothes with two fingers and lifted him off his horse. The other man, petrified by the lama’s power, let him go. Another time, he was being chased in the mountains on horseback when a sudden fog rolled in, and even though his pursuers saw steaming piles of horse manure to indicate he had been there seconds earlier, they could never find him.

 

There’s more, and wilder, but we’ll save it for another time.

 

 

Amaa

Today marks the new moon which, along with the full moon day, is traditionally a time for confession among those ordained as Buddhist monks and nuns. In that spirit, I have something I need to tell you all. I didn’t expect this to happen, and generally I guard against such developments quite carefully, but who among us can long resist the inevitable power of destiny? Yes, I confess, I’ve fallen in love.

 

It's bliss. It's emptiness.

 

There. It’s out now. The time of hiding and secrecy is over. So in the interest of full disclosure, I share with you now an image of myself and my beloved. Judge me as you will:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaaaahahahahaha! Would someone please pick the KPC nuns up off the floor? {snicker}

 

This is not to say I’ve not fallen in love with this woman. Quite the contrary. Please allow me to introduce you to the one known simply as Amaa, 104 years young. I mentioned before that I’d heard of her, through one of her students who attended a few of my classes. But it was only yesterday that I was finally able to sit at her feet, in the back room of a small shop run by her eldest adopted son, and marvel at one who has been a faithful devotee of the Buddha for nigh on 96 years in this life, all the way through the dark decades of Communist rule.

 

Amaa is a daughter of the northeastern Khentii province, birthplace of Chingghis Khan and a great stronghold of the Buddhadharma for centuries. The Mongolian Monastery Documentation Project counts no fewer than 101 Buddhist institutions that flourished in Khentii (sorry, Mongolian only) prior to the Stalinist purges. From what I can gather, it also seems a particularly strong place of women’s spirituality, with many deeply respected female meditation masters and practice communities.

 

Now, let’s filter out all the ugly elements of the above photo and see Amaa close up:

 

 

 

Amaa as a child awakened devotion to Green Tara through her lama father. She practiced with Tara’s mantra and that of Shakyamuni Buddha first, while learning and memorizing other texts. Soon, however, she was introduced to Padmasambhava and the traditions of Danzan Ravjaa. She adopted as her central practice Danzan Ravjaa’s chöd (cutting through ego attachment), known more commonly in Mongolia as luijing (body offering). She developed the practice and then took it into a two-year cave retreat from age 24-26. Even during the Communist years, Amaa maintained regular, secret nighttime practice, and would periodically venture forth to the chödma’s favorite meditation spots, remote cemeteries (in the practice, one deliberately seeks out, even summons, confrontation with one’s deepest fears and conquers them with the Buddha’s oldest tools: wisdom and compassion).

 

Many now seek Amaa’s special blessing, and she has gained renown as the only person in the eastern provinces fully qualified to guide those who have recently died through the intermediate stage between lives. She does this based on the text of Padmasambhava she has memorized known as The Great Liberation Upon Hearing in the Intermediate States or, as it is popularly known in the West, The Tibetan Book of the Dead.

 

I feel reluctant to say too much more just now (I just read a Mongolian saying in my grammar book: “He who talks a lot, fails a lot.”). I had a long lunch today with Amaa’s disciple, heard more stories, and got an insistent itch to travel to Khentii and see what’s what there for myself. It looks like this may be possible, as Amaa and many others will soon hold an annual summer gathering at the site of Gashaar Monastery, near the cave where she spent those two years. They say it’s remote, and gorgeous, and powerful. After three months cooped up in the city, I needn’t hear any more than that.

Family Affairs

A pause in the proceedings to play the proud uncle.

First off, my niece Mary has just graduated with all kinds of honors from the rigorous, Int'l Baccalaureate-based Washington International School. Here she is with her mama, so you can see the source of her beauty. I so wish I had the power of 'remote viewing' so I could see the bug-eyed stammering that is about to be epidemic among the young men at USC, where Miss Mary will matriculate in the fall.

The photo was snapped by her older brother George, who is now in, of all places, Antananarivo, Madagascar. See, he lived there for four years when he was but a tyke. Clearly a tyke no more, he makes his way in the world on a 6' 7" frame. And now he has returned to Tana, on summer break from college, for a six-week internship with an anti-HIV/AIDS project aimed at young people. Kid's got a heart as big as all Africa, and now I discover he's blogging about it all! Do check in on his words and pix here.