Dreaming Of Danzan Ravjaa

Tsagaan Sar – Cityside

Huh. Y’all were so quiet after the last post. I thought for sure someone would have some reaction to the sheep fat pacifier. Stunned silence, I guess.

Well anyway, like I said, the Mongolian Tsagaan Sar New Year’s celebration is a three-day affair, and on days 2 and 3 I hung out with the city slickers.

Got a call Thursday morning from Erka, my friend and apartment patroness (I almost typed “flat patroness” and then mentally cocked my head at the phrase like the RCA Victrola dog) to come to her family’s place at 10. “Like, really 10?” I asked. “Well, no,” she laughed. “Mongolian 10. Around 11.”

Happily, this journey only involved descending three flights of stairs, and at 11 I was surprised to find I wasn’t the first guest. All told about eight of us joined Erka and her husband Sharavdorj, everyone but me (at least in this life) linked by their deep ties to the South Gobi. The usual pattern was followed: greetings, toasts, mutton dumplings...

...but that’s where the similarity of the gathering ended, owing to the presence of one very special guest. We were graced by Tserendorj, acknowledged as the greatest living player of Mongolia’s traditional instrument, the morin khuur, or horse-head fiddle. I was told that one special State Morin Khuur is kept under lock and key at the Parliament House and Tserendorj bears the title, roughly translated from the Mongolian, of The Only Dude Allowed to Touch the State Morin Khuur.

I kept thinking that he looked very familiar, and then it struck me. At the previous day’s countryside shindig, I had seen him on TV, performing at the official State Tsagaan Sar ceremonies. It seems on that day he had offered a new instrument to the nation, and the one he brought to Erka’s that morning, and that you'll see in a moment, was the previous State Morin Khuur. It was explained that Mongols feel it’s auspicious to hear the sound of the morin khuur at some point during the new year’s festivities. As usual with such things, no one can quite explain why such things are auspicious, they just are. And who was I to argue? I’d just dropped into a situation akin to Isaac Stern turning up to play at your Thanksgiving dinner.

But we weren’t just treated to Tserendorj. Turns out his handsome young son Soyolerdene (“Jewel of Culture” – Mongol names are so fabulous) is also quite the prodigy on the instrument. You simply can’t believe the range of melodies and effects that can be wrought from two strings and a horsehair bow by accomplished hands (fun fact: the use of bows on string instruments is a Mongol innovation spread during its imperial days; if you like Isaac Stern or Yo-yo Ma, thank a Mongol).

The two began with a duet...

...after which Sharvaa asked Tserendorj to play on his own instrument.

This is a very fancy one, with a Buddhist twist to the design. Notice the three green horse heads instead of one at the top. This is meant to echo a detail of the the iconography of the wrathful Buddhist deity Hayagriva:

At one point Tserendorj introduced an old Gobi song with a joke, translated to me thusly: “It used to be said that it was better to be born as a yak in the Khangai than a person in the Gobi. These days, I think it’s better to be born as a camel in the Gobi than a person in the Khangai.” Everyone found this uproariously funny. I, on the other hand, was reminded of one bit from the movie Charlie Wilson’s War, in which Philip Seymour Hoffman’s CIA operative Gust Avrokatos is discussing with Tom Hanks’ Charlie Wilson and other agents the difficulties of working with tribal alliances in Afghanistan:

Agent: He’s Tajik, so he’s not well liked by the Pashtuns.

Hanks: So, what? The Tajiks have a problem with the Pashtuns?

Hoffman: Well, they say when a Tajik wants to make love to a woman, his first choice is always a Pashtun man. [beat, shrugs] It’s funnier in the original Pashtu.

After Tserendorj, Soyolerdene took up his axe, and I was happy to get a couple shots showing the incredible quickness of motion in the playing:

And here’s a taste of what the morin khuur actually sounds like, though obviously with different players:

Finally, I wanted to show you something of the elegance of Mongolian clothing. Here are Erka and her company manager Munkhbat (I went the next day to her office gathering) really rockin’ the threads:

Coming soon: Spiritual Tsagaan Sar

Tsagaan Sar – Countryside

I’m receiving many dispatches from folks wishing me a Happy Losar, Tibetan New Year. Right back at ‘em, but ‘round these parts, we’re celebrating Tsagaan Sar, “White Month,” the Mongolian version of the same. For those of you getting a bead of perspiration on your upper lip about the advance of the winter solstice, 2012, fuggedaboudit. According to this calendar, we’re entering 2136, the Year of the Earth Ox (I’m so glad the marketing department revisited their original moniker, the Year of the Dirt Cow).

Tsagaan Sar is about renewal. First, one’s home gets a big ol' scrubdown. Then the household of the eldest in the family cooks up a mighty storm in anticipation of three days of visitors, a ritualized encounter that repairs and strengthens family and other social bonds. According to personal astrological calculations, people also perform certain rituals designed to enhance auspicious conditions for the coming year. According to Asian Gypsy, a group of folks doing so pre-dawn in Zavkhan Province may have misread the directions; they were attacked by a pack of wolves, causing several to enjoy Tsagaan Sar from a hospital bed.

Not only have I managed to avoid assault by large wild canines, but my usual reclusive nature has abated somewhat and I’m really enjoying the round of visits this year. To enhance the enjoyment, please allow me to share some tales and images with you.

My friend Daka was the first to extend me an invitation, so on the first day I accompanied her and her immediate family about 35km out of UB to Ölzit, a typical steppe town of fenced-off khashas, or family compounds.  We first paid our respects with three laps around the Horse Ovoo...

...then trundled into Ölzit:

The first thing one does is perform ceremonial greetings, starting with the eldest. The older one puts his or her arms on top of the younger one, and the younger one clasps the elder’s elbows, indicating their support of them, along a kiss on each cheek (elder Mongolians will also make an audible sniff when they kiss you, the other's scent deemed important to the bond) and mutual inquiries about the peacefulness of one’s life. Here is Daka’s aunt, Pujee Eksh, receiving visitors.

 

Interestingly, she was very careful to don that hat every time she greeted someone. I asked Daka about this, and she said it had to do with the belief that one’s spirit exits the crown of the head at the time of death. Somehow, the encounter with others at this time is said to influence this, and the hat, I think, prevents one’s untimely demise. I didn’t feel like I fully understood, so if one of our Mongol readers could clarify in the comments what that's all about, that’d be much appreciated.

The centerpiece of a Tsagaan Sar visit is food, and Pujee really laid it out:

Toward the back are the traditional whole boiled sheep (don’t go “ew” (Sister Tana points out that I made an inadvertent "ewe" pun here); think of your Thanksgiving turkey, or Easter lamb, or some such), as well as the layered circles of the large, oblong biscuits known as khoviin buuv and other “white food,” the number of layers (always an odd number) indicating the general age of the one setting the table. After one sits, one should eat a little of something white. Then one is served milk tea, and encouraged to dig right in. At this stage, your hosts will not be satisfied until you consume superhuman quantities of buuz, the ubiquitous mutton dumplings. Fortunately, Pujee’s buuz (buuzes?) were scrumptious, so this was not a hardship.

Sheep-as-food is introduced to some Mongolians at a very early age. I’d heard about one facet but never saw it until yesterday. The man and baby are awfully cute together, no?

But if you zoom in a little, you discover that the baby’s pacifier is nothing other than a piece of sheep fat!

Once all the polite snarfing was accomplished, toasts given, etc., we were free to do what I wanted to do since we entered the khasha: go say woodgie-woodgie to all the critters.

The first order of business for anyone entering a countryside khasha is to make friends – or at least peace – with the guard dog. In this case it was a pretty sweet feller named Bhavgai, Mongolian for “bear.” I was warned that the sweetness could be a put-on, and not to try to pet him like the owner was doing here. More about Bhavgai later.

We said “welcome to the world” to the blanketed winter calves (one rebel tough guy sloughed his off)...

...then sauntered over to the sheep and goat pen. As usual, the sheep were dull beyond belief (my sister’s quote from her experience with them in Africa: “Sheep wake up to a new world every day”) but the goats – the source beasts for your cashmere garments – were fascinating and, with those crazy side-slit pupils, quite photogenic.

Some presented as relatively benign...

...with others as borderline malevolent...

...and still others as downright demented:

But really they were all just up on the fence in case we had Tsagaan Sar goodies to share, and young Batchimeg was happy to oblige:

Bhavgai the dog had different, highly entertaining ways of interacting with the livestock just through the fence. He would give the closest ones the once over...

...in order to determine which one needed to be gnawed on, in this case one of the sheep (his friend on the right seems to be getting a kick out of this, as far as you can tell such things with sheep):

The gnawees seemed to just play right along, probably out of gratitude because it was Bhavgai who generally kept the wolves at bay when they were out to pasture.

Human critters joined us, too. Dig this Mongol kid in full get-up, including massive winter fox-fur hat:

And then there was Daka’s nephew, semi-feral on the best of days, who seemed right at home in the sheep pen. I not 100% sure they got him out before we left for home.

The Tsagaan Sar host also always gives some kind of small gift to whoever comes by. I was very touched when I was given a little extra: fresh milk and yoghurt, homemade cookies, and a packet of mutton. It was explained that Pujee felt blessed that a monk had come, and was grateful for the prayers I had chanted for her home, animals, and family. Daka later explained the deeper significance. Part of the pre-Buddhist spirituality of the Mongols involved the honoring of ancestors, and many strains persist. The animals Pujee has today are descendants of the animals that had belonged to her forebears. So she was giving me something connected with her ancestors, a gesture of respect and affection and a perfect cap to the day.

Coming soon: Tsagaan Sar – Cityside

Where Do I Go To Audition?

Big Tsagaan Sar post(s) 'n' pix coming soon. I was going to do it this morning but just got invited somewhere else. Mongolian New Year is a three-day bash.

So to tide you over, behold the most surreal Mongolia-related headline of the year so far: "'Iron Man 2' Casting Call Includes Hot Brunette, Mongolian Gangster". And they're thinking of casting a Chinese guy. Grr. Aren't there any out-of-work Samoans or something?

BTW, we're about halfway there in getting my translator to America. Many thanks!

Pin the Tail on the Garuda -- Updated

Well, you just blink and they grow up so fast, don’t they? My stars.

February 23, 2005, was an auspicious day on the Tibetan Buddhist calendar. Did I use that time for retreat into profound prayer and meditation? Er, no. With two weeks to go before first parachuting into the wilds of Central Asia, for good or ill, I chose that date to launch Dreaming of Danzan Ravjaa. And 559 posts later, it seems that I just can’t shut up (OK, all of you who are nodding in agreement? There’ve also been 3,371 comments, so neither could you).

So this is the birfday party for my li’l 4-year old. You’ve been invited to parties for friends’ 4-year olds, yeah? No matter how bratty, self-involved and manipulative the little monster darling is, you always bring a little something, don’t you? Spend maybe 10-20 bucks (maybe a little more if you’re rich Uncle Biff) for something that amuses the precious for maybe a nanosecond, and enriches the Chinese economy just a little more? I know, we’ve all been there.

Well, at this party (yes, you have to wear the stupid little paper hat...there) I’m encouraging gifts but not for me or my precious 4-year old. I’m asking you to help me save a life, and I’m not exaggerating.

My appeal to all of you in the last post for my friend and miraculously-visaed translator to get to America next month kicked in an encouraging start – thank you, truly – but we’re still a ways off. Since some people reading this blog may know to whom I’m referring, I’ve promised to leave out details of her situation. In some ways this is too bad because man, could I paint you a picture. But please believe me when I tell you that her experience is severe, relentless and debilitating. It’s also spiritual in nature and requires a spiritual solution. This trip to America is not a vacation; the Epcot Center is not on the itinerary, and Smith's “Buddhism in Mongolia” conference is really just incidental. This is a rescue mission. My translator is connected to my teacher through me and my teacher is the one who I know has the particular depth and skill to dispel this obstacle. I’ve seen her bring such supreme relief to others. Please help someone get to her who needs the same.

Now.  My Magic Feedburner 8-Ball tells me that as of today there are 229 subscribers to DODR. If only half of you kicked in what you’d spend for your buddy’s 4-year old, we’d be totally home and dry. So let’s play pin-the-tail-on-the-garuda below, shall we? Clicking takes you to a secure donation page, and US citizens will reap a little added tax benefit.

Thank you, beloveds, so much.

Update: You're also welcome to say 'Happy Birthday' in the comments. It'd be fun to see who's been dropping by all this time, especially if you've never commented before.

(Buddha the Pug image nicked from here)

Fly! Be Free! -- Updated

Update: Forgot to mention that my friend Tana is continuing her guided compassion meditation marathons this weekend (don't be scared -- you're free to participate a little or a lot) at her spiffed-up Invite Love In site. She's set a wonderfully ambitious goal of encouraging a collective total of 1,000,000 hours of compassionate mind training! I love it! Festivities start at 10am, Sat. February 21.

Previously...

Got your fill from the last post of Satan discussing the merits of Buddhism and monastic mummies sporting shades? Good. Onwards and upwards.

After a winter of frustrations and setbacks, a minor miracle has occurred, and I’m hoping DODR readers will help turn it into a major one.

A short while ago, I mentioned the conference to be hosted this March 27-9 at Smith College, “Buddhism in Mongolia: Rebirth and Transformation.” Seems it’s really turning into a thing, and I’ve been toiling behind the scenes to get two of my good Mongolian Buddhist friends, one a lama and one a translator, the highly-elusive Willy Wonka golden ticket: a US visa.

And darn if it didn’t work. As reported by the translator, most Mongolians left Ulaanbaatar’s US Embassy in disappointed tears Wednesday, but she was given a two-month visa, while the lama – get this – was issued one valid for the next ten years!

I was stunned, and then I was panicked. They can actually go! What on earth will they do?! The translator has never been in the States before, and while the lama has been once, honestly? He’s a bit scatterbrained. I feared a fiasco if I sent them on their own, and a clear thought arose: I need to go and help them. And then, within 24 hours, I was offered the funds for a ticket. So I’m going! Strange and unpredictable are the ways of karma.

The conference itself is a very rare opportunity for the lama to promote to an international audience the rebuilding of Danzan Ravjaa’s Khamar Monastery, of which he’s an integral part, and for me to broaden the support for our Mongolian Buddhism Revival Project.

That said, however, there’s much more to this trip than the conference and I want to have a heart-to-heart, kitchen table conversation with y’all. This trip is really about the translator, whose name I’m withholding to respect her privacy. For the past 12 years, she’s been dealing with a profound spiritual disorder that has been causing unceasing suffering both for herself and her family (aged mother and siblings). I hesitate to share details because you might find some of them hard to believe; I’ve become her confidante and the story as she’s gradually told it to me is bizarre and heartbreaking in the extreme. The net for her is a lovely combination of inner torment and a once-stable family that has degenerated into violent – sometimes actually life-threatening – alcoholism. Please understand this is not mental illness, but trouble of a different nature altogether.

A very faithful Buddhist, this woman has sought advice and rituals from every lama under the Mongolian sun and elsewhere and their best efforts have only occasionally resulted in temporary relief. I had an instinct about all this and shared her story and photo with my teacher. She confirmed the problem, said in fact it was a nasty one, but she thought if they could see each other, she might be able to help.

My teacher is being typically modest. I’ve been with her for nearly 19 years now, and have seen her clear people of far more difficult problems than this. I felt 100% confident that if my translator could get to my teacher, she could finally resume a normal life.

So, many months ago I set my bodhisattva jaw and determined to help as best I could. The most daunting hurdle has been overcome – procuring a visa – and now there’s just one more: funding. The lama and I have reliable sponsors we can go to for special events like this; my translator does not. So I’m appealing to the collective compassionate heart of the DODR community and asking for your help in getting my translator an air ticket and a bit more beyond; we’ll be in the States maybe three weeks. I hope by now I’ve built up enough trust that you know I wouldn’t ask unless the dilemma were real and a small funding boost would produce a truly worthwhile result.

A gift of frequent-flyer miles is possible, but perhaps not ideal as the three of us really should fly together. The best would be a financial contribution. Tickets are less expensive than this time last year – about $1450-1500 – and if that could be padded a bit for incidental expenses, that would be wonderful. Of course, all three of us are looking in every direction for other funding sources, but I know the kindness of all of you here, and hoped you might be moved to help.

Please note the deadline’s a little tight! We probably will fly around March 20, and should purchase tix a couple weeks ahead of that.

Secure online donations may be made by clicking the Magic Garuda Button below (tax benefits apply for US citizens) – please type “MBRP Conference Support” in whatever note box appears on the form. But if you have other bright ideas or want to discuss details with me, please don't hesitate to write to: mongoliamonk at yahoo dot com. It’s also possible to make a pledge to honor sometime in the near future.

Thank you, thank you!

The Secret Life of Walter Kaufmann -- Updated

Brother Dhammika has such a great post today. In it, he quotes the philosopher Walter Kaufmann from 1958, imagining a dialogue between Satan and an atheist on the subject of Buddhism!

I'd never heard of Kaufmann, despite the fact that it seems we lived in the same town of Princeton, NJ, for 11 overlapping years. He was expounding on Nietzche; I was begging my mom for a skateboard. Strange we never met. Had you heard of him, or am I the only ignoramus around here? Wouldn't be the first time.

In any case, in researching a bit, I came across this in a list of Kaufmann Kwotes:

"The only theism worthy of our respect believes in God not because of the way the world is made but in spite of that. The only theism that is no less profound than the Buddha's atheism is that represented in the Bible by Job and Jeremiah."

Big stuff to talk about in a day or two. Stay tuned!

Update: Bhante hits one out of the park again today with a hysterical anecdote couched in a post about Buddhist mummies! Dig the one with the shades.

The Problem Is That I Love You

Oh, you just simply have not seen cute until you see 4-year old Capucine’s video appeal for books to fill a library for rural Mongolian schoolkids. Seriously. Yer gonna squeal and shriek, even if yer a feller. Tell me if I’m lying.

And then the credit card just flew into your hand, right? And you were powerless not to click the "Chip In" widget at the bottom and give a little something, right? I hope so, it’s a great cause. And did you click the t-shirt page and get one for yourself or someone else? Man, I would have. The most hilariously perfect, illustrated expression of the bodhisattva mind: “The problem is that I love you.” In French, men’s ringer, XL, tangerine. Except no one lets Konchog have a credit card anymore.

(Secretly, I want “The crocodile would eat the babies,” but it would take a good couple hours’ tortuous translation to explain to my Mongolian friends why that’s funny – or why such a thing is being sold to help Mongolian kids – and in the end they wouldn’t laugh and I’d be deported. I’m already under some suspicion for my tattoos.)

Discovered via Brother Radigan, who has inexplicably returned home to “America’s Mongolia,” North Dakota, when he had been somewhere gorgeous like the Yucatan or Belize or someplace.

V-Day: Invite Love In -- Updated x2

I don’t know if you have a friend like this – someone with whom you instantly clicked as soon as you met, “Oh, I know you. Yes, we’re family, so wonderful to see you again!”; warm, empathic, funny, generous and kind; and who, when most everyone else vanished, stuck right by your side in your darkest doldrums. I hope you do. I actually have a couple, and one’s named Tana. I can’t recall exactly when we met, but it’s all connected to HH Penor Rinpoche, whom we share as a lama.

 

Tana loves His Holiness more than just about anyone I know, and over the years she’s created with him the loveliest gift, which she now wants to share with you.

As a monk, I usually just breeze right by Valentine’s Day. Even before, the commercial artifice of the day worked my nerves. But this V-Day, I just might take up Tana’s offer of a date, and I encourage you to come along! Working closely with Penor Rinpoche, Tana’s composed the loveliest volume of progressive meditations entitled Invite Love In: Guided Meditations for A More Peaceful and Compassionate Mind, which will be published by Wisdom later this year. While they’re faithfully Buddhist in meaning, their language is non-denominational and accessible to anyone with a human heart.

Starting tomorrow, Sat. the 14^th, at 10am US EST, Tana’s offering the audio versions of the guided meditations in what she’s calling “Compassion Marathons,” in honor of Penor Rinpoche and his selfless life of love for others. Please trust me that Tana just has a way with these things – scan the details on how to participate at the Invite Love In site and spread the word! I think what you’ll discover is a touch more fulfilling than a chocolate sampler and a wilted rose.

Update: To accomodate the many overseas visitors to her site, who obviously live in different time zones, Tana has announced that, after the initial meditations have been posted (between 10am and 6pm, Sat., Feb. 14), she will leave them up until Sun., Feb. 15, 7am US EST, for those elsewhere on our little blue ball. Enjoy!

Update II: Did any of you try it? How was your experience? Please share in the comments.

The Hardest Hit -- Updated

OK, let’s shift our Wayback Machine into reverse and launch from the 17^th c. to the present moment, shall we? And onto our favorite subject: critters.

I don’t know what measures you might use to determine the relative civilization of a people, but for me one benchmark is the degree to which they treat animals with compassion. And based on this MSNBC article, Australians score high as a deeply humane and civilized people, and the love I already have for them just went up several notches.

Millions of animals perished (and are perishing) in Australia’s unprecedented wildfires, and human volunteers are trying their best to treat the injured ones that have survived, and those that cannot find sustenance on the newly-scorched landscape. These are the very forests I went birding in just last year. One of our Australian sangha members, dear Christine, sent along this photo called, with typical Australian cheekiness, Koala Aid:

The TLC just melts you, no? The article says that koala’s been named Sam, a girl, who’s apparently made fast buddies with a boy koala named Bob, quickly moving in with him at the shelter.

Update: Here's video.

Look at the lengths folks at Victoria’s Statewide Wildlife Rescue Emergency Service and many others are going to:

“Hundreds of burned, stressed and dehydrated animals — including kangaroos, koalas, lizards and birds — have already arrived at shelters across the scorched region. Rescuers have doled out antibiotics, pain relievers and fluids to the critters in a bid to keep them comfortable, but some of the severely injured were euthanized to spare any more suffering.

“’We've got a wallaby joey at the moment that has crispy fried ears because he stuck his head out of his mum's pouch and lost all his whiskers and cooked up his nose,’ [Wildlife Victoria president Jon] Rowdon said. ‘They're the ones your hearts really go out to.’

“In some of the hardest-hit areas, rescuers used vaporizing tents to help creatures whose lungs were burned by the searing heat and smoke.

“’There will probably be a significant number which probably can only be euthanized to end their suffering,’ Rowdon said. ‘And my heart goes out to the people who are given that task.’“

Vaporizing tents! Such kindness. Please consider throwing a few coins into Wildlife Victoria's basket to help them with their heroic work.

Closer to home, I’m so happy when I catch my kitties in a warm, yin-yang embrace like this (don’t you just love the sinuous line of Moojie’s long leg?).

At least these two are safe, but another brutal bout of weather is almost upon us. A Siberian snowstorm is thundering in tonight which will plunge tomorrow’s daytime highs to only -11F/-24C. The cold’s gonna sit on us for at least a week, with nighttime lows approaching -50F. Recent reports say that heavy snow and extreme cold this winter have already resulted in the deaths of at least 120,000 head of livestock; with this weather system, there are bound to be more. Good for the wolves, that’s about it.

All your prayers for the animals that have perished and are suffering in the extremes of our two hemispheres are really meaningful right now.

Migyur Dorje and the Mongolians II

Despite the tumbleweeds skittering through the abandoned comments section, I happen to find the mystical lives of 17^th c. Buddhist yogis in southeastern Tibet to be very interesting. And when you mix in Mongols, why, you’ve got my complete attention. So the rest of you will just have to sit through grandpa’s slide show a little while longer and, shoot, you just might learn you somethin’.

When last we left Terton Migyur Dorje, he was all of 16, having just completed four years of retreat with Karma Chagmed Rinpoche. He’s wandering through Kham, revealing sacred practice places, and Mongols seem to make up a significant percentage of the itinerant population. Another fascinating aspect of Karma Chagmed’s biography of Migyur Dorje is his frank discussion of the proliferation of “false tertons,” those trying to sneak in a name for themselves in the shadows of the authentic channels for Padmasambhava’s revelations. All come together in Part II of our story:

“On another occasion, twenty noblemen came from Mongolia and confronted [Migyur Dorje]: ‘The Tibetans say you are the Great Orgyen (Padmasambhava) in person. Show us the signs of your accomplishment as a support for faith.’ The terton replied:

The Great Orgyen himself will not come now;

I am a terton that he has prophesied.

I have no signs of accomplishment worthy to support your faith

But I will open this sacred place.

“Hearing this, their faith blossomed; they received an empowerment and also kago (a ritual for getting rid of demons).

“The terton told them the following story. In order to suppress the forces of evil spirits and rakshasas (human-eating demons!), Orgyen Padmasambhava built a black stupa made of baked earth in this sacred place. Two years earlier, on a day of clear skies, an inauthentic terton came and senselessly removed the precious substances from within the stupa. Darkness immediately fell over the entire area and a fierce storm gusted, obscuring the path for everyone. In the middle of an open field, the furious wind blew up a rain of rocks the size of soup bowls. For a long time afterwards, thunderstorms nearly destroyed the houses of Datoed. Fiery hailstorms also occurred, an inauspicious sign. Epidemics followed this terton wherever he went. Many people where he stayed suffered diseases such as madness and paralysis. When he performed protective rituals to ward off the obstacles, the situation became even worse.

“Terton Migyur Dorje saw that great harm had come to the local people from this evil man’s deeds of destroying and removing what was inside the stupa and smashing the beautiful casket-shaped rock Guru Rinpoche had crafted to conceal a guidebook to the treasures. He thought the community would benefit greatly if he restored and re-consecrated the stupa. The Great Ogryen himself used his dharma robes to bring the slate from the land of the nagas to help the terton rebuild the black stupa. The slate was unique – white inside and black outside. Unable to find either black earth or good clay, the terton revealed black earth as a treasure and filled the stupa with many kinds of precious gems and samaya substances as well as a wish-fulfilling tree that he revealed as a mind treasure. Thus he restored the stupa and re-consecrated it after hoisting many flags of Mongolia and Tibet.

“The noblemen all lived in fear of this false terton, and although many people asked Terton Migyur Dorje about him, he said nothing insulting. He simply commented, ‘The rock he destroyed was the ornament of the place, but did not contain the treasure casket, which could be either below, or to the right or left of it.’ After he left, the false terton heard what he said, broke the rock into pieces, burnt them, and ground the remains into powder. After throwing the rock powder in the water, he dug the earth where the rock had rested.

“The Mongolian noblemen approached the false terton, saying, ‘Yesterday Terton Migyur Dorje came, opened the sacred place, and revealed many wonderful self-originated objects. If you are like him, show us such things or reveal treasures in front of us. Otherwise, we will destroy your home.’ I heard that the ‘terton’ ran away that night, and that everyone living there, both monks and lay persons of Tibet and Mongolia , stable in their deep faith in the terton, served and made offerings to his monk followers with great respect, welcoming them and bidding them farewell whenever they visited.”

p.108-9

Later, Karma Chagmed recounts different stories of false tertons, and we learn of the peril in trying to put one over on the Mongols:

“Once a small boy vanished from Chakmo Hor (‘Hor’ is another Tibetan word for ‘Mongolia’). After many years his appearance changed, with his face darkening, and he claimed to know about different places and homes through clairvoyance. Shamelessly he deceived everyone, claiming to be an emanation of Orgyen Pema named Ratna Lingpa. Whenever he encountered a beautiful woman, he said she was Yeshe Tsogyal (Padmasambhava’s spiritual consort) and took her away. He collected hundreds of offerings from Dege before Dudul Dorje revealed his falsity. Two months later he was captured and handed over to the Mongol King. After some time, he was killed out of contempt.”

p. 156

This fantastic liberation story of Terton Migyur Dorje is available online from UK/Euro and US distributors.

Migyur Dorje and the Mongolians I

No, that’s not the name of my new band’s first album. It’s a title I’m delighted to be able to use, because often Tibetan Buddhist histories, I’m told by somewhat disgruntled locals, ignore or underplay the roles of Mongolians, even when they’ve distinguished themselves in Tibet as exalted scholars or meditators, or even as the abbots of major monasteries.

The newly-translated biography of Terton Migyur Dorje (UK/Europe, US) reverses this trend somewhat and provides some clues to something for which I’ve been searching high and low these past four years – links between his revelations and the evolution of Mongolian Buddhism. The only whiff I’d had so far was a short practice text from Migyur Dorje’s Nam Chö cycle in the preserved collection of scriptures that had belonged to our hero, Danzan Ravjaa.

The following passage describes Mongols as active disciples and patrons of Migyur Dorje, and reveals more of a commingling in the Tibetan region of Kham than I realized. It’s especially surprising since most orthodox histories portray the Mongols as going whole hog for the Gelugpa system, hardly mentioning the Nyingmapa except for some disparaging asides. But this was a volatile time, as the Manchus had just consolidated the Qing dynasty, declaring it open for business in 1644, just one year before Migyur Dorje’s birth. Their imperial patronage of the Gelugpa and subsequent influence following their conquering of Mongolia were still a few years off.

This also gives a taste of the incredible mystical world Migyur Dorje inhabited, as part of a long chapter describing the ways in which he pinpointed sacred locations specially blessed for dharma practice and revealed them for the beneficial use of others. At age sixteen. Think back to what you were doing at sixteen. I was working at Burger King:

“Reaching the age of sixteen, [Terton Migyur Dorje] spent a day at Chamgyi Shor and that night dreamed of a woman with a shining black braid who told him: ‘You should be my lord. I have a good place I must hand over to you. Since it belongs to you, won’t you come and see it?’ The night Migyur Dorje approached the western land of Kumbum, the same woman appeared in his dream and said:

Tomorrow when you go to my place, carry weapons

Since unruly gods and demons will attack you on the way.

You will also meet someone with a mustache wearing a seal as a locket;

As an auspicious sign, for three days eat nothing from his hand.

I come from the region of Chijam.

“In his dream the terton asked: ‘Do you usually stay at that place?’ and the woman replied, ‘No, I do not, but when we heard you were coming many of us gathered and are about to make a tsok offering to you.’ The next morning, a few people came and offered the terton butter, but as advised in the dream he did not eat it for three days. As an auspicious sign, he did visualization practice and saw in his meditative experience that he overcame conflicts created by the gods and demons. He next approached a place called Kyodrag Kyokho where he had a vision of innumerable dakinis dancing, filling the entire area. Gradually he revealed the sacred places and their self-arisen sacred objects, having many miraculous visions of deities, including the Great Orgyen (Padmasambhava).

“Entering the cave of Senge Namchöng, he spent a day and slept there, seeing Orgyen Rinpoche in person, his right hand brandishing in the sky a vajra tipped with the syllable AH. The same night, he dreamed of a beautiful lady ornamented with precious jewels who gave him a skull cup filled with nectar. Making a sang and tsog offering, the terton created an auspicious circumstance. At the hill called Garze Changjang to the right of Datoed Chijam near the white rock of Senge Namchöng, he showed extremely wonderful images – the six syllables (Om Mani Padme Hung), footprints [in the solid rock] and other things – that were previously unknown. He went to Nyima Cave, a place of accomplishment of the Great Orgyen, saw Guru Rinpoche in person and showed his companions several spectacular self-arisen objects.

“The terton pointed his finger toward places he could not himself go and, giving detailed descriptions, commanded: ‘Go there! You will find self-manifested images of deities, letters, footprints and other wonders.’ Following his words, the Tibetans and Mongolians accompanying him went where he indicated; finding everything as he had foretold, they were overjoyed. Among them was a leader of many Mongolian regions who was supporting him in establishing a translation school [man, I’d like to know more about this! – ed.]. The leader told the terton that many masters had visited the place without showing any self-manifested objects, and he wondered why they had not spoken about them. ‘Did they purposefully refuse to speak out of ill will, or were they simply ignorant?’ he asked. [The terton replied,] ‘If they knew nothing, how were they any different from me?’ He developed great devotion and respect for the terton.”

(pp. 106-7)

Tomorrow: Part II!

Tragedy and Treasure

Pleas coming in on the teletype from Brother Lungtog, Sister Tenzin and others of my dear ones in Melbourne, Australia that we direct our positive attention and prayers in their scorched direction. Most of you have probably heard that they have just endured their hottest temps ever, peaking at 117F/47C on Saturday. Lungtog was forced to seek shelter elsewhere, his flat, along with so many others in the area, without AC and simply becoming a large crock pot. Explosive wildfires have been catastrophic and shockingly deadly; in dedicating good wishes, please don’t forget the countless critters large and small who were also unable to escape.

Here in Ulaanbaatar, conversely, we’ve had a bit of a respite. Temps this week have almost grazed the freezing mark, an occurrence unfelt since Nov. 21; actually ventured out today without my woolies. But I see that Mother Siberia merely has us on a rope-a-dope. Her icy hammer’s gonna slam down again by next weekend, perhaps wreaking havoc with my Valentine’s Day plans.

No matter. I’ve been content in my crib, since Ani Aileen shot straight to the top of my BFF list by dispatching some crucial reading material. Out from the slightly mangled packing, like a fresh pea from its pod, popped the newly-translated “outer liberation story” of Terton Migyur Dorje (UK/Euro site, US site), sporting one of those subtle Tibetan titles: “The All-Pervading Melodious Sound of Thunder.” I bolted the door, clicked the cell to silent, and immersed myself in the deepest mystical corners of the 17^th c. for two straight days.

A “terton” is a very special being, but I’m not sure I really got how very special until I read this text. The term means “treasure revealer.” The treasures in question are the unfathomable spiritual legacy of Padmasambhava, or Guru Rinpoche as he’s more familiarly known, the Indian Tantric Buddhist master invited by the Tibetan king to plant the sublime dharma in his land in the 8^th c. Guru Rinpoche propagated the teachings and practices appropriate for the people of that time. With a Buddha’s limitless vision, however, he saw that the majority of the teachings, sacred objects and substances, and blessed, hidden retreat sites that he was aware of or created would bring greater benefit to generations far in the future. Aided primarily by his spiritual consort Yeshe Tsogyal, Guru Rinpoche concealed these treasures – called terma by the Tibetans – all across Tibet. He then blessed his 25 closest disciples in such a way that they would awaken their inner potential in future incarnations and serve as discoverers of these treasures (Migyur Dorje was said to be the incarnation of Shubu Palgyi Senge). This constant refreshing of the most profound inner tantra began in the 11^th c. and continues to the present day. One living terton, the incomparable Khenpo Jigme Phuntsok, was my ordaining lama.

A certain class of terton is more unusual still. These receive the majority of Guru Rinpoche’s revelations in “pure visions,” where buddhas and other enlightened deities appear and transmit the teachings directly to the terton’s mind. Migyur Dorje was such a terton. And what’s more, nearly all his visionary experience occurred when he was still a child; he only lived to age 23.

From the ages of 11 to 14, Migyur Dorje went into retreat with one of the greatest masters of the day, Karma Chagmed Rinpoche, the biography’s author. During that time Migyur Dorje occupied what for us seems an almost inconceivable universe. He experienced near-daily visions of buddhas, bodhisattvas, deities, protectors, dakinis, local spirits (some benign, some decidedly not), etc., etc., most of whom related to him the most subtle, esoteric teachings known in this world. Migyur Dorje would narrate or recall (and sometimes draw) what arose in his mind and Karma Chagmed served as scribe. Now these writings fill 13 large volumes and are known as the Nam Chö, Dharma from the Space of Awareness.

The Nam Chö system of inner tantric practice was primarily upheld by Palyul Monastery. And somehow, 350 years later, it was the encounter with these teachings and their extraordinary lineage lamas, that switched the lights on for this smartmouth punk from New Jersey. Migyur Dorje’s short Amitabha practice is the first I ever received in this life, direct from the incarnation of one of his close disciples, Jetsunma Ahkon Lhamo, in 1990. And just this afternoon, I led a chant of that very same practice with a group of Mongolians in an Ulaanbaatar temple. How strange and unpredictable this world is.

I absorbed this liberation story with genuine awe. Not only is Migyur Dorje’s history virtually beyond parallel, but I found myself moved to tears by the humility with which Karma Chagmed described it. He also brought in a stunning breadth of knowledge, interweaving some details of related subject matter that I had never encountered anywhere else before. From the translators' introduction:

"The namthar [liberation story] is not only the tale of one extraordinary terton, revealing as it does – through anecdotes, letters, poetry, visions and dreams – the deep personal relationship that existed between two great masters...[i]t also contains considerable information on the nature of liberation stories themselves, how authentic tertons and tulkus [reincarnate lamas] can be identified, the importance and significance of treasure teachings and sacred places, the nature of the guru-disciple relationship and other crucial topics. The text is further graced with a wealth of stories of many other tertons, prophecies by Guru Rinpoche and other masters, as well as insights into the daily life and times of some of the great practitioners of 17th century Kham."

Now I’m going back to read it again, carefully.

Tomorrow: Migyur Dorje and the Mongolians!

Like Sand Through The Hourglass...

I know, I know. We'll be with you shortly. In the meantime, via The Horse:

Wrestling with Auntie Beeb

The BBC has been earning DODR accolades of late, since your gentle author has been enjoying the heck out of their incomparable Planet Earth series. Last night I absorbed Episode 8: Jungles, and literally yelped at the screen during the time-lapse exploration of the fungi on the jungle floor. Think that ain’t compelling? Think again.

And if you aim to develop compassion for the myriad ways in which critters suffer in their various incarnations, consider the parasitic cordyceps fungi. Their spores attach to and infect unhappy insects like the bullet ant (whose own claim to fame, by the way, is the most painful sting on earth – I’m quite glad I wasn’t born into the Brazilian jungle tribes whose adolescent males, in initiation rites, must thrust their hands into gloves filed with them), drive them mad, kill them, and grow out of the corpse’s nutrients. Has to be seen to be believed. The Chinese, of course, eat them. Dig the money quote from this page: “Today the most common way to prepare the caterpillar fungus is to stuff a duck with the caterpillar fungus then after boiling the duck in hot water, patients drink the liquid.” Hey now. Make mine a double!

So. Props to the BBC for that. But now I have to get a little crabby with them.

I just ran across their recent dispatch entitled “Wrestling and Faith in Mongolia,” a singularly shabby piece of journalism.

First off, a pet peeve. The Beeb and many others persist in using the Russian spelling Ulan Bator for the capital city, encouraging its complete mispronunciation. It’s Ulaanbaatar. A herder in his narrative is named Boldbaatar; he doesn’t write it Bold Bator. (And don’t even get me started on the papers that still call the Dalai Lama a “god-king.” Oy gevalt.)

Anyway, the piece is supposedly about the resurgence and introduction of various faiths in Mongolia's post-Communist spiritual vacuum. Fair enough, an interesting topic. But then it narrowly and uncritically focuses on Christian charity, throws in a bit on Mongolian wrestling for no reason I could discern, and then, at the very end, tacks this on about Buddhism under the presumably un-ironic header “Path to happiness”:

“Buddhism, imported to Mongolia by its 16th Century rulers, became the national religion.

"Before a ruthless communist purge in the 1920s, half the male population were Buddhist monks.

"But Puje Chinggis claims the future is Christian. Buddhism told people they must suffer well and earn a better future life.

"He said Mongolians, crushed by economic and social chaos, preferred the Christian acceptance of their inherent badness.

"Puje insists that hope is the ingredient in greatest demand in Mongolia. Christianity, practical and adaptable as it has proved to be, may be one way of providing it.”

Savor that line again: “He said Mongolians, crushed by economic and social chaos, preferred the Christian acceptance of their inherent badness.”

Nevermind that the whole thing paints Mongolians as moral children, but is hope truly found in acceptance of one’s “inherent badness”? If that’s true (and most sane Christians would argue that’s not at all Christ’s gospel), then hope would actually be found in a correct understanding of Mongolia’s ancestral religion, Buddhism.

The Buddha did not at all tell people “they must suffer well and earn a better future life.” The Buddha taught the precise causes of suffering – misapprehension of reality and the consequent grasping at impermanent things to try to extract stable happiness – and that there was a state beyond suffering. This we call enlightenment, a state anyone could experience if they followed the path of personal ethics and mind training he described that led away from the causes of suffering. He taught that all beings had this potential. Why? Because of our inherent goodness, our indwelling enlightened nature.

And as I taught our study group yesterday (many new people came, it was great), Mongolians were one of the few peoples on the planet astute enough to recognize the qualities of Vajrayana Buddhism, the Buddha’s most subtle teachings for swiftly achieving complete enlightenment, even in one lifetime. I pointed out that these teaching began transforming Mongolian culture about 800 years ago while Westerners had only begun serious exploration about 40 years ago. Who was smarter?

Then the wrestling thing. Just a wee bit more digging on the journalist’s part might have uncovered that Mongolia’s top wrestlers – their rock stars – are quite enthusiastically Buddhist. They’ve formed an organization that, among other activities, provided most of the sponsorship for HH the Dalai Lama’s 2006 visit, allowing all events to be free to the public.

La lucha continua.