Yogins of Ladakh: A Pilgrimage Among the Hermits of the Buddhist Himalayas. By John Crook and James Low

Amazing book. Fascinating material. Powerful travelogue and strong insight into the path.

Om mane padme hum

Excerpts and Commentary

A modern Rimpoche

example of rimpoche who wants meditation training

It seemed clear to me that this intelligent young man had been provoked into asking these questions partly by his training in English and Western ways at school. The new generation of young lamas has a hard task of integration to perform. There is certainly room for two way traffic here: a comprehension of the Western mind will be as important for the new generation of lama teachers as their own tradition must be.

…

Praxis rather than just theory is what is valuable

"Yet," responded James, "We would have again to enquire into why that cognitive psychologist should wish to make an abstract model of the process of therapy. Why this concern with distant enquiry? If his endeavour is not oriented to developing the process of therapy in himself, then I might argue that it is pointless, a waste of time. It is not doing anything. It just provides more of what the Tibetans call 'nam-tok', illusory intellection which may intrigue or even seduce people but which does not actually help to develop human well-being in the world.

"Of course, this abstract level of understanding also occurs within the Dhartna, but it is strongly frowned upon by those who actually meditate themselves. As we are finding out on our journey, this is one of the differences between the 'teaching' and the 'practice' orders of Tibetan Buddhism. It is the basis of the classical Nyingma critique of much of Gelugpa scholarship. Such scholarship may be very elegant and refined, insightful in its way, but so long as it remains on the abstract level alone it generates no actual experiential understanding and cannot therefore produce real changes in human existence. It is like doing computer modelling of the rain forest system while the loggers are taking out the trees. It is a waste of time in that it gives little power to living more positively or creatively."

…

Importance of ethics

The logic for this is straightforward: suffering arises from the craving for permanent well-being derived from the fear of death, harm or social diminishment of the self.

Impermanence is an intrinsic property of all things so this ache after permanence is simply ignorance. The cherishing of self is thus the root of suffering and renunciation of self enhancement and the acceptance of impermanence is therefore the first step on the path.

The second step is the training in ethical behaviour, the purification of past mistakes and the generation of good acts. Tibetan Buddhists believe that this accumulation of merit ensures a rebirth as a human so that the work can continue life after life until the goal is reached.

The third step is to calm the mind through meditation and then, through insight, to perceive its essential nature.

The root basis of ignorance, is then disclosed - a belief in the inherent thingness of things. The seeming solidity of their appearances is seen to be a mistake. A full comprehension of the underlying 'emptiness' requires not only philosophical training, intellectual debate and the memorisation of doctrine but also the non-conceptual insight that arises in the meditative actualisation of the teachings. Emptiness has not only to be conceptually understood but also experienced.

Embody the teachings. Do not get lost in intellectualising

James remarked that it was difficult to sustain a calm mind in the marketplace. "Are you not interested in what is going on in the market place?" responded the geshe. "If you are in the market, what are you there for?" This Zen-like question remained, as it were, on the table. Several times we were to return to it, pondering in what way his example had relevance to a modern lay person, whether in East or West.

Geshe-la had a delightful presence, warm and sympathetic to us and to the people in whose house he was and to other villagers who called. He was clearly greatly loved. He seemed to be one with nothing to hide: quite relaxed in his own realisation, he knew exactly what he was talking about. His emphasis was on the gradual development of compassion. For him, dharma should be about real things: the everyday suffering and concerns of people and how to live through them with dharma understanding.

Tashi remarked that when he had met Geshe-la some years ago he had been sickly whereas today he seemed robust in his middle age. Geshe-la agreed with this, saying that a real change had come about as a result of his practice.

Through practising calming the mind over a long period of time, his body, which had been painful, had now become soft and blissful and this blissful state had fed back into his meditation allowing it to develop further. These states and meditation were now working together, developing into an upward cycle.

Since James had met many teachers in his time I later asked him, so far as it was possible, how he would rate the geshe. James said he would rate him very highly.

"He was so relaxed and, although he said he was still often in retreat to maintain his practice, it was obvious that he had actually attained something. He had found something for himself and on the basis of that was able to reach out to other people. He was not just giving us some intellectual presentation, he was really a living example of what he had been practising for many years."

He also compared favourably with various other Geshes I had met. These doctors of the dharma are always men of vast erudition, often with extraordinary memories trained to retain vast passages of scriptural and philosophical text, skilled in debate, great charmers, sophisticated, persuasive, polished, wonderful examples of the civilisation they represent. I recalled one exceptionally eminent scholar, elegant and poised wearing great dark glasses on all occasions, a pose of intellectual arrogance barely concealed behind the glistening smile. Another, a fine teacher, could retail every minute point and phrase of Shantideva's monumental scripture on compassion, every nook and cranny of the various hells and heavens was outlined in exquisite detail, but to what ultimate point was not so clear.

Yet another was retiring, shy, extremely kind yet lazy, preferring to do his own contemplations like a dormouse.

Sometimes rather dry in their intellectuality, rationalising the Dharma into a reasonableness that does not quite fit the chaos of the world, the geshes are rather like Oxbridge dons at the acme of their respectability and power. How wonderful it was therefore to find one who truly lived a life of compassion^ After meeting him, I was reminded of one occasion when I had been talking with another such accomplished teacher, Geshe Damchos Yontan, of the Lam-rim Centre in Wales. We had been discussing emptiness and the various complexities of meditative practice, the meanings to be given to experiences and so on. I was deeply into the problems of technique and realisation. After a while, he paused and looked at me.

"John," he said, "When were you last kind?"

…

They were extremely high; in a clearly altered state of consciousness they gazed blissfully at us and laughed merrily at everything. It was very infectious and we soon became aware of a great happiness pervading all. Glancing out of the window I could see nothing but sky.

Miles below us, it seemed, lay the whole length of Zangskar; way beyond Padum the Lungnak valley disappeared into its gorge and almost vertically below was the village of Sani and the square enclosure of the gompa.

The silver channels of the river meandered along the now darkening floor of the valley where a light or two appeared among the houses. We were suspended in still flight as if from a hang glider surrounded by unlimited space. It came into the little chamber to mingle with the blissful happiness there. After a while James began a soft chanting, the monks joining in. I sat in a quiet meditation wherein the peace of the room, the joy of the monks and the space outside all merged into one indescribable feeling.

His connection with guru Rimpoche and his own dharma practice

As time went by and we made several excursions, James and I were always thankful to return to our capacious room at Sani. Something was happening to us here for we found ourselves growing ever more peaceful and at home. Something was being learned, although it would have been difficult to say exactly what it was.

Our attraction to Sani was understandable for each of us had a strong feeling for the image of Guru Rimpoche. James, in particular, owing to his long acquaintance with Nyingma thought and practice, had a deep personal affection for him and the mysterious powers that stem from him, a profound protection of the spirit. I too had had encounters with the Guru which had been influential in my dharma practice.

The first lengthy retreat I ever attempted had been at Samye-Ling meditation centre in Scotland. It was a private retreat and I was sitting for hour-long periods in the shrine room for about eight hours a day. Every evening we had chanting and this included the mantra of Guru Rimpoche. I did not know what it was at the time but one night I awoke to find it going round and round in my head endlessly, giving me a deep repose. I woke myself up and wrote down the syllables to identify it. At the same time I was most attracted by a beautiful Tibetan scroll painting of a small boy seated on a lotus in a lake beaming a wonderful, all knowing, smile, hanging on the wall in the shrine room.

Again, I did not know who it was. When I discovered that both painting and mantra were of Guru Rimpoche it seemed clear that he had appointed himself as my yidam of meditational guardian.

Out on the moors one day I began chanting a mantra and experienced so powerful a sense of presence in the landscape that I had to stop. There was of course nothing there. When I began again I felt the presence once more. Since that time whenever I chant the mantra of the Guru, of which there are several versions for different occasions, it has a strong effect on the quality of my awareness. Later, I attended an empowerment given by the great Nyingma teacher, Dudjom Rimpoche, in London, which allowed me to practise the higher yoga associated with the Guru. All the reminders of the Guru at Sani could not but have a strong effect upon us both.

Peace of the Buddhist pastoral world

It starts with a ploughing song

Oh! You beautiful Yak! Please walk fast so that our fields will be quickly sown. Oh! You beautiful Yak! Your horns are so tall they reach the sky and your tail is very long. Please plough our fields quickly and then you can go to the high pastures and eat flowers sitting by the water on green grass. Oh! You beautiful Y ak !.15

Work is steady, relentless but unhurried, people taking it at a natural pace. There is time to stand and joke, or talk a little with passers by, to attend to children playing or asleep under a stack. Animals come and go grazing quietly, the dzo making the deep grunts characteristic of yaks. The cattle are completely at ease with the people in whose very houses they spend the winter. In the streets of the village, cows do not move out of the way or shy at one's approach. They know their rights. You can stand beside such an animal and feel its warm relaxed presence, its breathing, in a way that is quite impossible in England. Man and beast exist together here in a mutual bonding; the master is no bully and animals are not meat but sentient beings. Sometimes at night the dogs bark at a passing wolf.

Beautiful description of meditation

The little islands with their prayer flags reminded us that Guru Rimpoche was born on a lotus island in the middle of a lake. Beyond the pools the turf extends to the gravel banks bounding the river. The whole place is an oasis in the montane desert. In my diary I wrote:

"Meditation on the green turf beside the pools is sheer joy. The tranquillity of the place lets the mind slip easily into no-thought. There arises something essentially very simple:

with eyes shut bliss appears within; with eyes open there is a stone, a bird, a flag, the houses, mountains stand out sharp and clear. The skull is empty and air moves through the head. Identified with space itself, all sounds and sights are part of a consciousness that has no reference to self. This stillness, this spaciousness, this absence of thought is an unutterable beauty, a grace, a blessing. It is the no-mind of the guru, a final atonement or natural home from which there need be no willed departure for nothing else could possibly be wanted.

In Sani there is so little meditative effort needed. I just sit down and open myself in awareness and the rest follows -so simple it is difficult to realise how elsewhere with other energies or with an agitated mind unstilled by spirit of place, this point of inner stillness so often seems a far-off goal.

Here, below snow clad peaks, beside the tranquil pool, I have found what I came on this pilgrimage to find, a stillness of the mind simply reflecting what is - and that is beautiful. Every thought melts into silence - tracelessly."17

9 A HOME OF ANCIENT YOGINS

Poem by author

Beautiful.

There is no path no need for dependency, only time and the pattern o f time unfolding.

In letting the winds o f time blow this old corpse along the everyday becomes indeed the eternal.

Checkmate: the mind of no mind

This is a crucial section of the book.

There is some critique of the surrender to mysticism, however much to be said for it and an amazing section.

Checkmate

One evening James and I reflected on the progress of our research. We had to admit that, although we were gathering shreds and patches of information, we seemed to be getting nowhere with our central quest. What was the psychology that lay at the basis of the yogin's practice? I suggested that perhaps we could question our two friends in a more systematic manner. Since they had trained so much in all the yogas, they would surely be able to give us a rational account of the philosophy and psychology behind it.

I was becoming a little restless at the way the Drugpa Kargyu monks were so adept at ducking and weaving, never coming straight out with what they were doing in meditation nor with the central ideas that formed the basis for practice.

They were adepts at a special sort of mystification implying that another teacher along the line knew better than they and that perhaps we should go and find him. Since detailed accounts of both practice and theory can be found in books, including a number of masterful translations into English, what I wanted to know and witness was how all this was working out on the ground in the day to day life of the monks. What was the everyday import of all those words?

The fact that I cared for actual practice seemed to make our monkish friends even more elusive and I was arrogant enough to feel that my own training and that of James was worthy of greater frankness and sharing. We decided that during our next session with them we would ask a searching question and see where it got us.

We arrived at the gompa and this time Nochung Tse invited us into his room for tea. We settled in around the stove and were soon sipping from the hot cupfuls in our hands. We were talking about this and that when James said:

"John and I have been talking about the mind and the yogin's path to understanding. We want to ask you what you understand by mind. Could you tell us how it should be understood?"

Both our friends seemed to freeze in their tracks and there was a complete silence. Nochung Tse picked up his Mani wheel and began intoning "OM MANI PADME HUM—OM MANI PADME HUM" in a loud voice with his eyes closed. Gonpo looked extremely uncomfortable.

For a while he rocked from side to side as if trying to make up his mind. Then he said:

"Since you two have had the great benefit of training in meditation, why don't you go and do it. Then you would have no need to ask such a stupid question!"

I was stunned by this response. I felt profoundly reprimanded and the shock registered in my guts. I also had a sudden insight into the nature of my mistake and felt quite uncommonly foolish. How indeed could mere talk reveal anything of the depths of a lifetime's practice? What arrogance to suppose that such a precious secret could be disclosed in a conversation over beer or tea!

Nochung Tse was gone beyond recall but Gonpo then began to ease our embarrassment. We talked of other subjects and gradually regained our composure. We were staying the night in a small cell in the gompa. After supper, when it was quite dark, there came a soft almost secretive knock on the door. It was Gonpo. We welcomed him warmly and in he came, remarking on the deepening autumnal cold, and sat down to have a drink with us. In a soft and urgent voice he began speaking to James. He continued for about an hour and then went quietly away, almost conspiratorially.

I asked James what he had been saying. James said it was all very difficult. Gonpo had been speaking so quietly that the words were difficult to hear, and slurred in his heavy Zangskari accent; besides he had been well loaded with chang. James had understood almost nothing.10 Yet the sense of what Gonpo had attempted was with us and we felt grateful. He had been telling us about his own training, about the importance of the guru, of proper preliminary practices, of building up insight and calm, of the different yogas in which he had trained. His message was clear. 'If you wish to understand the Drugpa Kargyu path you need to go and do likewise. Talking about such things gets nowhere. Only practice in the heart of meditation does anything. Only in this way can you discover that all talk of the mind is illusion.

Only through direct knowing can you understand. The Kargyu way is instruction through practice. It is a practice sect not a teaching sect. Theory and talk is the business of the Gelugpa. We are in the business of transformative action. You don't have to understand it. You learn to do it.

That is the essence of our culture.'

Furthermore, we understood that for him to say even this much was taking him to the very edge of his commitment to sectarian secrecy. That was why he was so cautious and conspiratorial. He had done all he could to tell us what he knew and we loved him for it.

I awoke at first light and sat outside on the little balcony.

An immense view opened before me. The sunlight was striking the far side of the Zangskar valley and the cold shadows of the night were withdrawing. I watched the line of shadow as it crept ever nearer the sleeping town below, until it reached the roof of the Gyalpo's house. The valley was changing from leaden grey to gold, a palpable warmth was rising towards me and distant cocks were crowing.

Contemplating the events of the preceding day, I saw that the requirements of our project for an intellectual outcome had been blinding me to the subtle process of change that I had undergone in Zangskar. Walking in the mountains, adventuring across rivers and down cliffs, sitting in the calm of groves and pools, talking with these old men and sipping their chang, I had been learning something about myself and my inner world, letting go into that vast space that lies below all mental imaging. The need to theorise and to treat the yogins as objective sources of 'information' was the cause of a characteristic Western mistake. Only through participation can the yogic secrets be understood: the yogins could not tell them to me. Yet the participation need not be strictly by following their particular path; it needed simply the proper balancing of a meditative mind within their sphere of operations. By insisting on framing those operations with terms, definitions and the structure of discourse, we had almost lost contact with our friends. Over the cup of chang in the silence of sunlight what else had there been to be known?

I also realised that the whole trend of the yogin's thought as we had heard it revealed a preoccupation not with a model of mind, but with a model of illusion. The yogins had spoken hardly at all about the mind. Their whole focus had been on illusion and the clarification of illusion. Our own reification of 'mind' was our undoing here, for the dispelling of illusion does not reveal the mind. What it does reveal cannot actually be said.

The stillness over the wide valley absorbed the distant sounds of the crowing cocks, an occasional shout to an animal, and so too did it absorb all thought. That mind, which is nothing other than the product of thought, was stilled and emptied into bare awareness,11 a consciousness without a self-reflecting reference creating a thinking entity apart from the objects of sense. Such awareness simply mirrors that which arrives through the doors of sense. If I let such an awareness arise but neither define it nor place it anywhere what then is discovered?

This is a way of talking about calming the mind and seeing its nature. With the mind so calmed that all it does is to mirror, one finds that its nature is none other than the mirroring. There is nothing else, no essence, simply existence. This seems to be the root of being, the continuous monitoring of that which is presented. It is, as the great Japanese Zen teacher Dogen has said,"being-time."12

It seemed clear to me that the quality of insight which Buddhists call prajna arises when awareness focuses on itself without any discriminating thought to separate subject from object. This then is the direct apperception of minding, or, if you must have a noun, the 'mind'. If such a state is strong and clear, then thoughts, or dreams indeed, arise and float through without attachment or rejection. They are simply memories, karmic residues, working through the patterns of the past. To the great space through which they move they have no relevance. They are like "writing on w ater"13. Prajna is not unconscious but rather an open awareness of awareness that flows within the time of its own being. This emptiness of self is active-being-known, not absence but alert presence. As the world comes in, there appear "light rays of affection and wisdom"; memory sparks associations giving rise to gratitude, insight and love. And from these there comes a feeling of bliss, for everything is as it is. How marvellous to be here !

11 The Precious Jewel of Pipka

Developing a calm mind takes dedicated practice over a long time

"Patience is needed," Sonam Dorje began. "You know it takes quite a long time to establish a real calmness in the mind. For example, if you begin with four hours of meditation you may be able to achieve a calm mind only for one of them. As you go on, however, you will be able to calm the mind for two or maybe three hours. Finally you will be able to sit without disturbance for the whole period.4 This may take months or years to achieve. Yet, once it is achieved, you can go on to develop some sort of clarity inside the calmness using the practices of insight5. This too takes a long time and for busy people it is not at all easy."

"When you practise it is important to be able to see your difficulties clearly. This is especially important for a lay practitioner. If you have no idea where your problems lie, then you waste a lot of time. If you can identify your problems you can often set them aside and go more deeply into the direct observation of the quietened mind."

Becoming a monk when old is hard

Amchi has five children and his son was the tourist officer for the valley. In 1981 his wife had died followed soon afterwards by his father. His mother had separated from his father soon after the latter had taken a younger woman as second wife. With his knowledge of such a history, Amchi decided not to marry again when his own wife died. Instead, he went to Bodhgaya for the Kalacakra initiation given by the Dalai Lama and decided to become a monk. When we met him again in 1986 he was, at fifty two, a full fledged monk in the gompa of his home village with the religious name Tenzing Rinchen.

Becoming a monk at such an age and with so high a reputation is no easy matter. In the monasteries, seniority goes by years in the community so that Amchi now found himself a very junior individual. He was prepared to work with this for the sake of the dharma but he did not hide from us his personal difficulties. He frequently visited the Gyalpo's house because his sister was Puntzog Dawa’s wife.

Manali

Simpler dharma needed for non monastics

Very interesting and direct relation to mindfulness movement. Mindfulness is just the beginning …

We began discussing the value of Buddhism for the lay people of Ladakh who were now receiving Western education in Indian universities becoming engineers, bank managers, army officers or taxi drivers. Rimpoche remarked that a basic understanding of the fundamental teachings of the Buddha, especially the Four Noble Truths, would be of more value than complex initiations into elaborate rites which only monks had the time to perform.

Similarly he felt that, rather than complex mind analysis or visualisation, the Westernised Ladakhi would do better to learn simple mind calming meditations and practical kindliness. It was not that he did not value these ancient traditions but they were essentially oriented to monastic life and in a busy world something more basic and practical was needed.

Challenges for reincarnation story

Rimpoche told us that he himself had not received training in the higher yogas of his order.

"It is difficult when one is said to be the reincarnation of a great lama, a tulku. People believe that you automatically know all these things, that you are reborn with all the great insights and practices of the former man. Actually this is not at all so. Such a person, myself for example, needs to learn such things anew in every lifetime. It is perhaps only the inclination towards such a life that is implanted. My own practices are quite simple. My history in this life has not allowed great spiritual advancement," he said, smiling ruefully.

We spoke of Western Buddhism and he told us that the tendency to create large organisations with a high lama as the guru was typically Western and possibly detrimental to real understanding. The true guru-chela relationship is between two people who get to know one another intimately.

Western discipleship of a remote globe-trotting figure of fame is not the same thing at all. Indeed it may be quite misleading, giving rise to personality cults and attributions of charisma of a purely mythical nature. In addition, in such a case, the disciple can be of little use to the guru. It is important that the disciple should be free to be critical from his side within his devotion and to share his feelings with his teacher. In this way the teacher keeps in touch with his own defects. If he is a figure of fame with merely shallow relationships with disciples a teacher may get delusions of grandeur. He may even begin to exploit the devotion of his followers in ways that can actually bring the dharma into disrepute.2 If the teacher retains an anchorage within his own tradition, his fellow monks will keep him in order, but some of the teachers in the West have cut this connection and gone flying off on their own. That was dangerous, especially when they may have substituted fluency in Western culture for an in-depth understanding of Tibetan meditative practice.

Imagine he may be thinking of Chogyam Trungpa here.

Though footnote 2 reads

^Note that Zhabdrung Rimpoche was speaking well before the exposure of serious personal defects in certain Asian teachers and their w estern initiates led to the contemporary debates on these issues.

Very interesting point re praxis

Re need for Praxis ie practising not just theorising.

"As you know, we emphasise the focus on practice. This text is a foundation for practical instruction. It is not a theoretical disquisition. It is not a description. Scholars deal with the latter and are not usually attempting to practise what they read. Yet, without direct experience, scholarship is meaningless, especially to the scholar who begins to have certain misapprehensions about himself. We already have too much of it in the Tibetan world, words words, little intuitive understanding. This is merely Tipun's memo pad, he used it to remind himself of themes he wished to use in passing basic instructions in mindfulness to his pupils.

Without such a personal context the text is barely meaningful. It only gains meaning in the hands of an instructor who is in a direct relationship with a trainee and who is a fine practitioner himself."

"To publish this work for the uninitiated may merely plunge them into confusion. The secrecy of such texts is often best sustained. Already it is possible that the huge numbers of translations that fill your learned libraries in the West are merely sources of error rather than enlightenment.

People get so easily attached to what they feel is fundamental doctrine, roots of authority which they misconceive as truth itself. You know there is no fundamental doctrine - only words descriptive of it. The thing in itself is beyond all that.

Mysterious texts in the minds of amateurs can hardly open the doors of insight into emptiness!"

It continues

Gegen Khyentse perceived my need to make use of that with which I had been entrusted. While pressing his viewpoint, he knew well that in the teaching traditions of Tibet theoretical works were regularly used to support practical instruction in the dharma.

"Khamtag Rimpoche was a junior member of our group. I am not sure he really had an authority to let you see this text, let alone translate it. However, I cari respect his good intentions in these times when so much of our tradition has gone to dust. He knew, as I do, that all the monasteries of Tipun have been destroyed by the Chinese. Some followers of Tipun were stoned to death or killed in various ways. Those who escaped to India have all suffered.

Naturally there is a feeling that it is important to transfer what we know to those who express sincere interest. The meaning is clear. It is now you who inherit this problem.

You may fulfil Khamtag's intention but you should consider whether it is really beneficial for others to do so. You need to consider very carefully in what way such a text may be translated. You need to find a way by which the intimacy of the transmissions of our order is respected. It is your problem now. Of course I wish you both well."

James and I returned to our hotel in thoughtful mood. A responsibility had been laid upon us that needed careful consideration. We left India without having resolved this issue yet filled with memories of remarkable men whom we had come to love, admire and deeply respect. We had something to say, we both knew. We would have to find out how to say it. The wind in the high peaks clears the mind;

sometimes a vast emptiness brings a bliss that goes beyond all knowing. Now we were returning to a lower world. What were we to do with that which in some wordless way we had come to understand? We were returning with another question. The ones with which we had set out had largely disappeared.