Ever Here Now

Warm Winter Boots

2021-02-14T10:22:00.000+05:30

In the winter of 1990/1991, Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche spent the entire cold season in Bodhgaya.

He had arrived there even before I did and was comfortably installed in some large ground floor rooms in Beru Khyentse's monastery on the outskirts of the sacred Buddhist town.

It was still early in the winter season and not as crowded as it would surely become in the weeks and months ahead so I was fortunate to find a room in Beru Khyentse's monastery just doors away from where Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche was staying.

No two winter seasons were ever alike in Bodhgaya. I must have spent at least ten winters there and each time I was there I had very different and powerful learning and even life-changing experiences.

I distinctly remember that the mood that particular winter was in some ways a very subdued one. Khyentse Rinpoche was not in robust health. Despite this, however, he began to give an important (for the Longchen Nyingtik lineage) cycle of teaching transmissions and empowerments to the students, monks and visiting Lamas who had gathered to receive them.

Where ever he was Khyentse Rinpoche always had a very busy schedule even if he never left his seat or his room. His days were filled with the buzz of endless comings and goings. But during that particular winter, we started to notice changes to the way things were usually happening around him.

Several new rules were announced which restricted our access to Rinpoche somewhat. This had never happened before. However, one of these new rules was rather in our favour, or at least in mine. We were told that he would not speak until after 9 am in the mornings. I liked this new rule because it meant that I could slip into his room early in the morning for a blessing and then quietly sit nearby in a corner of the room usually completely unnoticed and do my practice while he was doing his. This was always a very special time and I felt deeply blessed, grateful and fortunate for this happy circumstance.

He would sit in his wooden box with a large woollen blanket draped over his folded legs. His upper chest bare. I was always fascinated by the various appendages that he wore around his neck. Intricately carved silver and gold amulet boxes and other precious items hung there. He would lean slightly forward and they would all clang softly together whenever he moved. During these early morning hours, he would be fingering a large wooden malla ( rosary) as he mumbled various verses, chants and prayers. Nothing remarkable appeared to be happening and yet the entire room was suffused with an intangible, deep peace. For me, it felt as though I were sitting in the very centre of the universe. It was certainly the centre of my universe.

That winter I had come directly from Australia where I had gone to work for a few months. Khyentse Rinpoche usually spent his summer seasons in retreat in Bhutan and so that would be the time when I would go to the west and earn some money with which to support myself during the winter months in India and Nepal.

I had pondered long and hard over what I would bring him in the way of a gift when I returned and eventually I decided on something very practical, as was my want. I decided to get him a pair of the iconic Australian footwear known as Ugg Boots. These slippers, for they were and are essentially an indoors shoe were initially created by an Australian surfer in 1970s. They were a relatively simple design and made of sheepskin wool, supremely snug and warm.

However, Khyentse Rinpoche had very large feet, some might say, unusually large and I had to search quite a while before I found a pair that I thought would fit.

I was so excited to present these to him. I knew they would be just the thing to keep his feet all warm and toasty and I eagerly anticipated a happy outcome.

However, on the morning after my arrival, when I went to offer my greetings to the master and present my gift I quickly discovered that it was not possible to get his feet to slide into the boots.

It was not that the boots were too small, they were in fact just the right size and the biggest size that I had been able to find. The problem was in the design of the boots which meant that they rose well above the ankles to cover the entire foot and lower leg. I tried and I tried to get his feet into those boots, there was much huffing and puffing, but there was just no way it was going to happen. I hardly minded because Rinpoche sat with one hand on the top of my head throughout all of my exertions. There was a bemused expression on his face but he had sat there patiently putting up with my various and energetic man-oeuvres. But eventually, I had to withdraw.

When Rinpoche had first laid eyes on the boots he had looked well pleased and I was determined, come what may, that I would find a way to make them fit. I quickly settled on a plan to cut the front of the boots open and surely enough, his feet then slipped effortlessly in. I was thrilled and Rinpoche cast a bright and loving smile my way. I could have melted into the floor right there and then I was so perfectly satisfied and happy.

Throughout the winter months, these same boots were worn during the day and also on various outings. One can just make them out in the photo above. I could not have known then that this was to be our final walk around the sacred Stupa of Bodhgaya. Due to ill health his stay that winter was cut slightly short and soon after he had bestowed the empowerments, he returned to Nepal and then a few months later left for Bhutan.

Continue Reading in Tibetan Masters and Other True Stories

It is interesting how we unconsciously intuit things which the mind can never comprehend. Tibetans are very superstitious and I became acutely aware of this during the years that I was living much among them and yet I was constantly discovering new and unsuspected twists in this propensity.

Some time after I had given the boots one of the lamas told me that they were not an auspicious gift to offer a Lama. This was a bombshell. I felt mortified to think that I could have unwittingly bestowed an unwelcome gift and done so with such happiness. But how could I have known?

No one had said anything to me about it at the time and there had been no inkling of displeasure on Rinpoche's part. However, the lama said that according to Tibetan traditions such a gift was considered to be a bad omen. He said that it might indicate that the life force of the one they were given to was not strong.

My only thought when offering the boots was to see my masters feet warm, cozy and snug so this revelation naturally came as quite a surprise and dampened my enthusiasm greatly. Of course, there could be no taking them back and every time I saw him wearing the boots thenceforth, I was reminded of the lama's words.

That winter Khyentse Rinpoche's health did begin to suffer a marked decline. We were all saddened and very much aware of this change and we became anxious and watchful.

Following his return to Nepal from India Rinpoche never fully recovered his former health. Try as we would to avoid comprehending the truth, the 'writing was on the wall' and several months later he passed away in Bhutan.

All sentient beings have an allotted time on this earth, nothing and no one can live forever, but who among us cannot mourn the loss of such a one? This was not the loss of an ordinary sentient being. For Rinpoche himself, it was little more than the casting off of a mortal coil, but for those of us who had basked so unreservedly in the ocean of his grace, it was deeply affecting.

Always we are forced to confront ourselves, to confront our own mortality and to remember what it is that is most important to do in this life that we now have...

Certainly, Khyentse Rinpoche was always trying to remind us of this.

*****

A Life Well Lived

2021-01-03T14:57:00.000+05:30

Another year has passed since Chadral Sangye Dorje Rinpoche passed away.

****

Beloved Lord of Refuge, we can never repay your kindness.

Merging into the expanse of Wisdom

you will continue to benefit countless beings …

If you don’t reflect on death and impermanence

There will be no way to practice Dharma purely.

Practice will remain an aspiration,

One that is constantly postponed.

And you may feel regret the day that death comes,

But by then it’s too late!

Kyabje Chadral Sangye Dorje Rinpoche

While working on the final stages of the book Who Lives? Who Dies? I received the news, early one morning, that my teacher Chadral Sangye Dorje had passed away in Parping, Nepal. The following chapter was in no way planned. It came as an addition to the current volume. How could a book about living and dying, which was reaching its conclusion right at the time of the passing of my great master, not include a chapter to honor his life extraordinary life?

The news did not come as a complete surprise. A few days earlier I had received a warning that he was unwell and had immediately thought to put together a list of things I would have to do and pack should I need to leave quickly for Nepal. I knew very well that if I received news that he had ‘passed away’ I would very likely be in no state of mind to attend to all the details of making a sudden and hasty departure. Surely enough, that ‘word’ came on the 5^th of January 2016.

He had actually passed into ‘Tukdam’ (final meditation state) on the 30^th of December 2015 but as he had requested his closest family members not to announce his passing until he had fully merged into Maha Paranirvana, they carefully kept the occurrence a strict secret. Not even people working on the premises inside Rinpoche’s compound were aware of what had actually taken place.

Chadral Rinpoche lived to the considerable age of one hundred and four, counting by the Tibetan astrological system which includes the months of gestation prior to birth. His had been a grand and long life and one which had been of benefit to countless sentient beings.

He guided and took care of me for more than twenty years and the gratitude I feel along with the sense of the deep connection which will always exist between us is something that is not possible to ever fully describe in words. Next to the late Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche, he was one of the central and most important people in my life.

Since 2009 it had not been possible to meet face to face with Rinpoche but for me personally, this had not been an issue. He had guided me through my crucial retreat years and I had been extremely fortunate to be able to go to him when I needed his advice and to consult about and verify ‘experiences.’ I had been incredibly fortunate to complete the needful prior to that time.

Others were not so fortunate, however, and a whole new group of people both young and old from all walks of life and all parts of the world missed that precious opportunity of direct contact with him. Nevertheless, his influence continued to reach far and wide.

Before 2009, Rinpoche was very accessible although he never lingered too long in any one place. There were occasions when things might not have gone the way some people might have hoped for or expected but this was part of the beauty of his style and expression. He was never a Lama to compromise on the things that he held dear, neither could he be ‘brought around’ once a decision about something or other had been made.

A hundred and four years is a long time to be alive in this world. Rinpoche met and influenced so many people; he saved countless lives and lived out his term without compromising his convictions in any way. His life was one of simplicity and integrity and stands as a testament and shining example for all those of us who were fortunate enough to witness at least a part of it as also for those who were not.

He spent time in worlds so incredibly different. Imagine Tibet in the early nineteen hundreds long before the Chinese occupation and try to compare that world with the one in which we live now? He moved seamlessly through both, never missing a step, never faltering in his determination to benefit sentient beings.

· Practical and Yet Spontaneous

Rinpoche was a supremely practical man who did not possess even an ounce of hypocrisy. He was so direct and to the point that some feared him. Although he was very much a Tibetan ‘Yogi’ he could also be quite traditional. However, it simply was not possible to narrow him down and label him as either traditional or non-traditional because he rose to meet every occasion in his life from a place of complete spontaneity.

His focus was always on the ‘essence’ of things, and he had little time for or interest in anything else. He was a living embodiment of the Buddha’s teachings, which he had so completely ‘owned’ through his dynamic practice and experience and he encouraged all of his students to do the same.

Rinpoche’s spontaneity arose from his moment-to-moment living in the present, which gave rise to many unexpected little incidents, some of which could be quite humorous.

I remember one morning when we were buzzing around and preparing for a day trip up into the foothills of Darjeeling. We thought we had things pretty well in hand but when it was announced that the car had arrived a bit early, Rinpoche suddenly leaped up from his seat and began to head towards the door. We quickly grabbed the warm clothes that he would need as Darjeeling is several thousand feet higher than Siliguri. We awkwardly tried to dress him as he moved. Once he got into motion it could be difficult to pin him down. His daughter Semo Tara Devi was there on that occasion and so the two of us had managed to put on a jumper and also drape his sen (shawl). But then suddenly he was heading towards the door again so Semola grabbed one shoe and me the other. Only when Rinpoche was actually climbing into the car were we able to notice that he had a different shoe on each foot. Certainly, Rinpoche himself had not noticed.

Dry words in a book on a shelf were for the scholars. Rinpoche moved freely through the fields of experience. There was joyfulness around him and a scintillating sense of freedom without boundaries. Never-the-less it should be noted that Rinpoche was also a brilliant and prolific scholar who authored, at least, three volumes of works in the Tibetan language.

· Authenticity

He was tremendously learned in an organic way; his learning came through experience and revealed itself with considerable authority and power because it was so completely authentic.

This authenticity never moved me more profoundly than on an occasion when a small group of women students gathered one afternoon in his room in Salbari Gompa in order to receive the Bodhisattva vows.

Some weeks before this event, a long-time western student and I had been discussing the practice of Guru Yoga in general and Chadral Rinpoche’s Guru Yoga in particular. I had been deeply impressed by the way my friend had recounted some of his personal experiences in this regard. He had discussed the various qualities of different sadhanas (practices) but then pointed out that the Guru Yoga of Chadral Rinpoche was so potent that the blessings which flowed from it were almost palpable. In my mind’s eye, the image of him holding his hands together in a cupping gesture had burned itself into my imagination. He had said that you can literally ‘hold’ the blessings in your hands and feel the weight and the power of them.

His vivid description remained with me very clearly, and that afternoon when we gathered to receive the vows it kept coming into my mind.

I had taken Bodhisattva vows already on several occasions with other teachers; however, a European student of Chadral Rinpoche’s requested that he give them to her, and I found myself in the fortunate position of already being present in the room and therefore able to join this small gathering on the auspicious day. I was delighted by this happy occurrence.

There might have been five or six of us present. If I remember correctly, we were just two foreign women, a couple of Tibetan nuns, and one or both of Rinpoche’s daughters.

At that time, Rinpoche was staying in the small room upstairs in his house in the Salbari compound. We were asked to wait outside his room while he prepared and then, once all was ready, he beckoned us to enter and close the door behind us. We stood before him in a line across the width of the room. Rinpoche meanwhile, was sitting on his meditation cushion on the floor ensconced in a large furry cape. A small wooden table had been placed just in front of him and on top of this were his bell, drum, dorje, and a few other ritual implements within easy reach.

Although I had spent a lot of time around Chadral Rinpoche in an informal way, I had only been present on a small number of occasions when he gave formal teachings or empowerments. This turned out to be one of those rare occasions.

Rinpoche asked us all to make three prostrations and as we did so, he picked up his bell and damaru (small hand drum) and began to chant the lineage prayer of the Longchen Nyingtik. Rinpoche’s lineage is a remarkably short and powerful one originating in Kuntuzangpo, which passes on to Jigme Lingpa, Gyalway Nyugu and then to Patrul Rinpoche, Nyoshul Lungtok, and Khenpo Ngachung, (Rinpoche’s root Guru) who in turn passed it on to Chadral Rinpoche and Nyoshul Khen.

I don’t recall that I had any particular expectations of what was to come except a pleasant sense of anticipation which in no way could have prepared me for the impact of what was to follow.

As soon as Rinpoche’s deep and rich voice began to intone the liturgy I felt myself suddenly and quite inexplicably catapulted into a ‘timeless state’ my mind ceased to function and the room was saturated with grace, so much so, that even though I had barely completed my three prostrations, a surge of tears welled up and began to flow down my cheeks.

I was not at all prepared; no handkerchief, no tissues, not even a long shirt-sleeve to come to my rescue. These were not the emotional tears of joy or sorrow; these were tears that overflowed from some previously untapped source in my being. They surged out from the deep depths. With every passing moment, it was as though Rinpoche was opening wider and wider the faucet on a stream of blessings. Not only did the tears flow from my eyes but my nose was also streaming. I had never had any such reaction in previous gatherings with other Lamas where we had all taken these same vows. This was something quite unprecedented and it really caught me off my guard.

For the entire duration of the gathering, this flow continued. I remember feeling some embarrassment at not being able to control what was happening or even dry my face. I was a complete mess, red and soggy eyeballs, snotty-nosed and pathetic. I did not notice if anyone else was as affected as I was. I only recall how relieved I felt when it all ended and I could rush off to my room and wash my face and re-compose myself again. The memory and the power of that encounter linger on and remain with me to this day. Fresh and potent.

This is naked, simple authenticity.

· As Conventional as He was Unconventional

In many ways, Rinpoche could be conventional, and yet in others, he was quite the opposite.

One instance of the manner in which Rinpoche could be unconventional, and which most people would not have been aware prior to his passing away and which caused many some surprise, even consternation, emerged only when the family compound in Parping was opened to the public. On the walls of the Lhakhang, which had been built inside the compound, were painted the Hindu deities of Shiva with his consort Parvati. On the left side of the shrine; Krishna with his consort Radha and their entourages along with various other representations of this kind.

Directly in front of the temple entrance, and housed in a dedicated building, resides a Shiva lingam of generous size.

To some traditional Buddhists, this would seem like a grave eccentricity in the Lama and something quite inexplicable.

However, Rinpoche had gone beyond the narrowness of needing to confine himself solely to the accepted and traditional Tibetan pantheon. He saw no conflict of interests. What these images represent is an expression of ‘energy’ in its many and varied forms and this ‘energy’ is universal. Had not all of the vast body of Buddhist scriptures and knowledge been brought to Tibet from Mother India? Were not the sacred sites of the Buddha’s life still vibrant and emiting their power? Whether one refers to an energetic personification as Siva, Mahakala/Shadrupa or Natraj does it not still embody the same potential, the same inner meaning?

On more than one occasion I was with him when we visited Hindu shrines. One which he dropped into regularly was the shrine on Tiger Hill near Darjeeling and there were others which he attended in various locations.

· Integrity

There was complete integrity in all that he did, and this is no doubt why he could carry so powerfully the traditional alongside the non-traditional.

He made it very clear that he would not perpetuate himself in the lineage of ‘Tulkus’ and unequivocally stated that there would be no ‘reincarnation.’ This was to be the last life. In recent years after the passing of several great masters, a number of ‘Tulkus’ had been put forward as potential candidates and much controversy had ensued. Rinpoche made his position crystal clear and thus avoided any future complications.

He had always steered clear of the monasteries and large religious institutions and consistently underlined the importance of practicing in solitary retreats in order to have direct experience of the essential points of the ‘dharma.’

On several occasions, Rinpoche made the comment that some people who came to him and who were dressed in the garb of ‘practitioners’ actually had no stable inner experience, while there were those who seemed to be very ordinary and who did not have the appearance of being a ‘practitioner’ yet who were in fact ‘true practitioners.’ To Rinpoche, a ‘true practitioner’ was someone who had recognized the natural state and achieved a measure of stability in settling into That. He underlined for us the fact that we cannot judge anyone by appearances alone.

He was the first Lama to establish a retreat center and many more were to follow after he moved to India in the late 1950,s. Those who came to him were able to practice in suitable locations and thereby actualize the teachings by gaining first-hand experience of them.

· Practice

He clearly pointed to the fact that one has to practice the ‘dharma’ in order to gain benefit from it for one’s self and in turn for others. He had spent many decades of his life doing just that and often under the most trying conditions. For many years he had wandered around Tibet, staying in the caves or in a small tent with little more than what he could carry over his shoulder. He could easily have passed his days in comfort and plenty in one of the rich monasteries. He truly had lived as an example of what he later encouraged others to do.

The master is not able to give us something that we do not already possess. He/she simply alerts us to our true and inherent potential. It is for us to understand and gain a true experience of our inmost natural state by taking his/her advice to heart.

He established many simple places where practitioners could come together, or where they could be alone in order to practice the Dharma without distraction, in safety, and in peace.

He always emphasized the need to gain experience in retreats and almost all of his direct students have undergone a retreat or two under his guidance and care at one time or another.

· Compassion

That our lives should be an expression of what can bring benefit to others is the motivation of a true Bodhisattva whose every action is geared to turning others towards ‘truth.’ Rather than spending our precious lives and energy in meaningless activities and distractions, he encouraged us to benefit beings through sincere and concerted practice motivated by Bodhichitta. As with the fragrance of a flower which need not ‘do’ anything particular and yet which affects and purifies the whole surrounding area with its perfume, so too should our practice radiate its fragrance throughout space.

Soon after Rinpoche escaped to India from Tibet he took a vow renouncing the consumption of meat. This happened in nineteen sixty, long before it became fashionable. Prior to that, he had been as rabid a meat-eater as any other Tibetan. Once he decided to abstain, however, his stance was unshakable, and all the temples and retreat centers under his guidance became ‘no meat’ zones. Here again, he was an example of what he preached, and by living to a grand age was able to underline the fact that human beings can subsist very healthily and happily on a vegetarian diet to a grand old age.

He made it a mission to release countless fish from the fish farms in Kolkata and elsewhere. Other kinds of wildlife were also rescued in a similar way.

His compassion revealed itself through a long stream of activities that brought freedom, on one level or another, to countless sentient beings.

· The Humor

It was a delight to spend time in Rinpoche’s company. There was always plenty of laughter and light-hearted banter. There were so many humorous occasions, but one instantly springs to my mind.

One year, we were in the Lhakhang retreat center up in the Helambu region of Nepal. At that time a group of devotees had come up from Sermatang to accompany Rinpoche to their monastery where he had been invited to preside over a ceremony.

Around thirty of the older and higher-ranking people from the village had made the journey on foot, in order to welcome Rinpoche and accompany him back. They brought with them a sturdy little pony which Rinpoche was to ride on the way down the trail to the village. This particular pony was an old favorite of Rinpoche’s and had carried him around on other such occasions in the past.

On the morning when we were due to leave everyone gathered near Rinpoche’s hut. He climbed onto the pony, a big happy smile spreading over his face. One lama went ahead of our group wielding a large kukri blade in order to make sure that the pathway was cleared of any debris or possible obstructions and the rest of us followed behind.

Barely had the small horse begun to move than it let expelled a very loud fart! We could see Rinpoche ahead of us shaking with laughter and everyone behind followed suit. The animal continued on in this vein every few minutes all the way to the Sermatang. Goodness knows what he had been given for breakfast. Suffice it to say, we kept a respectful distance behind…

· The View

Above all else, Chadral Rinpoche encouraged us to recognize our ‘true nature,’ because absolutely nothing else will be of any use to us in the long run. This and this alone is the chief and crucial point. In recognizing and practicing to achieve a measure of stability in this, one brings into balance all other factors in one’s life. It is the great panacea, the one thing which brings resolution to all that causes confusion and suffering in this world.

On one incredibly precious occasion when he gave a couple of us some whispered ‘pith’ instructions. I will never be able to forget the look in his eyes when he told us that what he was giving was like the ‘blood of his heart.’

We sat there at his feet with tears flowing down our cheeks.

Such ‘treasure’ is immeasurable. It has the power to liberate countless beings; we need only open our hearts and pray with one-pointed devotion. Our devotion is like the sun that melts the snow at the top of the mountain which is the ‘Guru.’

· Devotion

A few days after the news had been broken about his ‘passing,’ I made my way up to Nepal from South India.

I had gone to Nepal for the first time in many years in August of 2015 and had the great good fortune to see Rinpoche just a few months before he dropped his body.

I traveled over to Parping from the hills of Darjeeling in order to pay homage to my great teacher. I had just completed a summer retreat at his center at Das Mile Gompa where I had undergone my previous longer retreats. This was the final time I was to see him as I had known him in his earthly form.

The visit in January of 2016 was under very different circumstances and carried with it a very different mood.

Nepal was in the middle of winter and in the grip of not only the cold but also, at that time, profound economic and political misery there was an added dimension to the sense of sadness at his passing.

Crippling power cuts and shortages of every kind were the order of the day and these were not due to the after-effects of the powerful earthquake that had struck only months before. These had been brought on by the greed and short-sightedness of an elite few.

Despite all of this, however, or perhaps because of it, the Nepalese population near and far came to Parping. They came in droves to pay their respects and receive the blessing’ of the reliquary.

Initially, I had passed some days inside the temple shrine and participated in the ceremony that was taking place. However, it soon became too crowded so I withdrew to a spot outside and below the temple area. Every evening before the prayers ended, I would head up to the temple and stand near an open window in order to recite the lines of the Guru Yoga prayers with all the Lamas who were gathered inside.

For me, this proved to be the most moving moment in the days during which I could be present. Invariably as soon as the Umsey (chant leader) began to sing this particular prayer his voice would crack and waver. Sometimes he would have to stop chanting altogether and then another Lama would quickly take the microphone.

Rinpoche had brought so many of us together and the feeling that we were and are one big family remains. How can we ever forget his kindness?

· A Life Well Lived

Day after day I sat and watched the stream of humanity, young and old, rich and poor pass by and through the temple precincts in which the Kudung was being housed. It was not easy for these people to make this journey to the fringes of the Kathmandu valley. Their transport was inadequate and often terribly over-crowded. It was a costly journey for most people and also extremely uncomfortable. Yet they came and keep coming.

It is profoundly moving and humbling to see how one life, which is motivated towards the good of others can influence so many in contrast with those who are motivated by temporary gain and greed at the expense of so many others.

What a stark contrast and the more moving for being so.

We need good examples of how to live our lives and how to give precedence to what is most meaningful. It is not as though we are going to have endless chances to do this.

Everywhere we look we can find countless examples of lives spent in dissipation, and distraction while a well-lived is a rare thing indeed.

I can only rejoice in Rinpoche’s example which was and remains so deeply meaningful not only me but to so many others. The radiance of what he gave the world will continue to have its beneficial effect long into the future if in fact humanity has a long future before it…

In these days and times, we can be sure of nothing except the ‘one true thing’ of which we have spoken repeatedly throughout this tome.

May we be moved to discover this for ourselves and thereby make our own lives resonate with what is truly meaningful.

With the pure motivation of Bodhichitta (the wish to achieve enlightenment for the benefit of all sentient beings), each one of us has the power to transform our world.

May we keep this in our mind and heart, always.

Precious Bodhichitta, the highest attitude

Where it is unborn, may it arise

Where it is born, may it increase,

rising ever higher and higher.

Shantideva

*****

From the book; Who Lives? Who Dies?

Lyse Mai Lauren

Arunachala

2015

Digital Dilemmas and the Psychology of Distraction

2020-09-26T05:28:00.039+05:30

How do we reclaim the 'power' of our attention in this age of distraction?

Its a really important question because digital technologies have completely changed the way that we live. In just a few short decades the manner in which we interact with the world and each other has completely shifted. In the midst of all of this dynamic movement have we paused to consider just how pervasive the changes are and what they can mean for us now and in the future?

There is no question that these technologies are a force for good in our lives but there is also another side to all of this. It would be unwise for us not to make the effort to understand at least some of the implications and how they may impact us and our children. There are choices to be made as we march forward within this shifting paradigm.

At the forefront of this movement are our so-called smart devices.

What is emerging is an ocean of smart technologies which are highly interdependent. To stay afloat in this ocean we need, at the very least to know how to tread the water, better still how to swim, even better than that how to discern which waves and currents to catch and which to avoid.

Devices with apps that are created to snatch away our attention and meter it out to us as micro-fragmented milli-moments have the potential to lead us into a state of profound confusion and disconnection if we do not develop some essential modern-day skills.

Without them, our precious time and attention can be manipulated for profit and power. Reclaiming our power is about learning to 'swim.'

We do not need to be helpless pawns in this digital game, with knowledge come the possibilities for rewriting the rules of our engagement. Rewriting them to suit our needs from a place of conscious and active participation.

How do we reclaim our power?

We reclaim our power by reclaiming our attention.

We need to get smarter.

But in this case, by 'smarter' I mean wiser and more conscious of what we give our precious time and attention to.

Why? Because we live in an age of distraction and complexity. There are so many demands on our 'mind-space' ready to snatch away our attention. In a cynical society based on consumer spending and profit, we find small groups of highly trained people who know all about creating devices that are both desirable and smart.

Trapped into this never-ending spiral of clever marketing we are told that we need more, better, faster and smarter stuff and the unsuspecting buyer has become a plaything of the very technologies that he/she 'plays' with.

And when too much power is in the hands of too few people one has to question where all of this can lead...

Such a potential 'power' for good has also its flip side and we the users, the consumers need to begin to take an active part in understanding and harnessing this power...

Are Smartphones Making Fools of Us All

(1st Edition November 2019

2nd Edition July 2020)

Small Things Big Trouble

2020-08-10T05:34:00.000+05:30

Our actions, whether big or small do have consequences and we can never be quite sure what they will be...

I recently read a quote of the Dalai Lama which made me smile.

‘If you think small things don't matter, try spending the night with a mosquito in your room...’

Neeya Zzzzzzzzz… bye-bye, sleep!

Well, I have spent lots of nights with mosquitoes in my rooms so I am very much moved by the wisdom of these words.

Small things can lead to bigger things and unexpected outcomes…

But I must first explain how my story came about.

Several years ago, an Indian friend wanted to give me a birthday gift.

He had obviously taken considerable trouble to choose something that was extra special and when he delivered it I could see how excited and thrilled he was with his choice.

His sense of anticipation was palpable and it immediately set the alarm bells in my brain ringing and whirring.

He contrived to turn the ‘gift-giving’ ceremony into quite an occasion. He had appeared on my doorstep at 6 o’clock in the morning!

However, being an early riser myself, I could take this in my stride.

As soon as I opened the door he rushed inside and placed a box on the counter with exaggerated care and turned to me with an expression, not unlike that of an eager little puppy. He was fairly wriggling with excitement, anxiously watching my every move and expression.

Getting into the mood of things I turned my attention to the brightly gift-wrapped package and with great care began to remove the ribbons and undo the colourful paper in which the whole thing had been lovingly wrapped.

Inside I found a, well, how to describe it?

A plastic lotus flower thingy...

It was the sort of house ornament that one could only find the likes of in India or China!

It had four large outer petals and inside these, sprang another four psychedelic pink and green petals which were arranged within a circle of tiny red and yellow light bulbs. From underneath and around the petals appeared small plastic frogs, birds, bees and butterflies of all sizes, colours and varieties...

He urged me to press a bright button on the bottom. Even though his expression alerted me to expect something extraordinary I was not quite prepared for the sudden startling flashing of lights and the explosion of sounds that burst forth from that little box.

It was loud enough to rouse the entire three-story building from any remnants of lingering sleepiness. An embellished electronic version of Jingle Bells filled the air. And while the tune rang out the light bulbs flashed in time with the music and the plastic insect life bobbed up and down in unison.

My friend leapt into the air giving it a bit of a punch at the same time as if to say, YES! Then, he dissolved into a fit of laughter.

That unforgettable gift had pride of place on my kitchen shelf for some years and then one day, very recently while I was spring cleaning, I decided it might be time for the ‘gift’ to grace someone else's home or shrine.

My friend happened to be present and was helping me with my clean up, so I suggested he might take it back to his ashram where it could be prominently displayed and enjoyed by many. He agreed readily enough.

Now the reason for my unseasonal spring cleaning was the arrival of an unwelcome intruder, a very tiny, but extremely industrious mouse. I had spotted her on a number of occasions even though she was just an itsy bitsy little thing.

She was quite unafraid of me and if I had been on my guard I could probably have evicted her much sooner. But, as luck would have it, the minute I wanted her out, she disappeared.

This little rodent had singlehandedly chomped her way through a number of my best articles of clothing, shredded a pile of newspapers, eaten through some wiring near my computer and left her calling cards all over my apartment.

That such a small mouse could single-handedly create so much mayhem in such a short time was something of a wonder.

In the face of such astonishingly determined feats of nest making, I decided she had to go and I was hoping that a good clean up might flush the little villain out after which I could carefully block all possible future entry points.

That very year, I had brought with me a fancy electronic gadget, which I had purchased on a trip to Australia. It was supposed to blast such intruders with unpleasant subliminal frequencies and vibrations, sending them scuttling outdoors.

But it turned out to be a miserable failure. My little visitor had comfortably settled herself in and appeared to be anticipating a long and happy stay.

There was nothing for it but to go carefully through everything in order to find her hiding place and promptly evict her. But besides a trail of devastation and mouse droppings, we could not discover the little tyrant.

Eventually, I decided, rather optimistically, that she might already have fled unnoticed during our noisy cleanup operation.

We had gone through everything, or so we thought. We could do no more and it was time for my helpful friend to go. I snatched up the box which had the plastic lotus flower inside, not wanting him to leave without it and eager to free up some space on my shelf.

We arranged it with some ceremony inside his bag and off he went on his bicycle.

Several hours later I got an excited phone call. It was my friend calling from his ashram.

An inquisitive guest had noticed the box containing the infamous ‘lotus’ and had been overcome with curiosity as to what might be inside.

A small audience gathered around all eager to discover its contents.

As my friend looked up from his work he happened to notice something that looked rather like a mouse’s tail dangled down from the back of the contraption even as it was pulled from the box, but he was too late to intervene.

From beneath a pink lotus petal leapt the little monster. She had apparently been taking a snooze in between the lotus leaves. Thus rudely awakened from her nap, she leapt straight onto the unsuspecting, innocent guest’s face and then scrambled down the front of his shirt.

Pandemonium broke out. The men yelled in surprise the women screamed and the children shrieked with delight. The silence and ambient calm of the ashram were thoroughly shattered.

Meanwhile, the hero of our story managed to wriggle out from her victim's trouser leg and make a swift and fortunate exit.

Whereupon she was never seen again…

The 'motto' of this story is, of course, NEVER underestimate 'small things!’

To be sure, even the tiniest of things can unleash the most unexpected chain of circumstances…

****

Finding Our Way Through the Minefields of Grief

2020-06-22T13:21:00.000+05:30

L.R. Knost's words which ring with wisdom and are infused with compassion also give rise to hope. They empower each and every one of us by pointing to the light that is within us.
We find ourselves living through times which are unprecedented for our current generations. There is suffering, there is fear, there is loss. We are inextricably caught up in a tide of uncertainty. Our lives have been turned upside down. We have been tossed into a raging ocean of change. Gone the arrogance, gone the complacency, gone...
Nature has an innate propensity for balance. This is the lode-stone of the natural world. Not from a place of right or wrong, it moves from the source of all being and will never stray far from that place of 'balance' no matter the works and wishes of men.
Time and again civilizations have come and gone and as Shakespeare so famously said; ' there is nothing new under the sun.'
Stripped bare of our certainties, stripped bare of our delusions we suddenly find ourselves on the borderlands of a new way of thinking which in turn is leading towards a new way of living, the one must precede the other.
In our current reality internet technology has opened doorways into one another's lives, where ever they or we may be. We are connected with one another via our smartphones, via social media and instantaneous news updates, suddenly many of the connections to the world we thought we knew, exist merely via a small device which can sit in the palm of our hand.
Yet what remains constant and unchanged is the fact that we exist in an interdependent world, it has always been so and it will always be so, and yet only now can we begin to grasp how profound and true this really is. Only now can this truth become 'real' for many of us.
There has always been suffering and there always will be and yet, now, because of our ability to be so much more aware of what is happening around us and in the greater world at large we can find that our senses and our minds overwhelmed with the sheer amount of information and the intensity of what is coming to our notice, so much more of it bad news than good.
If it all feels as though it is much worse than before it is because we are aware of so much more...
Things such as climate change or issues that go against our values and principles and yet for which we feel blatantly powerless to change can bring on a sense of profound inner unease and grief particularly for those starting out on their life journies.
What are the coping mechanisms for finding our way through the minefields of grief, collective grief as much as our own personal sense of grief for whatever reason it may be rising up in us?
I know that. for instance, since the beginning of the bushfire crisis in Australia a sense of grief had been welling up in me and I had to stand back from it and take a good and long look. Not because I felt the grief was inappropriate, but because I felt powerless and because there was then and remains now the conviction that there is so much more of it coming.
As Michael Mann recently said in an excellent article posted in the Guardian. "... bushfires have burned their way to the front of everyone's mind." This was not just a matter for Australia. Smoke impacted many areas in New Zealand and the smoke cloud ended up by encircling the entire globe.
Humanity is awakening the fact that our lives are intertwined and what happens on one corner of the globe is going to have an effect on the other side as well. I think we human beings have a tendency to internalize our grief, whatever the cause for that grief may appear to be, and by internalizing it can begin to metamorphize into something else. In this way, we avoid identifying where and how our deep inner sadness is arising.
We find ourselves on the frontiers of a brave new world and we cannot turn away from changes taking place because they impact us all so directly. Nothing is static and there is absolutely no certainty. This 'truth' is immensely confronting but it can also push us to open our minds and to take in the possibilities of renewal, expansion and growth.
From the fires of destruction rises the Pheonix of renewal, we can choose to ignore it or we can turn our gaze in a new direction and witness the arising of this Pheonix.
Reaching into our own mind's as also reaching out to assist and nurture one person, one animal, one plant at a time might not change the whole world but it will change the world for us and for that one person, one animal or one plant and this is what we need to keep in mind during these gravely unsettled and unsettling times.
Focusing on what we can do in our own small way, day by day and moment by moment is empowering. This is where our potential lies and the way in which we can move forward with grief is in knowing that we are doing whatever we can to transform it in our own lives.
There are of course, many people who will not acknowledge what I am speaking of and simply shrug and ask, 'what grief?' But those who know, well they just know. They might not have actually put it into words, they may not even have identified it but something in these words rings true for them.
We have to find ways that empower us in order to move through the current and very active minefields of grief. Otherwise, the sheer scale of suffering that we see in the world around us can just feel too overwhelming and being 'overwhelmed' is the antithesis of being empowered.
You may already have heard the story about the 'Starfish' but I will retell it here because it rings with truth and hope. The message is timeless and can be applied every single day in our lives in the most practical of ways.

The Starfish Story
"One day a man was walking along the beach when he noticed a boy picking something up and gently throwing it into the ocean. Approaching the boy, he asked, “What are you doing?” The youth replied, “Throwing starfish back into the ocean. The surf is up and the tide is going out. If I don’t throw them back, they’ll die.” “Son,” the man said, “don’t you realize there are miles and miles of beach and hundreds of starfish? You can’t make a difference!”

After listening politely, the boy bent down, picked up another starfish, and threw it back into the surf. Then, smiling at the man, he said…” I made a difference for that one."

Loren Eiseley

Making a difference one by one.

If the basis of all change in this world is within us, then it is even more important to avoid, at all costs, the temptation to become disheartened. If every true change begins within our own mind and heart then rather than being overwhelmed by the sheer scale of whatever is happening around us, we can instead zoom within to the unmovable centre of 'silence.'

From that inner centre everything becomes possible and we discover our power and we discover our light.

And We Do Not Fear...

2020-03-18T07:30:00.000+05:30

*****

In times of crisis.

In times of suffering.

In times of uncertainty.

In times of fear...

We can turn our gaze inwardly to the changeless,

to the timeless,

to the silence from which all of this 'display' arises...

Our greatest friend is always right here with us.

There is no need of searching, no need of weeping, of pleading or of protestations.

There is no greater assurance than this.

But one must know it, taste it and recognize it for oneself.

The simplest and most attainable truth is right in the palm of our hand.

"And we do not fear.." because we know that in our true nature, our inmost being, we are untouched by the transient 'happenings' of this world...

*****

Excerpt from Never Not Ever Here Now

Volume Four in the series; Shades of Awareness

Becoming Protectors of Life

2020-02-27T11:04:00.001+05:30

"The destruction of nature and wildlife populations is a result of ignorance, greed and lack of respect for the earth's living things.

Our actions affect others.

We human beings are the only species with the power

to destroy

the natural world as we know it.

Yet, if we have such a capacity for destruction, so, too,

do we have the capacity to protect wildlife and the environment—

we have an urgent responsibility to do so..."

H.H. Dalai Lama

Sounding the clarion call...
A very timely and important message from the Dalai Lama!

Human beings have demonstrated a masterful capacity to destroy

and kill and yet that same 'power' can also be harnessed to protect and nurture.

As we have crossed a 'tipping point' on the planet a great necessity confronts us. A new way of thinking and a whole new way of behaving towards all the kingdoms with which we share this planet must ensue.

For too long, greed and ignorance have held sway over all other considerations and now we are seeing the results of this greed.

Nothing is not interdependent.

To continue to live in ignorance of this 'truth' is to court disaster.

Within the reality of interdependent energies there exists a critical point of balance. Each and every one of us holds a stake in this 'balance.'

This is a vital point because if we do not know this, we can easily feel overwhelmed and powerless. However, we are not powerless.
We hold immense power within ourselves and this is the time to acknowledge it and put that power to good use.

We can see the results of greed and short-sighted ignorance. The death and decay

of this kind of living are all around us, continuing the cycle of suffering and

despair.

As the Lama so truly pointed out, our capacity to destroy and wreak havoc
exists in equal measure to our capacity to nurture and support the life that exists all around us and within us.

There can be no blurring of the boundaries. This is a time for what is clear and decisive, not a time for small-minded, selfish pettiness.

From clear and altruistic intention which acknowledges humanities responsibility towards all other kingdoms on this earth will rise the new age of limitless possibilities...

From chaotic grasping and greed, there is only death and despair.

It is a stark choice and yet this is the choice that we face...

This balance is in our hands...

When Our Pet Dies. Losing a Friend Like No Other, Part 2

2020-02-09T10:32:00.001+05:30

The next friend that was to come into my life was a little yellow male canary.

I was living in an apartment by the sea and at the time training in classical flute at Sydney Conservatorium. One of my flute students brought him to me one day and insisted that I accept him as a 'gift.'

I always disliked the idea of birds in cages and was very reluctant to take on this one, but this student would not take him back and so Bert stayed on with me.

I set up his cage near the window overlooking the sea. The door was always open so that he could fly freely around the apartment but I put his food, water and leaves inside the cage. Usually, he spent most of his time sitting on top of it.

We got on just fine. I discovered very early on that he was extremely competitive. As soon as I would pull out my flute and begin to play he would fly onto the music stand and sing full throttle.

Whenever I was playing he never gave me a moment's peace and would be there right in front of me on the stand warbling his little heart out.

Bert was with me for a number of years, he even managed to entice a neighbours female canary who turned up one day outside the door. When I opened it, she flew right on in and the two of them were nest making in one of my pot plants in no time at all.

One summer when I was going away for a couple of months, one of my young students asked if he could take care of my little Bert. I will never really know what happened, but when I returned Bert was no more.

We never really know until they are gone, just how much of an impact they have had on our lives and how much we will miss their presence. Bert was just a tiny drop of golden feathers but he had an incredible song and brought so much joy to my ears over so many years. Now after all of the intervening decades he is still missed.

*****

The third little friend that came into my life was a baby owlet.

A friend had seen him with some young boys in a village on the outskirts of Kathmandu in Nepal.

He had managed to talk them into letting him take the little fellow as the boys told him that he would not eat any food and it was obvious that he would soon die.

As soon as those beautiful big, sad eyes landed on me I melted with motherly love and a deep sense of connection and affection. I am recounting a post that I wrote several years back when I told the story in detail.

Fatty Boy, Baby Spotted Owlet.

In the late 1990s, when I was staying at Godavari in the eastern corner of the Kathmandu Valley, it was not at all unusual, to come into the garden compound of Chadral Rinpoche's retreat centre and find several cages with varieties of birds that had been bought from the markets and then gifted to the Lama, in order that he would bless and then release them back into the wild. Often these birds were in bad shape and could not be released right away. They needed care and good feeding for some days before they could face the rigours of freedom. Many never made it to the point where they could even be released.

It was a sad business to see this kind of trade going on, and yet it was rife throughout the valley, and although people meant well when they bought the birds from the markets, in many ways, this practice just encouraged and perpetuated the trade.

One day my friend and I took a path through a nearby botanical garden which passed through a lovely piece of forest on its way to the neighbouring village. We had come to know of a very skilled tailor living in that place, and we both had a number of items on order and ready to pick up. Coming back, however, we decided to take another route that skirted a village we had not been through before. While passing by some small, mud dwellings Sherab, the lama who was with me, suddenly turned and began to speak to a small group of boys.

He would often stop to banter with the locals as he passed by, so I didn't take much notice at the time and just kept slowly making my way along the cobbled path. After a few moments, he joined me again but bade me stop and opening his bag, pointed to a little ball of feathers sitting on the bottom. I could just make out two very large and shinny, sad eyes peering out at me. Even though I could not make out quite what it was, I immediately fell in love with the look in those eyes.

It turned out that the boys had somehow captured this little fellow from his nest, (he was a spotted baby owlet) and were trying to rear it in their home as a pet. The boys had told Sherab that they were trying to feed it, but the little fellow had not taken any food since they had captured it two days before.

With some clever persuasion, Sherab had managed to get them to hand it over to his care, and thus it was sitting on the bottom of his bag, looking very weak and bereft.

My mothering instincts kicked in as soon as those large eyes looked up into my face. Anxious to get home now, we picked up our pace and soon arrived back at my apartment, which consisted of the upper floor of a private house. As it turned out, this was to be rather ideal for the feathered friend who had just entered our lives.

I found a safe and sheltered corner for him, spread out some newspapers and put a small cage down with large stick tied onto the top of it, this would make it easy for him to perch, and somewhat easy for me to clean. I had absolutely no idea what baby owls would eat.

It was all improvisation and I simply prepared a mixture of oats and water with some honey mixed in and tried to spoon it into his little beak. But unless I forced him to open so a little would slip in, that beak remained firmly closed, and I found myself trying to repeat the process every few hours, without much success.

This went on until the around midnight the following day, when I had taken up the spoon yet again. However this time, to my surprise and joy the wee fellow opened his beak and let me tip the mixture right in, gulp, gulp...

From then on, he adopted me as his surrogate mother and developed a very healthy appetite. Sherab who was popping in frequently to see how we were getting along, began to spend a good deal of his free time ferreting around for more meaty morsels, and before we knew it our owl was suddenly puffing up and recovering a healthy sheen to his feathers. He also began to develop a very keen curiosity and would seldom let me disappear from his sight.

He had a favourite perch on the window ledge in my kitchen. From this vantage point, he could monitor my every move and if I happened to go into the next room, he could simply turn himself around with a series of very endearing little clumsy moves, without ever taking his eyes off me. If I disappeared into the bathroom, he would simply bounce right on in after me, plop, plop, plop. Determined not to miss a thing.

Those large green eyes were like laser beams. Two creatures could hardly have been more different than this baby Owlet with its fixed and gazing stare, and a beastly little furry visitor, a Rhesus Monkey I had named Beasty, who could never focus her attention on anything for more than the briefest moment.

Lama Shariphu and Fatty Boy.

We called our new friend 'fatty boy' though we never found out if it was a male or female.

It was not long, before the owl started to spread its wings. As he got stronger and bigger, he began to make clumsy excursions, that often led to near-disasters, especially when he would launch himself from the balcony of my apartment into the neighbour's high walled compounds below.

He would tumble down into the greenery, and then call us, and wait to be rescued. I would then have to summon Sherab, who, batman like, would scale walls, fences and other such hindrances. But he always reappeared, in due course, with the wayward traveler, albeit in a bedraggled and ruffled state.

We soon decided to move him over to Rinpoche's garden compound, as he was now strong enough to manage the outdoor conditions and he quickly set up residence in a small pine tree near Sherab's window.

However, his preferred day time perch was on top of the open window, as, from there he could watch every move within. It was a bit unnerving to have those huge eyes fixed unwinkingly upon our every move.

He would puff himself up and then sway from left to right, bobbing his head up and down, as though this movement somehow helped him to focus on the objects of his unquenchable curiosity.

He quickly adapted himself to the gardens and became a familiar sight, riding about on our shoulders as we made our rounds of the stupas or went on with some other business.

By this time I was very attached to the little fellow, and he was growing fast. His flights became more confident and far less clumsy. Then one day I heard him calling from the roof. Normally when I would coax him he would just fly down and perch on my shoulder, or else I could extend a long stick and he would climb onto it and let me bring him down. But this day, no amount of coaxing and calling would make him budge.

I realized something was afoot, and sure enough, he soon flew off into the tops of the trees. Our work was done.

I like to think that he came back to visit us from time to time, but I never actually saw my little friend again. I looked and called a hundred times, but no, he had flown his human nest and rejoined those of his own kind, or so I desperately wanted to believe.

I will never know for sure but one thing is certain, I will never forget him.

Our lives are touched in so many unexpected ways. We never know who will come, or in what form. These visitors enter our lives and often without any prior warning, stay for a while, and then they are gone.

It is all so momentary and yet they leave something behind that is unique and lasting. When they enter and touch our lives, however fleetingly, they change and enrich our world forever.

*****

When Our Pet Dies. Losing a Friend Like No Other. Part 1

2019-12-23T21:57:00.000+05:30

During my life, at least so far, I have befriended three non-human beings. Well actually, many many more than that, but three have been with me and dependant upon my care for some time. Others have come and gone due to circumstances such as house sitting or caring for the pets of family or friends in times of need.

The first was a black and white collie kelpie dog that I named Bilbo.
The second was a bright yellow male canary called Bert.
The third was a small baby owl.

Each of them was so different but each one also unforgettable.

Until this day I feel immensely grateful that they came into my life despite the fact that I carry a sense of sadness due to the loss of their company.

This is perhaps the hardest part of having non-human friends, their life-spans are generally much shorter than ours and we are bound to face the day when they are no longer with us.

I want to share with readers my own particular experiences with the hope that perhaps you might find some comfort should you still be grieving the loss of a pet. As I have come to know through direct experience there is no 'closure' when it comes to the loss of a loved one, we never stop loving, but there can a shift in our grieving when we cross the threshold of acceptance, cherishing what was and able to release the loved one into the newness of ongoing life however and where ever that may be.

Sadly, there is so much misunderstanding among people as to the nature of awareness of animals, birds, fish and pretty well all living things. They are sentient beings, just as we are with their own thoughts and feelings, hopes and fears. They feel pain just as we do. They love their young just as we do. They mourn the loss of a close one, just as we do.

When we understand this incredibly important truth our whole attitude and behaviour towards them is bound to change.

If we come to have a pet in our care and as a companion, we know only too well that they have very distinctive characters and characteristics. We also know what it means to bond and form an attachment with them.

However, it is important to keep in mind that all non-human beings share these same characteristics, not just our pets.

I always feel and believe that we human beings hold a place of special responsibility towards all these creatures with whom we are sharing this planet. They deserve our respect. They deserve our care. They deserve our protection.

*****

Bilbo was just an itsy bitsy thing when he first came home with me. He was at

the animal shelter in Kuranda in far northern Queensland. I actually picked him up for a friend who had recently lost his dog due to a tick bite.

Bilbo did not in any way or manner deserve to be called after our hobbit hero of the Lord of the Rings. As a puppy, he was extremely sensitive and fearful of everything but he adapted quickly enough and I pushed him past his fears in the way that I pushed myself past them during those formative years.

I will never forget the day I brought him 'home.' I was riding a small Yamaha motorbike and he was so little I was able to put him in the front carrier basket. At that time I was living in a patch of rainforest which was just near the Baron River and a little upstream from Baron Falls.

The whole ride home he gazed up trustfully at me hardly daring to even peak at the road, his little silky ears flapping wildly in the wind.

In the first days of his arrival into my life, he was afraid of everything and stayed very close to my heels and he had good reason to be. There freshwater crocodiles and snakes, spiders and wild cattle. The forest was filled with dangers more real than imagined.

He was terrified of the river especially. I used to swim across it and back every day and I was terrified too. Those deep and dark waters always held my mind in their grip. But I was just eighteen and newly alone in the world and determined to see what I could do. I needed to find out how far I could push past the fears and barriers in my mind.

When I arrived in that place I felt I only knew myself through proximity to someone else who had featured large in my life for the few years since I had departed from family life. In the forest, I had the chance to find out more about myself and every day became an adventure.

Soon after I moved there, I made a pact with myself that I would swim across the river every morning and that is exactly what I did notwithstanding my own fears.

Bilbo was not impressed. He would take one look at the river and run back home like a frightened rabbit. One morning I decided to take an executive decision. I carried Bilbo in my arms right down to the river and threw him in. I was ready to jump in after him should he fail to do what comes naturally for dogs... i.e. to swim. However, there was no need. He immediately made his way back to the shore climbed up onto the banks, shook the water from his furry coat all over me and then he tore off back home, without so much as looking back when I called out after him.

The following morning, to my surprise, he followed me willingly and even got into the water and had a brief dip and from then onwards he was always in the river before me.

He was a real character and a wonderful companion but I was always afraid of the day I would have to leave.

That day came along soon enough. Ray, the owner of the property and ostensibly the person for whom I had brought Bilbo home in the first place was supposed to take over his care. That had been the idea all along. But he had a salon down the hill in Cairns and only visited Kuranda fitfully. I had kept away from people during my months in the forest and really only made friends with one neighbouring couple.

I went to them when my time came to depart. Even though Ray promised to come and get Bilbo and keep him with him, I could not quite rely on his word alone so I asked the neighbours if they could kindly make sure the little man was ok should Ray not immediately be able to come up to Kuranda.

I left one day to make my way down to Sydney and a whole new life in the city but I could never forget my little friend. That separation and the manner in which it happened made me decide never to have a pet again. One has such a responsibility and I knew then that my life could never accommodate a dependent pet.

I still ache when I think of Bilbo. How abandoned he must have felt when I left, how terrified he would have been to find himself alone. Thankfully, I came to meet the friendly neighbours some months later in Sydney and they could assure me that all had turned out well, but I have always felt as though I let my friend down. That in some way I betrayed him.

I was so young at the time and life was moving fast for me. I did not have a fixed place to live and I felt that city life was no place for a dog.

*****

To be continued...

Crazy Horse Dancing

2019-11-27T08:24:00.002+05:30

"I have dreamed the vision of the horse that dances wild,

I have seen the land of the great beyond.

I am one with this earth as a little child.

Let my eternal light shine on..."

The legend of Crazy Horse

Given the diminishing freedoms of this modern world which encloses us within a web of electromagnetic cyber 'intelligence' which is tracking and monitoring our every move, in order to bombard us with ads about things that we neither need nor want, let us take a moment to remember what is true and real and changeless and near.

A moment to remember what is most important.

Taking just a moment to give ourselves over to the reckless abandonment of the inner joy and freedom of the heart is so refreshing. To just let go of the mind and its endless stories, cares, and unceasing thought processes and let our hearts open.

If we could remember to take a few moments every single day. If we could remember to just stop and look around us. Just take a few moments to look up at the sky. A few moments to breathe in the fragrance of a flower. A few moments to look within and remember who and what we really are...

*****

A Heart of Gold, Ani Lodro Palmo

2019-10-06T01:29:00.001+05:30

The following post is an attempt to honour the life of Ani Lodro Palmo who was one of Tibetan Buddhisms most senior and accomplished western practitioners. She was also my most respected dharma sister and a very dear friend. She passed on from this world on the 1st of October 2019 displaying the accomplishments of a fully ripened practitioner. She is forever and fondly remembered and revered.

Ani Lodro Palmo (Linda Talbot)

The above photo was taken in the winter of 1991. At that time we were sharing a room in a monastery where the Kyabje Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche had been invited to stay. It was a bright morning and Anila was bathed in the warm rays of the early sun. I remember thinking that she looked perfectly angelic at that moment. It is the only photo I have been able to find of her.

It turned out that that winter was to be the final visit that Khyentse Rinpoche would make to Bodhgaya and although we did not know that at the time, we felt so blessed to be right there and so closely within his magnificent presence.

It was an eventful winter in many respects and there were numerous occasions when I felt that Anila Lodro was, for me, a perfect elder dharma sister.

She was an entirely authentic western Buddhist practitioner. From the first I felt immense regard for her and an intuitive and deep sense of respect. She was a shining example of how we should not only practice the Buddha's teachings but live them as well.

I saw her living them on many occasions and not in grand and sweeping gestures but in the small and seemingly trivial details of life. The kindly smile, the extended hand, the gracious glance. She was generosity incarnate and yet never in a way that pronounced itself. Quietly, almost unnoticeably she gave and gave and gave. She would have given her last dime if she saw someone in greater need of it.

I remember the first time I really noticed Ani Lodro Palmo.
It was during one of my first winter visits to Khyentse Rinpoche's monastery in Boudhanath, Nepal. The year was 1986. Khyentse Rinpoche had just given a teaching transmission to a small group of Lamas in his private rooms and there were a handful of close western students also present.

I had crept into the room when I noticed that something was about to happen and supposedly unnoticed was sitting at the back observing what was going on.
I remember Rinpoche, at one point, turning to Ani Lodro and asking her a question. Anila was gazing into space and absorbed in some revere. Rinpoche addressed her a couple of times but still, she was absorbed and then I will never forget the look of pure affection that came over Rinpoche's face. It was absolutely heart-melting, just like a grandfather gazing upon a beloved and wayward child.

That look and her unassuming attitude when she suddenly became aware of his attention will always remain with me. From that moment I marked her out as someone different and special. Later I came to understand that she was, in fact, a hidden yogini.

I was incredibly fortunate because over the years she was so very good to me. During one winter stay in Bodhgaya, some years after Khyentse Rinpoche had passed on both of us were there during the same period. At that time I was trying to unravel the deeper meaning of a small Dzogchen text and was spending most of my time in a little nook that I had discovered just outside the Maitreya Shrine on the upper level of the stupa. I was spending so much time there that the residing Indian priest actually gave me a key to the upper shrine. In those days we could come and go with a great deal of freedom.

I would sit in a tiny alcove with one solitary and ancient statue which was housed in a corner of the upper floor and cover my head and body with a shawl. I always brought bits of food and water for the many families of squirrels that resided on and around the Bodhi Tree and this little shrine was nestled within it wondrous branches and leaves. Ani Lodro was often the only other person I ever saw near that spot. She knew I would be there and the door would be open and so she appeared every day and sat quietly by doing her practice. She really took me under her wing during that period. Always encouraging, always, always kindly and sincerely supporting of my bumbling efforts.

It was such a special winter and she was so much a part of my memory of that time.

Several years later we agreed to meet in Gangtok, Sikkim. I used to go there several times a year as I was living just a few hours south in a small hermitage during those years. Khyentse Khandro* was, in those days, living in the Tsuk Lakhang near the palace at the top of the hill above Gangtok. Anila wanted
to meet her again and also visit Dodruchen Rinpoche and his Khandroma, Pema Dechen*. She had established close connections with each of them over the years.

I was thrilled to be able to accompany her on these visits and always remember how warmly she was received. Khandro Pema Dechen was nothing short of delighted. We spent several hours as her honoured guests and she and Lodro Palmo laughed and exchanged many tales from past days. Some of the stories Khandroma shared with us that day were so incredible I still feel thoroughly inspired whenever I think of them.

What does it take to be an exemplary practitioner of the Buddha's teachings?
Authenticity, which reveals itself to the world unselfconsciously in little acts carried out with the utmost humility.
It reveals itself in the deep and seasoned wisdom which knows when and where to speak and when and where to listen.
It reveals itself in the oft unnoticed gestures of spontaneous generosity and kindness. Ani Lodro Palmo had a heart of gold, pure and untarnished.

We had remained in touch even during the later years when she no longer travelled to India. Regularly either she or I would phone one another. Therefore it was not with surprise but joy that I received her call just a few days before she was to pass on from this world. I had been trying to contact her for some time.

Not for years had her voice sounded so strongly and so clearly. She was nothing short of exuberant. That morning I had been feeling a little glum, but after our conversation, my mood was transformed and I was greatly encouraged and gladdened.

I could never have predicted that this would be our final conversation.

Beloved Anila whose many kindnesses were beyond counting, how you have blessed so many lives...

*****

Please follow the link to Dzigar Kongtrul Rinpoche's eulogy for a more
detailed description of her life.

* Khyentse Khandro was the wife of the great Tibetan master Khyentse Chokyi Lodro. Details of her life can be found in Rigpawiki and also an article I wrote called; A Remarkable Woman, Khandro Tsering Chodron.

* Khandro Pema Dechen was the first wife of Tulshik Lingpa, the Lama who
led a group of devotees up towards the sacred hidden valley of Shamballa. He was swept away by an avalanche just near the fabled entrance and his followers were forced to return to the valleys below. The extraordinary tale is retold by Thomas Shor in his book, A Step Away from Paradise.
Details of Khandros life are recounted in Rigpawiki.

The Curious Case of the Curlew

2019-08-04T03:10:00.001+05:30

Bush Stone Curlew

The Wisdom

Look! Look! he is climbing the last light

who knows neither time nor error,

and under Whose eye, unforgiving,

the world, unforgiven,

swings into shadow.

–from "Evening Hawk" by Robert Penn Warren

Have you ever had one of those pivotal moments in which everything you had previously thought of as true and real, no longer seems so because your whole sense of reality has shifted gear and opened out into a wider dimension?

This 'new' perspective is so near and so natural we can't help wondering how we had never noticed it before.

I think most of us have experienced such moments during our lives. When they happen we feel that nothing will or can ever be the same again and 'truth' seems so very near and obvious. But alas, all too often and all too soon we lose the lofty heights of our momentary perspective and sink back into the dream...

And the 'dream' is addictive and compelling. We believe in the story of our lives and almost everything that we do or say or think feeds into the sturdy edifice of 'our story.' It is almost as though we cannot help ourselves because the story-line seems so believable.

And sadly, we almost never think to question our story or to investigate the nature and origins of our inmost sense of 'self.' As a result, our attention remains locked onto the drama of our unfolding life and we remain none the wiser right up until the time it is about to end.

Most of us are not even aware that we are fixating on a drama which is neither true nor real and we are accustomed to living almost all of our lives this way. For us, what is nearest and true, as our inmost nature, has become but a distant dream and what is dreamlike and passing is the obsessive focus of our day to day attention.

There is a nocturnal bird that lives in Australia, called a Curlew. It has a tendency, on occasion, to turn up outside windows and reflective surfaces where it appears to be mesmerized by its own image. It is not that it thinks the image is another bird, rather it knows instinctively that the image it is seeing in the glass has something to do with itself. There is an almost fatal attraction which compels the bird towards what it is perceiving in the glass.

In a similar manner, we human beings are infatuated with our sense of self-identity. We are convinced that we are what we appear to be.

We can learn so much from the natural world around us, from the wildlife, from the plants and in fact from every living thing.

Since I was very young I remember hearing stories about birds that
would appear just before or around the time of someone's death. In fact, I personally witnessed such a thing on more than one occasion in my younger years.

In New Zealand, where I grew up, these untimely or timely, visitations were considered, by the Maori, to be an omen.

Modern societies have forgotten about omens. Everything has been reduced to the small and narrow focus of what is apparently provable. As though the only reality we can identify with must be scientifically accounted for.

And yet, whenever something rattles our attention and gives us pause for thought, or better still, arrests our thought altogether, we come face to face with the 'unknown.' In such confounding moments, we entered the realm of the omens of awareness. We cannot understand them with the mind and yet on an almost subliminal level we feel deeply unsettled by them.

Getting back to the curious case of the Curlew.
Some years ago, while I was visiting Kuranda, a small settlement, in the far north of Queensland, I was surprised to see groups of birds occasionally gathered here and there around the town, usually near bushes and leafy parklands.

They were most often completely still and immobile so that one might not actually notice them until very near and then be startled by these strange, still and ghostlike creatures. They certainly made an impression on me.

I asked a friend about them and he told me they were called Bush Stone Curlews and that the Aboriginal people feared their appearance in a locality as harbingers of death.

Whether that is actually true or not remains to be seen, however, given the ancient origins of the Aboriginal peoples of Australia one might well assume that they would have cause to know.
I was particularly impressed by these birds and had the feeling of something 'other-worldly' which I always felt when I saw them or happened upon them on my way.

They are said to be primarily a nocturnal bird explaining why they move so little during the hours of daylight and have an almost dreamlike quality about them. Dream-like as in sleepwalking.

Then, quite recently I came across a story of a bird that appeared in a busy Brisbane suburb. One of this particular breed had planted itself very firmly outside an office building and was seen to be gazing at itself in the glass of the shop front for hours on end. In fact, it would come at the crack of dawn with the very first rays of the sun and leave again only at dusk when it became dark.

Of course, many people noticed it and the occurrence began to spawn much attention. So much so that a notice soon appeared on the window just above where the bird would stand in isolated and determined vigil gazing at itself in the glass.

"I'm a bush stone curlew," the sign read.
"I'm fine. I just like to stare at myself in the window."

Many people were alarmed by its behaviour.

Read on in Pieces of a Dream

Is Time Speeding Up?

2019-05-23T05:47:00.001+05:30

It seems to be a global phenomenon. With every passing year, time appears to be accelerating.

Where ever we go and where ever we turn we hear people commenting about time flashing by so quickly, time pressure, the days appearing to become shorter and so on.

Young people are much busier these days than we were when we were growing up. They have more activities to attend to and school schedules are very full, along with after-school work and activities of various kinds.

The same holds true with every age group in different ways and for different reasons, barring perhaps only the newly born.

If we throw modern day digital devices, such as mobile phones, gadgets, tablets and gaming devices into the mix it quickly moves the whole phenomenon to another level.

One group of thought say that the 'time speeding up' phenomenon is due to a lack of 'milestones' as we get older and that this perception is based on psychological reasons. The 'firsts' which greet us in the earlier period of our lives diminish as we age. This explanation, however, seems incomplete.

Another school of thought takes a more scientific bent bringing quantum physics into the mix. The Schumann Resonance, which can be likened to the pulse or the heartbeat of the planet is said to have been stable at 7.8 cycles per second for thousands of years. This same group say that since 1980 the pulse has begun to increase. It is currently at 12 cycles per second. Some claim that when it reaches 13 the earth will actually stop rotating on its axis. It will not rotate for approximately 72 hours and then slowly it will begin to rotate again but in the opposite direction and a reversal in the magnetic field around the earth will thus ensue.

Very interesting...

And yet where do we actually stand in the midst of all of this? What do we have to measure with or even comprehend our place within a vaster scheme of which we are slowly becoming aware? The interdependence of every living thing has now become undeniable and yet we still have not acknowledged how this is so or why.

We are under the impression that awareness exists because the world exists, but exactly the opposite is true.

The world exists because we are aware...

Don't underestimate the importance of this statement. It is, in all actuality, mind-blowing.

If we go back to the absolute fundamentals based on our perception of the world in which we live, move and have our being, we are faced with the incredible mystery of our awareness. That, which is under-rated and often overlooked is, in fact, the very key to unravelling our confusion over the whole, messy business of living and dying and everything else.

Within an ever-broadening mandala of interconnectedness, we are being forced to begin noticing what is closer to us than any 'thing' can ever be.

How beautiful it is that this fundamental 'truth' turns out to be the simplest thing and the only thing that we can ever really verify in our own personal experience.

We all have the intimate and direct experience of our existence. It's really the only thing we have. Think about that for a moment.

Everything outside of that is hearsay.

Meanwhile, we are living our lives in a state of almost perpetual distraction. Our attention is riveted to the evanescence of life and not to the spring of 'awareness' from which it all arises. In other words, our eyes are fixed on the moving colours and shadows on the screen of life and not apprehending the screen upon which those colours and shadows are dancing about.

We are running faster and faster to get, well, nowhere...

Busy-ness has become a dilemma of our times. Too much to do and too little time to do it in.

Yet, we only need to pause a moment and take note of what really is right now and we are immediately brought back to zero...

What can be simpler than that in a complicated world?

Too Busy Being Busy?

2019-04-12T03:22:00.001+05:30

People running here and there. No time to stop, no time to think, no time to even really live...

When we are busy most of us are not able to live consciously in the present, instead, we are caught up in thoughts and all of the activities that spring from them. If we strip these thoughts right down to their bare basics we can quickly discover that all of them are about some preconceived hopes or fears about the future or the past. This is the condition in which we normally live. It is distracted, pre-occupied, stressful and very unbalanced.

Busy-ness is a kind of modern-day insanity which is overrunning our lives.
Even in our moments of non-busyness, we often find ourselves reaching for something to engage our attention and this continues from the moment we open our eyes in the morning until we shut them again at night. We live in a kind of fever and stress has become a substratum in our day to day existence in the modern world.

Unless we consciously take the time out to pause and be still we are caught on a wheel of perpetual movement and change. We are little better than mice on a treadmill which is going around and around. We are working so hard but we are not actually getting anywhere.

There are most certainly psychological impacts when we are constantly distracted, and constantly busy.

There is nothing so useless as

doing efficiently that which

should not be done at all.

Peter. F. Drucker

One impact of this condition is the sense of acceleration, the feeling that time is speeding up. We perceive this as something which is happening to us and we feel it as a kind of pressure which manifests itself in our lives as stress.

And stress, as we all know, directly affects our health, our moods, our thoughts and the quality of our lives. It also affects the way that we interact with others and has powerful repercussions on the lives of those with whom we are close.

In actuality, of course, time and space are relative and yet when our mind is engaged in the busyness of living from day to day we become entangled in the machinations of time passing in units of hours, minutes and seconds. We get caught up in the drama of events and we lose our sense of a wider and vaster perspective.

If there is one disease that pervades modern society it is that of stress which can condition our behaviour in so many ways and adversely affect our sense of well being and health. When our anxiety levels are high we are certainly not at peace and our lives are certainly not balanced.

When our attention is constantly engaged and distracted and busy we can easily miss out on the very things that give us a sense of meaning, satisfaction and fulfilment in our day to day lives.

*****

Recently I was reading a story about two psychologists from a university. They conducted a test which was designed to indicate what kinds of triggers and conditions engender in people certain types of behaviour. In this instance, compassion and empathy.

In two separate groups, one therapist asked the students to walk to a class where they were each expected to give a short speech. The chosen theme for the day was compassion and empathy.

The other psychologist sent his group of students off to another class, ostensibly telling them the same thing, however, he led his group to understand that they were already late for their class. The first group, however, had been told that they had plenty of time until their class would begin.

Meanwhile, an actor had taken up a position on the pathway along which each group would pass. The actor made the appearance of being very unwell and in distress.

What happened next was interesting. It turned out that the theme and topic on which each person was expected to speak in their up and coming class, had little if any impact on their behaviour. (Remember, that day the theme was about empathy and compassion.)

Only 10 per cent of those who had been told they were late for class stopped to help the person in distress, whereas, 60 per cent of the group who thought that they had plenty of time stopped to help out.

Busyness is bad for empathy and compassion. Those of us who have spent time in big cities have seen many examples of this. I am sure that most of us can also attest to examples of this in our own day to day lives if not personally, then in numerous instances that we can observe happening around us.

*****

It is very extraordinary to notice how our sense of perceived 'time' can affect the way that we behave and react to different situations.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, we have the following, also equally thought-provoking example which took place during an excursion into the Andes.

An archaeologist hired some Inca tribesmen to lead him to an archaeological site deep in the mountains. After they had been moving for some time the tribesmen stopped and insisted they would go no further. The archaeologist grew impatient and then angry. But no matter how much he cajoled, the tribesmen would not go any further. Then all of a sudden and quite unanimously they completely changed their attitude. Inexplicably, to the archaeologist, they picked up the gear and set off once more. When the bewildered archaeologist later asked the tribesmen why they had stopped and refused to move for so long, but then suddenly appeared to have changed their minds they answered, “We had been moving too fast and had to wait for our souls to catch up.

This may sound very quaint in our digital world where everything moves at breakneck speed and yet there is a very profound truth buried within the simple tribe people's home-grown wisdom.

When we rush around continuously never giving ourselves time to be still, to be silent, to be quiet and to be present in the present we rob ourselves of something utterly fundamental to our health, wellbeing and sense of day to day fulfilment.

Our existence is rooted in a truth so unspeakably near to us that we fail to recognise it. In the midst of our busy-ness, there is just one thing which is utterly essential for us to do. Everything else, in the light of this truth is completely meaningless.

To find out who and what we really are is the single most important thing we can do in this life. By refocusing our attention away from being the 'doer' we can train ourselves to perform actions even while we remain quiet and at peace within our sense of 'awareness.'

When Hatred Explodes into Love

2019-03-29T03:39:00.000+05:30

On the afternoon of the 15th of March 2019, I was in the small provincial town of Nowra about two hours south of Sydney, when a Whatsapp message pinged in on my phone. It was from my mother. It read; 'Everything is ok with all of us so please don't worry. Will ring you when I get home. Am out at the moment.'
At first, I thought it might have been mistakenly sent to me while intended for someone else. So I responded, 'Did you send that message to me accidentally?'

The reply came quickly. 'No! Am at a friends place, we are all holding together here.'

Then an earthquake alarm which I had installed on my phone after the Christchurch quakes, now many years ago, went 'ding ding' right at that moment so I immediately thought; 'oh no... there must have been a big earthquake.

As a New Zealander growing up in a subduction zone on the 'Ring of Fire,' I am very much aware of quakes and as most of my family members are now living in Christchurch I keep the alerts on my phone in case one strikes. It was uncanny timing because my alert is set at Richter 6.5 which does not go off very often. I looked quickly at where it was registering and it said Indonesia, so was immediately baffled as to what mum was referring. As I was soon to discover however, this was an 'earthquake' of a different kind...

Next moment another message came through from her. 'Listen to the news.' 'Massacre at a mosque near Hagley. It's chaotic here at the moment and the crisis on-going.'

During the entire duration of my journey back to Gerringong on the train, while clinging to my cycle in the hallway and as the compartment swayed back and forth I was riveted to my tiny phone screen consumed with news of the unfolding situation. A few tears rolled involuntarily down my cheeks as I tried to comprehend what was going on. The unfolding situation along with disbelief and horror was particularly poignant because it was happening in the vicinity of people I love and places I know. Whenever I am visiting my family in Christchurch I stay with my mother who lives quite near Hagley Park and my feet have pounded the pathways around the park many times over and at every opportunity.

Hagley Park is the 'jewel' and heart of Christchurch in many respects.

The news of this event is of course, by now, history...

One man with several loaded semi-automatic machine guns and a mind consumed by hatred and extremist views walked into a mosque near Hagley Park and unloaded his weapons into a temple filled with praying devotees both young and old.

At the same time, thousands of children were been gathering in Christchurch Square in order to protest about climate change. After the gunman's attempt to commit another massacre at a second mosque was foiled by the intervention of one of the worshippers present, he had taken to driving through the streets and shooting at people randomly. This caused widespread chaos and many people were caught up in the effects of the pandemonium which ensued.

It was not long before I was home and able to call my mother, as were many others who had family ties in the city and were connected either directly or indirectly to what was unfolding and yet far away.

Not being in New Zealand while all of this was taking place I could only listen from afar to the experiences of personal family members but nevertheless, they really touched a spot. What arose from this horrific incident appears to be so significant. From the fear and hatred which motivated the unbridled killing of innocents, rose up a tidal wave of empathy, love and compassion.

A few days after the event, my mother along with one of my sisters took their offering of flowers to add them to the makeshift shrine that had been erected outside Hagley Park. Several streets before the park the flowers and tributes and notes and candles began to appear. By the time they came near the park itself, there was an ocean of flowers as far as the eye could see.

Both felt deeply moved by the scene, in fact, they had never seen anything quite like it. They quietly walked along arm in arm occasionally stooping to read a note or some card or look at a photo of a loved one lost. After moving along the wall of flowers for some time in this way, they lingered a while to take it all in and became aware of an Imam kneeling on the grass reading through some of the notes. My mother had noticed him before at some time, somewhere but had never spoken with him. He pulled himself up from the grass and the flowers, the messages and the tributes and turning around he was directly in front of my mother and their eyes met.

Without thinking at that moment something made her suddenly reach out and extend her arms towards him, he acceded to being held by a complete stranger in a warm and loving embrace. My sister soon joined in and the three of them stood there silently holding each other. Within a moment the Imam was sobbing uncontrollably in their arms. No one could speak, what could they say? The flow of empathy between them was complete and in that moment they were united.

Many many people around the city of Christchurch during that time had their own stories and experiences to share. It quite literally unleashed a tidal wave of empathy and compassion.

Exactly a week after the massacre I got another message from my mother. She told me she was all dressed and ready to go to the park for the 'Call to Prayer' which was to honour the victims and show support to the Muslim community. She had, only weeks before undergone a knee replacement and being well into her eighties, was naturally baulking at the idea of making this journey alone. Normally this would never have been the case as either a neighbour or a friend or one of my two sisters would have most certainly accompanied her.

However, on this particular morning, everyone appeared to be busy. Even the neighbours whom she had approached. A sad little message appeared on my phone. 'Lyse, I so want to go to the park and be part of the ceremony but it looks as though I will not be able to.' I could certainly understand her dilemma, but on this occasion, I felt it was too important to follow her heart and the inner pull which she was so obviously feeling and that somehow everything would be ok. I immediately encouraged her to drive as near to Hagley as possible and then take a bus from there. It was all she needed. Just a wee nudge of encouragement and she was on her way in her little bright-red Honda making a beeline for the park.

She drove to Hagley, found a park for her car and began walking slowly with the help of her crutches and a determination to make it to the main shrine area. It was a fair distance but before long someone approached her and asked if she needed help. She replied gratefully that she could manage. They reached forward and embraced her and went on their way. This happened several times until a lady in her mid-fifties suddenly took mum by the arm. She stayed with her throughout the whole ensuing ceremony and even accompanied her right back to the car afterwards.

The flow of grace and the spirit of generosity and empathy were palpable. Mother made it to the makeshift shrine, she was even able to find a seat, probably only one of a handful in the whole area. Being present and able to partake of this momentous event which had shattered so many people's lives and then exploded into a huge outpouring of love was really quite unprecedented. Everyone present could feel the empathy.

Of course, things will slip back into the usual day to day flow when it all begins to fade and the old routines kick back in and yet something completely out of the ordinary has taken place. Hatred has given way to love, it has opened people's hearts and minds. Such an outcome could not have been further from the perpetrator's mind and intentions and yet this is the beauty, this is the hope...

One cannot write about these events without mentioning Jacinda Ardern, New Zealand's currently elected Prime Minister. She is a strong young woman with a heart which is alive. A woman with the courage to stand by her humanity. Perhaps, because of its very isolated geographic location, in New Zealand, such an outpouring can happen more easily but I feel it is also an indicator of our times and amid the hatred and the greed we all need to see this quality blooming and taking hold. Our societies have become hotbeds of disconnection, dysfunction and profound unbalance.

She caught the imagination of the world by taking a devastating and traumatising event with which the perpetrator sought to isolate and terrorise one small group and she transformed it into a deeply unifying expression of the only thing that can heal such madness; love.

This is and must be an emerging sign of our times.

Kia Kaha is a deeply significant Maori phrase widely used around New Zealand, meaning 'stay strong.' ' Stay firm.' Do not waver in the face of hatred and adversity. Remain united and as One.

Sacred Caves of Sikkim. Part 3

2019-02-09T20:53:00.000+05:30

After a rough night camped out on a tarpaulin which we had laid out over the bare and none too clean floorboards of the cabin, the first sounds of life outside indicating the approaching dawn summoned us to rise early and make our ablutions under the cold water tap nearby.

We set about preparing a simple breakfast after which we got ready for our ascent and the final climb up to the cave. The previous day, a local person, possibly a native to northern Sikkim had arrived a little after us and set up a camp nearby, he rolled out his bedding not far from ours inside the shelter. As we could not communicate except with the small store of Nepali words I knew we had not been able to get to know his purpose there.

However, that morning we shared our small cooking fire and a few biscuits with him. It seemed that he was visiting the cave as well, but he set off some time before we got going that morning.

As soon as we climbed out of our camp we were confronted with steps rising almost vertically up the side of the mountain. The steps were narrow, steep and slippery. One careless foot placement and it could all be over within a flash.

We continued our steep ascent up mossy stone stairways that seemed to become ever more narrow and steep the higher we climbed. It was a somewhat cloudy morning unlike the blue skies of the previous day which had graced our journey in. Therefore we were a little anxious about the weather turning on us. This gave us some added pressure to our sense of limited time. We intended to make it back down to the lodge that same day and our descent on the slippery pathways was not looking any easier than the ascent had been.

Onwards and upwards we continued for some forty or more minutes, by which time the sun had risen and was beginning to peak through the early morning clouds.

Then, after a particularly exposed and sheer section of bare stone steps, we suddenly noticed a whole bevvy of prayer flags hanging over a narrow entryway and we knew our destination was now very near.

There was some clambering over difficult large boulders and then we were there, right in front of a steep cliff face and looking into several dark passageways. Interestingly, there was no clearly defined cave entrance to be seen, rather a series of gloomy caverns under the sheer cliff wall.

Small shrines were set up here and there with statues and offerings of butter lamps and flowers and bowls of water. Many had passed this way before and the pilgrims had left their offerings on the stone alters. There were all sorts of things from human hair to old malas and various other knick-knacks.

We immediately sensed a very powerful blessing in the place and although it was indefinable, it could not be ignored. Not long after we arrived the Sikkimese man with whom we had shared our breakfast at the camp shelter way below suddenly re-appeared. He beckoned us to follow him and as it turned out, this was a very fortuitous occurrence because we could never have found the caves which he was soon to lead us into had we been alone there. They were quite hidden from public view and not at all obvious.

Armed with nothing more than a small candle and a box of matches he entered one shallow cave near the main cliff-face and then disappeared over the lip of a very large rock. We followed closely behind him, Frank ahead of me on the heels of our guide and me panting up the rear. Both of us had gas lighters and torches with us but even so the inky blackness within the mountain was utterly impenetrable and our lights seemed very meagre indeed.

Read on in Pieces of a Dream

Sacred Caves of Sikkim, Part 2.

2019-02-06T07:12:00.002+05:30

A faded sign marks the beginning of our journey on foot. Here starts the trail to the northern cave of Chang Lhari Nyinpo. This roughly translates as the old cave of God's hill. The trail passes through dense forests of ancient trees, bubbling mountain streams forded by rickety bamboo and wooden bridges of dubious strength and construction.

We begin with a descent along a pathway paved with roughly hewn stones. They are damp but fortunately not slippery. However, one must be constantly vigilant as the stones are not level. They jut out from the soil in an uneven profusion and often add to the difficulty of the path rather than making it easier to traverse.

Frank leads the way into the dense forest that greets us at the beginning of our trek. Bamboo groves soon give way to massive trees dripping with orchids and ferns of all exotic kinds.

It is not long before he decides to find us suitable walking sticks. These simple branches will become essential as we progress on our journey. A stick is very necessary in so many ways and quickly becomes an indispensable trekking tool.

I don't have the greatest kneecaps and a walking stick helps me to balance and take some of the weight while climbing and descending.

There were plenty of bamboos available near the beginning of our walk so we chose a couple of sturdy staffs to help us on our way.

As we were both carrying our own loads in backpacks it was essential to be able to balance the load well, especially on the tenuous cliff stairways and hanging bridges that we were very soon to encounter.

I will have to admit that I did roll my eyes when we climbed up to the first dubious section of the pathway not long after setting out. In this particular spot, a bit of bamboo had been roped to the side of the cliff wall and it looked none too sturdy. Without luggage one can skirt these sections fairly painlessly but when carrying a load it becomes quite a different matter.

The surrounding trees were tall and magnificent. This first part of our trail passed through some very old-growth forests that had never been touched with a loggers chainsaw.

We walked steadily onwards and upwards. In fact, after the first thirty minutes of relatively flat walking, it was all ascent, ascent and more ascent!

I always find that the first thirty or forty minutes of the day is the most difficult part of walking. After that one finds ones walking pace and the going becomes much easier. After warming up the body finds its own walking rhythm and once you tap into that there is a momentum which seems to carry you along, not effortlessly of course, but slowly and steadily.

Frank and I seemed to manage our pace at about the same rate but I was aware that he was being very thoughtful and not putting too much distance between us. There were many places where large rocks or slippery wooden walkways made it a little challenging for me, especially with my load and he was always nearby to extend a helping hand. I should also mention that he had quietly taken the lions share of things which had to be carried.

Even though it was relatively cool, as often happens with trekking, we soon became very hot and sweaty.

A seven or eight-hour trek is not much to tackle, but when the trail rises sharply most of the way it can begin to get quite gruelling.

I am something of a seasoned trekker and yet, I do remember feeling particularly weary on this ascent by the middle of the day.

Our intention was to make it to a small and extremely basic hut which lies about an hour from the cave of Chang Lhari Nying Phuk.

Early afternoon, when we stumbled across a bubbling stream with large and inviting boulders along its banks we decided to take proper rest, have our lunch and a good break.

Only the occasional local villager had passed us during the morning and sometimes they had a few goats or yaks with them, but we did not encounter any other pilgrims along the path.

Read on in Pieces of a Dream

Sacred Caves of Sikkim. Part 1

2019-01-26T15:18:00.000+05:30

Ever since I first came to know about the four sacred caves of Sikkim, I wanted to make a pilgrimage to each of them and as of now I still have not accomplished that entirely. If a chance comes my way, I will make another journey and endeavour to fulfil that wish.

According to historical records, the guru Padmasambhava was requested by one of Tibet's kings in the 8th century to search for places where practitioners could practise in safety during the coming times of trouble.

The four caves of Sikkim are deemed to be among the places which he blessed during his search. The spiritual heart of Sikkim is said to be a place called Tashiding and these four caves are located in the four directions which radiate out from this place.

Two of the four sacred caves are easy to find and two are more challenging being several days walk up into the mountains along slippery and leach infested trails. One, in particular, can be reached only along a very treacherous trail which leads high into the mountains. This is the cave in the West, the Dechen Phuk or Cave of Great Joy.

Two caves, Cave of the Dakinis in the South of Sikkim and the Rebungla Cave are easy to get to. Chang Lhari Nyingpo in the north of Sikkim, which roughly translates as the Old Cave of Gods Hill is perhaps the oldest of the four caves.

My German friend Frank and I were both keen to make this journey. Frank had spent a bit of time in the hills of Darjeeling and Kalimpong and when I had mentioned these caves to him was as eager as I to visit them. So in the year of 2008, we made a plan.

Our intention was to try and visit all four caves, however, Frank was by that time living and working in Germany and could only spare a few days for our proposed adventure.

Therefore we decided on one cave in the South which would be on our route into the hills north, where we proposed to climb up to the Chiang Lhari Nyingpo Cave and then we could visit if possible the other eastern cave on our way back down.

There would be no hotels or eating places on our way once we headed for the northern cave, so we packed a small stash of supplies to last us for a few days.

It was spring in the foothills, but still somewhat cool and also rather damp with rain falling on most days. the area to the north was flanked by dense forests and as we were yet to find out a very steep and slippery climb.

On our agreed meet up day, I rose very early in order to prepare for a big day of travelling ahead. It was a cloudy morning and I could not see the mountain of Kangchendzonga from my window, which would have been the case were it clear. I had to flag down a jeep from the road above the place where I was staying.

Ten minutes of concerted climbing with my luggage brought me puffing and sputtering to the gate of the forestry department. From here many jeeps would ply up and down the steep and narrow road on their way to Gangtok and Kalimpong.

Frank had already been a couple of days with a friend in Kalimpong so I was going to meet him at the turn off at the bottom of the hill which was several thousand feet below where I was living at the time. From there he would pick me up in a jeep which we had hired to take us up to the beginning of the track that would lead to Chiang Lhari Nyingpo.

That morning it was not difficult to flag down a jeep, find an empty seat and make my way down to the Teesta river. I got there a little before Frank arrived with our driver and it was not long before the two of us were heading east on our way into the Sikkimese foothills.

As the eastern cave was on our route we made a stop at Rebungla and found the trail that led to the Pe Phuk or the Secret Cave.

Honestly, we were both quite taken aback even before we even entered the cave. There was a very special sort of atmosphere surrounding the entire place and neither of us had really expected that. I guess we didn't really know what to expect. As it was already mid-afternoon, we could not linger too long in that place, however, we did take the time to sit near the entrance before climbing down into the cave itself. It was surprising how big it was inside. A large picture of Guru Rinpoche was placed high in the entrance to the cave as though guarding and protecting against unauthorised entrance.

Climbing down into gloomy interior we both wished that we had a guide. There were a few obvious routes that we could have taken in order to explore the vast cavern but they looked so small and we both felt claustrophobic just seeing them. It would also have required our crawling on all fours in the dust and then wriggling through narrow openings. Neither of us being of small Nepali or Sikkimise build we decided we might leave those excursions for another visit and we plopped ourselves down in the main entrance way instead and just imbibed the atmosphere of the place.

Read on in Pieces of a Dream

Return to Forever

2019-01-05T15:17:00.001+05:30

When we reach the autumn's bend

Will we wish that we were young again

Laughing in the face of time

If only we knew now, what we did then

Clouds... billow across the sky

Changing as they fly

Return to forever...

Thus go the words in the song by Minnie Riperton.

When we reach the autumn's bend will we wish that we were young again?

Many people feel that their lives are filled with regrets and with the pangs of' 'if only or what if'..?

Filled with broken promises and dreams lost.

Filled with the residue of stuff that is no longer important and perhaps never was...

Yet, each moment holds a new promise.

The promise of what is right here and now...

That elusive little something which costs us nothing.

Which is always with us and from which absolutely everything arises.

How can we claim what is already ours?

This is the greatest of mysteries.

Unravelling it leads to recognising the simple and living promise that nothing and no one can ever take away.

But it can only happen when we let go of the endless strings of hope and fear and confront the challenge which appears before us as a complete and perfect paradox.

Continue reading at Return to Forever

Kartok Getse, The Fearless Warrior

2018-11-25T09:38:00.001+05:30

This post is humbly offered as a dedication to the memory of H.H.Kathok Getse Rinpoche, as we remember and honour a great and fearless Dzogchenpa. *

There are no random acts in the life of a Mahasiddha!
This must be loudly and clearly proclaimed because we ordinary beings with our limited perception perceive events very differently from those who come to this earth to benefit others.

Based on the evidence at hand, many would say that Getse Rinpoche left this world prematurely, due to an accident. But let us repeat. There are no random acts in the life of a Mahasiddha and nothing is as it appears to be. Transform this 'accident' into an act of supreme sacrifice and we come much nearer to the truth. Bodhisattva's appear in this world to remind sentient beings to recognise what actually is.

And this needs to be mentioned, in fact, it needs to be 'shouted from the rooftops' lest we forget!

And we do forget, constantly and miserably...

Getse Rinpoche was no more timid when facing death than he was in life. Having recognised the true nature of 'reality' he could move in this world without attachment and without fear. He did not relish the strictures of monastic life and yet neither did he shun them. He could 'dance the dance' while ever mindful of what really is and what really is, beckons us all.

In recognising that his time had come, he strode unflinchingly towards what awaited without even the least hesitation. By so doing, we can trust that impure karma has been averted and the unrelenting guru of impermanence has been clearly and unmistakably pointed out.

He had the courage to embrace the mortality of this earthly body and let it go when all the causes and conditions had ripened and in so doing he has bestowed upon us the supreme gift of the Dharma; that of remembering that we are not this body nor this mind!

He could gaze into the face of death without fear because he had established himself in what is deathless. In these impoverished times, when the Dharma is often practised without sincerity or determination, there are few who can understand the true activity of one such as this.

And yet here is the greatest teaching. Right here under our very noses. Not disguised, not edited, not covered over and not hidden. Right here and right now, as this whole mighty ship of samsara, within which we live, move and dream the dream of our lives, slowly and irrevocably sinks into the infinite ocean.

We, who are unmindful of what is approaching, continue to play out our lives, consumed by our dramas and our endless preoccupations.

Can we not give ourselves pause for thought? Can we not look up for a moment with an unclouded and undistracted view?

To the Lama who points fearlessly to that which is, we who falter in samsara bow down in profound gratitude for your immeasurable kindness...

*****

Geste Rinpoche
(shared by Tulku Jigme Wangdrak)

I was blessed. I met Getse Rinpoche soon after he left Tibet and arrived in India.
It was in the winter of 1997/8... It was in Bodhgaya.

Every day I had been passing many hours in a spot near the Bodhi tree, the place where the Buddha attained realisation. Just in front of me, a young Tibetan Lama was performing prostrations. Many hours of the day he was there, polishing the wooden prostration board with his gloved hands and long red robes...

In little breaks, we sometimes shared a few words and a few jokes. He knew a smattering of English and I a smattering of Tibetan.

One day, quite out of the blue, he asked me to accompany him to meet a Lama.
At first, I was hesitant, not wanting to be sidetracked or distracted. However, the following day, he spoke of this Lama again, impressing upon me, that he had just come from Kathok in Tibet, the place where my own teacher, Chadral Rinpoche, had spent many years. When, on the following day, he asked me for the third time I began to take note. In a dynamic place such as Bodhgaya, unexpected meetings can come ones way and in turn be meaningful.

I followed him in the early afternoon through the market streets outside the stupa compound and into a small room in a simple building above the crowded bazaar. In that first meeting, I was somewhat taken aback, surprised, unsettled in a way which I could not quite understand. It was nothing which was said, as we merely exchanged pleasantries and discussed our respective teachers but the 'atmosphere' of this meeting somehow lingered on.

After that first meeting, I seemed to bump into him all over the place and at all times of the day and evening. I joined him and a group of his close ones on a pilgrimage to Nalanda and Rajgir one day and it was on this occasion that I became fully aware of his considerable power and presence.

During the bus ride on our way back to Bodhgaya that evening, he was facing me. Some hours into that journey, I suddenly looked up, as if prodded by some invisible hand. The first thing I saw was Getse Rinpoche's face and he was looking directly at me. He fixed me with a gaze for which I was entirely unprepared. If that moment had been in any way contrived, shyness would very likely have forced me to look away, but in the disappearing light of the day, my mind simply went blank and I was drawn into a vast and unfolding silence. His gaze was like a doorway into something beyond the universe. It was utterly riveting...

Before I knew it we were all clambouring off the bus and heading towards our various accommodations. He and I exchanged no words, nothing at all was said. After such a gaze, what could possibly be said? The world had stopped, period!

During that particular winter prior to meeting Getse Rinpoche, I had been deeply immersed in the mystery; 'who am I?' I had taken it as my main practice. Hours and hours I sat in blessed proximity to the Vajrasana seat beneath the sacred Bodhi Tree where the Buddha had realised the ultimate reality. I was determined to find a way into the ever-present portal of my own mysterious awareness. And then right there, and quite unbidden came one who had gone before, who had embraced the mystery, who could open the 'door,' and who was absolutely fearless and staring directly into the face of truth...

How can one ever repay such kindness?

I was fortunate to meet him on many occasions during the months and years that followed that first meeting in Bodhgaya. One can recount so many things about these times, but I will mention just one which comes instantly to mind.

One time when I was staying near Chadral Rinpoche's retreat centre in Godavari, he came for an unexpected visit. At that time a number of students were staying in the retreat centre inside the beautiful compound and gardens. Near the entrance into the retreat, Chadral Rinpoche had placed a notice announcing that none should enter the precincts therein save those mentioned right there on the notice. None would ever think to challenge the command of Chadral Rinpoche, an elder Lama, whose authority was sacrosanct.

Yet, after perusing the sign at the entrance way, Getse Rinpoche strode right on in, met with the students staying inside, exchanged a few words and a bit of banter and then went on his way again. Many of those who were there that day, were somewhat taken aback yet, this was quite in keeping with Getse Rinpoche's character.

Read on in Pieces of a Dream

Parvartimalai, Impossible Places

2018-10-03T03:07:00.000+05:30

Parvartimalai

On top of a very steep and unusual chunk of rock sits an ancient temple. Parvartimalai is about 20 kilometers away from the small town of Pollur in the South of India.

A 3500-foot climb brings one to the entrance of a Siva temple which is said to be at least 2000 years old. This temple is perched on the very tippy-top of the rock summit. It is a hard and dangerous climb to reach that place and most certainly not for the faint of heart.

Since my earliest memories, I was always drawn to inaccessible structures in impossible places. Since hearing about Parvartimalai, a mere 25 kilometers north of Tiruvannamalai, my curiosity had been peaked. I soon harbored a secret ambition to climb up there, see the temple and enjoy the surrounding stunning views with my very own eyeballs, despite the fact that I was no longer in optimum condition for such adventures.

Therefore very early one morning, I stowed a few snacks and some bottles of water into a daypack, jumped onto my 50cc TVS moped and headed off into the fading night to pick up my Telugu friend RC.

I suppose it would have been around six o'clock. It was a cool January morning, the very heart of a tropical winter in the South of India. I found my friend waiting in our pre-arranged meeting spot and very soon we were making our way along the still sleeping streets. We headed west from the town of Tiruvannamalai towards our intended destination.

TVS mopeds are not noted for their great suspension or speed, and we endured a cool and bumpy ride down country roads dotted with holes and various other unexpected obstacles.

As we approached our goal we could make out only the base of the mountain beneath a mass of swirling grey mist. Later I realized that it had been a good thing that we could not see the entire mountain before we climbed it because it is very likely I may have balked at the possibility of ever being able to climb it.

We had very little information as to where we should head in order to begin our climb but followed our noses and one small windy road which eventually brought us to a dead-end, a small temple and what looked like a well-worn pathway.

I parked the bike and locked it all up near the temple and we headed towards the mist. There was a lot of huffing and puffing for the first thirty minutes into our climb and then the body adjusted itself into a rhythm and it became somewhat easier.

Onwards and upwards we climbed, stopping only for short breaks to drink a little water and catch our breath.

We had heard that in this place, dogs are known to approach pilgrims and if they are smiled upon favorably by the local 'gods' these dogs might accompany one on the upward journey.

Very soon our first canine friend joined us with a very wide grin and amiable air and our group grew to three.

We took this as a good omen and continued on our way.
The higher we climbed the warmer it became and very soon the cloud cover which had been hanging over the mountain began to thin and then lift revealing the summit very far above.

During the first part of our journey what lay above us was mostly obscured by trees, shrubs, ridges and the folds of the hills which surround Parvartimalai. It took us several hours of steady climbing to scale this section and finally emerge on the lower limbs of the mountain directly below the pinnacle of rock on which the temple and some new buildings are precariously perched.

Neither of us knew much about what we should expect to find on the way so every view opened up a new sense of wonder and surprise.

We soon realized that we had not brought enough water with us. A mere 3 litres, even on a winters day, in the South of India could barely assuage our increasing thirst.

The higher we climbed the warmer it became and very soon all traces of the early morning mists had disappeared.

Until that point, our only encounter had been with the dog which was guiding us onwards and upwards, not a single human being had crossed our paths. However, once we reached the stairway below the cliff which rose directly above, a few other pilgrims, all of them climbing from a different path which merged with our own, suddenly came into view.

At the base of the cliff, we removed our sandals and gazed up at the series of steep steps and ladders. In previous times, these luxuries had not existed and one would have been confronted with chains by which to pull oneself from one platform to the next. It all looked rather doubtful to me.

However, I was in no mood to even consider not continuing on with the ascent.

This was where we parted company with our canine friend and began the even more arduous part of our journey.
I decided not to think about what lay ahead, just to deal with one step and then another and see where that might eventually take me.

Read on in Pieces of a Dream

The Simple Truth

2018-10-01T02:24:00.000+05:30

Photo Credit. Man in the Universe

*****

"I warn you, whoever you are.

Oh, you who wish to probe the arcana of nature,

if you do not find within yourself that which you seek,

neither shall you be able to find it outside.

If you ignore the excellences of your own house,

how do you intend to find other excellences?

In you is hidden the treasure of treasures.

Oh, man,

know thyself

and thou shall know the Universe and the Gods!”

Inscription at the Temple of Delphi.

Do we give our permission to be born into this life? More to the point, ‘who’ is there to give that permission in the first place? Who is this ‘I’ that is born, lives for a while and then dies? From whence came this ‘I’ that we journey through life with so intimately and yet barely ever notice, let alone truly know?

Isn’t it remarkable that the very essence of what and who we are, should be something that most of us are quite ignorant of? Yet even that simple question almost never arises in our minds!

It would seem that we are thrust out into this world without choice and most of the 'happenings’ of life that follow appear to be choice-less as well. The Tibetan wheel of life depicts this cycle of existence in a very graphic, unemotional way, showing the beginnings of human life, from helpless infancy, through to adulthood and all the stages leading on from there to old age and finally death. Unless we are to meet with an untimely end, we all must pass through these various unavoidable stages.

Yet it is our ‘arrival’ at the time of birth and our ‘departure’ at the time of death that are the most mysterious aspects of our existence, giving rise to the eternal question, from where did I come, to where will I go? Everything in between seems geared to pull us away from investigating the origins of our ‘Self’. Are we not almost continuously consumed with the drama of ‘life’and what appears to be happening to us? The only respite we have from the round of endless distractions comes during our sleep, at which time we reconnect so naturally and effortlessly with our true nature that here again, we barely even notice it. We know that we must sleep and yet we take the ‘blessedness’ of that condition almost completely for granted.

Although it is true that we all are born and must die, how we live out our lives in between those two crucial events is not in the least bit certain. Do we allow ourselves to be tossed into the cauldron of life, believing it to be real and true, or, do we take what is our inherent birthright, as conscious, sentient beings and go deeper, to discover the truth of who and what we REALLY are. All of us have the freedom to glimpse beyond the veil of day to day circumstances, we have the freedom to discover our true origin and yet few of us seem compelled to do so.

If we are conscious and aware, then, no matter what our outer life circumstances may be, we have the potential to see beyond them to what really is and if the intention of self-discovery is strong, then rather than being distracting, life itself can provide the very tools with which to make this most important discovery.

*****

Excerpt from the book; Awareness Comes Knocking

The Silent Power of a Mountain

2018-09-23T05:09:00.000+05:30

Mount Kangchendzonga

One day, while sitting in the loft of my 'tin palace,' a small retreat hut which I built at the end of a ridge not far from Darjeeling, a town in the foothills of the eastern Himalayas, I was overcome, as happened on many occasions, by the majestic vista that spread out before me.

From my perch, I could gaze out the window past the cupola of a small Chorten which rose up right in front of my house. It had been there a lot longer than my little house. These structures are a Buddhist symbol of the stages of enlightenment and often contain the relics of holy beings. Beyond the chorten, a line of bamboo poles had been raised, each containing large colourful prayer flags which fluttered in the wind. Each flag was covered in ornate Tibetan script bearing mantras and prayers.

Beyond this, a few sturdy trees clung to the edge of the cliff face hiding somewhat the vast chasm which opened up right below. From that point, space ruled and swirling mists rose up from the distant valleys far below.

The huge peaks of the Himalayas rose up just a few miles to the north, and on a clear day, one could see from Mount Everest in the west, right across a huge swathe of towering peaks to the tiny kingdom of Bhutan in the east.

But there were no clear mountain views that particular day. Instead, monsoon mists billowed around the steamy valleys in an endlessly shifting dance.

And yet, there were moments when the clouds parted during the rainy months and then one could catch a fleeting but unforgettable glimpse of the huge massif of Kanchendzonga, freshly dusted and clothed in a thick and brilliantly white mantel.

Kanchendzonga is the world’s third highest mountain. It is an enormous eruption of black and grey granite that rises up 8586 meters in the far eastern portion of the Himalayan mountain chain.
In size it is just a few meters short of Mount Everest.

Recognized as a sacred mountain by the natives of the fiefdom of Sikkim, it holds a certain mystic and is revered by the locals who remain committed to protecting it from the footprints of irreligious mountaineers.

However, the mountain itself is a treacherous domain for mortals and many have lost their lives trying to scale its flanks.

But from a respectful distance, the monsoon vistas are very special. There is no other time during the year when the play of light is quite so luminous and pure. What can emerge between the billowing clouds for fleeting moments are evanescent explosions of brilliant color and light. They appear as almost not of this earth.

These glorious visions of the mountain had inspired and sustained me for the many years while I lived on that ridge. The mountains were a ceaseless ocean of shifting color and light. They never looked the same. The play of light, the subtle shades of color, the shifting clouds and moods which it drew forth at different times of the day and night; all were a constant reminder, for me, of the dance of life which is forever changing. One could never lift ones gaze and not find there a new world of wonder.

During those years this majestic view of clouds, light, and mountains was nature's teaching for me. To look out of my windows and see how everything interacts in the natural world was a constant and vital lesson in impermanence and change.

Nature reflects the basic truths of life ceaselessly and with unmatched simplicity and beauty.

Even so, we often fail to notice them. We are constantly reminded of life's impermanence and yet we are swallowed up by our thoughts and by the ceaseless stream of distractions which claim almost all of our attention from the very moment we wake in the morning until we close our eyes at night.

Caught by the movement of the forms upon the screen, our eyes fail to see the screen upon which their movement depends. We gaze right past what is always present, unmovable, unshakable and null, grasping instead at the dancing forms and the shifting play of colours, light and dark.

In times cluttered with ceaseless distractions it is in the simplicity of nature that we can find, quite effortlessly, little windows of opportunity; windows that allow our spirit to soar free from the worldly display for a moment or more.

In the freedom of just such a moment, we can begin to discern what is constantly shifting and changing and what is consistently present and stable and begin to know the difference. In our eternal search for happiness, this is a very essential milestone on our journey back to the source of all being.

The silent power of a mountain can help us to recognize the unshakable power within.

*****

Read more in Masters, Mice, and Men
Volume Three in the series; Shades of Awareness

The Alchemy of Generosity

2018-08-31T05:25:00.000+05:30

I would like to share with you a true story that was told to me by someone directly involved in this incident.

Yogi Ram Surat Kumar

It is interesting to note that the Ashram of Yogi Ram Surat Kumar, (an Indian saint and mystic) is one of the largest of its kind in the small city of Tiruvannamalai, which is situated in the state of Tamil Nadu in the South of India.

Yet he lived as a supremely humble being, appearing as little more than a simple beggar for the greater part of his life (1918 - 2001).

Yogi Ram roamed around India for many years aimlessly as a wandering sadhu. During these years he had the great good fortune to visit Tiruvannamalai while Sri Ramana Maharshi was still alive. On his very first visit, he had the definitive experience of recognizing his true nature in the presence of the great sage.

Thinking that he had achieved his goal, he left the Maharshi to resume his wanderings.
Many years of hardship followed until one day he realized that he
needed to return to the Maharshi's blessed presence in order to
achieve complete stability in his realization.

He made the long and arduous journey back to Arunachala. But sadly, it was too late. It was a horrible shock for him to discover that the Maharshi had already left his body. However, he stayed on in Tiruvannamalai, living mainly at the big temple of Arunachala in the town and often visiting the Maharshi's samadhi at Ramana Ashram.

During the nineteen sixties Sri Ganesan, one of the great grand nephews of Ramana Maharshi was overseeing the running of the Ashram. At that time he was a bright, young sprig who had just completed his studies at one of India's top schools. After some subsequent travels, he had come to Tiruvannamalai where he was requested to preside over the ashram and administer to the needs of a few of the older devotees who had remained after the Maharshi passed away.

In those days, Ramana Ashram was extremely poor. Often there was barely enough food to feed the inmates, let alone anyone dropping by for a meal.

Although Ganesan had grown up bathed in the brilliant light of the Maharshi's compassion and wisdom, as a young boy he could not appreciate just how extraordinary the Maharshi really was. Despite his childhood years being blessed to be in the Maharshi's near presence, to him at that time, he was just a sweet old man, his tata, (grandfather).

Many years later and after the Maharshi had passed away, Ganesan had returned to Tiruvannamalai in a very different state of mind.
He was now all grown up. Lifes 'slings and arrows of misfortune' had given him to contemplate his existence and place in the world and he was ready to hear the precious teachings of the Maharshi. He was also keenly aware of how important were those who were still living and who had enjoyed a close association with the great sage.

During this time, therefore, Sri Ganesan was developing a great affection and respect for Bhagawan's old devotees, and they, in turn, took him under their wing, uncovering for him, in the most skillful ways, the simple and yet profound truths that they had themselves imbibed at the feet of the Master. Deeply moved by their tenderness towards him, and the wisdom that they revealed, he vowed to always try to do whatever they advised him, at least to the best of his ability.

One day as Ganesan was going about the business of the ashram and passing from the Samadhi Hall to the office, he was called aside by one of these old devotees. To his surprise and then dismay, the man gave him a most peculiar and uncomfortable command. After pointing out a scruffy sadhu who was leaning untidily against a wall nearby, he told him to go over and make a prostration to him. Not stopping there, however, he also added that Ganesan should then go to the dining hall and try to find something for him to eat.

Being the president of Ramana Ashram at that time, Sri Ganesan was not given to prostrating himself to anyone, let alone some beggar who had wandered in off the street, very likely, he thought, to try to bum a free meal. Not only was he the president, but also a proud Brahmin, well educated and very much alive to all the etiquette, that one in his elevated station, would expect to receive from others. That aside, lunch was well and truly over, and it had been a meager meal. That he should have to scrounge a few morsels of whatever little was left behind did not give him cause to hope for a positive outcome.

However, such was his determination to stick by his former lofty
resolve, that he swallowed his initial feelings and went and
prostrated himself before the lounging form of the unkempt sadhu. The person in question drew noisily from a half-smoked bidi but showed no other sign of recognition, or response.

Somewhat embarrassed and put out, Ganesan dusted himself off and went to the kitchen to see if he could scrape together something in the way of a meal to offer to the sadhu. He managed to produce a humble serving of rice and sambar with a dab of mango pickle. During the years that followed and on three separate occasions, this same beggar came to Ramana Ashram and Sri Ganesan was requested to do the same each time.

Many years later, when Yogi Ram was at the center of a large and
thriving ashram of his own, Ganesan became an avid devotee. One day quite out of the blue the Yogi beckoned to him to come near. As Ganesan was often in the Yogis company he thought nothing of it and crept in close expecting to hear some request or remark. Instead, he was to hear the words; 'on three occasions Ganesha, you fed this beggar!'

It should be mentioned, that until that moment Ganesan never
realized their previous connection. Never, for a moment, had he
linked the beggarly sadhu to the gracious Yogi whom he now venerated. Many years had passed since the previous incidents and they were forgotten, well and truly.

Yogi Ram was, for two-thirds of his life ignored, mistreated and
turned away by many, many people, because he looked like an ordinary ragged beggar. He had spent many days without food, and he had suffered untold hardships, and yet he was later to become a benevolent 'Father' to many.

Yogi Ram made it his business, when circumstances permitted, to feed hundreds of sadhus, and ordinary laypeople every day. In
fact, anyone who happened to walk through the gates of his ashram was welcomed in, treated kindly and fed with great affection and respect.

Such is the magical alchemy of generosity. As a humble outpouring of the heart, selfless generosity transcends all boundaries and can manifest itself with the most remarkable and unexpected outcomes...

When Mountains Move

2018-08-23T15:29:00.000+05:30

I spent many months on end in the mountains just south of Mount Everest in the late 1980s and remember well, that there were several earthquakes during the time when i stayed just below the towering summit of Kumbila, the peak which is revered as the 'protector' of the region by the local Buddhist folk who reside there. Each quake was accompanied by landslides on the neighboring mountain slopes. Each quake was a sobering reminder of just how fragile life is.

At that time, i stayed in a tiny wooden hut that clung to the side of the mountain. From this perch, at 12,000 feet, whenever i looked out of my window, i felt as though i were looking out the window of an airplane.

In the 1990s under the guidance of the Tibetan Dzogchen Master, Chadral Rinpoche, i spent numerous summers camped out in a tent in the mountainous regions north of Kathmandu in an area now completely decimated by the impact a series of devastating earthquakes which hit Nepal in 2015. This area is known as Sindupalchowk. Rinpoche had several retreat centers dotted around the precipitous slopes of this mountainous region.

By the time i started to make the pilgrimage up there each year, he was already well into his eighties and no longer able to make the long and arduous climb up into the mountains by foot. However, he would come via helicopter, stay a few days or weeks, instruct those undergoing their long retreats and the few of us stragglers who had come to spend the summer months in the high alpine pastures far from the crowded, noisy and polluted marketplaces and valleys of Kathmandu.

It has been a dramatic and unnerving time watching the effects of the recent massive quakes, in two areas that i had come to know and love well.

Through the ages, since time immemorial, massive cataclysmic events have taken place on our planet yet when measured next to the span of our human lives, they seem far and widely spread apart. We measure our lives by the days, weeks, months and years that we witness passing by. Our tunnel vision gives us a feeling of continuity and safety even as we live and move within the tremendous and ever-shifting forces of the natural world which surrounds us.

The concept of the Earth as our 'Mother' is not by any means a new one. Since time immemorial people have felt that this earth upon which we 'live, move and have our being,' is in some profound and absolutely fundamental way connected to, not only our physical existence but also our emotional and mental well being.

Yet despite this ancient and known interconnection, we are now, perhaps more than ever, sadly disconnected from our 'Mother' Bhumi, routinely treating her with disregard and disrespect.

When the earth wakes up, stretches. When the earth sighs and heaves; all life upon it must take heed.

When mountains move, the very foundation and stability of all that we may have associated with steadiness and continuity comes into question. We are thrown back into ourselves, to find there, the truth of Who and What we REALLY are...