Peaks and Lamas

The Wheel of Existence, 18th century, Eastern Tibet.

Marco Pallis was a myriad gifted man: a mountaineer, a musician, and a metaphysician. His book, 'Peaks and Lamas' is an enthralling account that draws on all three gifts.

It is, as the author forewarns at the beginning, a composite book where we literally climb to the limits of the sheer physicality and mental toughness that a mountaineering ascent requires; and, explore inwards into the subtlest dimensions of the human spirit. In the middle rests how both the topography and the religion of the Himalaya have shaped diverse cultures but, most importantly, the Tibetan.

The book was written out of two expeditions in the 1930s, neither of which, to Pallis' deep regret, involved permission to enter Tibet (that would come in 1947) but ones that both, in Sikkim and Ladakh, enabled him to taste the depths of place and tradition.

Tradition was a deeply important word for Pallis as a Traditionalist, a member of the 'school' of Rene Guenon, Coomaraswamy, Schuon, with all of whom he corresponded and from whom he learned his abiding framing. A perennial truth underlies and informs each and every authentic religious tradition; and, each and every such tradition, at its zenith, should shape, condition every aspect of life. Outward forms will be different, shaped by the needs and nature of the human beings to which they address themselves, but the esoteric core is identical. But the former cannot be discarded for 'spirituality', form guides and protects; and, not everyone at any one point in time is enabled or capable of understanding, withstanding the truth in all its fullness. For this, every tradition has its necessary training and disciplines.

Equally, each tradition helps form its corresponding culture and the emphasis it places on specific values. It is an exemplar of this connectivity that drew the praise of the American writer, Wendell Berry, recognizing in it, his own task of showing forth this very connectivity. Here, for example, Pallis gives an account of why Tibetan attitudes to animals differ markedly from those within the West. Animals are fully enfolded in the dynamics of existence - indeed maybe, in some sense, a person's 'origin' or 'destination in the cycle of rebirth. It brings them closer into the life of things, being sentient, suffering beings, rather than 'dull beasts', It changes the way they are seen, subtly treated.

Pallis was a Greek, brought up and educated in England, and was a convert to Buddhism in its Tibetan form. 'Peaks and Lamas' describes both an outward journey and the outset of Pallis' lifelong exploration of and assimilation to Buddhism.

It is a beautifully lucid account that fully stands the test of time, not least because it is saturated with glimpses of eternity. His chapters explaining the 'Buddhist fundamentals' are amongst some of the clearest, engaging, and concise that I have encountered. Meanwhile, his genuine love of the culture and its people allows you to see it, if not wholly in the round, with a depth and luminosity wonderfully inviting. To see it too with an accompanying sadness - for the signs of its erosion by modernity then; and, for, what you know, will be its destructive assault subsequently. Though, as one is reminded, the fundamental, abiding notion of Buddhism is the meditation on the impermanence of all things.

It is a book too saturated with humanity with wonderful touches. Pallis was a reviver of early music in general and of the viola da gamba in particular; and, he and one of his companions, Richard Nicholson, took their instruments with them. There is a lovely account of an impromptu concert in the mountains, the audience the party's porters, and assorted villagers. Hearing, rapt, these unknown instruments but playing a music 'deeply' known because all music of this quality and they are playing Bach, is the music of heaven, the place we most deeply know and remember.

If there is one aspect of the book that does not necessarily travel so well, it is Pallis' easy use of Christian references to help him illuminate Buddhist ones, both by comparison and contrast. Here he is using the language of one culture, that can be assumed to be held common to his readership, to illuminate the unfamiliar. Now they could equally be unfamiliar to the reader! This said for those who do possess the former, Christian currency, the analogies both ways are an insightful dialogue between two authentic traditions of illumination. It is a theme more rigorously explored in his, 'A Buddhist Spectrum'.

In short, it is, I confess, the hybrid kind of book, I most deeply enjoy - the personal and the cultural and the sacred aptly blended into an illuminating, satisfying whole.