From a Mountain in Tibet

 

My first 'encounter' with Tibet was reading at school Lama Anagarika Govinda's classic account of his journey there in 1948, 'The Way of the White Clouds' where this remarkably gifted man and his wife explore a culture poignantly, unbeknownst to them, on the edge of wrenching change. Amongst much else, their paintings, drawings, and photographs became a unique record of artifacts that were to disappear in the destruction of the Cultural Revolution. If Govinda's works of  Buddhist exposition now raise eyebrows among more straitlaced scholars (though I confess to continuing to love them), no one can, I think, deny his sincerity, enthusiasm, and genuine wisdom - or the role he played in Tibetan Buddhism's transmission to the West. 

https://ncolloff.blogspot.com/2011/05/way-of-white-clouds.html

My next encounter was a critical illumination. At university, I was reading Tucci's 'The Theory and Practice of the Mandala' and pondering with little success how they worked. I mean how does a symbolic picture transform consciousness. In my mind, there was a gap betwixt this apparently subjective configuration and 'reality' (whatever I thought that was)! Suddenly sitting in the library, I realized that, in fact, they were 'maps of the imaginal' that they worked precisely because it was the nature of the world to be patterned after archetypal forms. They were constructs of the actual. A similar moment came when reading the distinguished Orthodox theologian, Alexander Schmemann when he says that it is as much of the nature of water to be baptismal as it is to be composed of hydrogen and oxygen atoms or to be wet. The nature of reality is liturgical for Schmemann - "The only real fall of man is his non-eucharistic life in a non-eucharistic world-" or, more precisely, the liturgy is a construct of the actual. In both cases, they align you with the real nature of the person in a living cosmos that is archetypally patterned.

So, it has flowed a long-running dialogue with the tradition of Tibetan Buddhism - sometimes quite intense - including periodic stays in Buddhist monasteries/centers - at other times a slower rhythm of reading and reflection. This has never led to a 'conversion' but to quote the title of Paul Knitter's fascinating book: 'Without Buddha, I could not be a Christian.'  

https://ncolloff.blogspot.com/2011/08/christ-dharma.html

Into this happy flow steps the most recent addition, Lama Yeshe Losal Rinpoche's 'From a Mountain in Tibet: A Monk's Journey'. Lama Yeshe is now responsible for Samye Ling, the Buddhist monastic center in the Borders of Scotland, whose guiding inspiration was his older brother; and, its wonderful offshoot Holy Island that serves both as an inter-faith center of peace and health as well as a place where Buddhist monks and nuns perform their solitary retreats - traditionally for three years, three months and three days (though with variation).

The book is a wonderful account of transformations. First outwardly from a rural existence in Tibet preceding the Chinese occupation to harrowing flight where Lama Yeshe's party comes close to death (and indeed a number do not survive) to the status of a refugee in India to eventually arriving in Scotland (taking in the Swinging Sixties in London and New York on the way). Secondly, and more importantly, inwardly, from a child's shock of being displaced from home to a monastery, from the cumulative trauma of flight and being a refugee and succumbing to tuberculosis, of cumulative resentments - at being special as the brother of a tulku but never feeling fully included for example - and simply being a bit of an egotistical, spoilt prick to slowly being a respected and revered teacher and innovator in how Buddhism would be taught in the West (including championing temporary monastic vows and the full ordination of women).

It is a story told with charm, sensitivity, and openness and with two key guiding threads. First, each person is of the Buddha-nature - this shines within each and every one of us; however, we might obscure it or however damaged we might be (or imagine ourself to be) - and through faith in this nature, the practice of Buddhism and especially meditation (widely understood) and appropriate guidance, we can fall into, settle the mind down within, its natural light from which a renewed harmony and compassion will spring. Not at once, maybe it will require lifetimes, but if I, Lama Yeshe can do it, starting from where I did in this, my lifetime, so can you. Second, as well as guidance, what we most need is the compassionate persistence of others, people with the maturity and love, to see us as we are - this radiant potential - and, however, much we 'misbehave', miss its reality, simply keep mirroring it back to us in love (somewhat robustly at times, if necessary). Here it is Lama Yeshe's brother and the Kharmpa, head of his Buddhist lineage, that performed this role. A reminder to us all that we are called upon to love, endure and forgive one another - and in the process sow seeds of future transformation (though the results can take a while coming)!

I could not help think that the book follows the archetypal pattern of hagiography - the sinner converted into (or towards being) the saint - but then as I realized long ago the world is indeed a pattern of archetypal forms of which this is one; and, as told here, a beautifully encouraging story for anyone seeking the light of spiritual transformation.