Surviving the Dragon: A Tibetan Lama's Account of 40 Years under Chinese Rule
272
Surviving the Dragon: A Tibetan Lama's Account of 40 Years under Chinese Rule
272eBook
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Overview
Surviving the Dragon is the remarkable life story of Arjia Rinpoche, who was ordained as a reincarnate lama at the age of two and fled Tibet 46 years later. In his gripping memoir, Rinpoche relates the story of having been abandoned in his monastery as a young boy after witnessing the torture and arrest of his monastery family. In the years to come, Rinpoche survived under harsh Chinese rule, as he was forced into hard labor and endured continual public humiliation as part of Mao's Communist "reeducation."
By turns moving, suspenseful, historical, and spiritual, Rinpoche's unique experiences provide a rare window into a tumultuous period of Chinese history and offer readers an uncommon glimpse inside a Buddhist monastery in Tibet.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781605291628 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Harmony/Rodale |
| Publication date: | 03/02/2010 |
| Sold by: | Random House |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 272 |
| File size: | 5 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
MY MOTHER HAS A PROPHETIC DREAM
My life as a reincarnate lama began on a peaceful midsummer day in 1952, when I was two years old. A search committee of 10 monks had set out from one of Tibet's great monasteries, Kumbum, to bring back the reincarnation of the late Seventh Arjia Rinpoche, the monastery's hereditary abbot. Mounted on sturdy horses, the monks traveled swiftly across the Dolon Nor steppe in northeastern Tibet, intent on their mission. Occasionally the colorful wildflowers of summer gave way to gers of nomad herdsmen, sprouting like clusters of small, white mushrooms from the boundless carpet of the steppe. Large flocks of white Tibetan sheep grazed in the distance; in smaller herds, young yaks played happily near their mothers. From time to time the monks passed nomad herdsmen and herds-women traveling on horses loaded with bags of goods to sell or trade at a crossroads market.
For a full year the monks had been sitting over tea with tribal leaders and local gossips, looking for boys who had special talents, or around whom auspicious events had occurred. Each monk had played his part: One looked for favorable signs, such as a rainbow over the home of a pregnant woman, or a prophecy; another watched a child's behavior as he interacted with monks who had been special friends of the deceased Arjia Rinpoche, or observed carefully as the child was presented with the Rinpoche's personal prayer beads, spectacles, and utensils. Did any of them seem familiar? Two families in our tribe, my own and another, had been interviewed and tested by the search party in its quest to find the new abbot of Kumbum Monastery.
Before my birth, my mother had a prophetic dream: She was with her family; it was summer; storm clouds gathered and the sky darkened. With a big clap of thunder, a dragon suddenly appeared before her, startling her so much that she awoke from the dream. She interpreted it to mean that someday a person of great importance would come to her, but because it seemed boastful she didn't tell anyone about the dream for a long time.
Seven days after I was born, an itinerant monk came to our home and asked the exact time of my birth. He told my parents that my birth was very unusual and auspicious because I was born not only in the tiger year, but also on the tiger day, and at the tiger hour. To Tibetans and Mongolians, the tiger is the most powerful and majestic of animals, the king among great beasts. Thus, I had been thrice blessed. Again and again the monk asked my parents to take special care of me. He warned them not to allow impure things near me and asked that I be given my own special cup from which to drink and that my dishes be purified with incense. He requested that the same be done with my clothes and the place where I slept. He considered my birth to be a sacred event.
Now, two years later, the monks riding in the distance grew closer. Their golden hats shimmered, and on their backs brocade-covered cylinders held the promise of important messages. As the riders reached the outskirts of our tribe, the excitement became electric. Had the selection been made? At whose home would they stop? My parents peered through the small openings above the door of our traditional Mongolian tent, or ger. My mother had set aside special delicacies for the guests who would be visiting if her child was chosen as the reincarnation of Arjia Rinpoche.
Our furiously barking dogs gave my parents an excuse to go outside and look more closely at the arriving party. The search committee slowed and then stopped. My father advanced to their horses and held the reins as the maroon-robed travelers dismounted. Perhaps it wasn't the search committee after all! My nervous mother offered the monks tea and modest treats,reserving the delicacies while polite conversation was exchanged. My brothers found me where I was playing nearby and brought me back to the family tent.
At last the senior monk rose, placed white, hand-loomed scarves, or khatas, around my parents' necks, and offered them congratulations for having given birth to Arjia Rinpoche, eighth incarnation of the father of Lama Tsong Khapa, founder of the Gelug tradition of Tibetan Buddhism. My family prostrated before the monks in gratitude for this extraordinary honor; in her joy my mother wept.
Before my predecessor, the Seventh Arjia Rinpoche, died, he left important clues regarding his reincarnation. Arjia Rinpoche had told his followers that he especially liked the location of Dolon Nor. After his death, hundreds of monks gathered around the sealed clay oven in which his body lay. Chanting and praying, they went through the elaborate funeral rituals for such an important person. From time to time a monk would lean forward and pour oil into a metal gutter that funneled into the clay fire chamber, fueling the flames until nothing was left but ashes. Always they kept watchful eyes on the behavior of the smoke, which rose and coincidentally drifted toward Dolon Nor and the Golden Temple that housed Lama Tsong Khapa's shrine (stupa). As if to pay its final respects, the smoke swirled once in the sky above the temple, and then headed northwest. At that moment an old monk said tearfully, "Rinpoche is going to his favorite place, the Dolon Nor steppe."
Before setting out to find Rinpoche's reincarnation, the monks sought the advice of the Tenth Panchen Lama. Although he was only 12 years old at the time, he meditated for a moment on what had occurred, then spoke decisively. He ordered the seekers to "follow the direction of the first smoke." In keeping with Tibetan custom, a year later the search began in earnest for a male child conceived within 49 days of Arjia Rinpoche's death. The region where the smoke had gone was sparsely inhabited, so the monks knew they would have a small pool of candidates--perhaps 10--to choose from; in a more populated area as many as 100 boys might be selected.
The searchers traveled through the countryside without revealing the true purpose of their journey. They stopped at camps and villages, casually conversing with locals, looking for any unusual signs that could indicate where a suitable boy might be found. Nearly a year later, when the final list was brought to the attention of the Panchen Lama, he saw my name and immediately pointed to it, saying, "Yes, this is the one." In the Gelug branch of Tibetan Buddhism, the largest branch, the Dalai Lamas and the Panchen Lamas stand together at the top of a hierarchical system of incarnations. For centuries they have provided a lineage of Buddhist wisdom and practice, and are revered not only for their status, but also because of the rigorous training they undergo.
Tibetan Buddhist hierarchy is not defined as strictly as it is in many Western religions, such as Catholicism. For example, the Dalai Lama is supreme in his secular role of political leader, but when it comes to religious authority, he and the Panchen Lama are equals. Then come the leaders of each of the four Tibetan spiritual traditions: Nyingma, Sakya, Kagyu, and Gelug. After this, the hierarchy gets hazy. Certainly the abbots of the major monasteries are high ranking. Others are highly regarded because of the contributions and achievements of their predecessors. Still others have achieved prominence in this lifetime.
Ordinarily, the Panchen Lama's selection of my name from the list of candidates would have been strictly followed. However, the young Panchen Lama's decision was not immediately accepted by my uncle Gyayak Rinpoche, who had a great deal of influence because he was the Panchen Lama's teacher, spiritual mentor, and constant companion. As I learned many years later, my uncle worried that if I, his nephew, were selected, people would doubt the legitimacy of the choice; they would suspect nepotism. Therefore Gyayak Rinpoche suggested that all 10 boys be examined, tested, and finally selected in the traditional way: using a tsampa ball.
For this ceremony, tsampa, the traditional Tibetan dough made from water, barley flour, and butter, is formed into balls. The name of each candidate is written on a strip of paper and inserted into a hole in each ball. Great care is taken to make sure the balls are then rolled into identical spheres and placed into a porcelain goblet decorated with the eight auspicious symbols of Tibetan Buddhism.
The selection ceremony for the Eighth Arjia Rinpoche took place in the most sacred space in Kumbum Monastery, the Great Hall of Golden Tiles (Serdong Chenmo), on the very spot where founder Lama Tsong Khapa was born. Inside the Golden Hall is a spectacular shrine covered in silver, embossed with snow lions, and encrusted with precious stones. On the massive structure stands a life-size statue of Lama Tsong Khapa, founder of the Gelug tradition, framed by an elaborately worked silver aura encrusted with gems. A large, mystical bird called a garauda is depicted flying above a giant polished turquoise stone, crowning the statue.
An open area surrounds the statue at the raised level of the shrine. During special occasions, such as the selection of an important reincarnation, high lamas sit around the shrine chanting prayers for guidance under the soft light of butter lamps. Incense permeates the air while ritual offerings of flowers, incense, fruit, and barley are made. The monks chant, "Cho-kyi gyal-po kun-khen lo-zang-drag. Say-dang che-pa ney-dir sheg-su- sol" ("All Buddhas and bodhisattvas, please come here, together with your offspring").
During this solemn ceremony, all eyes were on the Panchen Lama. He held the goblet containing the 10 tsampa balls and swirled it so that the balls circled upward toward the brim. As he continued to do so, one ball gained enough momentum to fly out of the bowl. Four monks held the corners of a large, golden silk cloth to catch the tsampa. The first ball was set aside. Two more balls flew out of the bowl and were set aside. Inside these three tsampa balls were hidden the names of the final candidates; each would be honored, as each represented an aspect of Arjia Rinpoche's qualities: his body, his speech, and his mind. The remaining seven balls, and the names contained within, were removed from contention.
After more prayers, the three balls were placed back into the goblet. Once more the swirling began, until one jumped out. The Panchen Lama opened it and read aloud the words inscribed: Yung Drung Dorje. This was my infant name.
The region that the Seventh Arjia Rinpoche loved so much, the area in which I was born, was a landscape of vast steppes by the great salt lake of Dolon Nor, where tribes of Tibetan and Mongolian nomads have lived for generations. It was a spacious prairie whose inhabitants mirrored the open, forthright, hospitable qualities of the land itself. They were filled with reverence for the Three Jewels: Buddha, the enlightened being; Dharma, his teachings; and Sangha, the assembly of his enlightened followers. Their devotion to the Dalai Lama and the Panchen Lama was equally boundless.
During the 1940s, while he was visiting Kumbum Monastery, the Ninth Panchen Lama was invited to visit the Dolon Nor steppes. He was accompanied by Arjia Rinpoche and other important lamas. In this isolated region such a visit was rare, so the local people were filled with a special longing to receive teachings from the Panchen Lama. According to accounts of this historic visit, the site was packed with colorful Mongolian gers and Tibetan tents. Nomad drink and delicacies were plentiful. Because it was spring, people had set aside their homegrown sheepskin outerwear for traditional holiday attire stitched with brightly colored, store-bought thread and cloth. Mongolian women had decorated their dresses with turquoise and coral worked with silver, while Tibetan women wore hats trailing lengths of jewelry. The men competed in horse races and archery to welcome the Panchen Lama.
Although in those days Tibetans and Mongolians lived under very simple conditions--without even basic electrical appliances--they felt no lack of comfort. On the contrary, everybody could heartily enjoy a life that was free from the noise and worries of a busy, competitive society. The nomads of my country believed that the most precious things in life were a carefree state of mind and a friendship that was pure, and they passed their days in peaceful pursuit of these goals. My previous incarnation took such pleasure in the fertile beauty of the prairie, and in the enthusiasm and hospitality of its people, that he said, "If possible, my next life will begin there." And it had.
If a neighbor needed help on the steppe, everybody came to offer a hand, even if he or she was not a relative. Reliance on friends is an important aspect of nomadic life. The herding people of Dolon Nor moved three or four times a year, following the seasons in search of new grazing lands, where the grasses and water were fresh. For the most part nomads herded sheep. Having a flock of a hundred was common; a thousand sheep made a family wealthy.
Both Tibetan and Mongolian nomads settled our area, and you could tell the camps apart by their shelters. Whereas Tibetans lived in tents woven of yak hair, Mongolians lived in gers, or yurts--warm, domelike portable dwellings covered with felt. Each family built its own dwelling. Wooden parts were bought from a carpenter, but the nomads made the felt from their own wool using traditional methods and sewed the gers themselves. The felt was supported by wooden lattice walls, which could be collapsed like an accordion when it came time to move to a different site. From the top of the lattice rose thin, umbrellalike spokes, to a wheel-shaped hub at the pinnacle. The felt overlay was often decorated with appliques of auspicious Buddhist symbols, with a curlicue design around the top of the tent. The inside walls were usually embellished with brocaded fabric if the family was sufficiently prosperous. When important people came to visit, more designs might be added to the walls.
In my childhood home the fireplace was located in the center of the ger. For fuel we used a mixture of dried yak and sheep dung, as the one burned hotter and the other burned slower. Surprisingly, there was no smell or smoke inside; it escaped through the center hole in the top of the ger. Opposite the entryway was our family shrine with its offering bowls, butter lamps, incense, and sacred objects such as statues of Buddhas. The seating area near the shrine was reserved for special guests. On the right side, as you entered, was the kitchen with its portable cupboards, pots, and other storage. Children and young couples slept on this side, while older children and parents slept on the left. Woven cloth and yak or sheep skins carpeted the floor for warmth.