Читать книгу Blazing Splendor - Tulku Urgyen Rinpoche - Страница 20

7

Lord of Activity, the Fifteenth Karmapa

After Khyentse and Kongtrul, no one performed a greater service for the propagation of Chokgyur Lingpa’s New Treasures than Khakyab Dorje, the fifteenth Karmapa.

Before passing on, the Karmapas traditionally write a letter describing where their next incarnation will be born. And so it was that Khakyab Dorje was found as a young child in the Tsang province of Central Tibet by a search party of lamas who used as their guide a letter written by the previous Karmapa. Chokgyur Lingpa further confirmed his identity in an independent prediction that pointed to the same child.

From an early age, Khakyab Dorje was remarkable. While still quite young, he was asked to consecrate a monastery near his family home. “I’ll do it on the first day of the twelfth month,” he replied.

By that time, he was residing in Tsurphu, quite a long distance from the monastery he had been asked to consecrate. But instead of traveling there, on the morning of the chosen day he just asked for a covered basin. His attendants thought he was playing when he told them, “Today I am consecrating a monastery far away!”

They played along with him when he insisted that two attendants carry the basin around Tsurphu. The young Karmapa walked along throwing grains into the basin. Later, some people who lived near the distant monastery made the journey to Tsurphu and said that grain had fallen from the sky on that very day, just like a light rain.

As he grew up, Khakyab Dorje came to possess profound scholarship, but he also performed many miracles. He was a tertön who had access to both earth and mind treasures.

Sometimes terma objects just suddenly appeared in the Karmapa’s hands, very hot and sometimes moving of their own accord. This happened once while he was on a visit to the Amnye region. He received a terma from a local spirit and it was still quite hot while he held it—so hot that when he put it on the table, other people couldn’t touch it without being burned. All these terma objects were still kept at Tsurphu when I was there.

Instead of having to go out somewhere, like a cave, to find the terma, the Karmapa had many terma objects brought to him by the spirits who were keepers of the termas. The Dharma protectors would place terma caskets on the table right in front of him at Tsurphu.

I saw one such terma object that was kept in his sacred treasury box: an image of the Lotus-Born master, highly unusual in that half the body was bronze and the other half pure crystal. I have never seen another like it. I also saw many sacred kilaya daggers and other Padmasambhava statues and was told when and from whom he had obtained them. One kilaya dagger was of meteoric iron with a crystal top, also extraordinary. There were many such exquisite treasures, like nothing I have ever seen anywhere else.

Sometimes in his field of vision the Karmapa would suddenly see terma boxes appear, floating toward him in space. Occasionally these floating boxes were even seen by others. This happened once while the Karmapa was on pilgrimage to Yarlung, a few days from Tsurphu. As he was riding, terma boxes began to swirl around him in midair. Several of the servants saw them.

“Today there was a vicious attack of evil spirits,” one of the servants later commented.

“I’m not sure how vicious it was,” the Karmapa replied.

Because the Karmapa is an emanation of buddha activity, when a tertön connects with him, that in itself increases the propagation of the terma teachings. A look through the history of tertöns reveals again and again that if one of the Karmapas shows respect for a tertön, then the Karmapa’s influence and blessings will make everyone accept the tertön and his teachings without doubt or dispute. This is why major tertöns need to link up with the Karmapa; otherwise, the tertön is at risk of being called crazy or a charlatan.

But although the Karmapa discovered many termas, he himself never seemed to write down the many texts connected to them. The Karmapa once explained, “With the abundance of revelations from Khyentse, Kongtrul and Chokling, there is no need for me to add any new termas.”

At Tsurphu, in the inner chambers, there were forty boxes containing amazing representations of enlightened body, speech and mind given to him by the guardians of various termas. When showing these spiritual treasures to my uncle Samten Gyatso, the Karmapa once again emphasized, “There were teachings to write down, but I didn’t—there is no way I need to compete with the three great tertöns. I find their termas neither incomplete nor in need of correction.”

Samten Gyatso told me, “Khakyab Dorje was an inconceivably great master. I felt sure that he could perceive the three times as clearly as something placed in the palm of his hand.” This remarkable clairvoyance made it possible for the Karmapa to identify close to one thousand tulkus during his lifetime.

Since Samten Gyatso and Khakyab Dorje were very close, my uncle had no qualms about asking even very personal questions. Once he asked the Karmapa how he knew where tulkus would be reborn. Although he had unimpeded clairvoyance, the Karmapa explained that he did not always have complete control over it. On the one hand, sometimes he would know when a lama was going to die and where he would be reborn without anyone first requesting this information. Then, when the disciples responsible for finding the tulku would come to inquire about the lama, he would already have written down the details of the tulku’s death and rebirth.

In other cases, he could only see the circumstances of rebirth when a special request was made and certain auspicious circumstances were created through any of a number of practices. And in a few cases, he couldn’t see anything, even when people requested his help. He would try, but the crucial facts would be “shrouded in mist.” This, he said, was a sign of some problem between the dead lama and his disciples. For instance, if there had been fighting and disharmony among the lama’s following, the whereabouts of his next incarnation would be vague and shrouded in haze.

“The worst obstacle for clearly recognizing tulkus,” he explained, “is disharmony between the guru and his disciples. In such cases, nothing can be done, and the circumstances of the next rebirth remain unforeseeable.”

The Karmapa was supposed to be a major tertön, so there was good reason for him to take a consort, which is necessary to “unlock the treasure chest” of the termas.⁵⁷ However, the Karmapas were usually monks, and so taking a consort was not readily accepted; in fact it was considered highly inappropriate. His reluctance to reveal termas or take a consort caused him to become seriously ill. Some say this was a punishment meted out by the dakinis to potential tertöns who fail to fulfill their mission.

Whatever the case, in the end, many great masters persuaded him to take a consort; if he didn’t, they pleaded, he would die prematurely. His first consort was the eldest daughter of a noble family from Central Tibet. As predicted by Padmasambhava, she was to be his consort for revealing termas. Afterward, he also married his consort’s younger sister.

Later still, when the Karmapa again fell ill, a prediction by the Lotus-Born appeared in a terma revealed by a tertön from Surmang.⁵⁸ It stated that if the Karmapa accepted a particular young woman, who was a dakini in human form, his life would be extended by three years.

The Karmapa sent out a search party, who identified her and invited her back to Tsurphu. She became known as Khandro Chenmo, which means “the great dakini.”⁵⁹ He took her as his consort, and she did indeed seem to extend his life for three years. Any time the Karmapa fell ill, she was invited to visit him, and within a couple of days he would recover. This went on for three full years. The value of extending the life of the Karmapa is immeasurable.

Khandro Chenmo was very beautiful and she became a remarkable practitioner. She was loving and compassionate, full of devotion, and with an unfathomable spiritual depth. I knew her quite well in the last years of her life. We first met in Tsurphu when I was twenty-six, then again three years later and then later still in Rumtek, where she finally departed for the invisible realms two years after fleeing Tibet. She was a very special being, a true dakini. She spent almost all her time in retreat practicing sadhana and reciting mantra, and reached a profound level of experience and realization. This is not hearsay; I can bear witness to it myself.

16. The Great Dakini of Tsurphu

Samten Gyatso had immense respect for her and once told me, “When I went to visit the Karmapa, she was often there. It felt like meeting the female buddha Tara in person. She is Noble Tara among us in a human body, an authentic dakini.” She, in her turn, was very fond of my uncle and each year would send a present to him in Kham.

Khandro Chenmo was treated with immense respect, as though she were a great lama. Word would spread wherever she went and thousands of people would go to meet her. She traveled to Bhutan at the invitation of the royal family and when she came to visit Dzongsar Khyentse in Gangtok, he personally came out to greet her. At special ceremonies she was usually placed on a throne as high as Khyentse and Kongtrul. But she never made a big deal out of herself.

The great scholar Tashi Özer was Kongtrul’s attendant for a time, and he told me about the Karmapa’s last meeting with his teacher Kongtrul. The meeting took place at Kongtrul’s retreat place above Palpung.⁶⁰

“I have come here to pay my respects upon my departure,” the Karmapa said.

“Well, well. If you are leaving, I may come and live for a while in your house,” replied Kongtrul. The Karmapa thought Kongtrul might be implying that he would come back as the Karmapa’s child, though he didn’t say anything.

As I mentioned, according to tradition, a senior monk is dispatched from the monastery of a deceased lama to inquire of the Karmapa (or another highly realized master) where the tulku might be found. After Kongtrul’s passing, this task fell by coincidence to Tashi Özer, who traveled all the way to Tsurphu to ask the Karmapa where Kongtrul’s reincarnation was.

“Please give us some indication of where the tulku has been reborn,” he requested.

Khakyab Dorje kept silent, so Tashi Özer tried again, “I’m one of his chief disciples—you must tell me! I am sure you know.”

The Karmapa still said nothing, but this didn’t dissuade the great scholar.

He kept insisting, until finally the Karmapa admitted, “Very well, the great Kongtrul has been reborn as my son. I cannot and do not dare send back the message that the rebirth of my root guru is my own child!”

Tashi Özer objected, “Don’t you remember? I was present when our great vajra holder explicitly said he would ‘come to stay at your house.’ Didn’t you hear that with your own ears? And isn’t it true that you call Kongtrul your root guru? So tell me, are you going to go directly against his word?”

This was typical of Tashi Özer’s persuasive, hard-to-refute manner. I don’t know how long the argument dragged on. But in the end he succeeded in bringing the Karmapa’s son back to Palpung in Kham where he was enthroned as the reincarnation of the old Kongtrul.

Samten Gyatso transmitted the New Treasures to the Karmapa or, in my uncle’s words, he “presented it as a mandala offering,”⁶¹ including the complete empowerments, readings, and instructions. At this point, there were several arrangements necessary—for liturgies as well as for empowerments—which, like this one, had been codified neither by Chokgyur Lingpa, his son Tsewang Drakpa, nor by Khyentse or Kongtrul.

As these arrangements were needed for extremely important and profound termas, Samten Gyatso requested the Karmapa to compose these texts. The Karmapa kindly agreed and dictated them to his close disciple, the outstanding lama Jampal Tsultrim.

While the Karmapa was giving the empowerments, everyone lodged at Lotus Garuda Fortress, the retreat center nestled on the cliff high above Tsurphu. Often they all stayed up talking until midnight, when Uncle Tersey and Samten Gyatso would go back to their own rooms.

At that time, the Karmapa had already written a letter predicting his own future reincarnation. But as his life had been extended for three years with the help of his third consort, he needed to write another.

One evening, they were engaged in conversation when Samten Gyatso suddenly asked, “In your prediction about your next incarnation, you stated that you would take rebirth in the area of Denkhog, in the Dilgo family. You were ill then, but you didn’t die and have in fact recovered. However, you will die one day, so when you do, will you still be born in that same place? If not, where will you take birth?”

Uncle Tersey was sitting next to him and was quite upset by the question. He later told me, “He actually asked that! Such an inauspicious question! I got really upset, thinking, ‘Why does he have to ask a question like that while the Karmapa is still alive? What is he thinking? What got into him? This is so inappropriate.’

“The Karmapa became totally quiet; the silence grew longer and longer. I thought he was angry, and why wouldn’t he be? At that point, I felt really scared. We were just sitting there and the Karmapa had stopped speaking to us. He just sat there for the longest time, not saying a word.

“Finally, the Karmapa broke the silence: ‘The previous coincidence of time and place has vanished. I will not be born into the Dilgo family.’”

Samten Gyatso’s response to this was to simply join his palms and say, “Lasoh! I see!” Then he remained quiet, too, for a time. But then he asked once again, “Well, if that’s the case, where will you be reborn?”

Uncle Tersey had tried to nudge Samten Gyatso’s thigh to stop him from asking such an impertinent question once again, but it was too late. “How inauspicious to ask the Karmapa about his own death!” he thought.

But the Karmapa seemed unfazed. He answered matter-of-factly, “I will take rebirth to the east not far from there. If you know the area of Denkhog, you must also know that to the east of the Dilgo estate lies that of the influential Ado family. I will be born into that family.”

Uncle Tersey just held his silence, but he kept the information in mind.

That was the kind of master the Karmapa was.

After Samten Gyatso left Tsurphu, the Karmapa summoned his close retinue: Jampal Tsultrim, Khenpo Lekshey and his main consort, Khandro Chenmo. He held up an envelope and told them, “One of you three should take care of this prediction letter. There will come a point when it will be indispensable. At that time, read it, but before then, just hold on to it.”

“I can’t take care of this. I’m too young for this responsibility,” Khandro replied as she was only nineteen at the time.

Khenpo Lekshey said, “I don’t dare to either.”

The two of them turned to Jampal Tsultrim and said, “You keep it!”

So Jampal Tsultrim put the letter inside the reliquary box he wore around his neck and kept it there.

A year or so later the great Karmapa finally left his body. There were many ceremonies during the first forty-nine days. Jampal Tsultrim was subsequently invited to Mindrolling to give the reading transmission of the Collected Works of Khakyab Dorje. Afterward, he went straight to Golok, his home region far away to the northeast, for four or five months.

In the meantime, the government in Lhasa had sent a representative to Tsurphu asking to be shown the prediction letter, “According to your tradition, the Karmapa always leaves an exact description of where he will take his next rebirth. We would like to see it!”

They found the earlier prediction letter but noticed that the Karmapa had added a sentence at the bottom, “The coincidence for this has dissolved.” A frantic search for another letter began.

Jampal Tsultrim was gone; Khenpo Lekshey, having entered strict retreat, was incommunicado; and Khandro Chenmo was devastated. Nobody thought to even ask her about the letter. The search team rifled through every single one of Khakyab Dorje’s books. They even tore open his mattress. But, of course, they came up with nothing—Jampal Tsultrim was unsuspectingly wandering about in distant Golok with the letter in the box around his neck.

Finally, the Tsurphu officials were forced to admit that they had no letter. Soon after, the thirteenth Dalai Lama’s office issued a formal statement that the Karmapa’s reincarnation had been born as the son of one of the cabinet ministers in Lhasa.

This news reached all the way to Golok. Hearing it, Jampal Tsultrim cut his stay short and hurried back to Tsurphu. As soon as he arrived, he exclaimed, “What do you mean there is no prediction letter? I have it right here!” And he opened his reliquary box and showed it to the general secretary at Tsurphu.

“You enemy of the Dharma! How could you do something like this?!?” exclaimed the general secretary angrily. “You should be immediately tossed into prison!”

“Throw me into prison if you like, if it will help in any way. The letter, however, is right here in my hand. There is no mistake.”

“This is a disaster! The government of Tibet has already nominated another tulku. What are we going to do?” the general secretary asked, perplexed.

A messenger was immediately sent at top speed to the great Situ of Palpung in faraway Kham. And as the Karma Kagyu and Drukpa Kagyu were enjoying very harmonious relations at the time, another messenger was sent to the Drukchen Jamgön to ask his advice. The counsel of other respected lamas was also sought.

One lama stressed the importance of being in harmony with the Tibetan government. But the Drukchen reportedly differed, saying, “If the Karmapa is not the right one, then the chances are nil that future Kagyu tulkus will be accurately identified.”

So he suggested that all the monasteries perform extensive ceremonies petitioning the Dharma protectors for their blessings. At the same time, a delegation was sent to Lhasa informing the government of the newfound letter, with the message, “We have found the Karmapa’s prediction letter and it is authentic.”

The officials at the central government replied, “First you say there is no letter and now you say there is. The office of the Dalai Lama has already issued a position. It cannot be changed.”

The petitioning and refusal went back and forth for an entire year. Then one day, while playing on a rooftop near the Potala, the cabinet minister’s son fell and broke his pelvis. In those days, such injuries were very serious and the boy soon died of complications. Now the Tsurphu office was asked to send out a search party for another candidate.

As the Karmapa had written the prediction letter in beautiful poetry with extremely precise details, Tsurphu only submitted a single candidate—the one identified in the letter. The Lhasa government replied, “You cannot submit just one candidate. That’s the same as you deciding who the tulku is. If you are asking us to decide, which is the tradition, you must submit two or three different choices and we will decide which one it is.”

Again Tsurphu was in major turmoil and one meeting followed another.

But the Khyentse of Palpung, another important lama from Kham, was not only very wise but also very clever. He came up with an idea to circumvent the proud officials in Lhasa. “Make one candidate’s name the son of the father,” he suggested, “and the ‘other’ candidate, the name of the son of the mother.” So they wrote down two different names for the same boy, sent them to the government and awaited their reply. When it finally came, it said, “The correct tulku is the son of the mother, not the son of the father.”

This was how the authentic tulku of the fifteenth Karmapa was established at Tsurphu after many trials and tribulations.

When I think of the fifteenth Karmapa, Khakyab Dorje, I am struck with amazement! To have such far-reaching powers of clairvoyance!