In the Splendid Dharma Tent: His Holiness Karmapa’s Second Visit to KTD (Part 1)

Orgyen Trinley Dorje, His Holiness the 17^th Gyalwa Karmapa, visited America for only the second time this month. While those of us who had heard rumors that he might be coming waited eagerly for news, the staff at Karmapa’s North American seat—Karma Triyana Dharmachakra (KTD) in Woodstock, New York—were faced with the challenge of preparing for the visit on terrifically short notice and without officially being able to tell people that Karmapa was coming, given that India (where His Holiness is living now after having escaped from Tibet over New Year’s 1999-2000) issued his visa at the very last minute.

Karmapa’s first stop was Washington, D.C., where His Holiness the Dalai Lama was giving teachings and the Kalachakra empowerment. There were a lot of Tibetan Buddhist dignitaries on hand for that event, but Karmapa’s arrival caused something of a stir—“collective gasps” was one description that I read—when he walked on stage for his first day at the teachings. Word had not yet spread widely that he was even in the United States.

Karmapa’s second stop was at KTD and I was fortunate enough to be able to attend. I’ve always heard that when one plans to attend a major teaching or empowerment, any obstacles that arise beforehand are the result of previous bad karma that is somehow being cleared; if this is true (and I have no reason to doubt it), I cleared some serious karma through a series of miscommunications about registration for the event that cropped up just before I left home and continued through the first morning of the event itself.

Was my payment due before the event or at the event? If before, was there a deadline I had to meet for payment and could I meet it on very short notice? Who at KTD had the authority to give me the correct answer to my questions? (Many thanks to Lama Kathy Wesley for routing my frequent pesky questions to the right people.) Would my luggage and I make it onto our scheduled plane at the very busy, crowded Orlando airport? Would I have to arrange for a taxi up to KTD, or would there be shuttle buses? Could I make it through Security and over to the registration tent at the KTD gate without having the requisite badge? With a long history of motion sickness when I’m not driving, would I throw up on the bus ride along the twisting road up and down the hill to KTD? (The answer to this last question was “Almost.”)

Throughout all of these obstacles, the mantra “practice patience” kept repeating in my thoughts—a vivid reminder that the Buddhist teachings on the Six Perfections are real challenges to old, ingrained mental habits. So easy to get petulant; so hard to be patient!

But with obstacles finally overcome and patience thankfully preserved, I found myself once again entering the Gate of Dharma.

There have been many changes at KTD since the last time I was there. The new building is complete, and occupied. The old Meads Mountain House, the stagecoach inn that has housed KTD’s offices and staff for several decades, is deserted and barricaded, slated to be demolished later this summer. (Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche presided over a closing ceremony for the house just recently.) The funky old bookstore space with its nooks and crannies and unexpected traffic patterns…my favorite patio table where I admired the surrounding mountains and enjoyed many meals outside…the steep stairs with the narrow steps…the slanting bathroom floors…the cracked walls…the cramped showers…the ancient windows and rickety furniture…never again will KTD’s guests have the opportunity to experience these things!

The new bookstore spaces—with books and gifts on one floor and statues and thangkas on another—are a vast improvement and a great delight; Namse Bangdzo may well be the best Buddhist bookstore in North America.

Since I’m not staying at KTD this trip, I’ll have to wait to report on what it’s like to spend time in the new building—though I did have a chance to eat in the new dining hall on one of my last trips, and it is a big, beautiful space with spectacular views of the surrounding trees—a place worthy of Karmapa.

And so I journeyed up the hill past “Welcome Home” banners and prayer flags, through the Dharma Gate to the registration tent, past a long row of purple porta-potties, around the shell of Meads Mountain House, and through the bright new Gampopa Gateway—now dedicated to my refuge lama, Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche—and into the splendid dharma tent, erected over the central courtyard of the monastery to protect the hundreds of us in attendance from rain and sun.

And once again, I was reminded of the great gatherings that assembled around notable teachers in old Tibet, where people traveled hundreds if not thousands of miles to hear the dharma from masters in an unbroken lineage and to receive heart-to-heart blessings that are, so often, life changing.

Freedom, Pointing-Out Instructions, and Dharma Study

I have just come from an amazing weekend of teachings given here in Florida by Bardor Tulku Rinpoche of Kunzang Palchen Ling in Red Hook, New York, and formerly of His Holiness Karmapa’s North American seat, Karma Triyana Dharmachakra in Woodstock, New York.

Bardor Tulku Rinpoche (hereinafter referred to as BTR, for brevity’s sake) is recognized as the rebirth of one of Guru Rinpoche’s (Padmasambhava’s) 25 main disciples, Nub Sangye Yeshe, and also as the rebirth of the 19th-century terton (treasure text finder), Terchen Barway Dorje.

BTR taught this past weekend on three of Barway Dorje’s songs that have been published in the book Treasury of Eloquence: The Songs of Barway Dorje. For those who are interested, the songs are on pages 120-130 of the book.

The songs, composed for one of Barway Dorje’s consorts, Tsering Yangchen or Tseyang, are beautiful, clear, and heart-felt instructions in dharma practice; they also contain pointing out (as in, pointing out the nature of mind) instructions from teacher to disciple. Lama Yeshe Gyamtso, who was translating for BTR, told us that Tseyang is said to have attained fruition after practicing Barway Dorje’s instructions.

Pointing-out instructions are some of the most sought-after and mysterious teachings in the whole of Vajrayana Buddhism. It’s said that Buddhahood can be obtained in a single instant given the right match between teacher, student, and pointing-out instruction.

One of the things BTR explained—and which I have felt, intuitively, over the last several years—is that teachers give pointing-out instructions all the time. Because of different affinities and karmic connections, however, students often fail to realize when these instructions are being given. It takes the student’s doing the right preparation work (which I think may be different for every student) and the student’s meeting his or her karmically-connected teacher, in order for the pointing-out instructions to really work—so that the student can be introduced to the true nature of his or her own mind.

Rinpoche explained that in Tibet, it was common for teachers to instruct their students to attend different teachers, or go to specific places to meditate; this was because often, the teachers could tell which other teachers would be of the greatest benefit to students, because of the karmic threads that tied teacher and student together. Rinpoche used Milarepa as an example; Milarepa was sent to Marpa by one of Mila’s other teachers.

It was also common for students to take teachings and empowerments from many different teachers, until they found the teacher with whom they had their heart connection; this practice was not frowned upon or discouraged, but rather accepted and even expected.

The freedom to take teachings from different teachers, Rinpoche explained, is not only necessary but also essential for successful dharma practice. Freedom is your right as a student—morally and legally—to study with whomever you choose.

It is important, Rinpoche told us, to follow your faith.

And then, Rinpoche added, no one should prevent students from choosing with whom they will study—to do so is not only an error, it is a grave error.

Now, I will be the first to admit that I carry some baggage around the issues of freedom. I have lost two jobs that I’ve liked because of situations in which I found myself unable to sit silent while things were happening that were just plain wrong. In each case, the things that went awry were big things, not petty ones, and were fraught with questions involving racial relations and how organizations deal, or fail to deal, with issues of racial prejudice and freedom of speech.

I have not written about these things in detail on this blog, because I’m hoping eventually to have the time and mental space to deal with them in another format. But I want to be clear for readers that with regard to issues of freedom, I have always come out on the side of “for” rather than “against,” even when that stand has wound up hurting me. And I can say, with no hesitation, that if I ever were offered a re-do of these situations, I’d do exactly the same things—or I couldn’t face myself in the mirror every morning (which, at my age, is fairly hard to do!).

As some of the readers of this blog may know, there has been a bit of a dustup at KTD over the past couple years involving who is and is not able to teach there, and with whom KTD- and KTC-affiliated students should and should not study. It is not my intention to rehash this history, because the facts are available elsewhere on line.

But when I hear things, as I did this weekend, that trouble me, then I have to wonder: Am I enabling such troubling situations to continue if I remain silent? Is it my dharma duty to speak out? Or are the sangha and I better served if I simply shut up and do my practice?

Most of the sangha members I talked to about these issues urged silence and caution. I decided I wanted to hear what Rinpoche had to say, so I asked him; my question was the last one at the question-and-answer session on the last day of the teachings.

“Rinpoche,” I asked, “last night in the empowerment, you used the term ‘fierce devotion.’ So when I hear about people being banned from teaching in certain places, and students being discouraged from attending certain teachers, that raises a lot of ‘fierce devotion’ for me.”

Lama Yeshe Gyamtso stopped me right there, and explained that the term “fierce devotion” means intense devotion, not anger. I was happy to hear that, because part of my question was going to be, “What is meant by ‘fierce devotion’?”

I explained that I was not asking out of anger, but rather out of a strong protective instinct—dare I invoke the words “mama grizzly”?—to protect the students’ freedoms to choose their teachers, to protect the teachers’ livelihoods, and to protect the people responsible for imposing limitations from the negative karma involved in their actions.

Lama Yeshe Gyamtso then let the question go forward, and I got my answer.

You have many freedoms in this country, Rinpoche said. One of those freedoms is freedom of speech, and Rinpoche said he would never tell any of his students what to say, or what not to say.

I had a feeling much like the one I had in graduate school when my professor, who was teaching our class in Social Reality and Human Organizations, stood up and said, “Issues of power and authority in organizations are never issues of power and authority; they are issues of fear and insecurity.” I wanted to stand up and cheer!

So when I hear things like the ones I heard this weekend—that a brilliant Western translator and teacher has been banned from teaching at certain Western centers, not by a Rinpoche but by another Western lama—I have to wonder: What kind of dharma traditions do we really want to create here in this wild dharma borderland of North America?

Do we want to stand on the side of freedom or oppression? What organizational decisions and structures do we want to support? I think the times call for some serious introspection and questioning for all of us who are involved in Vajrayana practice in the West.

With freedom comes responsibility. Part of that responsibility, it seems to me, is learning how to trust yourself, follow your faith, and make your own decisions, rather than letting other people make those decisions for you.

These kinds of situations are especially hard for people who, like me, have feet planted in a couple of different—and sometimes conflicting—dharma camps. How can we revere our teachers and the dharma, yet object with lovingkindness and compassion instead of anger and hatred when we see things happening that we feel, in our guts, are just plain wrong?

I know that I will continue to struggle with such questions, and I trust that one day, the answers will become clear.

In the meantime, I think I just got permission from Rinpoche to say a lot more than I have said previously about my observations and concerns.

Oh, and the picture of the sandhill cranes, above: They were in attendance for the full weekend of teachings. Some people even saw them dancing!

And when Rinpoche began to speak about pointing out instructions, the cranes began to call.

A Word Witch welcomes thoughtful comments framed through the lenses of lovingkindness and compassion. Comments are moderated and may take a couple of days to show up; please be patient.

Mourning Doves and Mahakala

It is my last trip to KTD for the foreseeable future, unless I win the Lotto or identify some kind of funding source other than my paying job—which doesn’t really pay enough to support the lifestyle to which I would like to become accustomed, summer and fall in Woodstock, winter and spring in Florida.

I am sitting on the patio outside the old Meads Mountain House, eating lunch with friends, and I notice a tiny chickadee at the newly-installed bird feeder. Such a cute, sweet little black-capped bird!

We have had a break in the winter weather. Days are sunny, and warm enough to sit outside. After the winter we have had in Florida—and the snow that fell here in the Catskills a couple of weeks ago—I feel blessed with this springlike gift from the gods.

I have come to hear my refuge lama, the incomparable Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche, give the final teaching in a two-year series about Machik Labdron and her practice of severance of fixation on the self.

Yes, I am blessed indeed.

One of my favorite things to do when I am at KTD is to sit in on the evening practice of Mahakala, the great protector of the Karma Kagyu lineage.

I love the practice when it has the full complement of instruments, especially when there are enough people so that two drums can be used. The sound of those two drums always reminds me of two hearts, beating together.

But tonight there are only three people in the shrine room for Mahakala—Tenzin Chonyi or Tenzin-la, who is the president of KTD; a lovely young woman whom I do not know who is spinning a prayer wheel with very little effort; and me.

Tenzin-la, who was sent here years ago by His Holiness the 16^th Karmapa, is the only one of us who is actually doing the Mahakala practice, so there are no drums tonight.

We are about a half-hour into the hour-long practice when I notice that I am sitting across from one of the loveliest Guru Rinpoche thangkas I have ever seen, and it looks OLD. I usually sit on the other side of the room, right underneath and next to the thangka, so this feels like the first time I have ever actually seen it—and it takes my breath away.

We are about 45 minutes into the practice when I realize that Tenzin-la is chanting without a text. He must know this practice by heart!

I am stunned. I cannot imagine how many times someone would have to do Mahakala in order to be able to do the whole practice without a text.

At the end of the hour, I thank Tenzin-la and approach the young woman with the prayer wheel. I can’t think of anything intelligent to say in praise of her efforts, so I try something lame: “Doesn’t your hand get tired?” I ask, “Or, have you done this so much that you are used to it?”

“Oh, no, it’s very easy,” she says, “look,” and very generously shows me how she has attached an amber-colored glass crystal ball to the wheel as a weight, so that it practically spins by itself! I must remember this, I think, when I get a prayer wheel.

As I leave the shrine building, I am struck once again by the beauty of the mountains to the north, still dappled with snow in the evening light. On the hill above the shrine, above the line of prayer flags, I hear a rustling in the leaves—probably a squirrel, but I stop to look just in case we might be having another visit from the black bear who came down the hill for a torma feast last summer.

Tenzin-la comes along behind me and we say hello. He stops.

“Do you know what bird that is, that makes that sound?” he asks.

I don’t hear it, so I ask him to describe the sound. “Oooo-oooo,” he says.

“Well, it could be an owl,” I offer.

“No, it’s not an owl,” he says, sure of himself.

Then I hear it, clearly. “Wooo-ooo, hooo, hooo, hooo.”

“It’s a dove!” I cry, pleased that I can identify the bird by its voice. “A mourning dove.” I describe the bird to Tenzin-la, who listens again and says, “Mourning dove,” and heads across the parking lot to his home.

The dove cries again.

In an instant, I am transported from the Catskills in 2010 to 1956 and a wonderful old two-story, rambling Florida house with a great front screened porch at 521 Revere Street, near Lake Dot, near downtown Orlando, Florida—my great-aunt Grace’s house and realty office, where she lives with her husband and where my maternal grandmother and great-grandmother have a small apartment.

I am nine years old, and my parents and I have moved to Florida from Decatur, Georgia, and are living at my aunt’s house until our new home on the west side of town is finished.

The sun is hot, but there are fans in the house and lots of shade trees and cool breezes in the evening, and from dawn to dusk and sometimes even after dark we hear the soft “Wooo-ooo, hooo, hooo, hooo” cries of the mourning doves.

My grandmother and I grow closer and closer as she indulges me with scary stories and encourages my love for the mysterious, the psychic, the supernatural.

My great-grandmother insults me by calling my favorite Disney cartoon character, Peter Pan (I love him because he can fly!), “an insect.” I am not sure why I take such offense at this, but I do.

My great-aunt’s husband entertains me by occasionally speaking in a deep voice through the old house’s heating vent system. “This is the voice from the hole,” he announces with great solemnity, and his deep echoing voice elicits shrieks of delight from me and sparks laughter even from the adults.

And of course there are my parents, who take great care to do everything parents must do to make this childish nine-year-old feel safe and loved in a new home.

Amazing. Here I am on a mountain, at Karmapa’s monastery in the Catskills—yet in my mind, I have instantly been transported 1100 miles south and 54 years back in time! How is this possible?

Because of a bird call?

Of course they are all dead now—Grace and Buz, my great-aunt and her husband; my mom and dad; Momie, my great-grandmother; and my beloved grandmother, Mama Kitty, the person in my family to whom I always felt closest.

These memories are a lesson in impermanence, yes—yet so much more.

I wonder how it is possible, now that they are gone, to still feel such love for all of them.

When I was small, they kept me safe. When I was stubborn, they loved me. When I fell down off my bike and skinned my knees, they kissed the hurts. When I was naughty, they showed me what it meant to be kind and considerate of others. When I was selfish, they taught me how to give.

And it seems I only repaid them, in the end, with more bad behavior.

Standing here in the parking lot, listening to the call of the mourning dove, I feel, very viscerally, the truth of the words of the Four Vows, which I have taped above my writing area at home:

However immeasurable sentient beings, I vow to save them.

However inexhaustible the passions, I vow to extinguish them.

However immeasurable the dharmas, I vow to master them.

However incomparable the Buddha’s truth, I vow to attain it.

I could mourn those who are gone, or I could take a lesson from my teachers and wonder how is it possible that in my 62^nd year, I finally have come to realize the depth of compassion that wakes that sleeping giant, bodhicitta?

It is only through the blessings of my dear teachers, I think, that this waking is even possible.

Something inside me feels cracked open, like a winged seed bursting forth from its pod, about to take flight—or like a small bird emerging from the egg.

I’m home now, and spring is coming after a long, cold winter.

The beautyberry is leafing out. Cardinals and sparrows and bluebirds and, yes, even a mourning dove are showing interest in the bird feeder in the crape myrtle in the back yard.

I’m sitting in the dining room, my favorite room in my house, eating a couple of slices of pizza. Outside in the garden spot, in the beautyberry that’s just beginning to leaf out, two chickadees alight on the same branch. They are so small! And so utterly beautiful.

I watch them, fascinated. This is why I love this room—for its view of the yard, especially at sunset.

As I watch, the chickadee on the higher part of the branch reaches down to give the lower bird what looks exactly like a tiny bird kiss!

Yes, it’s spring.

The minute I heard my first love story

I started looking for you, not knowing

How blind that was.

Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere.

They’re in each other all along.

-Rumi

KTD in Winter

The teachings about Machik Labdron that I began attending two years ago are rapidly coming to a close. At the last session in February, Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche finished his transmission of Machik's Complete Explanation and announced that at the final session this month, he will give a "general instruction" about Machik's practice, chod or severance, which is designed to sever our fixation on the self as the center of our universe.

Because I have wanted to receive these teachings for so long, I am still a bit gobsmacked that I have been able to attend all but one session—and thanks to Rinpoche's kindness and the cooperation of the good folks at Namse Bangdzo, I got caught up on the teaching I missed via a set of 4 CDs.

I expected flack from my director when I put in for vacation time for the last teaching later this month—but not only did my supervisor approve my request with a "Go for it!", but our director simply said, "Sure, have a good time."

With 100% confidence, I can say that my attendance at these teachings has been made possible not by anything I have done, but by the blessings of my teachers—His Holiness Karmapa, Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche, Bardor Tulku Rinpoche, Khenpo Tsultrim Gyamtso Rinpoche, Khenpo Ugyen Tenzin, and now, I feel strongly, by Mother Machik herself.

The February trip was quite remarkable for its timing; it came just after one big snowfall and just before another one. There was snow all around, but the roads were clear and the accommodations were warm. I also got a great reiki treatment on a problematic leg, courtesy of a good friend. Maybe the next time I see Rinpoche, I can actually do a prostration instead of a little lame bow! And when I tripped and fell flat on my face in the street in downtown Woodstock, there were two protectors there in the form of helpful young women who stopped cars from running over me and helped me up and away from harm.

I cannot, after all this, ever doubt the profound blessings of the Karma Kagyu lineage.

All homage to the sages of the snowy ranges

Whose wisdom and compassion

Our ignorance assuages

Here's a picture of KTD in the snow. That's Meads Mountain House to the left, the main KTD shrine building to the right. If you are thinking about visiting but dragging your heels, I highly recommend a visit.

Dawn, Last Day at KTD

Dawn was breaking as I left KTD this last time--maybe the last time ever?

The clouds were still pink, and the light was still on outside the north entrance to the shrine building.

There are no guarantees in life, other than the oft-repeated death and taxes, and I do know that my travel will be restricted for quite a while--the result of having to buy a car to get back and forth to work.

This is another view I will remember for a long, long time.

Thanks to the alert reader who pointed out that this is blog post #108. "Cosmic," as we used to say (and sometimes still do).

KTD Morning View, Looking North

Here is a view I will always remember--looking north from the road just outside the front gate at KTD.

There is something about being in the mountains that lifts the spirit the way nothing else can.

Stone Wave at KTD

My friend Sandra, who lives at KTD and is an exceptional artist, has created several very lovely and unusual pieces based on His Holiness the 16th Karmapa's dream flag designs.

You can see her work in stone in KTD's driveway, right in front of the bookstore and dining patio.

I imagine that these stone waves will be covered by fallen leaves a bit later in the year, so make sure to look for them soon--or next spring, after the snow melts.

Remember to click on the picture for a bigger view!

Dream Flag Gate

Here's a view of KTD's entrance gate with the blue and yellow dream flag that was designed by the 16th Karmapa.

You can buy your own dream flag from Namse Bangdzo.

KTD Building Construction

While KTD's shrine building has been complete for years, the rest of the monastery is still under construction and nearing completion.

Amrita, who is KTD's Director of Development, led some of us on a tour of the new building, which will house offices (including HH Karmapa's), Namse Bangdzo bookstore, guest rooms, staff living quarters, dining room, and kitchen--replacing Meads Mountain House, which will eventually be demolished.

Earlier, I posted a view of the lovely new dining room (is it wrong to daydream of a successful vegetarian restaurant there?). Here is a view of some of the recent work of the artisans who have been brought in to add the traditional Tibetan-style decorative touches.

Morning Prayer Flags at KTD

Here is a view of prayer flags in the morning light at KTD, near the front gate.

The small reddish tree surrounded by wire fencing is one of two maples that were supposed to be planted by His Holiness Karmapa on his first visit. He didn't have time for that task, so Sandra planted the trees for him.

Meads Mountain House

For many years now, Meads Mountain House—originally built in the 1800s as an inn for people who traveled by horse-drawn coaches—has served as the staff living quarters, offices, guest rooms, bookstore, kitchen, and dining area of KTD.

This trip, I'm staying in one of the rooms on the second floor at the front of the building.

I'm sure the building, in its heyday, was a great place to stay. The ravages of time are all too apparent now, however, and I think everyone will be glad when the new building—still under construction—is finished.

I'm all for saving historical buildings, but I think this one is really too far gone to be of any use. The floors slope in different directions, the roof and showers leak, and the joke is that the paint is the only thing holding the building up.

Tonight, though, it's wonderful to be here. The forecast low is in the 50s, a cool breeze is blowing in through the open window, I have a big double bed all to myself, and wi-fi internet access right here in the room. Plus, Machik Labdron is making an appearance, in the form of teachings by my refuge lama, Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche.

My karma yoga is again in the shrine building, beginning tomorrow, and there is a Green Tara empowerment tomorrow night.

In short—rickety old building or not, it doesn't get any better than this.

KTD/Buddha and Friends

Someone made this delightful arrangement of Buddha surrounded by all sorts of animals. The arrangement greets visitors in the north lobby of the shrine building. Charming!

An Auspicious Day

Today must be an auspicious day. After the rain of flowers, we had this lovely view of a rainbow over the moon! (Though I must have a problem with my eyes; looking at the moon and the rainbow, I saw hundreds of little sparkly lights in the sky, like dancing fireflies or the fireworks we see on the Fourth of July.)

On top of everything else, today brought excellent news involving Karmapa's home in the West—nothing official, but hopefully an announcement will be forthcoming.