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.

An Offering to a Naga

In Machik's Complete Explanation, the Tibetan saint Machik Labdron explains to her followers that there are many unseen beings and spirits that co-inhabit our world.

Even though I've never been one to see such beings, I have absolutely no trouble in believing they exist. I can't see ultraviolet or infrared light either, or electricity, or atoms, yet scientists assure me that these things exist—so why not nagas?

Nagas–spirits who live in or near water or powerful trees–are said to be of three types. Some are "bad guys," mischievous and hurtful. Some are "good guys," and even protect the dharma teachings. Some are mutable, and can be good guys at one time and bad guys at another.

One of my teachers, Khenpo Ugyen Tenzin, has said he thinks a naga may live at our neighborhood spring.

One of my other teachers, Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche, recently gave me instructions on how to make offerings to our neighborhood naga.

So yesterday afternoon found me rushing to the grocery after work to buy milk and sugar—because nagas like dairy products and sweets—and then rushing home to change into shorts and drive the five minutes to the spring, just as the sun was setting.

I was in luck. The last two spring visitors were leaving on bicycles when I drove up. The only other people there were fishing at some distance from the spring. So I had some privacy, which was good.

I waded into the water and made the offering, following Khenpo's instructions as well as I was able, then stood there for a few minutes to take in the scene. It was lovely, as always. I wondered if I would ever be able to see a naga.

Today, I received two pieces of very welcome news. I am not saying this good fortune is connected with the offering, but given that everything is connected, ultimately, I would not be a bit surprised.

The most surprising thing, though, was how happy I felt that by making the offering, I had done something helpful for an unseen being, and for the Earth that sustains us.

Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche recently stressed to me, when I told him how inspired I am by HH Karmapa's commitment to helping the environment, that there are two reasons why it is important to take care of our surroundings.

First, of course, is because our environment sustains us, so by helping it we are actually helping ourselves.

Second is because of the unseen beings, like nagas, who can be sickened by pollution–and since it's human beings who cause pollution, guess who becomes the target for revenge by the bad guy nagas? We do.

So I am wondering if a lot of us started making appropriate offerings to the unseen beings and spirits in our local areas, could we help turn back the tide of pollution and destruction that seems to lurk everywhere we look?

And could we, for our children and grandchildren, preserve even a bit of the best that Florida has to offer?

Note: Naga offerings, and other such offerings, always come with specific instructions that I am not qualified to give. Ask your teacher what you can do, though, and you might be as surprised as I was.

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.

Vibrant Visit From a Precious Teacher

For an 86-year-old gentleman, Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche—my beloved refuge lama—positively glows with vibrant, loving, compassionate energy. It was wonderful to see him looking so well, and to connect even briefly with his travelling companions, Lama Karma Drodul (pictured on the right, above) and Lama Gelongma Karuna Tara. All three are shining presences at KTD, and that shine glows all the brighter when they are out and about in what my mom would call "the real world" with all the rest of us, as they were this weekend in North Central Florida.

Rinpoche drew a capacity crowd to his talk about "Keeping an Open Heart in Difficult Times" on Friday night at the Unitarian Universalist Church in Gainesville, where I took the picture above. The talk—held on the night of the closest and maybe brightest full moon of the year—provided a great opportunity for people who aren't familiar with Buddhism to ask questions.

Saturday's teachings, held at the Florida School of Massage, were even better—targeted messages about the importance of lovingkindness, compassion, and bodhicitta (enlightened heart).

Chanting the Karma Kagyu lineage prayer on Saturday morning, I got a strong image of all of us gathered together somewhere in a green Tibetan valley, surrounded by snowy mountains. In "reality," it was rainy and chilly outside of our big meeting room; we could watch the rain through glass doors that gave us a great view of the woods behind the school.

So maybe I shouldn't have been surprised when Rinpoche explained that our precious human birth is not acquired by accident, and that our opportunity to meet teachers in this life comes from the pure aspirations that we have made in past lives—not just from whatever good deeds we have done in the past.

I guess I hadn't realized that aspiration was that important! And so I wonder...could my flash of us all chanting together in Tibet have some grounding in a reality that is even more real than what we label "the real world"? Perhaps we were all together at one time, at least in the spirit of making aspirations to meet this outstanding teacher.

At one point, Lama Gelongma Karuna Tara, the nun who travelled with Rinpoche, got up to place one of her cushions behind his back. I guess she could see that he was uncomfortable. Rinpoche gave a delightful grin with a big "thumb's up" sign. One of our sangha members, concerned for the lady lama, then took her a replacement cushion, which got another big grin and "thumb's up" from Rinpoche. He's just so...precious (in the highest, best sense of the word). Just those grins and thumbs' ups lifted our spirits.

Among the many things Rinpoche talked about, a few stood out.

Often we may wonder if our dharma practice is bearing fruit. Here are some signs of successful practice: You have less anger and fewer discursive thoughts. You are able to remain calm in all kinds of situations. Your communication with others becomes more open and genuine.

Bodhicitta has two primary aspects, pervasive and profound. Pervasive bodhicitta means you want to help ALL sentient beings, not just those you care about. Profound bodhicitta means you want to establish all sentient beings in the state of ultimate enlightenment.

On the importance of confidence and trust in your practice: "If you have these, your progress will be swift."

Because Tibet was invaded and so many teachers came to the West, we are now able to practice dharma here when before, we could not do so. "You are very fortunate. You must not waste any of your precious time."

At lunch with Rinpoche and a small group, a large video of Ireland was showing on a far wall. Rinpoche turned around to watch it in silence while the rest of us chatted. The Irish scenery was very beautiful, and I got a wild hair.

"Can you translate something to Rinpoche for me?" I asked Lama Karma Drodul, and he agreed.

I told Rinpoche that the seat of the high kings of Ireland was called Tara, and that Ireland has a legendary race of people called the sidhe and that word has always reminded me of the Sanskrit siddhi, or powers that can be gained on the path to enlightenment—so I have always wondered if there might be some long-ago connection between the lands of India or Tibet and the land of my ancestors.

Rinpoche just smiled at that thought, but then said, "I know about that land" (meaning Ireland) "and how they have fought for a long time for independence from the British, and I know about their horses."

Aha! So there ARE parallels between Ireland and Tibet!

:-)

I had to miss Sunday's teaching because I had to work. Hopefully I can find someone to fill me in, or I can purchase a copy of one of the tapes people were making.

Many, many people from the local sangha worked long and hard to make Rinpoche's visit successful; my profound thanks go out to all of them!

Homage always to our precious teachers, shining like jewels in the darkness of samsaric confusion.

Change of Venue for Rinpoche's Teachings Is Official

Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche's teachings on Saturday and Sunday, January 30-31, will be held at the Florida School of Massage on U.S. Highway 441, just south of Gainesville and just north of Paynes Prairie. The building is on the east side of the highway.

I have confirmed this information, and we are awaiting the official announcement from Gainesville KTC which I have been told is forthcoming.

The public talk on Friday night remains at the Unitarian Universalist Church on NW 34th Street in Gainesville, as previously advertised.

Change of Venue for Rinpoche's Teachings

I am hearing rumblings that Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche will not be teaching on Saturday and Sunday at Sanctuary, but rather at the Florida School of Massage.

Since I doubt if I will be able to confirm this and do another post before this weekend, I urge anyone who is interested in the Saturday and Sunday teachings to immediately email:

secretary@ktcgainesville.org

for further, accurate information.

Sorry, a phone number was not provided on the flyer I received.

May all beings benefit from our precious teachers!

Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche in Gainesville

I would be remiss if I didn't post this announcement: Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche—abbot of Karma Triyana Dharmachakra in Woodstock, New York—will be in Gainesville, Florida, for a public talk and weekend teachings January 29-31.

The public talk on "Keeping an Open Heart in Difficult Times" is 7 p.m. Friday, January 29, at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship. The Saturday and Sunday teachings are at Sanctuary Center.

For more information, email:

secretary@ktcgainesville.org

Rinpoche is an amazing teacher. He is 86 years old. This is a rare opportunity.

(Remember that you can click on the flyer, above, for a better view.)

Kunga Loter/Treasure of the Intellect, Joyous to All

It is said that your ancestors were oracles.

You are an old man now, and your arms tremble slightly as you stretch to place and steady the long-life offerings, wrapped in white katas, on the base of the empty throne of your guru.

There was a time when you would not have had to stretch so far, or so carefully.

When you leave the shrine room, you move deliberately—a stocky man in a maroon robe, yellow shirt, and burgundy socks—stepping slowly, stopping to gaze at the faces in the portraits and on the sacred statues. You turn and bow to us before you leave, even thank us; we bow and thank back.

I watch your back, drawn somehow to the slight, slow shuffle of your feet in dark socks.

Knowing how impermanent are the things of our world, I wonder if this is the last glimpse I will ever get of you, my refuge lama.

I wonder if this is how I will remember you—as an old man shuffling out of a big shrine room, leaving a bit of your vast light behind, lighting each of us.

Thus shall ye think of all this fleeting world

A star at dawn, a bubble in a stream,

A flash of lightning in a summer cloud,

A flickering lamp, a phantom, and a dream.

I have a photograph of you that I treasure, taken at the Karme Ling retreat center in upstate New York. You are holding a bell and dorje, and you seem to be fading into the ethereal woods that surround you—dissolving into the elements, as if into a dream.

Our lives are so much like fleeting dreams. What seems important now can fade into dusky memory, or be forgotten, later. Small things that now seem inconsequential can, over time, become more vivid and begin to glow.

My memories of you, my teacher, have begun to glow.

So long ago

Was it in a dream, was it just a dream?

So long ago…It was nearly 20 years ago when I saw you for the first time, teaching in a private living room to a small group of curious people. As I sat and listened, I became aware that something extraordinary was happening—each time you spoke and your words were translated, just one question would arise in my mind, only to be answered in detail with the next translation, while just one more question arose.

Was it just a dream that the whole teaching continued in this way, point after point, question after question, answer after answer, until the dream ended?

And was it any surprise, then, that my heart opened when I heard your teachings, so much so that I literally jumped up to take refuge with you when refuge vows were offered? This was clearly no dream! And yet, so long ago…

I know, yes I know

Seemed so very real, it seemed so real to me

In another dream/memory, my friends and I planned to go together for a private audience with you, simply to ask your blessing. We planned how my friend’s husband would go first, then my friend, then me, and then their daughter—but when we walked into the room and you saw my friends’ small daughter, you beamed and reached out your arms to her—so she was the first one to receive your blessing as your forehead touched hers in the traditional Tibetan way. So much for our planning!

It seemed so real to me, then, when you touched your forehead to mine. My hopes and fears had dropped away when you reached out to that young girl, and I opened to your blessing in a way that was completely new for me. Completely new, and completely real.

Took a walk down the street

Thru the heat whispered trees

Then there is the dream of driving some distance, with a friend who had just had surgery, to take a special empowerment from you—an empowerment of Green Tara of the Sandalwood Grove.

At the end of the ceremony, not knowing the etiquette, I prostrated to you three times. I learned later that’s only done when you know you are never going to see your teacher again. And so I wondered if that was the last time I’d ever see you.

It turned out to be the last time I saw you for many years.

I thought I could hear

Somebody call out my name as it started to rain

Two spirits dancing so strange

Many years later, you visited again, this time for a weekend teaching and empowerment into the long-life practice of White Tara.

I remember feeling, as you described White Tara to us in detail, that I could—if I dug deep and used my imagination—begin to visualize myself in her form, with her attributes and qualities—a kind of imaginary dance back and forth, back and forth, between the real me and the dream me, in the form of Tara.

Dream, dream away

Magic in the air, was magic in the air?

And then there was the actual dream, the one in which I poured small, ground-up bits of precious jewels from my hands into yours, the jewels radiating lights in a rainbow of colors.

We didn’t speak. There was only the action, that precious pouring, a gift of jewels and jewelled light. Magic in the air.

I believe, yes I believe

More I cannot say, what more can I say?

Many years after the dream of the jewelled gifts, a golden window of opportunity was opened for me. I believe that this gift was the result of the blessings of my teachers—all of them. And yet what this opportunity offered me, specifically, was a chance to reconnect with you, my refuge lama.

It began with a series of teachings over 10 days. I had gone to hear the beginning of teachings about Machik Labdron, the great Tibetan woman teacher who fused the practice of severance, or offering the body, with mahamudra as a way to cut ego clinging, develop compassion, and attain the wisdom and bliss of realization—teachings I had longed to receive for many, many years.

But before we could get to Machik, you had to finish the teaching you had started the previous year—a teaching on Gampopa’s instructions to the assembly.

It is said that you may be an emanation of Gampopa.

Several days into the teaching, I realized that what we were actually getting were pointing out instructions, in which the teacher demonstrates and explains to students the nature of their own minds.

Days upon days of pointing out instructions. The kind of experience students dream about.

I was dumbfounded, so I asked if this was really what was happening. Yes.

“If you ask me about Gampopa,” you said one day, in response to another question, “then I will simply be an old man sitting here weeping.”

And you did weep. Tears of devotion.

On a river of sound

Thru the mirror go round, round

The next year, at a continuation of the Machik Labdron teachings, you surprised all of us in attendance with a special gift—the chance to hear Machik’s practice, chod or severance, chanted by lamas who had learned the practice in retreat.

One of your students asked you, “What should we do with our minds as we listen to this practice?” You encouraged us to address our prayers to Machik herself: “Great Mother, grant me your blessing.”

And so—carried away on that river of sound, the chanting and the drumming and the bells—I asked Machik for her blessing, and realized that I had already received it because I was there, that I was indeed receiving it at that very moment because I was hearing her practice, and through the blessing of my teacher, that I would no doubt continue to receive it for as long as I would open myself to it.

And I realized, very directly now, how the whole blessing cycle works, from teacher to student and on and on, again and again, from mind to mind throughout time. On a river of sound, becoming mirrors for each other—the whispered lineage.

I thought I could feel

Music touching my soul, something warm, sudden cold

The spirit dance was unfolding

So much warmth in that big room, almost like we were lit from your own inner fire!

And cold chills, too, when you unexpectedly brought Machik’s teachings home for me in a very personal way, with a story about sky burial, chod, and ganachakra feasts, a story that reconnected me with the music of a favorite poem that had deeply affected me years before I even met you.

And the thrill of Machik’s teachings about spirits and guardians of the land, hearing her words coming through your voice, the voice of my own teacher.

Was it just a dream, or was Machik really there, dancing for us?

His Holiness Orgyen Trinley Dorje, the 17^th Gyalwa Karmapa, has written of you, “The price of living a long life in this world of ours is our duty to offer some contribution to everyone’s welfare.” It is a price you have paid, and continue to pay, with every breath and every fiber of your being.

I’ve heard that Karmapa once sent you a large photograph on which he had written the words “Kunga Loter,” meaning “treasure of the intellect, joyous to all.”

An apt description of Karmapa, true, but just as aptly a description of you, my own dear teacher—Khenpo Karma Tharchin, Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche.

The long italicized passage is from the Prajnaparamita Sutra. Most of the shorter italicized passages are lyrics from John Lennon’s song, #9 Dream.

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.

Woodstock/Rain of Flowers

We had a rain of flowers the last night I was in Woodstock. I'll post this picture because it may be the best photo of this phenomenon—rain falling while the sun is shining—that I ever take.

I went back and looked at my notes on "rain of flowers" at one of Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche's recent teachings. Rinpoche said that if this event occurs near a high-level teacher, it's probably associated with that person; "Otherwise, it's just weather."

KTD 10-Day Teachings/The Long and Winding Road

Tomorrow I leave Woodstock. We have been having rain last night and today, and everything is wet and leaves have been blowing off the trees.

I took this picture yesterday, looking back up the hill as I was coming down off the mountain (KTD is on Mount Guardian), and it reminded me of one of my favorite Beatles songs.

Think of the lyrics as a devotional song to Karmapa, KTD, and Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche—not just a romantic love song.

THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD

The long and winding road

That leads to your door

Will never disappear

I've seen that road before

It always leads me here

Lead me to your door.

The wild and windy night

That the rain washed away

Has left a pool of tears

Crying for the day.

Why leave me standing here?

Let me know the way.

Many times I've been alone

And many times I've cried,

Anyway you've always known

The many ways I've tried.

And still they lead me back

To the long, winding road

You left me standing here

A long, long time ago

Don't leave me standing here

Lead me to your door.

But still they lead me back

To the long winding road

You left me standing here

A long, long time ago (ohhh)

Don't keep me waiting here (don't keep me waiting)

Lead me to your door. (yeah yeah yeah yeah)

KTD 10-Day Teachings/Song of the Turkey Buzzard

Turkey Vulture, photo by Elizabeth Barakah Hodges

Back in the 1980s, when I was working as a program assistant for the University Extension division of the University of California at Berkeley, I made the mistake of reading Lew Welch’s poem Song of the Turkey Buzzard on my lunch hour.

I say “mistake” because the poem—in which Welch predicts his own suicide and sky burial—had a profound emotional effect on me, and I went into what I can only describe as some kind of altered state for about four hours. In short—I was useless at my job that afternoon.

In Tibet, where the ground is often too frozen to allow for burial and where firewood for cremations can be scarce, one way that the dead are “buried” is through what is called sky burial—ritual dismemberment of the corpse, the parts of which are then consumed by vultures.

So I was stunned to hear the following story, tacked onto one of the morning teachings by Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche as a seemingly impromptu embellishment. (Note from AWW: This is not a verbatim transcript.)

In Tibet, the people who prepare bodies for sky burial are chod practitioners who do practice for the people who have died.

The birds that eat the bodies are considered dakas and dakinis, and are remarkable in their behavior.

After people who have earned merit through compassionate actions are dismembered, vultures will encircle the body but not touch it. Another vulture comes from the sky, gives a call, and lands on the center of the body. This vulture does a little dance, and then begins to eat—at which point the other vultures begin to eat, too.

The feast is considered a ganachakra (sacred feast), and the central vulture is the ganachakra master.

Now, many people will think this is a gruesome story, but I think it’s beautiful—and it connected me, immediately, to that experience long ago when I read Song of the Turkey Buzzard for the first time.

So I wonder if Lew Welch provided the food for a ganachakra, never seen by human eyes, out there in the California wilderness so long ago.

SONG OF THE TURKEY BUZZARD

For Rock Scully

who heard it

the first

time

Praises, Tamalpais,

Perfect in Wisdom and Beauty,

She of the Wheeling Birds

I.

The rider riddle is easy to ask,

but the answer might surprise you.

How desperately I wanted Cougar

(I, Leo, etc.)

brilliant proofs: terrain,

color, food, all

nonsense. All made up.

They were always there, the

laziest high-flyers, bronze-winged,

the silent ones

"A cunning man always laughs and smiles,

even if he's desperately hungry,

while a good bird always flies like a vulture,

even if it is starving."

(Milarepa sang)

Over and over again, that sign:

I hit one once, with a .22

heard the "flak" and a feather flew off, he

flapped his wings just once and

went on sailing. Bronze

(when seen from above)

as I have seen them, all day sitting

on a cliff so steep they

circled below me, in the up-draft

passed so close I could see his

eye.

Praises, Tamalpais,

Perfect in Wisdom and Beauty,

She of the Wheeling Birds

Another time the vision was so clear another saw it, too.

Wet, a hatching bird, the shell of the egg streaked with dry scum,

exhausted, wet, too weak to move the shriveled wings, fierce

sun-heat, sand. Twitching, as with elbows (we all have the same

parts). Beak open, neck stretched, gasping for air. O how we

want to live!

"Poor little bird," she said, "he'll never make it."

Praises, Tamalpais,

Perfect in Wisdom and Beauty,

She of the Wheeling Birds

Even so, I didn't get it for a long long while. It finally came

in a trance, a coma, half in sleep and half in fever-mind. A Turkey

Buzzard, wounded, found by a rock on the mountain. He wanted

to die alone. I had never seen one, wild, so close. When I reached

out, he sidled away, head drooping, as dizzy as I was. I put my

hands on his wing-shoulders and lifted him. He tried, feebly, to

tear at my hands with his beak. He tore my flesh too slightly to

make any difference. Then he tried to heave his great wings. Weak

as he was, I could barely hold him.

A drunken veterinarian found a festering bullet in his side,

a .22 that slid between the great bronze scales his feathers were.

We removed it and cleansed the wound.

Finally he ate the rotten gophers I trapped and prepared

for him. Even at first, he drank a lot of water. My dog seemed

frightened of him.

They smell sweet

meat is dry on their talons

The very opposite of

death

bird of re-birth

Buzzard

meat is rotten meat made

sweet again and

lean, unkillable, wing-locked

soarer till he's but a

speck in the highest sky

infallible

eye finds Feast! on

baked concrete

free!

squashed rabbit ripened:

our good cheese

(to keep the highways clean, and bother no Being )

II.

Praises Gentle Tamalpais

Perfect in Wisdom and Beauty of the

sweetest water

and the soaring birds

great seas at the feet of thy cliffs

Hear my last Will & Testament:

Among my friends there shall always be

one with proper instructions

for my continuance.

Let no one grieve.

I shall have used it all up

used up every bit of it.

What an extravagance!

What a relief!

On a marked rock, following his orders,

place my meat.

All care must be taken not to

frighten the natives of this

barbarous land, who

will not let us die, even,

as we wish.

With proper ceremony disembowel what I

no longer need, that it might more quickly

rot and tempt

my new form

-

NOT THE BRONZE CASKET BUT THE BRAZEN WING

SOARING FOREVER ABOVE THEE O PERFECT

O SWEETEST WATER O GLORIOUS

WHEELING

BIRD

(From "Ring of Bone" by Lew Welch, Grey Fox Press, Bolinas, California)