By now, many of you will already have seen photos or heard accounts of the cremation ceremonies for His Eminence Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche. For my part, I can only add how much I appreciated the support of our sangha during this extraordinary occasion.
While rituals had been performed throughout the year since the arrival of Rinpoche’s kudun at the retreat center, these few days were the culmination of all of our offerings to him. Leading the ceremonies were many great lamas who had long standing connections with Rinpoche. On the last day, when the ceremonies moved from the shrineroom to the courtyard outside, high lamas accompanied by their monks were seated in each of the four directions. In the east were Kyabjé Moktsa Rinpoche and my son, Sungtrul Or gyen Tromge; in the south were H.E. Chokling Rinpoche and I; in the west was vajra master Tromge Wöntrul Rinpo che (Tsultrim Lodrö, the Tromge throne holder) seated with Tromge Trungpa Rinpoche and Tromge Trinley Ozer Rinpoche; and in the north, H.E. Chökyi Nyima Rinpoche sat with Tulku Kunga and Tulku Dorje Gyaltsen.
Some time ago, H.E. Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche had accepted my request to lead the ceremonies, accompanied by Orgyen Tobgyal Rinpoche. However, in the interim, Gongna Tulku Rinpoche, one of Dzongsar Monastery’s head lamas, passed away. Khyentse Rinpoche was then called on to conduct cremation ceremonies for him and so was unable to join us in Pharping. Nonetheless, we remain deeply grateful that his blessings and prayers were with us throughout the ceremonies.
—Jigme Tromge Rinpoche
______
We came to sit with Rinpoche’s body one last time, to pay our respects to the miraculous manifestation of bodhichitta in each of our lives. It was a colorful display, with practitioners from a rich array of countries and historical ties to Rinpoche’s long life of teaching and dharma activities. It was a poignant reminder of impermanence and interdependence, and an opportunity to purify and strengthen our samaya with a great master. It was a wide stream of countless moments culminating in fire and smoke, smoke and then more fire, as Rinpoche’s body burned.
Where do we go from here? Rinpoche would tell us to keep going. He offered us a huge banquet to nourish us as we make the journey along our own dharma paths. I recall a dream I had some months after Rinpoche passed away. He was leading a group of us in a drubchen ceremony, and I couldn’t stop crying with joy at seeing him again. At the end of the session, I went up, still crying, to receive his blessings and told him how happy I was to see him again because I thought he had died. He simply asked, “Really so different?” Now I understand that we need to keep going in our practice until the realization that there is no difference takes root in us.
—Michael McLaughlin
______
It is the last day of the ceremonies, and we are heading up the hill early to prepare for the cremation. We’ve had a highly charged week—jet lag, emotional swings, long days, and short nights. The bus begins the slow crawl up the hill out of Pharping; my mind is grinding. We come to a halt. Ahead of us, a line of vehicles, passengers’ heads sticking out, necks craned in an effort to see what has interrupted our progress. A one lane road and a large truck with a broken wheel rim. Two hours to fix. A lot of ideas are put forth, which Lama Sherab cuts. We will walk the road, not the crosscountry trail. I am jolted from my self centered indulgence by the overwhelming sensation of Rinpoche’s presence. The day is different from those that preceded. It has gotten warmer earlier, and the sky is less cloudy. I’m filled with joy, and a large grin is planted on my face as all these fortunate beings begin the pilgrimage up the hill.
No longer in buses, we pass the same families and humble farms that we have cloaked in dust for the past week. It is so sweet not having the glass and the metal between us. We are now clearly the pilgrims who have come to pay respect to our beloved teacher: “Just a closer walk with thee.” There is no way to express the gratitude for this precious opportunity—only the tears that well up everyday in response to the blessings that he showers on us.
—Lon Hill
______
Really, I couldn’t take it in. There was one moment when everything stopped and I found sky mind and knew certainly Rinpoche was there. Brilliantly.
—Chagdud Khadro
By now, many of you will already have seen photos or heard accounts of the cremation ceremonies for His Eminence Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche. For my part, I can only add how much I appreciated the support of our sangha during this extraordinary occasion.
While rituals had been performed throughout the year since the arrival of Rinpoche’s kudun at the retreat center, these few days were the culmination of all of our offerings to him. Leading the ceremonies were many great lamas who had long standing connections with Rinpoche. On the last day, when the ceremonies moved from the shrineroom to the courtyard outside, high lamas accompanied by their monks were seated in each of the four directions. In the east were Kyabjé Moktsa Rinpoche and my son, Sungtrul Or gyen Tromge; in the south were H.E. Chokling Rinpoche and I; in the west was vajra master Tromge Wöntrul Rinpo che (Tsultrim Lodrö, the Tromge throne holder) seated with Tromge Trungpa Rinpoche and Tromge Trinley Ozer Rinpoche; and in the north, H.E. Chökyi Nyima Rinpoche sat with Tulku Kunga and Tulku Dorje Gyaltsen.
Some time ago, H.E. Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche had accepted my request to lead the ceremonies, accompanied by Orgyen Tobgyal Rinpoche. However, in the interim, Gongna Tulku Rinpoche, one of Dzongsar Monastery’s head lamas, passed away. Khyentse Rinpoche was then called on to conduct cremation ceremonies for him and so was unable to join us in Pharping. Nonetheless, we remain deeply grateful that his blessings and prayers were with us throughout the ceremonies.
—Jigme Tromge Rinpoche
______
We came to sit with Rinpoche’s body one last time, to pay our respects to the miraculous manifestation of bodhichitta in each of our lives. It was a colorful display, with practitioners from a rich array of countries and historical ties to Rinpoche’s long life of teaching and dharma activities. It was a poignant reminder of impermanence and interdependence, and an opportunity to purify and strengthen our samaya with a great master. It was a wide stream of countless moments culminating in fire and smoke, smoke and then more fire, as Rinpoche’s body burned.
Where do we go from here? Rinpoche would tell us to keep going. He offered us a huge banquet to nourish us as we make the journey along our own dharma paths. I recall a dream I had some months after Rinpoche passed away. He was leading a group of us in a drubchen ceremony, and I couldn’t stop crying with joy at seeing him again. At the end of the session, I went up, still crying, to receive his blessings and told him how happy I was to see him again because I thought he had died. He simply asked, “Really so different?” Now I understand that we need to keep going in our practice until the realization that there is no difference takes root in us.
—Michael McLaughlin
______
It is the last day of the ceremonies, and we are heading up the hill early to prepare for the cremation. We’ve had a highly charged week—jet lag, emotional swings, long days, and short nights. The bus begins the slow crawl up the hill out of Pharping; my mind is grinding. We come to a halt. Ahead of us, a line of vehicles, passengers’ heads sticking out, necks craned in an effort to see what has interrupted our progress. A one lane road and a large truck with a broken wheel rim. Two hours to fix. A lot of ideas are put forth, which Lama Sherab cuts. We will walk the road, not the crosscountry trail. I am jolted from my self centered indulgence by the overwhelming sensation of Rinpoche’s presence. The day is different from those that preceded. It has gotten warmer earlier, and the sky is less cloudy. I’m filled with joy, and a large grin is planted on my face as all these fortunate beings begin the pilgrimage up the hill.
No longer in buses, we pass the same families and humble farms that we have cloaked in dust for the past week. It is so sweet not having the glass and the metal between us. We are now clearly the pilgrims who have come to pay respect to our beloved teacher: “Just a closer walk with thee.” There is no way to express the gratitude for this precious opportunity—only the tears that well up everyday in response to the blessings that he showers on us.
—Lon Hill
______
Really, I couldn’t take it in. There was one moment when everything stopped and I found sky mind and knew certainly Rinpoche was there. Brilliantly.
—Chagdud Khadro
By now, many of you will already have seen photos or heard accounts of the cremation ceremonies for His Eminence Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche. For my part, I can only add how much I appreciated the support of our sangha during this extraordinary occasion.
While rituals had been performed throughout the year since the arrival of Rinpoche’s kudun at the retreat center, these few days were the culmination of all of our offerings to him. Leading the ceremonies were many great lamas who had long standing connections with Rinpoche. On the last day, when the ceremonies moved from the shrineroom to the courtyard outside, high lamas accompanied by their monks were seated in each of the four directions. In the east were Kyabjé Moktsa Rinpoche and my son, Sungtrul Or gyen Tromge; in the south were H.E. Chokling Rinpoche and I; in the west was vajra master Tromge Wöntrul Rinpo che (Tsultrim Lodrö, the Tromge throne holder) seated with Tromge Trungpa Rinpoche and Tromge Trinley Ozer Rinpoche; and in the north, H.E. Chökyi Nyima Rinpoche sat with Tulku Kunga and Tulku Dorje Gyaltsen.
Some time ago, H.E. Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche had accepted my request to lead the ceremonies, accompanied by Orgyen Tobgyal Rinpoche. However, in the interim, Gongna Tulku Rinpoche, one of Dzongsar Monastery’s head lamas, passed away. Khyentse Rinpoche was then called on to conduct cremation ceremonies for him and so was unable to join us in Pharping. Nonetheless, we remain deeply grateful that his blessings and prayers were with us throughout the ceremonies.
—Jigme Tromge Rinpoche
______
We came to sit with Rinpoche’s body one last time, to pay our respects to the miraculous manifestation of bodhichitta in each of our lives. It was a colorful display, with practitioners from a rich array of countries and historical ties to Rinpoche’s long life of teaching and dharma activities. It was a poignant reminder of impermanence and interdependence, and an opportunity to purify and strengthen our samaya with a great master. It was a wide stream of countless moments culminating in fire and smoke, smoke and then more fire, as Rinpoche’s body burned.
Where do we go from here? Rinpoche would tell us to keep going. He offered us a huge banquet to nourish us as we make the journey along our own dharma paths. I recall a dream I had some months after Rinpoche passed away. He was leading a group of us in a drubchen ceremony, and I couldn’t stop crying with joy at seeing him again. At the end of the session, I went up, still crying, to receive his blessings and told him how happy I was to see him again because I thought he had died. He simply asked, “Really so different?” Now I understand that we need to keep going in our practice until the realization that there is no difference takes root in us.
—Michael McLaughlin
______
It is the last day of the ceremonies, and we are heading up the hill early to prepare for the cremation. We’ve had a highly charged week—jet lag, emotional swings, long days, and short nights. The bus begins the slow crawl up the hill out of Pharping; my mind is grinding. We come to a halt. Ahead of us, a line of vehicles, passengers’ heads sticking out, necks craned in an effort to see what has interrupted our progress. A one lane road and a large truck with a broken wheel rim. Two hours to fix. A lot of ideas are put forth, which Lama Sherab cuts. We will walk the road, not the crosscountry trail. I am jolted from my self centered indulgence by the overwhelming sensation of Rinpoche’s presence. The day is different from those that preceded. It has gotten warmer earlier, and the sky is less cloudy. I’m filled with joy, and a large grin is planted on my face as all these fortunate beings begin the pilgrimage up the hill.
No longer in buses, we pass the same families and humble farms that we have cloaked in dust for the past week. It is so sweet not having the glass and the metal between us. We are now clearly the pilgrims who have come to pay respect to our beloved teacher: “Just a closer walk with thee.” There is no way to express the gratitude for this precious opportunity—only the tears that well up everyday in response to the blessings that he showers on us.
—Lon Hill
______
Really, I couldn’t take it in. There was one moment when everything stopped and I found sky mind and knew certainly Rinpoche was there. Brilliantly.
—Chagdud Khadro
By now, many of you will already have seen photos or heard accounts of the cremation ceremonies for His Eminence Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche. For my part, I can only add how much I appreciated the support of our sangha during this extraordinary occasion.
While rituals had been performed throughout the year since the arrival of Rinpoche’s kudun at the retreat center, these few days were the culmination of all of our offerings to him. Leading the ceremonies were many great lamas who had long standing connections with Rinpoche. On the last day, when the ceremonies moved from the shrineroom to the courtyard outside, high lamas accompanied by their monks were seated in each of the four directions. In the east were Kyabjé Moktsa Rinpoche and my son, Sungtrul Or gyen Tromge; in the south were H.E. Chokling Rinpoche and I; in the west was vajra master Tromge Wöntrul Rinpo che (Tsultrim Lodrö, the Tromge throne holder) seated with Tromge Trungpa Rinpoche and Tromge Trinley Ozer Rinpoche; and in the north, H.E. Chökyi Nyima Rinpoche sat with Tulku Kunga and Tulku Dorje Gyaltsen.
Some time ago, H.E. Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche had accepted my request to lead the ceremonies, accompanied by Orgyen Tobgyal Rinpoche. However, in the interim, Gongna Tulku Rinpoche, one of Dzongsar Monastery’s head lamas, passed away. Khyentse Rinpoche was then called on to conduct cremation ceremonies for him and so was unable to join us in Pharping. Nonetheless, we remain deeply grateful that his blessings and prayers were with us throughout the ceremonies.
—Jigme Tromge Rinpoche
______
We came to sit with Rinpoche’s body one last time, to pay our respects to the miraculous manifestation of bodhichitta in each of our lives. It was a colorful display, with practitioners from a rich array of countries and historical ties to Rinpoche’s long life of teaching and dharma activities. It was a poignant reminder of impermanence and interdependence, and an opportunity to purify and strengthen our samaya with a great master. It was a wide stream of countless moments culminating in fire and smoke, smoke and then more fire, as Rinpoche’s body burned.
Where do we go from here? Rinpoche would tell us to keep going. He offered us a huge banquet to nourish us as we make the journey along our own dharma paths. I recall a dream I had some months after Rinpoche passed away. He was leading a group of us in a drubchen ceremony, and I couldn’t stop crying with joy at seeing him again. At the end of the session, I went up, still crying, to receive his blessings and told him how happy I was to see him again because I thought he had died. He simply asked, “Really so different?” Now I understand that we need to keep going in our practice until the realization that there is no difference takes root in us.
—Michael McLaughlin
______
It is the last day of the ceremonies, and we are heading up the hill early to prepare for the cremation. We’ve had a highly charged week—jet lag, emotional swings, long days, and short nights. The bus begins the slow crawl up the hill out of Pharping; my mind is grinding. We come to a halt. Ahead of us, a line of vehicles, passengers’ heads sticking out, necks craned in an effort to see what has interrupted our progress. A one lane road and a large truck with a broken wheel rim. Two hours to fix. A lot of ideas are put forth, which Lama Sherab cuts. We will walk the road, not the crosscountry trail. I am jolted from my self centered indulgence by the overwhelming sensation of Rinpoche’s presence. The day is different from those that preceded. It has gotten warmer earlier, and the sky is less cloudy. I’m filled with joy, and a large grin is planted on my face as all these fortunate beings begin the pilgrimage up the hill.
No longer in buses, we pass the same families and humble farms that we have cloaked in dust for the past week. It is so sweet not having the glass and the metal between us. We are now clearly the pilgrims who have come to pay respect to our beloved teacher: “Just a closer walk with thee.” There is no way to express the gratitude for this precious opportunity—only the tears that well up everyday in response to the blessings that he showers on us.
—Lon Hill
______
Really, I couldn’t take it in. There was one moment when everything stopped and I found sky mind and knew certainly Rinpoche was there. Brilliantly.
—Chagdud Khadro
By now, many of you will already have seen photos or heard accounts of the cremation ceremonies for His Eminence Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche. For my part, I can only add how much I appreciated the support of our sangha during this extraordinary occasion.
While rituals had been performed throughout the year since the arrival of Rinpoche’s kudun at the retreat center, these few days were the culmination of all of our offerings to him. Leading the ceremonies were many great lamas who had long standing connections with Rinpoche. On the last day, when the ceremonies moved from the shrineroom to the courtyard outside, high lamas accompanied by their monks were seated in each of the four directions. In the east were Kyabjé Moktsa Rinpoche and my son, Sungtrul Or gyen Tromge; in the south were H.E. Chokling Rinpoche and I; in the west was vajra master Tromge Wöntrul Rinpo che (Tsultrim Lodrö, the Tromge throne holder) seated with Tromge Trungpa Rinpoche and Tromge Trinley Ozer Rinpoche; and in the north, H.E. Chökyi Nyima Rinpoche sat with Tulku Kunga and Tulku Dorje Gyaltsen.
Some time ago, H.E. Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche had accepted my request to lead the ceremonies, accompanied by Orgyen Tobgyal Rinpoche. However, in the interim, Gongna Tulku Rinpoche, one of Dzongsar Monastery’s head lamas, passed away. Khyentse Rinpoche was then called on to conduct cremation ceremonies for him and so was unable to join us in Pharping. Nonetheless, we remain deeply grateful that his blessings and prayers were with us throughout the ceremonies.
—Jigme Tromge Rinpoche
______
We came to sit with Rinpoche’s body one last time, to pay our respects to the miraculous manifestation of bodhichitta in each of our lives. It was a colorful display, with practitioners from a rich array of countries and historical ties to Rinpoche’s long life of teaching and dharma activities. It was a poignant reminder of impermanence and interdependence, and an opportunity to purify and strengthen our samaya with a great master. It was a wide stream of countless moments culminating in fire and smoke, smoke and then more fire, as Rinpoche’s body burned.
Where do we go from here? Rinpoche would tell us to keep going. He offered us a huge banquet to nourish us as we make the journey along our own dharma paths. I recall a dream I had some months after Rinpoche passed away. He was leading a group of us in a drubchen ceremony, and I couldn’t stop crying with joy at seeing him again. At the end of the session, I went up, still crying, to receive his blessings and told him how happy I was to see him again because I thought he had died. He simply asked, “Really so different?” Now I understand that we need to keep going in our practice until the realization that there is no difference takes root in us.
—Michael McLaughlin
______
It is the last day of the ceremonies, and we are heading up the hill early to prepare for the cremation. We’ve had a highly charged week—jet lag, emotional swings, long days, and short nights. The bus begins the slow crawl up the hill out of Pharping; my mind is grinding. We come to a halt. Ahead of us, a line of vehicles, passengers’ heads sticking out, necks craned in an effort to see what has interrupted our progress. A one lane road and a large truck with a broken wheel rim. Two hours to fix. A lot of ideas are put forth, which Lama Sherab cuts. We will walk the road, not the crosscountry trail. I am jolted from my self centered indulgence by the overwhelming sensation of Rinpoche’s presence. The day is different from those that preceded. It has gotten warmer earlier, and the sky is less cloudy. I’m filled with joy, and a large grin is planted on my face as all these fortunate beings begin the pilgrimage up the hill.
No longer in buses, we pass the same families and humble farms that we have cloaked in dust for the past week. It is so sweet not having the glass and the metal between us. We are now clearly the pilgrims who have come to pay respect to our beloved teacher: “Just a closer walk with thee.” There is no way to express the gratitude for this precious opportunity—only the tears that well up everyday in response to the blessings that he showers on us.
—Lon Hill
______
Really, I couldn’t take it in. There was one moment when everything stopped and I found sky mind and knew certainly Rinpoche was there. Brilliantly.
—Chagdud Khadro
