In June 1999 Chagdud Khadro represented H.E. Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche at an extensive aspiration prayer ceremony, called a monlam, at Katok Monastery, the mother monastery of Chagdud Gonpa. During a visit to Nepal in the fall of 1997, upon hearing that the shedra, or philosophical school, at Katok needed financial assistance, Chagdud Rinpoche established an endowment fund to provide ongoing support for it. Mogtza Rinpoche is the monastery’s head lama.
The decision to travel to Eastern Tibet for the monlam ceremony at Katok Gonpa was made unexpectedly, during a telephone call with Rinpoche, when he told me, “Mogtza Rinpoche says Tulku Jigme, Orgyen, and I must go. Since I can’t go, I think you should.”
Rinpoche and I had discussed the idea of traveling to Katok months before, but all divinations, including Rinpoche’s own, had indicated that the journey would put his health at risk
“You might not have such a great opportunity to make offerings and dedication prayers in Tibet again,” Rinpoche said. “Many high lamas and many monks and nuns will be gathered there.”
After a moment’s anxiety about organizing the trip on such short notice and in the middle of a teaching tour, I said yes enthusiastically. Many people helped us with the logistics, especially Candace Palmo, who also volunteered to go as a personal attendant and photographer.
Tulku Jigme Tromge knew and revered the distinguished lamas who attended the monlam, and he told us wonderful stories about them. These lamas in turn showed him utmost respect, as Chagdud Tulku’s son and as a lama of obvious qualities. Adept in the formalities of such ceremonies, he skillfully orchestrated the presentation of large offerings from Rinpoche and rigorously tracked the smaller offerings made through the Maha-karuna Foundation and other private sources .
The high lamas of Katok had made a special request that Tulku Jigme’s son, Orgyen Tromge, attend the ceremony because they intended to enthrone him as the speech incarnation of Dudjom. The Dudjom lineage has been held primarily at Katok for centuries—at Katok, Rigdzin Duddul Dorje, a previous incarnation of Dudjom Rinpoche, was the teacher of Terton Longsal Nyingpo, source of our p’howa practice—so the enthronement served as a powerful validation of the Dudjom, Katok, and Chagdud Gonpa connection. Meanwhile, not foreseeing that such an amazing mantle of recognition was about to descend, I oftenfound myself trying to silence Orgyen’s quicksilver commentary as we drove over the precipitous mountain passes.
“Well,” he remarked, looking out the window at a sheer drop of thousands of feet, “it seems like we could die an extremely unpleasant death here. . . .” “Orgyen, please don’t talk!”
The Katok lamas had arranged a sturdy vehicle with an excellent Chinese driver who had the face of a cherub, the temperament of an angel, and the stamina of an Olympic athlete. The journey took us up past Tromge Gonpa through the gorge of the Yangtze (Yellow) River, to Palyul (site of H.H. Penor Rinpoche’s monastery), then, at an altitude of more than 13,000 feet, to Katok. Watching the awesome surge of the river through fascinating rock faces hundreds of feet high, I found myself absolutely thrilled to make this trip.
Katok Gonpa stands at the top of a mountain ridge, a huge complex partially destroyed during the years of conflict, but now wonderfully restored. Before arriving I could not believe that ten thousand monks and lamas could really gather for such a ceremony, but there they were, along with thousands more lay people. Just to see them all together moved me deeply. As for foreigners, the Chinese government opened the region around Palyul and Katok to tourists in January 1999. We later learned that during the ceremony local officials summoned Mogtza Rinpoche and another Katok lama to ask about our presence and that of a group of Taiwanese practitioners. However, after the lamas pointed out that both the national and state governments had opened the area, the local officials let the matter drop. The four of us stayed in one room of the shedra, a fine stone building. Due to Chagdud Rinpoche’s generosity and that of several of his students, the shedra is well endowed and supports 120 scholars, an elite corps of the monastery. Meeting the scholars and their khenpo, who is said to foster knowledge and good character “like a father with his own sons,” was truly inspiring. After decades of suppression and duress, the living wisdom of the teachings flourishes in this new generation of khenpos after only a few years of concentrated attention, like dormant blooms of desert plants flowering vibrantly after rain. I fervently hope that a similar shedra can be established at Chagdud Gonpa Tibet, and wish Tulku Jigme every success in his guidance of this project.
The shedra lamas took care of our food and room—somewhat embarrassing given their stature—but Orgyen, undaunted, reciprocated by teaching them to yo-yo. The colorful array of yo-yos he had brought with him flashed in the dim corridor of the shedra, and the serious demeanors of the scholars gave way to laughter and play.
Offering prayers for the peace and prosperity of all beings was the purpose of the ten-day monlam ceremony, which was conducted in various shrine rooms for the first days, then outside around a huge courtyard so that lama dancing could be performed for the second half of the ceremony. On the first day, Tulku Jigme and Orgyen were ushered to thrones at the front while Candace and I stood at the door of the shrine room, not knowing what to do next. Suddenly Mogtza Rinpoche appeared and led us to a back corner. Cushions were plopped down and we took our places, simultaneously taking in the stony looks of the monks sitting across the aisle and the fact that we were the only women officially seated in the assembly of probably two thousand monks.
Over the next few days other women would come and go, mainly from among a group of Taiwanese disciples of one of the Katok lamas, and the monks’ stoniness would give way to a sense of camaraderie as we prayed together and shared food. Also, the Chagdud connection somehow became unveiled, glossing with honor the anomaly of a blue-eyed female seated in their midst. Candace, with her brown eyes and dark hair, generally had a warmer reception, particularly from the lay people. I embodied the nightmares of small children. Once as I walked by, a mother seized her tot and held him up, obviously telling him that just such a demon would devour, steal, beat him— who knows?—if he didn’t behave. I looked straight at the howling child and said, “Om Mani Padme Hung!” For one instant he stared back, puzzled. Then his mother put him down and he fled.
The ritual dances performed during the second five days of the monlam were splendid, with costumes of the richest silk, a lineup of about thirty drums, twenty-foot-long horns, and perhaps 150 dancers in the Black Hat, more in other dances. Some of the dances were familiar from Rigdzin Ling and Khadro Ling, others were quite different from those we do. Whenever the crowd pushed too close to the dancers, it was merrily beaten back by masked clowns with large pillows and limitless energy. Even though a cold, dreary rain fell most days, the onlookers stood for hours to watch the performances. One had to admire their faith and endurance.
An opportunity to make the ceremonial offering to the monks and lamas arose during the first day of the dances. I wrote a dedication (see below), which Tulku Jigme translated verbally and one of the shedra khenpos had written in the traditional formal style. This was read aloud to the entire assembly, lay and ordained, including some of the most highly realized lamas of our time. The distribution of offerings required a tremendous effort by several lamas, because Chagdud Rinpoche wanted every monk and nun—all ten thousand or so—to receive an individual offering. This is not the custom at Katok, but it was done anyway out of respect for Rinpoche.
After the offering was made I felt a strong sense of relief, both because I was divested of the responsibility for a huge amount of cash and because I felt I had not failed Rinpoche’s purpose in sending me to Tibet. I also felt his pervasive, powerful blessing, his constant enrichment of my life on all levels. Afterward, any discomforts—and all pilgrimages should have them!—due to road travel, the altitude, and the primitive sanitary facilities dissipated completely. I was swept away by the wonder of actually having been in the presence of the incarnations of Khenpo Ngaga and Lungtok Tenpai Nyima, sources of some of our most precious Dzogchen transmissions. I can only begin to honor this rare, precious opportunity through guru devotion and pure practice.
In June 1999 Chagdud Khadro represented H.E. Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche at an extensive aspiration prayer ceremony, called a monlam, at Katok Monastery, the mother monastery of Chagdud Gonpa. During a visit to Nepal in the fall of 1997, upon hearing that the shedra, or philosophical school, at Katok needed financial assistance, Chagdud Rinpoche established an endowment fund to provide ongoing support for it. Mogtza Rinpoche is the monastery’s head lama.
The decision to travel to Eastern Tibet for the monlam ceremony at Katok Gonpa was made unexpectedly, during a telephone call with Rinpoche, when he told me, “Mogtza Rinpoche says Tulku Jigme, Orgyen, and I must go. Since I can’t go, I think you should.”
Rinpoche and I had discussed the idea of traveling to Katok months before, but all divinations, including Rinpoche’s own, had indicated that the journey would put his health at risk
“You might not have such a great opportunity to make offerings and dedication prayers in Tibet again,” Rinpoche said. “Many high lamas and many monks and nuns will be gathered there.”
After a moment’s anxiety about organizing the trip on such short notice and in the middle of a teaching tour, I said yes enthusiastically. Many people helped us with the logistics, especially Candace Palmo, who also volunteered to go as a personal attendant and photographer.
Tulku Jigme Tromge knew and revered the distinguished lamas who attended the monlam, and he told us wonderful stories about them. These lamas in turn showed him utmost respect, as Chagdud Tulku’s son and as a lama of obvious qualities. Adept in the formalities of such ceremonies, he skillfully orchestrated the presentation of large offerings from Rinpoche and rigorously tracked the smaller offerings made through the Maha-karuna Foundation and other private sources .
The high lamas of Katok had made a special request that Tulku Jigme’s son, Orgyen Tromge, attend the ceremony because they intended to enthrone him as the speech incarnation of Dudjom. The Dudjom lineage has been held primarily at Katok for centuries—at Katok, Rigdzin Duddul Dorje, a previous incarnation of Dudjom Rinpoche, was the teacher of Terton Longsal Nyingpo, source of our p’howa practice—so the enthronement served as a powerful validation of the Dudjom, Katok, and Chagdud Gonpa connection. Meanwhile, not foreseeing that such an amazing mantle of recognition was about to descend, I oftenfound myself trying to silence Orgyen’s quicksilver commentary as we drove over the precipitous mountain passes.
“Well,” he remarked, looking out the window at a sheer drop of thousands of feet, “it seems like we could die an extremely unpleasant death here. . . .” “Orgyen, please don’t talk!”
The Katok lamas had arranged a sturdy vehicle with an excellent Chinese driver who had the face of a cherub, the temperament of an angel, and the stamina of an Olympic athlete. The journey took us up past Tromge Gonpa through the gorge of the Yangtze (Yellow) River, to Palyul (site of H.H. Penor Rinpoche’s monastery), then, at an altitude of more than 13,000 feet, to Katok. Watching the awesome surge of the river through fascinating rock faces hundreds of feet high, I found myself absolutely thrilled to make this trip.
Katok Gonpa stands at the top of a mountain ridge, a huge complex partially destroyed during the years of conflict, but now wonderfully restored. Before arriving I could not believe that ten thousand monks and lamas could really gather for such a ceremony, but there they were, along with thousands more lay people. Just to see them all together moved me deeply. As for foreigners, the Chinese government opened the region around Palyul and Katok to tourists in January 1999. We later learned that during the ceremony local officials summoned Mogtza Rinpoche and another Katok lama to ask about our presence and that of a group of Taiwanese practitioners. However, after the lamas pointed out that both the national and state governments had opened the area, the local officials let the matter drop. The four of us stayed in one room of the shedra, a fine stone building. Due to Chagdud Rinpoche’s generosity and that of several of his students, the shedra is well endowed and supports 120 scholars, an elite corps of the monastery. Meeting the scholars and their khenpo, who is said to foster knowledge and good character “like a father with his own sons,” was truly inspiring. After decades of suppression and duress, the living wisdom of the teachings flourishes in this new generation of khenpos after only a few years of concentrated attention, like dormant blooms of desert plants flowering vibrantly after rain. I fervently hope that a similar shedra can be established at Chagdud Gonpa Tibet, and wish Tulku Jigme every success in his guidance of this project.
The shedra lamas took care of our food and room—somewhat embarrassing given their stature—but Orgyen, undaunted, reciprocated by teaching them to yo-yo. The colorful array of yo-yos he had brought with him flashed in the dim corridor of the shedra, and the serious demeanors of the scholars gave way to laughter and play.
Offering prayers for the peace and prosperity of all beings was the purpose of the ten-day monlam ceremony, which was conducted in various shrine rooms for the first days, then outside around a huge courtyard so that lama dancing could be performed for the second half of the ceremony. On the first day, Tulku Jigme and Orgyen were ushered to thrones at the front while Candace and I stood at the door of the shrine room, not knowing what to do next. Suddenly Mogtza Rinpoche appeared and led us to a back corner. Cushions were plopped down and we took our places, simultaneously taking in the stony looks of the monks sitting across the aisle and the fact that we were the only women officially seated in the assembly of probably two thousand monks.
Over the next few days other women would come and go, mainly from among a group of Taiwanese disciples of one of the Katok lamas, and the monks’ stoniness would give way to a sense of camaraderie as we prayed together and shared food. Also, the Chagdud connection somehow became unveiled, glossing with honor the anomaly of a blue-eyed female seated in their midst. Candace, with her brown eyes and dark hair, generally had a warmer reception, particularly from the lay people. I embodied the nightmares of small children. Once as I walked by, a mother seized her tot and held him up, obviously telling him that just such a demon would devour, steal, beat him— who knows?—if he didn’t behave. I looked straight at the howling child and said, “Om Mani Padme Hung!” For one instant he stared back, puzzled. Then his mother put him down and he fled.
The ritual dances performed during the second five days of the monlam were splendid, with costumes of the richest silk, a lineup of about thirty drums, twenty-foot-long horns, and perhaps 150 dancers in the Black Hat, more in other dances. Some of the dances were familiar from Rigdzin Ling and Khadro Ling, others were quite different from those we do. Whenever the crowd pushed too close to the dancers, it was merrily beaten back by masked clowns with large pillows and limitless energy. Even though a cold, dreary rain fell most days, the onlookers stood for hours to watch the performances. One had to admire their faith and endurance.
An opportunity to make the ceremonial offering to the monks and lamas arose during the first day of the dances. I wrote a dedication (see below), which Tulku Jigme translated verbally and one of the shedra khenpos had written in the traditional formal style. This was read aloud to the entire assembly, lay and ordained, including some of the most highly realized lamas of our time. The distribution of offerings required a tremendous effort by several lamas, because Chagdud Rinpoche wanted every monk and nun—all ten thousand or so—to receive an individual offering. This is not the custom at Katok, but it was done anyway out of respect for Rinpoche.
After the offering was made I felt a strong sense of relief, both because I was divested of the responsibility for a huge amount of cash and because I felt I had not failed Rinpoche’s purpose in sending me to Tibet. I also felt his pervasive, powerful blessing, his constant enrichment of my life on all levels. Afterward, any discomforts—and all pilgrimages should have them!—due to road travel, the altitude, and the primitive sanitary facilities dissipated completely. I was swept away by the wonder of actually having been in the presence of the incarnations of Khenpo Ngaga and Lungtok Tenpai Nyima, sources of some of our most precious Dzogchen transmissions. I can only begin to honor this rare, precious opportunity through guru devotion and pure practice.
In June 1999 Chagdud Khadro represented H.E. Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche at an extensive aspiration prayer ceremony, called a monlam, at Katok Monastery, the mother monastery of Chagdud Gonpa. During a visit to Nepal in the fall of 1997, upon hearing that the shedra, or philosophical school, at Katok needed financial assistance, Chagdud Rinpoche established an endowment fund to provide ongoing support for it. Mogtza Rinpoche is the monastery’s head lama.
The decision to travel to Eastern Tibet for the monlam ceremony at Katok Gonpa was made unexpectedly, during a telephone call with Rinpoche, when he told me, “Mogtza Rinpoche says Tulku Jigme, Orgyen, and I must go. Since I can’t go, I think you should.”
Rinpoche and I had discussed the idea of traveling to Katok months before, but all divinations, including Rinpoche’s own, had indicated that the journey would put his health at risk
“You might not have such a great opportunity to make offerings and dedication prayers in Tibet again,” Rinpoche said. “Many high lamas and many monks and nuns will be gathered there.”
After a moment’s anxiety about organizing the trip on such short notice and in the middle of a teaching tour, I said yes enthusiastically. Many people helped us with the logistics, especially Candace Palmo, who also volunteered to go as a personal attendant and photographer.
Tulku Jigme Tromge knew and revered the distinguished lamas who attended the monlam, and he told us wonderful stories about them. These lamas in turn showed him utmost respect, as Chagdud Tulku’s son and as a lama of obvious qualities. Adept in the formalities of such ceremonies, he skillfully orchestrated the presentation of large offerings from Rinpoche and rigorously tracked the smaller offerings made through the Maha-karuna Foundation and other private sources .
The high lamas of Katok had made a special request that Tulku Jigme’s son, Orgyen Tromge, attend the ceremony because they intended to enthrone him as the speech incarnation of Dudjom. The Dudjom lineage has been held primarily at Katok for centuries—at Katok, Rigdzin Duddul Dorje, a previous incarnation of Dudjom Rinpoche, was the teacher of Terton Longsal Nyingpo, source of our p’howa practice—so the enthronement served as a powerful validation of the Dudjom, Katok, and Chagdud Gonpa connection. Meanwhile, not foreseeing that such an amazing mantle of recognition was about to descend, I oftenfound myself trying to silence Orgyen’s quicksilver commentary as we drove over the precipitous mountain passes.
“Well,” he remarked, looking out the window at a sheer drop of thousands of feet, “it seems like we could die an extremely unpleasant death here. . . .” “Orgyen, please don’t talk!”
The Katok lamas had arranged a sturdy vehicle with an excellent Chinese driver who had the face of a cherub, the temperament of an angel, and the stamina of an Olympic athlete. The journey took us up past Tromge Gonpa through the gorge of the Yangtze (Yellow) River, to Palyul (site of H.H. Penor Rinpoche’s monastery), then, at an altitude of more than 13,000 feet, to Katok. Watching the awesome surge of the river through fascinating rock faces hundreds of feet high, I found myself absolutely thrilled to make this trip.
Katok Gonpa stands at the top of a mountain ridge, a huge complex partially destroyed during the years of conflict, but now wonderfully restored. Before arriving I could not believe that ten thousand monks and lamas could really gather for such a ceremony, but there they were, along with thousands more lay people. Just to see them all together moved me deeply. As for foreigners, the Chinese government opened the region around Palyul and Katok to tourists in January 1999. We later learned that during the ceremony local officials summoned Mogtza Rinpoche and another Katok lama to ask about our presence and that of a group of Taiwanese practitioners. However, after the lamas pointed out that both the national and state governments had opened the area, the local officials let the matter drop. The four of us stayed in one room of the shedra, a fine stone building. Due to Chagdud Rinpoche’s generosity and that of several of his students, the shedra is well endowed and supports 120 scholars, an elite corps of the monastery. Meeting the scholars and their khenpo, who is said to foster knowledge and good character “like a father with his own sons,” was truly inspiring. After decades of suppression and duress, the living wisdom of the teachings flourishes in this new generation of khenpos after only a few years of concentrated attention, like dormant blooms of desert plants flowering vibrantly after rain. I fervently hope that a similar shedra can be established at Chagdud Gonpa Tibet, and wish Tulku Jigme every success in his guidance of this project.
The shedra lamas took care of our food and room—somewhat embarrassing given their stature—but Orgyen, undaunted, reciprocated by teaching them to yo-yo. The colorful array of yo-yos he had brought with him flashed in the dim corridor of the shedra, and the serious demeanors of the scholars gave way to laughter and play.
Offering prayers for the peace and prosperity of all beings was the purpose of the ten-day monlam ceremony, which was conducted in various shrine rooms for the first days, then outside around a huge courtyard so that lama dancing could be performed for the second half of the ceremony. On the first day, Tulku Jigme and Orgyen were ushered to thrones at the front while Candace and I stood at the door of the shrine room, not knowing what to do next. Suddenly Mogtza Rinpoche appeared and led us to a back corner. Cushions were plopped down and we took our places, simultaneously taking in the stony looks of the monks sitting across the aisle and the fact that we were the only women officially seated in the assembly of probably two thousand monks.
Over the next few days other women would come and go, mainly from among a group of Taiwanese disciples of one of the Katok lamas, and the monks’ stoniness would give way to a sense of camaraderie as we prayed together and shared food. Also, the Chagdud connection somehow became unveiled, glossing with honor the anomaly of a blue-eyed female seated in their midst. Candace, with her brown eyes and dark hair, generally had a warmer reception, particularly from the lay people. I embodied the nightmares of small children. Once as I walked by, a mother seized her tot and held him up, obviously telling him that just such a demon would devour, steal, beat him— who knows?—if he didn’t behave. I looked straight at the howling child and said, “Om Mani Padme Hung!” For one instant he stared back, puzzled. Then his mother put him down and he fled.
The ritual dances performed during the second five days of the monlam were splendid, with costumes of the richest silk, a lineup of about thirty drums, twenty-foot-long horns, and perhaps 150 dancers in the Black Hat, more in other dances. Some of the dances were familiar from Rigdzin Ling and Khadro Ling, others were quite different from those we do. Whenever the crowd pushed too close to the dancers, it was merrily beaten back by masked clowns with large pillows and limitless energy. Even though a cold, dreary rain fell most days, the onlookers stood for hours to watch the performances. One had to admire their faith and endurance.
An opportunity to make the ceremonial offering to the monks and lamas arose during the first day of the dances. I wrote a dedication (see below), which Tulku Jigme translated verbally and one of the shedra khenpos had written in the traditional formal style. This was read aloud to the entire assembly, lay and ordained, including some of the most highly realized lamas of our time. The distribution of offerings required a tremendous effort by several lamas, because Chagdud Rinpoche wanted every monk and nun—all ten thousand or so—to receive an individual offering. This is not the custom at Katok, but it was done anyway out of respect for Rinpoche.
After the offering was made I felt a strong sense of relief, both because I was divested of the responsibility for a huge amount of cash and because I felt I had not failed Rinpoche’s purpose in sending me to Tibet. I also felt his pervasive, powerful blessing, his constant enrichment of my life on all levels. Afterward, any discomforts—and all pilgrimages should have them!—due to road travel, the altitude, and the primitive sanitary facilities dissipated completely. I was swept away by the wonder of actually having been in the presence of the incarnations of Khenpo Ngaga and Lungtok Tenpai Nyima, sources of some of our most precious Dzogchen transmissions. I can only begin to honor this rare, precious opportunity through guru devotion and pure practice.
In June 1999 Chagdud Khadro represented H.E. Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche at an extensive aspiration prayer ceremony, called a monlam, at Katok Monastery, the mother monastery of Chagdud Gonpa. During a visit to Nepal in the fall of 1997, upon hearing that the shedra, or philosophical school, at Katok needed financial assistance, Chagdud Rinpoche established an endowment fund to provide ongoing support for it. Mogtza Rinpoche is the monastery’s head lama.
The decision to travel to Eastern Tibet for the monlam ceremony at Katok Gonpa was made unexpectedly, during a telephone call with Rinpoche, when he told me, “Mogtza Rinpoche says Tulku Jigme, Orgyen, and I must go. Since I can’t go, I think you should.”
Rinpoche and I had discussed the idea of traveling to Katok months before, but all divinations, including Rinpoche’s own, had indicated that the journey would put his health at risk
“You might not have such a great opportunity to make offerings and dedication prayers in Tibet again,” Rinpoche said. “Many high lamas and many monks and nuns will be gathered there.”
After a moment’s anxiety about organizing the trip on such short notice and in the middle of a teaching tour, I said yes enthusiastically. Many people helped us with the logistics, especially Candace Palmo, who also volunteered to go as a personal attendant and photographer.
Tulku Jigme Tromge knew and revered the distinguished lamas who attended the monlam, and he told us wonderful stories about them. These lamas in turn showed him utmost respect, as Chagdud Tulku’s son and as a lama of obvious qualities. Adept in the formalities of such ceremonies, he skillfully orchestrated the presentation of large offerings from Rinpoche and rigorously tracked the smaller offerings made through the Maha-karuna Foundation and other private sources .
The high lamas of Katok had made a special request that Tulku Jigme’s son, Orgyen Tromge, attend the ceremony because they intended to enthrone him as the speech incarnation of Dudjom. The Dudjom lineage has been held primarily at Katok for centuries—at Katok, Rigdzin Duddul Dorje, a previous incarnation of Dudjom Rinpoche, was the teacher of Terton Longsal Nyingpo, source of our p’howa practice—so the enthronement served as a powerful validation of the Dudjom, Katok, and Chagdud Gonpa connection. Meanwhile, not foreseeing that such an amazing mantle of recognition was about to descend, I oftenfound myself trying to silence Orgyen’s quicksilver commentary as we drove over the precipitous mountain passes.
“Well,” he remarked, looking out the window at a sheer drop of thousands of feet, “it seems like we could die an extremely unpleasant death here. . . .” “Orgyen, please don’t talk!”
The Katok lamas had arranged a sturdy vehicle with an excellent Chinese driver who had the face of a cherub, the temperament of an angel, and the stamina of an Olympic athlete. The journey took us up past Tromge Gonpa through the gorge of the Yangtze (Yellow) River, to Palyul (site of H.H. Penor Rinpoche’s monastery), then, at an altitude of more than 13,000 feet, to Katok. Watching the awesome surge of the river through fascinating rock faces hundreds of feet high, I found myself absolutely thrilled to make this trip.
Katok Gonpa stands at the top of a mountain ridge, a huge complex partially destroyed during the years of conflict, but now wonderfully restored. Before arriving I could not believe that ten thousand monks and lamas could really gather for such a ceremony, but there they were, along with thousands more lay people. Just to see them all together moved me deeply. As for foreigners, the Chinese government opened the region around Palyul and Katok to tourists in January 1999. We later learned that during the ceremony local officials summoned Mogtza Rinpoche and another Katok lama to ask about our presence and that of a group of Taiwanese practitioners. However, after the lamas pointed out that both the national and state governments had opened the area, the local officials let the matter drop. The four of us stayed in one room of the shedra, a fine stone building. Due to Chagdud Rinpoche’s generosity and that of several of his students, the shedra is well endowed and supports 120 scholars, an elite corps of the monastery. Meeting the scholars and their khenpo, who is said to foster knowledge and good character “like a father with his own sons,” was truly inspiring. After decades of suppression and duress, the living wisdom of the teachings flourishes in this new generation of khenpos after only a few years of concentrated attention, like dormant blooms of desert plants flowering vibrantly after rain. I fervently hope that a similar shedra can be established at Chagdud Gonpa Tibet, and wish Tulku Jigme every success in his guidance of this project.
The shedra lamas took care of our food and room—somewhat embarrassing given their stature—but Orgyen, undaunted, reciprocated by teaching them to yo-yo. The colorful array of yo-yos he had brought with him flashed in the dim corridor of the shedra, and the serious demeanors of the scholars gave way to laughter and play.
Offering prayers for the peace and prosperity of all beings was the purpose of the ten-day monlam ceremony, which was conducted in various shrine rooms for the first days, then outside around a huge courtyard so that lama dancing could be performed for the second half of the ceremony. On the first day, Tulku Jigme and Orgyen were ushered to thrones at the front while Candace and I stood at the door of the shrine room, not knowing what to do next. Suddenly Mogtza Rinpoche appeared and led us to a back corner. Cushions were plopped down and we took our places, simultaneously taking in the stony looks of the monks sitting across the aisle and the fact that we were the only women officially seated in the assembly of probably two thousand monks.
Over the next few days other women would come and go, mainly from among a group of Taiwanese disciples of one of the Katok lamas, and the monks’ stoniness would give way to a sense of camaraderie as we prayed together and shared food. Also, the Chagdud connection somehow became unveiled, glossing with honor the anomaly of a blue-eyed female seated in their midst. Candace, with her brown eyes and dark hair, generally had a warmer reception, particularly from the lay people. I embodied the nightmares of small children. Once as I walked by, a mother seized her tot and held him up, obviously telling him that just such a demon would devour, steal, beat him— who knows?—if he didn’t behave. I looked straight at the howling child and said, “Om Mani Padme Hung!” For one instant he stared back, puzzled. Then his mother put him down and he fled.
The ritual dances performed during the second five days of the monlam were splendid, with costumes of the richest silk, a lineup of about thirty drums, twenty-foot-long horns, and perhaps 150 dancers in the Black Hat, more in other dances. Some of the dances were familiar from Rigdzin Ling and Khadro Ling, others were quite different from those we do. Whenever the crowd pushed too close to the dancers, it was merrily beaten back by masked clowns with large pillows and limitless energy. Even though a cold, dreary rain fell most days, the onlookers stood for hours to watch the performances. One had to admire their faith and endurance.
An opportunity to make the ceremonial offering to the monks and lamas arose during the first day of the dances. I wrote a dedication (see below), which Tulku Jigme translated verbally and one of the shedra khenpos had written in the traditional formal style. This was read aloud to the entire assembly, lay and ordained, including some of the most highly realized lamas of our time. The distribution of offerings required a tremendous effort by several lamas, because Chagdud Rinpoche wanted every monk and nun—all ten thousand or so—to receive an individual offering. This is not the custom at Katok, but it was done anyway out of respect for Rinpoche.
After the offering was made I felt a strong sense of relief, both because I was divested of the responsibility for a huge amount of cash and because I felt I had not failed Rinpoche’s purpose in sending me to Tibet. I also felt his pervasive, powerful blessing, his constant enrichment of my life on all levels. Afterward, any discomforts—and all pilgrimages should have them!—due to road travel, the altitude, and the primitive sanitary facilities dissipated completely. I was swept away by the wonder of actually having been in the presence of the incarnations of Khenpo Ngaga and Lungtok Tenpai Nyima, sources of some of our most precious Dzogchen transmissions. I can only begin to honor this rare, precious opportunity through guru devotion and pure practice.
In June 1999 Chagdud Khadro represented H.E. Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche at an extensive aspiration prayer ceremony, called a monlam, at Katok Monastery, the mother monastery of Chagdud Gonpa. During a visit to Nepal in the fall of 1997, upon hearing that the shedra, or philosophical school, at Katok needed financial assistance, Chagdud Rinpoche established an endowment fund to provide ongoing support for it. Mogtza Rinpoche is the monastery’s head lama.
The decision to travel to Eastern Tibet for the monlam ceremony at Katok Gonpa was made unexpectedly, during a telephone call with Rinpoche, when he told me, “Mogtza Rinpoche says Tulku Jigme, Orgyen, and I must go. Since I can’t go, I think you should.”
Rinpoche and I had discussed the idea of traveling to Katok months before, but all divinations, including Rinpoche’s own, had indicated that the journey would put his health at risk
“You might not have such a great opportunity to make offerings and dedication prayers in Tibet again,” Rinpoche said. “Many high lamas and many monks and nuns will be gathered there.”
After a moment’s anxiety about organizing the trip on such short notice and in the middle of a teaching tour, I said yes enthusiastically. Many people helped us with the logistics, especially Candace Palmo, who also volunteered to go as a personal attendant and photographer.
Tulku Jigme Tromge knew and revered the distinguished lamas who attended the monlam, and he told us wonderful stories about them. These lamas in turn showed him utmost respect, as Chagdud Tulku’s son and as a lama of obvious qualities. Adept in the formalities of such ceremonies, he skillfully orchestrated the presentation of large offerings from Rinpoche and rigorously tracked the smaller offerings made through the Maha-karuna Foundation and other private sources .
The high lamas of Katok had made a special request that Tulku Jigme’s son, Orgyen Tromge, attend the ceremony because they intended to enthrone him as the speech incarnation of Dudjom. The Dudjom lineage has been held primarily at Katok for centuries—at Katok, Rigdzin Duddul Dorje, a previous incarnation of Dudjom Rinpoche, was the teacher of Terton Longsal Nyingpo, source of our p’howa practice—so the enthronement served as a powerful validation of the Dudjom, Katok, and Chagdud Gonpa connection. Meanwhile, not foreseeing that such an amazing mantle of recognition was about to descend, I oftenfound myself trying to silence Orgyen’s quicksilver commentary as we drove over the precipitous mountain passes.
“Well,” he remarked, looking out the window at a sheer drop of thousands of feet, “it seems like we could die an extremely unpleasant death here. . . .” “Orgyen, please don’t talk!”
The Katok lamas had arranged a sturdy vehicle with an excellent Chinese driver who had the face of a cherub, the temperament of an angel, and the stamina of an Olympic athlete. The journey took us up past Tromge Gonpa through the gorge of the Yangtze (Yellow) River, to Palyul (site of H.H. Penor Rinpoche’s monastery), then, at an altitude of more than 13,000 feet, to Katok. Watching the awesome surge of the river through fascinating rock faces hundreds of feet high, I found myself absolutely thrilled to make this trip.
Katok Gonpa stands at the top of a mountain ridge, a huge complex partially destroyed during the years of conflict, but now wonderfully restored. Before arriving I could not believe that ten thousand monks and lamas could really gather for such a ceremony, but there they were, along with thousands more lay people. Just to see them all together moved me deeply. As for foreigners, the Chinese government opened the region around Palyul and Katok to tourists in January 1999. We later learned that during the ceremony local officials summoned Mogtza Rinpoche and another Katok lama to ask about our presence and that of a group of Taiwanese practitioners. However, after the lamas pointed out that both the national and state governments had opened the area, the local officials let the matter drop. The four of us stayed in one room of the shedra, a fine stone building. Due to Chagdud Rinpoche’s generosity and that of several of his students, the shedra is well endowed and supports 120 scholars, an elite corps of the monastery. Meeting the scholars and their khenpo, who is said to foster knowledge and good character “like a father with his own sons,” was truly inspiring. After decades of suppression and duress, the living wisdom of the teachings flourishes in this new generation of khenpos after only a few years of concentrated attention, like dormant blooms of desert plants flowering vibrantly after rain. I fervently hope that a similar shedra can be established at Chagdud Gonpa Tibet, and wish Tulku Jigme every success in his guidance of this project.
The shedra lamas took care of our food and room—somewhat embarrassing given their stature—but Orgyen, undaunted, reciprocated by teaching them to yo-yo. The colorful array of yo-yos he had brought with him flashed in the dim corridor of the shedra, and the serious demeanors of the scholars gave way to laughter and play.
Offering prayers for the peace and prosperity of all beings was the purpose of the ten-day monlam ceremony, which was conducted in various shrine rooms for the first days, then outside around a huge courtyard so that lama dancing could be performed for the second half of the ceremony. On the first day, Tulku Jigme and Orgyen were ushered to thrones at the front while Candace and I stood at the door of the shrine room, not knowing what to do next. Suddenly Mogtza Rinpoche appeared and led us to a back corner. Cushions were plopped down and we took our places, simultaneously taking in the stony looks of the monks sitting across the aisle and the fact that we were the only women officially seated in the assembly of probably two thousand monks.
Over the next few days other women would come and go, mainly from among a group of Taiwanese disciples of one of the Katok lamas, and the monks’ stoniness would give way to a sense of camaraderie as we prayed together and shared food. Also, the Chagdud connection somehow became unveiled, glossing with honor the anomaly of a blue-eyed female seated in their midst. Candace, with her brown eyes and dark hair, generally had a warmer reception, particularly from the lay people. I embodied the nightmares of small children. Once as I walked by, a mother seized her tot and held him up, obviously telling him that just such a demon would devour, steal, beat him— who knows?—if he didn’t behave. I looked straight at the howling child and said, “Om Mani Padme Hung!” For one instant he stared back, puzzled. Then his mother put him down and he fled.
The ritual dances performed during the second five days of the monlam were splendid, with costumes of the richest silk, a lineup of about thirty drums, twenty-foot-long horns, and perhaps 150 dancers in the Black Hat, more in other dances. Some of the dances were familiar from Rigdzin Ling and Khadro Ling, others were quite different from those we do. Whenever the crowd pushed too close to the dancers, it was merrily beaten back by masked clowns with large pillows and limitless energy. Even though a cold, dreary rain fell most days, the onlookers stood for hours to watch the performances. One had to admire their faith and endurance.
An opportunity to make the ceremonial offering to the monks and lamas arose during the first day of the dances. I wrote a dedication (see below), which Tulku Jigme translated verbally and one of the shedra khenpos had written in the traditional formal style. This was read aloud to the entire assembly, lay and ordained, including some of the most highly realized lamas of our time. The distribution of offerings required a tremendous effort by several lamas, because Chagdud Rinpoche wanted every monk and nun—all ten thousand or so—to receive an individual offering. This is not the custom at Katok, but it was done anyway out of respect for Rinpoche.
After the offering was made I felt a strong sense of relief, both because I was divested of the responsibility for a huge amount of cash and because I felt I had not failed Rinpoche’s purpose in sending me to Tibet. I also felt his pervasive, powerful blessing, his constant enrichment of my life on all levels. Afterward, any discomforts—and all pilgrimages should have them!—due to road travel, the altitude, and the primitive sanitary facilities dissipated completely. I was swept away by the wonder of actually having been in the presence of the incarnations of Khenpo Ngaga and Lungtok Tenpai Nyima, sources of some of our most precious Dzogchen transmissions. I can only begin to honor this rare, precious opportunity through guru devotion and pure practice.
