Ani Zamba is a fully ordained nun within the Chinese tradition of Buddhism. She has studied and practiced Tibetan Buddhism under Chagdud Rinpoche and other lamas, and traveled and lived in Asia for over twenty-five years. Since the age of thirteen she has been in and out of hospitals with a debilitating and painful spinal condition, which she credits for having made her what she is. Until recently Ani Zamba led a practice group in Hong Kong. She has now focused her dharma activities in northern Brazil. She spoke with Lama Trinley last July at Khadro Ling.
LT: After having lived in Asia for so many years, what was it that brought you to Brazil?
AZ: I first considered going to Brazil to start a project for street children in São Paulo. Chagdud Rinpoche seemed enthusiastic about the idea when I mentioned it to him, but then he told me to drop everything and go into an extended retreat. So I found a sponsor, a suitable house, and settled into retreat on an outlying island in Hong Kong. Unfortunately, my health began to deteriorate, and when the doctor suggested surgery, I called Rinpoche in Brazil and asked him how to proceed. At the time his health was fragile and I wanted to be with him, but as I was in retreat I thought I’d better not push that. Then he unexpectedly said, “Come to Brazil for two months.”
My body was weak, but Rinpoche helped me get back on my feet again. Then I heard that Rinpoche wanted to visit the north of Brazil, and I felt a strong connection with one of the places he had planned to go. Whenever I asked Brazilians from the north where the most beautiful place in Brazil was, they would always say Chapada Diamontina: Diamond Highlands. They would talk of the hills, trails you can follow for days, wild orchids, dramatic waterfalls, caverns, and varied landscapes. I felt that I needed to go there. So I offered to visit a few places in the north and map out a route for Rinpoche.
After doing a mo, the first place he sent me was Maceio where two of his students lived, and within two weeks we were looking for a dharma center there. It was a difficult search until Marcus, one of the sangha members, mentioned an old house that he knew about. When I saw the old house in terrible condition, I immediately said, “Just wait until Rinpoche sees this! If we knock down that wall we will have a great shrine room.” The sangha was enthusiastic about the project, although I don’t think they could quite see my vision of the place. At that point I realized that Maceio would be my base in the north of Brazil.
Next I briefly visited Chapada and some of the towns within the national park. Wherever I went, there seemed to be someone who knew English, so I would give a teaching, which allowed me to connect with people there. Then I arrived in Mucage, where no one seemed to know English. We used a computer to translate until they found Eduardo, an agronomist who could speak some English and who would later become my main connection there. I continued on to Salvador to join Rinpoche, and then Maceio, where almost 400 people turned up for his talk. When I took him to see the old house he immediately said, “Knock down those walls and make a large space for the shrine room.” Marcus just smiled.
The trip to Chapada was difficult for Rinpoche. We rented a van and drove for ten hours over treacherous roads. But as we traveled from town to town, people offered him land and asked him to build in their locality. Then Rinpoche gave an informal talk in Mucage that several doctors and teachers, the mayor, and the local Catholic priest attended. Soon after Rinpoche had returned to Khadro Ling, Eduardo rang me in Maceio and said the town had agreed that Rinpoche could have any land he wanted as long as it was city-owned and not national park. So off I went into the Mucage hills on horseback and found a beautiful spot. But when we realized how difficult and expensive it was going to be to get water or put in a road, we decided on land that was more practical. That was my first trip north.
LT: Did you return to Hong Kong at that point?
AZ: My visa was up, and Rinpoche had decided that I should give up Hong Kong and be his representative for the north and northeast of Brazil. The move to Brazil was difficult because I had to get a religious visa and there was a massive amount of paperwork involved. But finally, six months later, I had a visa and was packed to go. When Rinpoche said, “Bring everything,” I don’t think he realized how much I had amassed in Asia. When I arrived in Brazil on December 31, 2000 with about 200 kilos of luggage, I was so ill that I couldn’t even prostrate to Rinpoche. But I pulled my health together again, and my life has been absolutely nonstop ever since.
I went up to Maceio where the shrine room had been finished. I taught there, and more and more people became interested in the dharma. I also went to Salvador, the capital of the state of Bahia, where we have since rented an apartment as a dharma center. Next I traveled to Brasilia where the Central Bank of Brazil invited me to teach and give a workshop for their staff. Their employees have a high incidence of depression, and alcohol and drug abuse, and the Bank thought that maybe meditation could help them. They have since formed a meditation group. Our Brasilia sangha continues to grow as I spend more time teaching there. I have also been requested to run future workshops for caregivers, prison workers, and prisoners.
In the far north I visited Forteleza where one of our sangha members, Paola, is a doctor who initiated a program called the Wheel of Life. It started as a project for children with cancer, and introduces the kids to simple dharma stories and teachings during their hospital visits for chemotherapy. Some of the kids are very poor; they must undergo a long journey into town, wait many hours to endure an hour of treatment, and then travel home again—having had no food the entire time. So I collected donations from sangha members and have started a soup kitchen in the hospital to provide meals for them. Rinpoche suggested that I mention it in the Wind Horse and ask for donations to help keep the program in operation. These would be much appreciated. We are also looking for advice and suggestions regarding starting a program to sponsor the medical expenses of patients in need of bone marrow transplants. Any help with this would be appreciated as well.
These kids are beautiful. I sat there with a few of them while they were having chemotherapy. Paola, their doctor, brings light into their lives and makes them laugh. In a TV interview about the project, the interviewer asked one of the children, “How does it feel to be sick?” And the child replied, “I’m not sick; my body is sick.” Recognizing that is a big step forward. We really need to start with the children.
After Forteleza I visited Terresino, farther north, near the Amazon. People in the south warned me, “It’s at the end of the earth. You don’t want to go there. The heat is terrible; there are insects that urinate on you, and the urine leaves scars.” But, as I am rarely swayed by people’s opinions, I went anyway, and it was wonderful. The people were very receptive to the dharma, and I taught almost every day. One man had been to Khadro Ling and requested that a teacher visit, but no one else had received teachings. They did have Rinpoche’s book, Gates to Buddhist Practice, and would get together as a study group every week. Many people there received refuge vows and seem inspired to practice.
The teachings on bodhicitta are also very helpful. When you can say, “Okay, if I have to go through this then let me take on the suffering of others as well, so they don’t have to experience it,” it gives you strength. You don’t possess your suffering, but rather make use of whatever it is you are going through.
I also think that simple shamata, just watching your breath, helps you relax your muscles and mind when there is intense pain. Just becoming aware of your breath as it enters and leaves is a profound way of working with pain. One of my students from Hong Kong is doing a Ph.D. on how mindfulness can help with chronic pain. She did many case studies involving patients with cancer and other painful conditions, and observed how valuable this simple meditation can be in making the pain less solid, making it workable so that you can somehow get beyond it. You don’t have to invest so much in it. You have the space to see it for what it is. Even when you can’t move or do anything else, while you are still alive, you do have your breath. You have refuge and that encompasses all the
LT: In the stories you tell about your life it seems that you never get discouraged.
AZ: I don’t look at the negative side of things. I see challenges, but not obstacles. I think of challenges as a great opportunity and feel that if something is right, then somehow, with Rinpoche’s blessings, it will manifest.
I always look at the potential of something. I’m not easily daunted by logistics. I never have money, so I just say, “If it works, it works; if it doesn’t, it doesn’t.” I think that if your intention is pure then it really doesn’t matter whether a project works or not. You just do your best. I try to put positive energy out and get people involved just to see what we can do. Because the motivation and activity of trying to benefit others is wonderful even if it doesn’t go any further than that.
LT: Would you say something about how you have worked with suffering and pain in your life?
AZ: I remember lying in the hospital, unable to move. I couldn’t sit up or turn a page, so I had to let go of everything in regard to formal practice. When I asked myself, “What is the most important thing at this moment?” I had to say “Refuge,” because it is the essence of all practice. It helps you to work with anything that arises. My doctors had no idea what my practice involved, but they often said to me, “If you didn’t have the faith you have, you would have been dead long ago.” And it’s true.
First of all, there is an element of trust. Because the more you practice, the more you come to appreciate impermanence. You know that however bad the condition seems, it is changing moment by moment, in the same way that so-called good experiences are changing. You can’t hold on to anything. You also begin to appreciate that whenever you start to possess the suffering, it gets worse. But if you can just see it as a changing condition—not “my” pain, then it helps a lot. The teachings on bodhicitta are also very helpful. When you can say, “Okay, if I have to go through this then let me take on the suffering of others as well, so they don’t have to experience it,” it gives you strength. You don’t possess your suffering, but rather make use of whatever it is you are going through.
I also think that simple shamata, just watching your breath, helps you relax your muscles and mind when there is intense pain. Just becoming aware of your breath as it enters and leaves is a profound way of working with pain. One of my students from Hong Kong is doing a Ph.D. on how mindfulness can help with chronic pain. She did many case studies involving patients with cancer and other painful conditions, and observed how valuable this simple meditation can be in making the pain less solid, making it workable so that you can somehow get beyond it. You don’t have to invest so much in it. You have the space to see it for what it is. Even when you can’t move or do anything else, while you are still alive, you do have your breath. You have refuge and that encompasses all the teachings. Nothing is left out.
I’ve asked Rinpoche for many teachings over the years, and he has always told me to just keep doing guru yoga. It is the essence of the path. With my health I have to keep my practice as simple as possible. One week I can be walking, and the next I can hardly move, so I have to keep bringing it down to the essence all the time. The only thing I can depend on is my refuge, because it gives me the confidence to work with whatever arises.
I could complain about how ill I am, but that’s not how I look at my situation. I get up every morning and say “Thank you,” because even though I may feel bad, I could feel a lot worse. What I make of each day that I have been given depends upon me. I can walk around saying, “Oh poor me,” and be a victim to everything, or I can say, “Thank you, this made me what I am.” It allows me insight into suffering, offering me an opportunity to see the nature of suffering, and working with it to make it as positive as possible—to somehow be of benefit to others.
Seldom in the past twenty-five years has Chagdud Rinpoche or any of my other teachers seen me well. There always seems to be some problem with my health. But as Rinpoche keeps reminding me, this is a wonderful opportunity to work through this karma now. Nothing like this just happens. My physical condition has manifested as a result of previous causes.
Rinpoche tells a story of a nun he knew who had done many millions of mantra and was a very respected practitioner. About a month before her death, she forewarned people that she was about to go through an experience of intense suffering and that there wasn’t anything they could do to avert it. When this happened it was obviously a very hellish experience. Some of the people who saw her couldn’t understand how such a strong practitioner could have these experiences. How does karma work if someone who practices all her life dies like this? But just before she died she admitted, “I have purified my karma. When I was younger I had a relationship with a man, got pregnant, and had an abortion; nobody else knew. Yet karma is infallible, and now I am free to go.” When she died there were many positive signs.
We can’t escape our karma. We need to work with it and have a positive attitude about whatever is happening in our lives, making it of benefit to others. I’m not saying that it is easy. But it’s not necessary for everything to be easy. Other things may be easier, but they don’t take you to the same level of practice.
If you wish to contribute to the soup kitchen project or have suggestions about the bone marrow project, contact Ani Zamba by email at <anizamba@hotmail.com>.
Ani Zamba is a fully ordained nun within the Chinese tradition of Buddhism. She has studied and practiced Tibetan Buddhism under Chagdud Rinpoche and other lamas, and traveled and lived in Asia for over twenty-five years. Since the age of thirteen she has been in and out of hospitals with a debilitating and painful spinal condition, which she credits for having made her what she is. Until recently Ani Zamba led a practice group in Hong Kong. She has now focused her dharma activities in northern Brazil. She spoke with Lama Trinley last July at Khadro Ling.
LT: After having lived in Asia for so many years, what was it that brought you to Brazil?
AZ: I first considered going to Brazil to start a project for street children in São Paulo. Chagdud Rinpoche seemed enthusiastic about the idea when I mentioned it to him, but then he told me to drop everything and go into an extended retreat. So I found a sponsor, a suitable house, and settled into retreat on an outlying island in Hong Kong. Unfortunately, my health began to deteriorate, and when the doctor suggested surgery, I called Rinpoche in Brazil and asked him how to proceed. At the time his health was fragile and I wanted to be with him, but as I was in retreat I thought I’d better not push that. Then he unexpectedly said, “Come to Brazil for two months.”
My body was weak, but Rinpoche helped me get back on my feet again. Then I heard that Rinpoche wanted to visit the north of Brazil, and I felt a strong connection with one of the places he had planned to go. Whenever I asked Brazilians from the north where the most beautiful place in Brazil was, they would always say Chapada Diamontina: Diamond Highlands. They would talk of the hills, trails you can follow for days, wild orchids, dramatic waterfalls, caverns, and varied landscapes. I felt that I needed to go there. So I offered to visit a few places in the north and map out a route for Rinpoche.
After doing a mo, the first place he sent me was Maceio where two of his students lived, and within two weeks we were looking for a dharma center there. It was a difficult search until Marcus, one of the sangha members, mentioned an old house that he knew about. When I saw the old house in terrible condition, I immediately said, “Just wait until Rinpoche sees this! If we knock down that wall we will have a great shrine room.” The sangha was enthusiastic about the project, although I don’t think they could quite see my vision of the place. At that point I realized that Maceio would be my base in the north of Brazil.
Next I briefly visited Chapada and some of the towns within the national park. Wherever I went, there seemed to be someone who knew English, so I would give a teaching, which allowed me to connect with people there. Then I arrived in Mucage, where no one seemed to know English. We used a computer to translate until they found Eduardo, an agronomist who could speak some English and who would later become my main connection there. I continued on to Salvador to join Rinpoche, and then Maceio, where almost 400 people turned up for his talk. When I took him to see the old house he immediately said, “Knock down those walls and make a large space for the shrine room.” Marcus just smiled.
The trip to Chapada was difficult for Rinpoche. We rented a van and drove for ten hours over treacherous roads. But as we traveled from town to town, people offered him land and asked him to build in their locality. Then Rinpoche gave an informal talk in Mucage that several doctors and teachers, the mayor, and the local Catholic priest attended. Soon after Rinpoche had returned to Khadro Ling, Eduardo rang me in Maceio and said the town had agreed that Rinpoche could have any land he wanted as long as it was city-owned and not national park. So off I went into the Mucage hills on horseback and found a beautiful spot. But when we realized how difficult and expensive it was going to be to get water or put in a road, we decided on land that was more practical. That was my first trip north.
LT: Did you return to Hong Kong at that point?
AZ: My visa was up, and Rinpoche had decided that I should give up Hong Kong and be his representative for the north and northeast of Brazil. The move to Brazil was difficult because I had to get a religious visa and there was a massive amount of paperwork involved. But finally, six months later, I had a visa and was packed to go. When Rinpoche said, “Bring everything,” I don’t think he realized how much I had amassed in Asia. When I arrived in Brazil on December 31, 2000 with about 200 kilos of luggage, I was so ill that I couldn’t even prostrate to Rinpoche. But I pulled my health together again, and my life has been absolutely nonstop ever since.
I went up to Maceio where the shrine room had been finished. I taught there, and more and more people became interested in the dharma. I also went to Salvador, the capital of the state of Bahia, where we have since rented an apartment as a dharma center. Next I traveled to Brasilia where the Central Bank of Brazil invited me to teach and give a workshop for their staff. Their employees have a high incidence of depression, and alcohol and drug abuse, and the Bank thought that maybe meditation could help them. They have since formed a meditation group. Our Brasilia sangha continues to grow as I spend more time teaching there. I have also been requested to run future workshops for caregivers, prison workers, and prisoners.
In the far north I visited Forteleza where one of our sangha members, Paola, is a doctor who initiated a program called the Wheel of Life. It started as a project for children with cancer, and introduces the kids to simple dharma stories and teachings during their hospital visits for chemotherapy. Some of the kids are very poor; they must undergo a long journey into town, wait many hours to endure an hour of treatment, and then travel home again—having had no food the entire time. So I collected donations from sangha members and have started a soup kitchen in the hospital to provide meals for them. Rinpoche suggested that I mention it in the Wind Horse and ask for donations to help keep the program in operation. These would be much appreciated. We are also looking for advice and suggestions regarding starting a program to sponsor the medical expenses of patients in need of bone marrow transplants. Any help with this would be appreciated as well.
These kids are beautiful. I sat there with a few of them while they were having chemotherapy. Paola, their doctor, brings light into their lives and makes them laugh. In a TV interview about the project, the interviewer asked one of the children, “How does it feel to be sick?” And the child replied, “I’m not sick; my body is sick.” Recognizing that is a big step forward. We really need to start with the children.
After Forteleza I visited Terresino, farther north, near the Amazon. People in the south warned me, “It’s at the end of the earth. You don’t want to go there. The heat is terrible; there are insects that urinate on you, and the urine leaves scars.” But, as I am rarely swayed by people’s opinions, I went anyway, and it was wonderful. The people were very receptive to the dharma, and I taught almost every day. One man had been to Khadro Ling and requested that a teacher visit, but no one else had received teachings. They did have Rinpoche’s book, Gates to Buddhist Practice, and would get together as a study group every week. Many people there received refuge vows and seem inspired to practice.
The teachings on bodhicitta are also very helpful. When you can say, “Okay, if I have to go through this then let me take on the suffering of others as well, so they don’t have to experience it,” it gives you strength. You don’t possess your suffering, but rather make use of whatever it is you are going through.
I also think that simple shamata, just watching your breath, helps you relax your muscles and mind when there is intense pain. Just becoming aware of your breath as it enters and leaves is a profound way of working with pain. One of my students from Hong Kong is doing a Ph.D. on how mindfulness can help with chronic pain. She did many case studies involving patients with cancer and other painful conditions, and observed how valuable this simple meditation can be in making the pain less solid, making it workable so that you can somehow get beyond it. You don’t have to invest so much in it. You have the space to see it for what it is. Even when you can’t move or do anything else, while you are still alive, you do have your breath. You have refuge and that encompasses all the
LT: In the stories you tell about your life it seems that you never get discouraged.
AZ: I don’t look at the negative side of things. I see challenges, but not obstacles. I think of challenges as a great opportunity and feel that if something is right, then somehow, with Rinpoche’s blessings, it will manifest.
I always look at the potential of something. I’m not easily daunted by logistics. I never have money, so I just say, “If it works, it works; if it doesn’t, it doesn’t.” I think that if your intention is pure then it really doesn’t matter whether a project works or not. You just do your best. I try to put positive energy out and get people involved just to see what we can do. Because the motivation and activity of trying to benefit others is wonderful even if it doesn’t go any further than that.
LT: Would you say something about how you have worked with suffering and pain in your life?
AZ: I remember lying in the hospital, unable to move. I couldn’t sit up or turn a page, so I had to let go of everything in regard to formal practice. When I asked myself, “What is the most important thing at this moment?” I had to say “Refuge,” because it is the essence of all practice. It helps you to work with anything that arises. My doctors had no idea what my practice involved, but they often said to me, “If you didn’t have the faith you have, you would have been dead long ago.” And it’s true.
First of all, there is an element of trust. Because the more you practice, the more you come to appreciate impermanence. You know that however bad the condition seems, it is changing moment by moment, in the same way that so-called good experiences are changing. You can’t hold on to anything. You also begin to appreciate that whenever you start to possess the suffering, it gets worse. But if you can just see it as a changing condition—not “my” pain, then it helps a lot. The teachings on bodhicitta are also very helpful. When you can say, “Okay, if I have to go through this then let me take on the suffering of others as well, so they don’t have to experience it,” it gives you strength. You don’t possess your suffering, but rather make use of whatever it is you are going through.
I also think that simple shamata, just watching your breath, helps you relax your muscles and mind when there is intense pain. Just becoming aware of your breath as it enters and leaves is a profound way of working with pain. One of my students from Hong Kong is doing a Ph.D. on how mindfulness can help with chronic pain. She did many case studies involving patients with cancer and other painful conditions, and observed how valuable this simple meditation can be in making the pain less solid, making it workable so that you can somehow get beyond it. You don’t have to invest so much in it. You have the space to see it for what it is. Even when you can’t move or do anything else, while you are still alive, you do have your breath. You have refuge and that encompasses all the teachings. Nothing is left out.
I’ve asked Rinpoche for many teachings over the years, and he has always told me to just keep doing guru yoga. It is the essence of the path. With my health I have to keep my practice as simple as possible. One week I can be walking, and the next I can hardly move, so I have to keep bringing it down to the essence all the time. The only thing I can depend on is my refuge, because it gives me the confidence to work with whatever arises.
I could complain about how ill I am, but that’s not how I look at my situation. I get up every morning and say “Thank you,” because even though I may feel bad, I could feel a lot worse. What I make of each day that I have been given depends upon me. I can walk around saying, “Oh poor me,” and be a victim to everything, or I can say, “Thank you, this made me what I am.” It allows me insight into suffering, offering me an opportunity to see the nature of suffering, and working with it to make it as positive as possible—to somehow be of benefit to others.
Seldom in the past twenty-five years has Chagdud Rinpoche or any of my other teachers seen me well. There always seems to be some problem with my health. But as Rinpoche keeps reminding me, this is a wonderful opportunity to work through this karma now. Nothing like this just happens. My physical condition has manifested as a result of previous causes.
Rinpoche tells a story of a nun he knew who had done many millions of mantra and was a very respected practitioner. About a month before her death, she forewarned people that she was about to go through an experience of intense suffering and that there wasn’t anything they could do to avert it. When this happened it was obviously a very hellish experience. Some of the people who saw her couldn’t understand how such a strong practitioner could have these experiences. How does karma work if someone who practices all her life dies like this? But just before she died she admitted, “I have purified my karma. When I was younger I had a relationship with a man, got pregnant, and had an abortion; nobody else knew. Yet karma is infallible, and now I am free to go.” When she died there were many positive signs.
We can’t escape our karma. We need to work with it and have a positive attitude about whatever is happening in our lives, making it of benefit to others. I’m not saying that it is easy. But it’s not necessary for everything to be easy. Other things may be easier, but they don’t take you to the same level of practice.
If you wish to contribute to the soup kitchen project or have suggestions about the bone marrow project, contact Ani Zamba by email at <anizamba@hotmail.com>.
Ani Zamba is a fully ordained nun within the Chinese tradition of Buddhism. She has studied and practiced Tibetan Buddhism under Chagdud Rinpoche and other lamas, and traveled and lived in Asia for over twenty-five years. Since the age of thirteen she has been in and out of hospitals with a debilitating and painful spinal condition, which she credits for having made her what she is. Until recently Ani Zamba led a practice group in Hong Kong. She has now focused her dharma activities in northern Brazil. She spoke with Lama Trinley last July at Khadro Ling.
LT: After having lived in Asia for so many years, what was it that brought you to Brazil?
AZ: I first considered going to Brazil to start a project for street children in São Paulo. Chagdud Rinpoche seemed enthusiastic about the idea when I mentioned it to him, but then he told me to drop everything and go into an extended retreat. So I found a sponsor, a suitable house, and settled into retreat on an outlying island in Hong Kong. Unfortunately, my health began to deteriorate, and when the doctor suggested surgery, I called Rinpoche in Brazil and asked him how to proceed. At the time his health was fragile and I wanted to be with him, but as I was in retreat I thought I’d better not push that. Then he unexpectedly said, “Come to Brazil for two months.”
My body was weak, but Rinpoche helped me get back on my feet again. Then I heard that Rinpoche wanted to visit the north of Brazil, and I felt a strong connection with one of the places he had planned to go. Whenever I asked Brazilians from the north where the most beautiful place in Brazil was, they would always say Chapada Diamontina: Diamond Highlands. They would talk of the hills, trails you can follow for days, wild orchids, dramatic waterfalls, caverns, and varied landscapes. I felt that I needed to go there. So I offered to visit a few places in the north and map out a route for Rinpoche.
After doing a mo, the first place he sent me was Maceio where two of his students lived, and within two weeks we were looking for a dharma center there. It was a difficult search until Marcus, one of the sangha members, mentioned an old house that he knew about. When I saw the old house in terrible condition, I immediately said, “Just wait until Rinpoche sees this! If we knock down that wall we will have a great shrine room.” The sangha was enthusiastic about the project, although I don’t think they could quite see my vision of the place. At that point I realized that Maceio would be my base in the north of Brazil.
Next I briefly visited Chapada and some of the towns within the national park. Wherever I went, there seemed to be someone who knew English, so I would give a teaching, which allowed me to connect with people there. Then I arrived in Mucage, where no one seemed to know English. We used a computer to translate until they found Eduardo, an agronomist who could speak some English and who would later become my main connection there. I continued on to Salvador to join Rinpoche, and then Maceio, where almost 400 people turned up for his talk. When I took him to see the old house he immediately said, “Knock down those walls and make a large space for the shrine room.” Marcus just smiled.
The trip to Chapada was difficult for Rinpoche. We rented a van and drove for ten hours over treacherous roads. But as we traveled from town to town, people offered him land and asked him to build in their locality. Then Rinpoche gave an informal talk in Mucage that several doctors and teachers, the mayor, and the local Catholic priest attended. Soon after Rinpoche had returned to Khadro Ling, Eduardo rang me in Maceio and said the town had agreed that Rinpoche could have any land he wanted as long as it was city-owned and not national park. So off I went into the Mucage hills on horseback and found a beautiful spot. But when we realized how difficult and expensive it was going to be to get water or put in a road, we decided on land that was more practical. That was my first trip north.
LT: Did you return to Hong Kong at that point?
AZ: My visa was up, and Rinpoche had decided that I should give up Hong Kong and be his representative for the north and northeast of Brazil. The move to Brazil was difficult because I had to get a religious visa and there was a massive amount of paperwork involved. But finally, six months later, I had a visa and was packed to go. When Rinpoche said, “Bring everything,” I don’t think he realized how much I had amassed in Asia. When I arrived in Brazil on December 31, 2000 with about 200 kilos of luggage, I was so ill that I couldn’t even prostrate to Rinpoche. But I pulled my health together again, and my life has been absolutely nonstop ever since.
I went up to Maceio where the shrine room had been finished. I taught there, and more and more people became interested in the dharma. I also went to Salvador, the capital of the state of Bahia, where we have since rented an apartment as a dharma center. Next I traveled to Brasilia where the Central Bank of Brazil invited me to teach and give a workshop for their staff. Their employees have a high incidence of depression, and alcohol and drug abuse, and the Bank thought that maybe meditation could help them. They have since formed a meditation group. Our Brasilia sangha continues to grow as I spend more time teaching there. I have also been requested to run future workshops for caregivers, prison workers, and prisoners.
In the far north I visited Forteleza where one of our sangha members, Paola, is a doctor who initiated a program called the Wheel of Life. It started as a project for children with cancer, and introduces the kids to simple dharma stories and teachings during their hospital visits for chemotherapy. Some of the kids are very poor; they must undergo a long journey into town, wait many hours to endure an hour of treatment, and then travel home again—having had no food the entire time. So I collected donations from sangha members and have started a soup kitchen in the hospital to provide meals for them. Rinpoche suggested that I mention it in the Wind Horse and ask for donations to help keep the program in operation. These would be much appreciated. We are also looking for advice and suggestions regarding starting a program to sponsor the medical expenses of patients in need of bone marrow transplants. Any help with this would be appreciated as well.
These kids are beautiful. I sat there with a few of them while they were having chemotherapy. Paola, their doctor, brings light into their lives and makes them laugh. In a TV interview about the project, the interviewer asked one of the children, “How does it feel to be sick?” And the child replied, “I’m not sick; my body is sick.” Recognizing that is a big step forward. We really need to start with the children.
After Forteleza I visited Terresino, farther north, near the Amazon. People in the south warned me, “It’s at the end of the earth. You don’t want to go there. The heat is terrible; there are insects that urinate on you, and the urine leaves scars.” But, as I am rarely swayed by people’s opinions, I went anyway, and it was wonderful. The people were very receptive to the dharma, and I taught almost every day. One man had been to Khadro Ling and requested that a teacher visit, but no one else had received teachings. They did have Rinpoche’s book, Gates to Buddhist Practice, and would get together as a study group every week. Many people there received refuge vows and seem inspired to practice.
The teachings on bodhicitta are also very helpful. When you can say, “Okay, if I have to go through this then let me take on the suffering of others as well, so they don’t have to experience it,” it gives you strength. You don’t possess your suffering, but rather make use of whatever it is you are going through.
I also think that simple shamata, just watching your breath, helps you relax your muscles and mind when there is intense pain. Just becoming aware of your breath as it enters and leaves is a profound way of working with pain. One of my students from Hong Kong is doing a Ph.D. on how mindfulness can help with chronic pain. She did many case studies involving patients with cancer and other painful conditions, and observed how valuable this simple meditation can be in making the pain less solid, making it workable so that you can somehow get beyond it. You don’t have to invest so much in it. You have the space to see it for what it is. Even when you can’t move or do anything else, while you are still alive, you do have your breath. You have refuge and that encompasses all the
LT: In the stories you tell about your life it seems that you never get discouraged.
AZ: I don’t look at the negative side of things. I see challenges, but not obstacles. I think of challenges as a great opportunity and feel that if something is right, then somehow, with Rinpoche’s blessings, it will manifest.
I always look at the potential of something. I’m not easily daunted by logistics. I never have money, so I just say, “If it works, it works; if it doesn’t, it doesn’t.” I think that if your intention is pure then it really doesn’t matter whether a project works or not. You just do your best. I try to put positive energy out and get people involved just to see what we can do. Because the motivation and activity of trying to benefit others is wonderful even if it doesn’t go any further than that.
LT: Would you say something about how you have worked with suffering and pain in your life?
AZ: I remember lying in the hospital, unable to move. I couldn’t sit up or turn a page, so I had to let go of everything in regard to formal practice. When I asked myself, “What is the most important thing at this moment?” I had to say “Refuge,” because it is the essence of all practice. It helps you to work with anything that arises. My doctors had no idea what my practice involved, but they often said to me, “If you didn’t have the faith you have, you would have been dead long ago.” And it’s true.
First of all, there is an element of trust. Because the more you practice, the more you come to appreciate impermanence. You know that however bad the condition seems, it is changing moment by moment, in the same way that so-called good experiences are changing. You can’t hold on to anything. You also begin to appreciate that whenever you start to possess the suffering, it gets worse. But if you can just see it as a changing condition—not “my” pain, then it helps a lot. The teachings on bodhicitta are also very helpful. When you can say, “Okay, if I have to go through this then let me take on the suffering of others as well, so they don’t have to experience it,” it gives you strength. You don’t possess your suffering, but rather make use of whatever it is you are going through.
I also think that simple shamata, just watching your breath, helps you relax your muscles and mind when there is intense pain. Just becoming aware of your breath as it enters and leaves is a profound way of working with pain. One of my students from Hong Kong is doing a Ph.D. on how mindfulness can help with chronic pain. She did many case studies involving patients with cancer and other painful conditions, and observed how valuable this simple meditation can be in making the pain less solid, making it workable so that you can somehow get beyond it. You don’t have to invest so much in it. You have the space to see it for what it is. Even when you can’t move or do anything else, while you are still alive, you do have your breath. You have refuge and that encompasses all the teachings. Nothing is left out.
I’ve asked Rinpoche for many teachings over the years, and he has always told me to just keep doing guru yoga. It is the essence of the path. With my health I have to keep my practice as simple as possible. One week I can be walking, and the next I can hardly move, so I have to keep bringing it down to the essence all the time. The only thing I can depend on is my refuge, because it gives me the confidence to work with whatever arises.
I could complain about how ill I am, but that’s not how I look at my situation. I get up every morning and say “Thank you,” because even though I may feel bad, I could feel a lot worse. What I make of each day that I have been given depends upon me. I can walk around saying, “Oh poor me,” and be a victim to everything, or I can say, “Thank you, this made me what I am.” It allows me insight into suffering, offering me an opportunity to see the nature of suffering, and working with it to make it as positive as possible—to somehow be of benefit to others.
Seldom in the past twenty-five years has Chagdud Rinpoche or any of my other teachers seen me well. There always seems to be some problem with my health. But as Rinpoche keeps reminding me, this is a wonderful opportunity to work through this karma now. Nothing like this just happens. My physical condition has manifested as a result of previous causes.
Rinpoche tells a story of a nun he knew who had done many millions of mantra and was a very respected practitioner. About a month before her death, she forewarned people that she was about to go through an experience of intense suffering and that there wasn’t anything they could do to avert it. When this happened it was obviously a very hellish experience. Some of the people who saw her couldn’t understand how such a strong practitioner could have these experiences. How does karma work if someone who practices all her life dies like this? But just before she died she admitted, “I have purified my karma. When I was younger I had a relationship with a man, got pregnant, and had an abortion; nobody else knew. Yet karma is infallible, and now I am free to go.” When she died there were many positive signs.
We can’t escape our karma. We need to work with it and have a positive attitude about whatever is happening in our lives, making it of benefit to others. I’m not saying that it is easy. But it’s not necessary for everything to be easy. Other things may be easier, but they don’t take you to the same level of practice.
If you wish to contribute to the soup kitchen project or have suggestions about the bone marrow project, contact Ani Zamba by email at <anizamba@hotmail.com>.
Ani Zamba is a fully ordained nun within the Chinese tradition of Buddhism. She has studied and practiced Tibetan Buddhism under Chagdud Rinpoche and other lamas, and traveled and lived in Asia for over twenty-five years. Since the age of thirteen she has been in and out of hospitals with a debilitating and painful spinal condition, which she credits for having made her what she is. Until recently Ani Zamba led a practice group in Hong Kong. She has now focused her dharma activities in northern Brazil. She spoke with Lama Trinley last July at Khadro Ling.
LT: After having lived in Asia for so many years, what was it that brought you to Brazil?
AZ: I first considered going to Brazil to start a project for street children in São Paulo. Chagdud Rinpoche seemed enthusiastic about the idea when I mentioned it to him, but then he told me to drop everything and go into an extended retreat. So I found a sponsor, a suitable house, and settled into retreat on an outlying island in Hong Kong. Unfortunately, my health began to deteriorate, and when the doctor suggested surgery, I called Rinpoche in Brazil and asked him how to proceed. At the time his health was fragile and I wanted to be with him, but as I was in retreat I thought I’d better not push that. Then he unexpectedly said, “Come to Brazil for two months.”
My body was weak, but Rinpoche helped me get back on my feet again. Then I heard that Rinpoche wanted to visit the north of Brazil, and I felt a strong connection with one of the places he had planned to go. Whenever I asked Brazilians from the north where the most beautiful place in Brazil was, they would always say Chapada Diamontina: Diamond Highlands. They would talk of the hills, trails you can follow for days, wild orchids, dramatic waterfalls, caverns, and varied landscapes. I felt that I needed to go there. So I offered to visit a few places in the north and map out a route for Rinpoche.
After doing a mo, the first place he sent me was Maceio where two of his students lived, and within two weeks we were looking for a dharma center there. It was a difficult search until Marcus, one of the sangha members, mentioned an old house that he knew about. When I saw the old house in terrible condition, I immediately said, “Just wait until Rinpoche sees this! If we knock down that wall we will have a great shrine room.” The sangha was enthusiastic about the project, although I don’t think they could quite see my vision of the place. At that point I realized that Maceio would be my base in the north of Brazil.
Next I briefly visited Chapada and some of the towns within the national park. Wherever I went, there seemed to be someone who knew English, so I would give a teaching, which allowed me to connect with people there. Then I arrived in Mucage, where no one seemed to know English. We used a computer to translate until they found Eduardo, an agronomist who could speak some English and who would later become my main connection there. I continued on to Salvador to join Rinpoche, and then Maceio, where almost 400 people turned up for his talk. When I took him to see the old house he immediately said, “Knock down those walls and make a large space for the shrine room.” Marcus just smiled.
The trip to Chapada was difficult for Rinpoche. We rented a van and drove for ten hours over treacherous roads. But as we traveled from town to town, people offered him land and asked him to build in their locality. Then Rinpoche gave an informal talk in Mucage that several doctors and teachers, the mayor, and the local Catholic priest attended. Soon after Rinpoche had returned to Khadro Ling, Eduardo rang me in Maceio and said the town had agreed that Rinpoche could have any land he wanted as long as it was city-owned and not national park. So off I went into the Mucage hills on horseback and found a beautiful spot. But when we realized how difficult and expensive it was going to be to get water or put in a road, we decided on land that was more practical. That was my first trip north.
LT: Did you return to Hong Kong at that point?
AZ: My visa was up, and Rinpoche had decided that I should give up Hong Kong and be his representative for the north and northeast of Brazil. The move to Brazil was difficult because I had to get a religious visa and there was a massive amount of paperwork involved. But finally, six months later, I had a visa and was packed to go. When Rinpoche said, “Bring everything,” I don’t think he realized how much I had amassed in Asia. When I arrived in Brazil on December 31, 2000 with about 200 kilos of luggage, I was so ill that I couldn’t even prostrate to Rinpoche. But I pulled my health together again, and my life has been absolutely nonstop ever since.
I went up to Maceio where the shrine room had been finished. I taught there, and more and more people became interested in the dharma. I also went to Salvador, the capital of the state of Bahia, where we have since rented an apartment as a dharma center. Next I traveled to Brasilia where the Central Bank of Brazil invited me to teach and give a workshop for their staff. Their employees have a high incidence of depression, and alcohol and drug abuse, and the Bank thought that maybe meditation could help them. They have since formed a meditation group. Our Brasilia sangha continues to grow as I spend more time teaching there. I have also been requested to run future workshops for caregivers, prison workers, and prisoners.
In the far north I visited Forteleza where one of our sangha members, Paola, is a doctor who initiated a program called the Wheel of Life. It started as a project for children with cancer, and introduces the kids to simple dharma stories and teachings during their hospital visits for chemotherapy. Some of the kids are very poor; they must undergo a long journey into town, wait many hours to endure an hour of treatment, and then travel home again—having had no food the entire time. So I collected donations from sangha members and have started a soup kitchen in the hospital to provide meals for them. Rinpoche suggested that I mention it in the Wind Horse and ask for donations to help keep the program in operation. These would be much appreciated. We are also looking for advice and suggestions regarding starting a program to sponsor the medical expenses of patients in need of bone marrow transplants. Any help with this would be appreciated as well.
These kids are beautiful. I sat there with a few of them while they were having chemotherapy. Paola, their doctor, brings light into their lives and makes them laugh. In a TV interview about the project, the interviewer asked one of the children, “How does it feel to be sick?” And the child replied, “I’m not sick; my body is sick.” Recognizing that is a big step forward. We really need to start with the children.
After Forteleza I visited Terresino, farther north, near the Amazon. People in the south warned me, “It’s at the end of the earth. You don’t want to go there. The heat is terrible; there are insects that urinate on you, and the urine leaves scars.” But, as I am rarely swayed by people’s opinions, I went anyway, and it was wonderful. The people were very receptive to the dharma, and I taught almost every day. One man had been to Khadro Ling and requested that a teacher visit, but no one else had received teachings. They did have Rinpoche’s book, Gates to Buddhist Practice, and would get together as a study group every week. Many people there received refuge vows and seem inspired to practice.
The teachings on bodhicitta are also very helpful. When you can say, “Okay, if I have to go through this then let me take on the suffering of others as well, so they don’t have to experience it,” it gives you strength. You don’t possess your suffering, but rather make use of whatever it is you are going through.
I also think that simple shamata, just watching your breath, helps you relax your muscles and mind when there is intense pain. Just becoming aware of your breath as it enters and leaves is a profound way of working with pain. One of my students from Hong Kong is doing a Ph.D. on how mindfulness can help with chronic pain. She did many case studies involving patients with cancer and other painful conditions, and observed how valuable this simple meditation can be in making the pain less solid, making it workable so that you can somehow get beyond it. You don’t have to invest so much in it. You have the space to see it for what it is. Even when you can’t move or do anything else, while you are still alive, you do have your breath. You have refuge and that encompasses all the
LT: In the stories you tell about your life it seems that you never get discouraged.
AZ: I don’t look at the negative side of things. I see challenges, but not obstacles. I think of challenges as a great opportunity and feel that if something is right, then somehow, with Rinpoche’s blessings, it will manifest.
I always look at the potential of something. I’m not easily daunted by logistics. I never have money, so I just say, “If it works, it works; if it doesn’t, it doesn’t.” I think that if your intention is pure then it really doesn’t matter whether a project works or not. You just do your best. I try to put positive energy out and get people involved just to see what we can do. Because the motivation and activity of trying to benefit others is wonderful even if it doesn’t go any further than that.
LT: Would you say something about how you have worked with suffering and pain in your life?
AZ: I remember lying in the hospital, unable to move. I couldn’t sit up or turn a page, so I had to let go of everything in regard to formal practice. When I asked myself, “What is the most important thing at this moment?” I had to say “Refuge,” because it is the essence of all practice. It helps you to work with anything that arises. My doctors had no idea what my practice involved, but they often said to me, “If you didn’t have the faith you have, you would have been dead long ago.” And it’s true.
First of all, there is an element of trust. Because the more you practice, the more you come to appreciate impermanence. You know that however bad the condition seems, it is changing moment by moment, in the same way that so-called good experiences are changing. You can’t hold on to anything. You also begin to appreciate that whenever you start to possess the suffering, it gets worse. But if you can just see it as a changing condition—not “my” pain, then it helps a lot. The teachings on bodhicitta are also very helpful. When you can say, “Okay, if I have to go through this then let me take on the suffering of others as well, so they don’t have to experience it,” it gives you strength. You don’t possess your suffering, but rather make use of whatever it is you are going through.
I also think that simple shamata, just watching your breath, helps you relax your muscles and mind when there is intense pain. Just becoming aware of your breath as it enters and leaves is a profound way of working with pain. One of my students from Hong Kong is doing a Ph.D. on how mindfulness can help with chronic pain. She did many case studies involving patients with cancer and other painful conditions, and observed how valuable this simple meditation can be in making the pain less solid, making it workable so that you can somehow get beyond it. You don’t have to invest so much in it. You have the space to see it for what it is. Even when you can’t move or do anything else, while you are still alive, you do have your breath. You have refuge and that encompasses all the teachings. Nothing is left out.
I’ve asked Rinpoche for many teachings over the years, and he has always told me to just keep doing guru yoga. It is the essence of the path. With my health I have to keep my practice as simple as possible. One week I can be walking, and the next I can hardly move, so I have to keep bringing it down to the essence all the time. The only thing I can depend on is my refuge, because it gives me the confidence to work with whatever arises.
I could complain about how ill I am, but that’s not how I look at my situation. I get up every morning and say “Thank you,” because even though I may feel bad, I could feel a lot worse. What I make of each day that I have been given depends upon me. I can walk around saying, “Oh poor me,” and be a victim to everything, or I can say, “Thank you, this made me what I am.” It allows me insight into suffering, offering me an opportunity to see the nature of suffering, and working with it to make it as positive as possible—to somehow be of benefit to others.
Seldom in the past twenty-five years has Chagdud Rinpoche or any of my other teachers seen me well. There always seems to be some problem with my health. But as Rinpoche keeps reminding me, this is a wonderful opportunity to work through this karma now. Nothing like this just happens. My physical condition has manifested as a result of previous causes.
Rinpoche tells a story of a nun he knew who had done many millions of mantra and was a very respected practitioner. About a month before her death, she forewarned people that she was about to go through an experience of intense suffering and that there wasn’t anything they could do to avert it. When this happened it was obviously a very hellish experience. Some of the people who saw her couldn’t understand how such a strong practitioner could have these experiences. How does karma work if someone who practices all her life dies like this? But just before she died she admitted, “I have purified my karma. When I was younger I had a relationship with a man, got pregnant, and had an abortion; nobody else knew. Yet karma is infallible, and now I am free to go.” When she died there were many positive signs.
We can’t escape our karma. We need to work with it and have a positive attitude about whatever is happening in our lives, making it of benefit to others. I’m not saying that it is easy. But it’s not necessary for everything to be easy. Other things may be easier, but they don’t take you to the same level of practice.
If you wish to contribute to the soup kitchen project or have suggestions about the bone marrow project, contact Ani Zamba by email at <anizamba@hotmail.com>.
Ani Zamba is a fully ordained nun within the Chinese tradition of Buddhism. She has studied and practiced Tibetan Buddhism under Chagdud Rinpoche and other lamas, and traveled and lived in Asia for over twenty-five years. Since the age of thirteen she has been in and out of hospitals with a debilitating and painful spinal condition, which she credits for having made her what she is. Until recently Ani Zamba led a practice group in Hong Kong. She has now focused her dharma activities in northern Brazil. She spoke with Lama Trinley last July at Khadro Ling.
LT: After having lived in Asia for so many years, what was it that brought you to Brazil?
AZ: I first considered going to Brazil to start a project for street children in São Paulo. Chagdud Rinpoche seemed enthusiastic about the idea when I mentioned it to him, but then he told me to drop everything and go into an extended retreat. So I found a sponsor, a suitable house, and settled into retreat on an outlying island in Hong Kong. Unfortunately, my health began to deteriorate, and when the doctor suggested surgery, I called Rinpoche in Brazil and asked him how to proceed. At the time his health was fragile and I wanted to be with him, but as I was in retreat I thought I’d better not push that. Then he unexpectedly said, “Come to Brazil for two months.”
My body was weak, but Rinpoche helped me get back on my feet again. Then I heard that Rinpoche wanted to visit the north of Brazil, and I felt a strong connection with one of the places he had planned to go. Whenever I asked Brazilians from the north where the most beautiful place in Brazil was, they would always say Chapada Diamontina: Diamond Highlands. They would talk of the hills, trails you can follow for days, wild orchids, dramatic waterfalls, caverns, and varied landscapes. I felt that I needed to go there. So I offered to visit a few places in the north and map out a route for Rinpoche.
After doing a mo, the first place he sent me was Maceio where two of his students lived, and within two weeks we were looking for a dharma center there. It was a difficult search until Marcus, one of the sangha members, mentioned an old house that he knew about. When I saw the old house in terrible condition, I immediately said, “Just wait until Rinpoche sees this! If we knock down that wall we will have a great shrine room.” The sangha was enthusiastic about the project, although I don’t think they could quite see my vision of the place. At that point I realized that Maceio would be my base in the north of Brazil.
Next I briefly visited Chapada and some of the towns within the national park. Wherever I went, there seemed to be someone who knew English, so I would give a teaching, which allowed me to connect with people there. Then I arrived in Mucage, where no one seemed to know English. We used a computer to translate until they found Eduardo, an agronomist who could speak some English and who would later become my main connection there. I continued on to Salvador to join Rinpoche, and then Maceio, where almost 400 people turned up for his talk. When I took him to see the old house he immediately said, “Knock down those walls and make a large space for the shrine room.” Marcus just smiled.
The trip to Chapada was difficult for Rinpoche. We rented a van and drove for ten hours over treacherous roads. But as we traveled from town to town, people offered him land and asked him to build in their locality. Then Rinpoche gave an informal talk in Mucage that several doctors and teachers, the mayor, and the local Catholic priest attended. Soon after Rinpoche had returned to Khadro Ling, Eduardo rang me in Maceio and said the town had agreed that Rinpoche could have any land he wanted as long as it was city-owned and not national park. So off I went into the Mucage hills on horseback and found a beautiful spot. But when we realized how difficult and expensive it was going to be to get water or put in a road, we decided on land that was more practical. That was my first trip north.
LT: Did you return to Hong Kong at that point?
AZ: My visa was up, and Rinpoche had decided that I should give up Hong Kong and be his representative for the north and northeast of Brazil. The move to Brazil was difficult because I had to get a religious visa and there was a massive amount of paperwork involved. But finally, six months later, I had a visa and was packed to go. When Rinpoche said, “Bring everything,” I don’t think he realized how much I had amassed in Asia. When I arrived in Brazil on December 31, 2000 with about 200 kilos of luggage, I was so ill that I couldn’t even prostrate to Rinpoche. But I pulled my health together again, and my life has been absolutely nonstop ever since.
I went up to Maceio where the shrine room had been finished. I taught there, and more and more people became interested in the dharma. I also went to Salvador, the capital of the state of Bahia, where we have since rented an apartment as a dharma center. Next I traveled to Brasilia where the Central Bank of Brazil invited me to teach and give a workshop for their staff. Their employees have a high incidence of depression, and alcohol and drug abuse, and the Bank thought that maybe meditation could help them. They have since formed a meditation group. Our Brasilia sangha continues to grow as I spend more time teaching there. I have also been requested to run future workshops for caregivers, prison workers, and prisoners.
In the far north I visited Forteleza where one of our sangha members, Paola, is a doctor who initiated a program called the Wheel of Life. It started as a project for children with cancer, and introduces the kids to simple dharma stories and teachings during their hospital visits for chemotherapy. Some of the kids are very poor; they must undergo a long journey into town, wait many hours to endure an hour of treatment, and then travel home again—having had no food the entire time. So I collected donations from sangha members and have started a soup kitchen in the hospital to provide meals for them. Rinpoche suggested that I mention it in the Wind Horse and ask for donations to help keep the program in operation. These would be much appreciated. We are also looking for advice and suggestions regarding starting a program to sponsor the medical expenses of patients in need of bone marrow transplants. Any help with this would be appreciated as well.
These kids are beautiful. I sat there with a few of them while they were having chemotherapy. Paola, their doctor, brings light into their lives and makes them laugh. In a TV interview about the project, the interviewer asked one of the children, “How does it feel to be sick?” And the child replied, “I’m not sick; my body is sick.” Recognizing that is a big step forward. We really need to start with the children.
After Forteleza I visited Terresino, farther north, near the Amazon. People in the south warned me, “It’s at the end of the earth. You don’t want to go there. The heat is terrible; there are insects that urinate on you, and the urine leaves scars.” But, as I am rarely swayed by people’s opinions, I went anyway, and it was wonderful. The people were very receptive to the dharma, and I taught almost every day. One man had been to Khadro Ling and requested that a teacher visit, but no one else had received teachings. They did have Rinpoche’s book, Gates to Buddhist Practice, and would get together as a study group every week. Many people there received refuge vows and seem inspired to practice.
The teachings on bodhicitta are also very helpful. When you can say, “Okay, if I have to go through this then let me take on the suffering of others as well, so they don’t have to experience it,” it gives you strength. You don’t possess your suffering, but rather make use of whatever it is you are going through.
I also think that simple shamata, just watching your breath, helps you relax your muscles and mind when there is intense pain. Just becoming aware of your breath as it enters and leaves is a profound way of working with pain. One of my students from Hong Kong is doing a Ph.D. on how mindfulness can help with chronic pain. She did many case studies involving patients with cancer and other painful conditions, and observed how valuable this simple meditation can be in making the pain less solid, making it workable so that you can somehow get beyond it. You don’t have to invest so much in it. You have the space to see it for what it is. Even when you can’t move or do anything else, while you are still alive, you do have your breath. You have refuge and that encompasses all the
LT: In the stories you tell about your life it seems that you never get discouraged.
AZ: I don’t look at the negative side of things. I see challenges, but not obstacles. I think of challenges as a great opportunity and feel that if something is right, then somehow, with Rinpoche’s blessings, it will manifest.
I always look at the potential of something. I’m not easily daunted by logistics. I never have money, so I just say, “If it works, it works; if it doesn’t, it doesn’t.” I think that if your intention is pure then it really doesn’t matter whether a project works or not. You just do your best. I try to put positive energy out and get people involved just to see what we can do. Because the motivation and activity of trying to benefit others is wonderful even if it doesn’t go any further than that.
LT: Would you say something about how you have worked with suffering and pain in your life?
AZ: I remember lying in the hospital, unable to move. I couldn’t sit up or turn a page, so I had to let go of everything in regard to formal practice. When I asked myself, “What is the most important thing at this moment?” I had to say “Refuge,” because it is the essence of all practice. It helps you to work with anything that arises. My doctors had no idea what my practice involved, but they often said to me, “If you didn’t have the faith you have, you would have been dead long ago.” And it’s true.
First of all, there is an element of trust. Because the more you practice, the more you come to appreciate impermanence. You know that however bad the condition seems, it is changing moment by moment, in the same way that so-called good experiences are changing. You can’t hold on to anything. You also begin to appreciate that whenever you start to possess the suffering, it gets worse. But if you can just see it as a changing condition—not “my” pain, then it helps a lot. The teachings on bodhicitta are also very helpful. When you can say, “Okay, if I have to go through this then let me take on the suffering of others as well, so they don’t have to experience it,” it gives you strength. You don’t possess your suffering, but rather make use of whatever it is you are going through.
I also think that simple shamata, just watching your breath, helps you relax your muscles and mind when there is intense pain. Just becoming aware of your breath as it enters and leaves is a profound way of working with pain. One of my students from Hong Kong is doing a Ph.D. on how mindfulness can help with chronic pain. She did many case studies involving patients with cancer and other painful conditions, and observed how valuable this simple meditation can be in making the pain less solid, making it workable so that you can somehow get beyond it. You don’t have to invest so much in it. You have the space to see it for what it is. Even when you can’t move or do anything else, while you are still alive, you do have your breath. You have refuge and that encompasses all the teachings. Nothing is left out.
I’ve asked Rinpoche for many teachings over the years, and he has always told me to just keep doing guru yoga. It is the essence of the path. With my health I have to keep my practice as simple as possible. One week I can be walking, and the next I can hardly move, so I have to keep bringing it down to the essence all the time. The only thing I can depend on is my refuge, because it gives me the confidence to work with whatever arises.
I could complain about how ill I am, but that’s not how I look at my situation. I get up every morning and say “Thank you,” because even though I may feel bad, I could feel a lot worse. What I make of each day that I have been given depends upon me. I can walk around saying, “Oh poor me,” and be a victim to everything, or I can say, “Thank you, this made me what I am.” It allows me insight into suffering, offering me an opportunity to see the nature of suffering, and working with it to make it as positive as possible—to somehow be of benefit to others.
Seldom in the past twenty-five years has Chagdud Rinpoche or any of my other teachers seen me well. There always seems to be some problem with my health. But as Rinpoche keeps reminding me, this is a wonderful opportunity to work through this karma now. Nothing like this just happens. My physical condition has manifested as a result of previous causes.
Rinpoche tells a story of a nun he knew who had done many millions of mantra and was a very respected practitioner. About a month before her death, she forewarned people that she was about to go through an experience of intense suffering and that there wasn’t anything they could do to avert it. When this happened it was obviously a very hellish experience. Some of the people who saw her couldn’t understand how such a strong practitioner could have these experiences. How does karma work if someone who practices all her life dies like this? But just before she died she admitted, “I have purified my karma. When I was younger I had a relationship with a man, got pregnant, and had an abortion; nobody else knew. Yet karma is infallible, and now I am free to go.” When she died there were many positive signs.
We can’t escape our karma. We need to work with it and have a positive attitude about whatever is happening in our lives, making it of benefit to others. I’m not saying that it is easy. But it’s not necessary for everything to be easy. Other things may be easier, but they don’t take you to the same level of practice.
If you wish to contribute to the soup kitchen project or have suggestions about the bone marrow project, contact Ani Zamba by email at <anizamba@hotmail.com>.
